29x07 - Grace of God - Part One

[bunniefuu]

It's just a job.

Like any other.

It's true we deal with violence.

We witness the results of violent acts,

the worst things
people do to one another.

But we've come to understand

how to separate these things
from our own lives, you know?

So you've only recently
relocated to Birmingham?

Yeah. Not been long.

You know what they say.

Three most stressful things in life -

death, divorce, moving house.

You've been working hard
since the move, you said.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Long hours.

But I don't think the nature
of what I do is pertinent here.

Right.

Do you feel disassociated sometimes?

Sorry?

A feeling of disconnection
from your thoughts,

your feelings, your memories?

Even your body or your sense of identity?

I don't feel disassociated from anything.

I'm living the dream.

Dream job. Dream marriage.

Even Birmingham
has surpassed expectations.

I'm an honorary professor now.

You did mention that.

- So, all this death you deal with...
- Mm?

This human suffering...

..it doesn't affect you?

I'm a professional.

So what is troubling you, Mr Hodgson?

MUSIC: Floor 104 by Fintan

MUSIC CONTINUES IN CAR

You sure this is the place?

Bennett House, Building A.

Do you want to see the message they sent?

Two GL*CK 17s? You're sure?



A grand three for the both of them.

OK.

Building A.

Relax, will you, Boylesy?

Right. I'll go give it an eye.

You leave the engine running.

g*nsh*t

Kyle!

ANOTHER SHOT

MUSIC CONTINUES IN CAR

♪ Testator silens

♪ Costestes e spiritu

♪ Silencium

♪ Testator silens. ♪

DISTANT SIREN

JACK: The trajectory of ballistic descent

indicated by the b*llet
retrieved from the headrest

suggests the sh**ter was positioned above

and to the left,
if seen from the vehicle.

This is consistent
with an assailant firing

from an upper-level balcony or
similar elevated vantage point.

Two 9mm b*llet casings

were retrieved
from a second-floor balcony

of Bennett House, Building A,

suggesting the sh**ter
was standing here while firing.

NIKKI: The deceased
is a 38-year-old male.

He was identified by the driving licence

found on his body as Kyle Boyle.

Mr Boyle sustained a single
g*nsh*t wound to the head.

The entry wound, located
at the anterior aspect

of the left side,
measured 9mm in diameter.

JACK: The security cameras

on the north and east sides of
the building were out of use.

They had been for some time,
according to residents.

NIKKI: The projectile penetrated
the left temporal bone

at a downwards angle,
travelling rightward

and posteriorly through the brain.

The passage of the b*llet

through the thalamus and brainstem

would have resulted
in instantaneous incapacitation

and likely immediate cessation
of vital functions.

The extent of neurological
disruption means that survival,

even momentarily, would have
been highly unlikely.

JACK: Analysis of the 9mm b*llet

found distinct striations on the metal.

CORONER: Could you
define what you mean by striations,

for the purposes of the inquest?

Striations are microscopic
grooves in the b*llet

created by imperfections
in the barrel of the g*n.

They help match the ballistics
to a particular weapon.

CORONER: And were you
able to make any such match?

Yes. The characteristics are the same

as the striations on this b*llet

which was recovered from
the scene of another crime.

In my opinion, given
the high level of correlation,

both b*ll*ts were fired
by the same firearm.

Alfie Meadows was 15 years old
when he died.

Have Midlands Police any
leads on the person or persons

who shot Kyle Boyle,
Detective Inspector Mahler?

At the moment, no arrests are imminent,

but we are pursuing all leads

and continue to examine items
recovered from the vehicle.

You OK?

Six g*n deaths in six months.





- The police are doing their best.
- They know who's supplying the g*ns.

- The Retfords.
- The Retfords.

They supplied the g*n
that k*lled Alfie Meadows

on their home turf in Sparkhill.

The same weapon that k*lled Kyle Boyle.

I know they did.

But there's no chain of evidence, Jack.

