- Ambitious, aren't you, Taylor? - I suppose so.
Not too ambitious, I hope. I love the job, sir, that's all.
- You like my friend, don't you? - He's more nice than you are.
He's a lot more handsome as well.
I know he's not gonna walk off into the sunset with some tart.
She gave me one for free.
No, there's no chance of a staff job.
I'm a good reporter. You said so yourself.
Come on, live a little.
We might find someone for you. No thanks.
So what do you do now? For work?
Oh, this and that.
80 quid? What do you take me for? A mug?
He is a good boy really, Billy.
Broke my heart when he went inside.
We're hitting somewhere today, now.
Why are you running around three-handed in the middle of the day?
Need to call someone, Stan?
You got a call to make?
- Easy, Bill. - What's with you?
Why not? You didn't kill anyone.
- I ain't no bloody grass, Bill. - You're not a bloody grass?
I just wanna go home. You wanna go home as well, Jimmy?
Leave it out, Billy. Come on, man.
What's wrong, Jimmy? You're as white as a sheet.
... the murdered officers.
Reports suggest two were plain clothes officers.
- Have you heard the news? - The third was a police constable.
The officers were performing a routine patrol
in the Shepherds Bush area when the incident occurred.
- No. - Now for other news, in brief.
A newly-opened Post Office...
I badly wanted in on this investigation.
Things were moving fast.
DI Ernie Franklin had been put in charge.
He had a reputation for doing things by the book.
I knew that was gonna be a problem.
But I know the manor, sir. I've still got informants.
You worked F division? Yeah, the Bush.
You know the men that was killed? Me and Jon were bucks together.
It's too close. I'll stay in the background.
You'd best get home and get a drink down you.
But I know the fucking patch, sir.
They weren't locals. Think about it.
Hardcore villains breaking someone out the Scrubs?
You don't understand. It's my fault he was there.
For Christ's sake, Taylor! Pull yourself together.
Do you understand me?
They're shocking.
Shocking.
But fantastic.
"Murdered in the line of duty." That's your headline.
I thought just "Massacred!"
Maybe you're right.
Underneath, "First man on the scene: Tony Meehan."
Crime team won't like this. Crime team weren't there.
- I will need them at my disposal. - You're taking the piss.
- Rivals papers asked me for interviews. - Don't you bloody dare.
And I'll need my own office... to coordinate everything.
All right.
But just remember one thing.
Anyone can be in the right place at the right time.
The police have confirmed they know the registration number
of the vehicle fleeing the scene and are actively pursuing its owner.
The Police Federation have suggested that capital punishment
should be reintroduced for the murder of policemen.
Any question of your reconsidering the Home Office position?
Well, I can well understand
the reaction and feeling of policemen at the present time
but it would be quite wrong
for me to take a major policy decision
in the shadow of...
We can't stay here.
I don't know what the world's coming to.
If police officers are fair game, what hope is there for the rest of us?
- Billy? - No.
I've got a favour to ask, Ma.
It's the business.
I thought you had a big job coming up.
Yeah, that's right.
I need some new equipment.
New plant.
Are you in trouble, son?
No, it's just cash flow.
- Cash flow? - Yeah.
You'd better go.
We don't have to go yet, Ma. We haven't had dessert.
You'd better be off.
Billy.
Oh, Billy...
In the meantime, there's gonna be the biggest clampdown you ever saw.
- Taylor, what are you doing here? - Listen, Ernie...
Is that Stanley Mullins? We traced the van to him.
- Do you know him? - Yeah, he's small time. A joke.
So? There was heavy villains inside.
They'd never use him on a prison break.
We traced the van to him, all right?
Besides, he was smart enough not to come home last night.
No worry. We'll get the bastards.
Right, Ernie. Sure.
... for a woman who can't talk.
A DS in the Flying Squad? What does that make me?
It makes you a grass, Golly.
Yeah. But the Flying Squad grass.
Stanley Mullins.
- What's he been up to, since I left? - Jesus, Frankie.
You don't write, you don't call and you expect...
Don't you fuck me around! What's he been up to?
He was hanging with a couple of geezers.
- What couple of geezers? - Jimmy Drummond, Scotch,
and some other guy, a hard case.
The hard case, what's his name?
Is this about the shootings?
I expect there'll be quite a reward.
Don't you fucking hold out on me, Golly. What's his name?
I don't know, Frank. I swear.
I've got a name for you, guv. Jimmy Drummond.
Scottish.