Not yet.

At least Marcus Retford is behind bars.

For tax fraud.



We'll find who pulled the trigger.

It's what we do.

Facts and figures.

If you want to call it that.

- Aye.
- Come on.

- Let's go and get dinner.
- Yeah.

Actually...

..I might head to the gym,

try and get out of this funk.

Sorry, I'm not great company
at the minute.

- You sure you're OK?
- Yeah.

You go.

- See you in a bit.
- OK.

GATE SQUEAKS

I knew you'd find me.

Yeah.

Took me 16 different addresses, though.

I didn't know that
you was gonna be there.

I swear to you, Jase.

I didn't know.

What did they tell you?

Bennett Close.

Midday.

Two males, black Audi.

Do them both?

Yeah.

Yeah, do them both.

sh*t.

I swear, Jase, I never knew it was you.

What else?

They said there was a g*n deal
going down. Glocks.

Did they know it was you?

I don't know.

Why, though? Why would he do that to you?

Retford loves you. You said so yourself.

I'm setting up my own routes, Scott.

- Deal wasn't sanctioned.
- What?

- Are you mad?
- Retford's inside.

The boys are restless.
I needed to show him

I'm the guy to run this out here.

sh*t.

Someone set me up, Scott.

sh*t. I'm sorry, Jase.

Hey.

You can't stay here.
Have you got nowhere else you can go?

No.

Hey.

We're gonna be OK, all right?

We'll figure this out.

Got you a new number.

You only call me from this phone, OK?

He's given me another job.

- What job?
- It's just a simple follow.

It could be a trap.

They don't know that we're
tight. It'll be all right.

- Oh, Jesus Christ.
- I've got to go now.

What?

I'm meeting Jaggers.

Scott, I don't think it's safe! Scott!

Scott?

DRINKERS CHEER

RAUCOUS HUBBUB

CHATTER AND MUSIC

Can I get a lager and a whisky, please?

INAUDIBLE CHATTER

- 'Ey up, mate, what...?
- Ah, sh*t, sorry, mate.

- f*ck off!
- OK.

It was just an accident.

Yeah, well, look at me -
I'm f*cking dripping.

- I'm soaking.
- I know, I know.

Me too, mate, me too.
Here you go. I'm soaked too.

Look, there we go, we're both soaked.

This jacket cost 300 quid. You owe me.

I'll pay for your dry-cleaning, whatever.

No, mate. Jacket's ruined. £300.

Are you listening to me?

Come on, then.

No.

I'm not doing this.

SUDDEN ROWDY OUTBURST

INAUDIBLE

All right, dickhead?

Seriously?

Look, mate...

- I don't want trouble.
- Nope.

You don't get to walk away
from me, pretty boy.

- You owe me.
- Hey, take it easy.

I told you I'm not doing this.

BOTH GRUNT AND GROAN

- Stop.
- OTHER MAN GROANS

Leave it.

That's enough.

No.

Enough!

DOOR UNLOCKS AND OPENS

DOOR CLOSES

sh*t.

What happened to you last night?

Oh, my God.

Stupid, really.

Fell off a rental bike
on the way back from the gym.

Properly mangled it. And me.

- Are you OK?
- Yeah!

Just a bit bruised, that's all. Be fine.

Gonna have to pay for the bike, though.

- Sorry.
- Mm.

You slept on the sofa?

Didn't want to wake you.

Coffee?

Thanks.

Come on.

Don't want to be late for the workhouse.

Harriet might cut our biscuit rations.

KIT: They said you were
hiding away in here.

What are you doing?

We've been over the vehicle.

They're taking it to the pound
in West Brom tomorrow.

What if someone was with the victim
when they drove into the estate?

Witnesses didn't report seeing
a second person in the car.

Witnesses didn't report seeing anything.

They were too scared.

So why do you think there was
someone else at the sh**ting?

The chewing gum.

From the passenger-side floor?

I was going over the reports.

The gum wasn't on the floor.

It was still stuck
to the underside of the seat

when the car was brought in at 11pm.

- Leather seats, right?
- Vegan leather.

How long does gum stick
to fake animal hide?

Funnily enough, I don't think
anyone's carried out

that fascinating piece of research.

- I can feel a "but" coming.
- The gum was moist.

I think it was stuck there
the morning of the sh**ting.

And I found something else.
Come and see this.

Small patch of residue at
the bottom of the seat upright.

I tested it. It was g*n oil.

Could have been a drip

which soaked into the leather like that.

So someone was sitting in the
passenger seat with a g*n tucked in

- the back of their tighty-whities?
- Mm.

Jesus!

What happened to you?

Nikki finally have enough
of your one-liners?

Fell off my rental bike.

And there was me thinking you were
the Bradley Wiggins of Birmingham.

Bradley Walsh, maybe.

Who was in the car?

And where are they now?

NIKKI: The deceased is
an unidentified male.

HARRIET: Approximately 40 years old.

NIKKI: No identification
was found on the body

or at the scene.

The subject was discovered on wasteland

off Sturton Street, Langley Green,

by a dogwalker at approximately


Weight 83kg.

And height...

..186cm.

CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS

External examination shows

bruising on the knuckles of both hands,

primarily the right.

HARRIET: The torso
shows additional bruising

across the lateral aspects

of the ribs and upper abdomen.

There is also significant
bruising to the facial region,

particularly around
the left orbital socket

and the right mandibular area.

Pattern is consistent
with repeated impacts,

possibly kicks or punches.

No...

JACK: Have you got a minute?

You shouldn't be in here
without scrubs, Jack.

Yeah. Sorry. Um...

How's it looking?

Too early to tell.

Damage to the left orbital socket

suggests some sort of violent encounter,

and bruising on the knuckles

could be offensive or defensive.

When did it happen?

Body was found early this morning -

waste ground in Langley Green.

I'll know more when the SIO comes in.

What about time of death?

He had no watch on him, no phone.

There were no witnesses, no CCTV.

So nothing that helps us beyond
the vague eight-hour window

the body gives us. Why are you asking?

Just trying to get ahead of it.

You know...

..presumably they'll want us
to lead the forensic analysis.

That's how it normally works, yes, Jack.

Heh.

Are you OK?

Sometimes I don't think I deserve you.

Don't be an idiot.

Yeah.

Good advice.

Detective Inspector Fiona Mahler
to see Dr Alexander.

DOOR ENTRY BUZZES

NIKKI: Kyle Boyle.

Presume he didn't see it coming?

Death would have been
almost instantaneous.

You're ready to release
the body for burial?

Er, yes.

The coroner has signed off.

Your colleague, he's sure...

...that the firearm was the same one

used in the Alfie Meadows
k*lling in Sparkhill?

The science is the science.

So I'm told.

You ever heard of Marcus Retford?

Retford traffics g*ns.

Your lot think his weapons...

- WHIRRING
- ..are behind these shootings.

Marcus's big brother... Sean

was in the British Army
in Afghanistan in the 2000s.

Sean had the bright idea
of smuggling Army handguns

back into the UK. And...

...little brother Marcus helped.

- What happened to Sean?
- The Taliban happened.

But young Marcus kept up
with his brother's comrades.

Kept Sean's smuggling routes going,

and added a few specials to the menu.

Specials?

Top-shelf heroin from Helmand.

Marcus earned more in a week

than his w*r-hero brother
made his whole life.

But Retford is in prison,
right? For tax fraud?

Retford is very happy to be in prison...

- CLANKING
- ..for tax fraud.

He'll be out in six months,
and in the meantime,

he runs his entire empire

from the comfort and safety of A Wing.

So you think Marcus Retford
k*lled Kyle Boyle?

Ordered it from prison?

His guys, anyway.

Kyle was on his way
to do a deal to buy handguns

from a fence on the Bennett Estate.