And that's when it came down on top for Drummond and Mullins.
The stupid bastards had driven all the way up to Glasgow
just to hole up with the Drummonds' old man.
I'll make sure you get a commendation.
With respect, sir. Fuck that. You know what I want.
Name's Billy Porter.
Drummond remembers him saying he was trying to leave the country.
- He'll need a passport for that. - He bunked with a forger at Scrubs.
Trying to locate him. Get it out to the telly and the newspapers.
It's in his eyes - the ruthlessness.
The clarity of intent.
He's got a hanging face, I'll give you that.
A witness said he didn't even blink when he killed those coppers.
I've gotta do this on my own.
But I've got nowhere else to go.
Maybe it's time you went back home.
No, I'm never going back there.
I've gotta go.
And I'll never tell them about you either.
Good girl. Good girl.
I love you, Billy.
The suspects were apprehended in the East Kilbride area
of Glasgow, in the early hours of the morning.
They are being held at Shepherds Bush police station.
Police are continuing to search for the third member of the gang
who is still at large.
Police have named the man as Billy Porter
and have warned members of the public not to approach him
as he may well be armed.
In other news, the defeated West German team return home to Bonn.
Their supporters...
Piece of piss really, Bill.
The embossed stamp goes over the corner of the photo
and straight onto the front page.
It's like brass rubbing.
All you do is transfer one photograph...
... onto another.
That's amazing.
Five years sharing a cell,
I never heard you talk so much.
Yeah, well, you know me.
Open up! Police!
Shit.
Listen, I swear, mate, that's nothing...
He's gone out the back.
Fuck it!
- Anything else? - Give me one of them.
Camping trip, is it?
Can you stop the bus?
Don't speak unless you're spoken to and, if he offers you a drink, decline.
Bastard's teetotal.
Right. Look sharp.
Terrible business.
But terrific copy.
And the figures...
Thank God we made the train for the provincial edition.
Sir? Just water for me.
- Same here. - Very good.
- You're the young man that broke it. - Yes, sir.
- And how did you manage it? - Well...
anyone can be in the right place at the right time.
Don't be so bloody modest. You're young, you're hungry,
you've got fire in your belly - that's how you did it.
Keep up the good work.
We might have a new chief crime reporter come Christmas.
What do you say, Sidney?
Actually,
maybe I will have a glass of wine.
Go ahead. You've earned it.
Give yourself up, son.
Please, Billy.
- Before there's any more bloodshed. - Bastards.
- What are you saying that for? - I'll go with you.
- I'm supposed to be your son, Ma. - We'll go to the station together.
Fucking bastards.
- And we'll sort it all out. - Fucking bastards.
I just wanna talk to you.
- Buy you a drink. What's the harm? - Making conversation with you.
- You don't mean that. - Don't I?
I was jealous, all right? I was fucking jealous!
- Is that a crime? - Yeah, as it turned out.
- What's that supposed to mean? - If you hadn't got him transferred...
That's below the belt, Jeannie.
So how are things, Jeannie?
You mean am I still on the game?
That money tided me over.
I've got a job in a hairdressers now.
So...
Thank you.
It's great.
How are you, Frank?
I feel sick that I never made it up to him.
Come on, you were his best mate, for God's sake.
No, not at the end.
Jon said that it would all blow over.
Even if we had to make you best man.
So, you and Jon...serious, was it?
I loved him.
Well, you asked. Yeah, I did. Yeah.
Do you want another one?
Yeah, all right.
We stayed until chucking out time
and she let me walk her home.
She took pity on me, even though I'd done nothing to deserve it.
She gave me tea and sympathy and even let me stay over.
Nothing happened though.
We just held on to each other through the night.
As the weeks passed, the sightings of Billy Porter continued.
So many false hopes and frustrated leads.
I was in charge of surveillance on Billy Porter's mother.
She cooperated on the radio broadcast,
but if he made contact, then we couldn't trust her to turn him in.
To the bingo, from the bingo. It was mind numbing work,
but it felt good putting the hours in.
It felt normal.
And that's when me and Jeannie started courting.
Oh, hello.
- Hi. - All right?
Ciao, bella.
- Picture. - Let's get another one of you.
Let me get that thing in the background.
We were wary of each other,
but there was something romantic in our caution.
Both playing at being innocent,
as if it was something we'd lost or missed out on.
We wanted to be good people.
Not the bent copper and the ex-whore.
We don't wanna miss the beginning.
It's all right. It doesn't start till 7:30.
A pint of lager and a gin and tonic please.
Jeannie.
Come on, Jeannie. Oi! What's your problem, mate?
It's all right, son. We're old friends.
She's good, you know. Satisfaction guaranteed.
Bloody hell! Just calm down, mate.
Just a minute!
Someone call the police.
I am the bloody police.
Sorry.
There will always be people to remind me of what I was.
I don't care. That's not how I see you.
That's why you didn't say a word to me on the way back?
No, I was just ashamed for lashing out.
Frank...
I love you, Jeannie.
- Then why don't you wanna touch me? - I do.
It's just that I want more.
For Christ's sake.
I'm not talking about a two-penny cut and paste job.
I want to forge a detached narrative that unearths a deeper tragedy.
You want to write your In Cold Blood?
Capote would be a model, certainly.
But Capote interviewed his subjects in depth
before the hangman gave him his ending.
Your monster is still at large.
Isn't that part of the fascination?
Maybe.
But what little we know about Porter has been regurgitated ad infinitum.
Of course, if you had a fresh angle,
beyond being the first man at the scene...
Mrs Porter?
- I'm a reporter. - Go away.
I can't help you.
I'm writing a story...
Mrs Porter?
Mrs Porter!
I want to know about the real Billy.
Liar. That's the last thing any of you lot care about.
I've read about his army record.
Acting corporal in Malaya.
Commendations.
I want to write about THAT Billy.
The brave, disciplined soldier who served his country with distinction.
Because, however terrible,
one act does not define a person.
Hag.
Do you mean those things you said?
Then Billy ran in, in his pyjamas,
and saved me.
His dad was a big man, but Billy had no fear.
And...what did his father do?
He lashed him within an inch of his life
but, the next day, he'd gone.
And Billy had won.
Won?
Well, he'd got me to himself, hadn't he?
That's what every little boy wants.
Not every boy is...
... lucky enough to have a mum like you, Mrs P.
Will you have another?
Why not?
Frank, I'm pregnant.
Right.
What are we gonna do?
Well, I know what I'm gonna do.
I wanna have the baby.
We'll have to sort things out, then.
- What do you mean? - I mean...
Let's do it properly.
Let's get married.
You don't have to do that. I want to.
I want to, more than anything in my whole life.
- OK, don't overdo it. - I mean it.
And I did mean it.
I wanted so much to do something right for a change.
Even if I knew it could be Jon's kid and not mine.
We only had a couple of witnesses.
Jeannie had a girl from the hairdressing salon
and I had Micky Parks, the DS I'd been on the plot with,
the day that Jon died.
Frank?
There's been a sighting in Hertfordshire.
Pretty sure this time.
Sorry. I'm sorry.
Hands in the air!
On your head!
Well, which?
In the air?
On my head? What?
Stop! On your head.
On my head.
- I said stop. - All right.
Don't move!
You left the safety cap on, you little prick.
It was all over by the time I got to Thorley Woods.
They found his camp, but Porter had slipped their net
and almost killed another copper in the process.
A buck. Fucking kid.
Impressive, isn't it?
How's Porter's mother?
So that is you in the van?
You won't catch him now.
This was your chance.
Get out of here, before I do something I'll regret.
Take it easy.
Be careful on that thing. You know what I said.
Don't go so high.
That's it. Good boy.
Our baby was born on 30th March, 1967.
We called him Jonny.
It was sort of an acknowledgement of something we both knew,
- but never spoke about. - Hello, Dad.
That he wasn't my flesh and blood.
Hi, Dad!
I got made DI in '70,
for my part in bringing down Harry Starks.
But certain teams were as hooky as ever
and I ended up taking the bung now and then.
Most of the time, it was just turning a blind eye
to whatever scam was going down.
But I was as bad as the rest of them.
Just as Jon predicted.
Frank!
I knew the salon was doing all right, but this is a surprise.
- It's a bit more than usual, yeah. - Yeah.
I thought we'd left all that behind, Frank.
We've got a family to raise.
That hardly makes us special.
Christ! The bent copper and the ex-whore.
The deposit on your salon, you know where that came from.
Do you want me to take it back? I'm talking about a clean break.
Now you've got what you want, you wanna go straight?
If that makes me a hypocrite, I don't care.
In truth, there was always a shadow hanging over us.
Drummond and Mullins have gone down for life,
but Jon's killer was still out there.
Still free.
Mocking us.
Officially, the file on Porter remained open.