Retford's guys knew about it
and k*lled him.

Why?

While Retford's inside,
his capos smell an opportunity.

The younger hoods
fancy themselves as the power.

Whose side was he on? Boyle?

Kyle's dead, isn't he,
so I'd say the wrong side.

And you have no idea
who pulled the trigger?

Not yet.

You?

My colleagues think that
someone else was in the car

with him when he was shot.

They found DNA
that doesn't match the victim,

and g*n oil residue.

Any ID?

We're working on it.

OK.

Keep me posted, please.

You keep saying Kyle.

You keep using his first name.

There's something you're not telling me.

His surname wasn't Boyle.

It was Jenkins.

So who was Kyle Jenkins?

Kyle Jenkins was working
for the National Crime Agency.

He was an undercover NCA officer?

The NCA operation is still ongoing.

Which is why it wasn't
mentioned at the inquest.

Did Marcus Retford know that
Kyle was NCA undercover?

We don't know. We'd like to know.

"We"?

There is a degree of crossover

between Midlands Police and the NCA.

So you knew Kyle Jenkins.

Local knowledge is an advantage

when placing an undercover operative.

I helped Kyle when he needed it.

You became close.

Something like that.

I'm sorry for your loss,
Detective Inspector.

SHE CLEARS HER THROAT

SHE SNIFFS
We were hoping...

to keep the NCA
involvement out of things,

but we need answers about Kyle's death.

I saw you and your colleague
at the inquest.

You were impressive. That's why
I reached out to my bosses

to persuade them that
we needed a little extra help,

a little extra time.

If you guys can pin Kyle's death

to one of Marcus Retford's g*ns

in the hands of one of
Marcus Retford's scumbags,

we can put that b*stard away
for a long time -

somewhere he can't boss

the way he bosses the prison he's in now.

And, you know...

less Retford smack and less Retford g*ns

might considerably lighten your workload.

We'll do our best.

Please do.

Scott?

Scott!

LINE RINGS

PHONE BUZZES AND RINGS

BUZZING AND RINGING CONTINUE

BUZZING AND RINGING STOP

Have you seen Jack?

Sorry. Not since this morning.

He's not answering his phone.

Maybe he's gone to the pub.

Yeah, you're probably right.

It's more likely
he's at the gym for leg day.

If you see him,
get him to call me, would you?

Otherwise I'll catch up with him at home.

- Is he in trouble?
- He's my husband.

He's always in trouble.

SHOUTING AND THUDDING

JACK: Enough!

He was fine.

He walked out of here.

He walked out of here.

JACK: Hey.

Where were you today?

Just needed some fresh air,
clear the head.

How was the rest of your day?

Weird.

Weird how?

Detective Inspector Mahler
of Midlands Police

told me that the sh**ting
victim Kyle Boyle

wasn't actually Kyle Boyle
but Kyle Jenkins.

Ah. He was running away from something?

Running towards it, actually.

Kyle was an undercover NCA officer.

sh*t.

OK.

So I guess that gives it priority, right?

Well, they want to find whoever
was in the car with him.

They think he was lured
to the meeting where he died.

The extracted DNA from the chewing gum

generated a full male DNA profile

that doesn't match the deceased.

I'm going to review
the forensic evidence,

- but it is thin.
- OK.

But as you say, priority.

Mm-hm.

And the new case, the body
that came in today, John Doe?

Any ID on him yet?

No. No prints match in the IDENT1.

We're waiting on DNA now.

There's chicken in the fridge
if you want it.

- I've eaten.
- Thanks.

Any idea how he died?

Who?

John Doe?

Oh. Looks like extradural haematoma

caused by a depressed comminuted
fracture.

Blunt force trauma?

Fracture pattern is consistent
with a single blow.

Absence of Puppe's rule sequencing

in the fracture pattern seems
to discount multiple impacts.

Was he hit with something?

Maybe.