But the trail had gone cold five years ago, in Thorley Woods.
Joe?
You've got your hands full.
The Bone brothers told me about you. Said you might want some work.
Mick.
What kind of work?
Just a touch-up job, but I've got to finish the Dive Bomber for tomorrow.
Give the main panels a new coat, but leave the intricate stuff.
What are these?
A new design I was gonna try. Maybe next time.
No, this is better.
With the daggers.
- You got paint for this? - It's time I'm short of.
I can do this.
You've done some painting before?
Yeah. In prison.
You've paid your debt, then, haven't you?
Thanks, Mick.
It's great, Joe. You've got a real eye.
I just followed your sketch.
Not the spade. That's all you.
- You like 'em? - Yeah.
Great.
You wanna help me out more regular?
All right.
Good.
Chief crime reporter, eh?
That means you generate stories for you and your team,
- but you're not generating shit. - I take issue with that.
Yeah? And what was your last cover story? Your last exclusive?
- I've been setting up the porn sting. - You're out, Tony.
- Arthur Wade's coming from the Star. - Sid!
You'll have to run the Billy Porter fan club from home.
Just give me another chance.
Sid, a month.
- Please. - If I had a say,
we'd have done this years ago, but the boss took a shine to you.
You want me to put you down for some casual work?
Casual! Like he was doing me a favour.
- Sorry. - I've lost my job, Julian.
Well, now you know how it feels.
You hardly pled my case when Sid gave me the boot.
- That job was all I had. - Don't I know it.
I don't even have any rich aunts in the Shires, you fucking...
Oh, you are priceless.
Fucking what? Homo?
Poof? Faggot?
If you ask me, you should be celebrating.
That job served one miserable purpose.
To distract you from your life-threatening need
for some bloody good cock.
Have you had one of those days too?
You're a quiet one.
Always the shy ones.
What are you doing?
Just stop that!
Get out!
Bloody ruffians. I hope you're gonna make a report.
What's the use, Mrs P?
Thanks.
I didn't wake you, did I?
Hardly.
I can't get off before dawn, these days.
No?
I mean, it's been five years.
I've gotta face it, Tony.
I'm never gonna see him again.
Would you like to stay the night?
You could kip in Billy's old room.
Well...that's...yes.
I could probably find a pair of his old pyjamas.
Be a bit big on you though.
All the papers will have fifth anniversary stories,
but only I can deliver Lily Porter:
a mother's heartfelt plea to see her son before she dies.
What, see him in handcuffs, or in a beauty spot with no-one around?
She wants him to face justice.
She is very clear about that.
All right, you're on.
- Do you want tea? - Yeah.
Cambridgeshire just had a call about Porter.
A bloke reckons he knows him. Have they followed it up?
They're not taking it serious, but I know you like to hear everything.
- Why aren't they taking it serious? - The witness isn't exactly credible.
Fairground artist with form for trespassing and resisting.
Someone who'd never call the Old Bill unless he had a good reason.
I don't think the public's interest will ever die down.
Porter's become a boogie man.
A touchstone for all our fears and ills,
while others believe Porter's continued freedom
will engender exactly the kind of complacency
that will lead to his capture.
What is certain is that the resolve of the police to capture
this evil man remains.
In Beyond Good And Evil,
Nietzsche expressed the view that absolute morality is illusory.
That life itself is essentially
the overpowering of what is alien and weaker.
Unfortunately, these complex ideas have been misinterpreted
by fashionable, feeble-minded liberals
to the point where criminals like Porter
are no longer held responsible for their actions.
Instead, society is to blame.
Or education. Or unemployment.
Or all three.
These cowardly, convoluted excuses
are proffered to mask one unpalatable truth:
that the Billy Porters of this world have always been with us.
And we can no more explain them away
than we can undo their murderous work.
Oh, I see. You're just gonna leave?
Not even goodbye?
I thought it'd be easier.
What is it, Joe?
Something you want to tell me?
Yeah.
You've been good to me.
So why are you leaving?
I just...
There's just things I've gotta do.
What about our work? I mean, you could at least finish the carousel.
Yeah, you're right.
I could.
You all right there?
If you're gonna rush it, don't bother.
- Rush it? - I appreciate the gesture, but...
- What am I rushing, mate? - Nothing.
I mean... it's all right. You don't have to stay.
What? You want me to stay? You want me to go?
You're like a bird, Mick.
All right.
I want you to go.
Why?
Because the police are coming, Billy.