I didn't find any obvious
trace material in the wound,

so not a brick or a rock.

What about metallurgical particulates

- or polymer residues?
- Again, nothing obvious.

But something must have caused
the skull to fracture.

OK. Yeah.

Is this our bedtime chats
these days, Jack?

Blunt force trauma and dead policemen?

Sorry. Interested, that's all.

Why do we do this?

What?

This job.

I think I know why I do it.

I like solving puzzles.

I like the process, you know, deduction.

But do I believe in right and wrong?

Tipping the scales in favour
of justice and balance?

I think you do.

I know I believe in it.

Yes.

You do.

Where's this coming from, Jack?

I don't know.

Well, I could use your help.

Oh, yeah? With what?

The John Doe.

I found ethanol in his stomach.



His blood alcohol concentration was 187.

Suggests he was drinking
heavily before he died.

Where he was found, there are...

...six pubs within a square-mile radius,

at least three off-licences
Kit could find.

So let the police do their rounds.

They are.

I just thought you might want
to go down there

and work your magic.

I want to know who he is, Jack.

INDISTINCT POLICE RADIO

Mr Hodgson? DS Begum.

I attended the body yesterday.

Just looking at the crime scene photos.
What do you think happened to him?

No ID, no phone, no wallet on his person.

Maybe a mugging?

Wouldn't be the first round here.

What do your lot say?

Blunt force and brain bleed.

No certainty
what caused the impact. CCTV?

Not from round here.

I did find something, though.

What's that?

The guy at the shop round the corner

said there was a row at the Market Tavern

the night before our fella was found.

Maybe he was drinking there.

A row?

The Tavern can get rough.

Shall we?

Yeah. Why not?

f*ck off!

You go on. I just need the loo.

DS BEGUM: How are you
doing, mate? Detective Begum.

I'm here to find out if
you've got any information...

HIS VOICE FADES

HE WHISPERS: Come on.

INDISTINCT CONVERSATION

DS BEGUM: Mr Hodgson?

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

Yeah.

He says he doesn't remember
our guy, or any altercation.

This is mainly a cash pub,
but we'll go through

the names on the credit card
receipts, see what comes up.

- BARTENDER: Excuse me?
- I think we should...

- Officer?
- ..walk the route from here.

Sorry, hang on a mo.

Come on, then.

DS BEGUM: Mr Hodgson? Jack?

Yeah, sorry.

He's saying there's a camera
behind the bar.

He can show us the footage.

DS BEGUM: There.

That's our man, innit?

He's arguing with someone.

Come on.

Show us your face.

DS BEGUM: sh*t.

HE HITS THE TABLE

Nothing.

Any other cameras?

Sorry, that's all we've got.

I'll get onto the council,

see what areas their CCTV covers.

You think you can do anything
with this footage?

You know, enhance it and all?

Send it to me. We'll see what we can do.

I don't think it was a mugging, Jack.

The pattern of bruising...

torso and knuckles...

A mugging, you might expect bruising
on the wrists from grabbing

scratch marks from snatching.

These marks seem less like attack,

more like defensive injuries.

OK. Hold up your hands.

- What?
- Come at me like you're going to attack.

No.

Come on, Jack, it's just an exercise.

I want to picture it in my head.

Lead with your right hand.

Blow lands there.

Evidence of another one here.

Then, judging by the bruising
across his back here,

it looks as if he was
pushed hard against something.

A bar or railing, perhaps.

Now, come at me fast.

Come on.

Come on, Jack, play the game.

Jack?

Sorry, I was only...

Are you all right?

What's going on?

Talk to me.

I want to help.

Nikki...

You can tell me, Jack.

You can tell me anything.

Can I?

I'm sorry, Nikki.

Are you looking for me?

You're not real.

Seem pretty real to you.

You walked away.

You were alive.

INDISTINCT CONVERSATION

PHONE BUZZES

PHONE STOPS BUZZING

NIKKI: Jack, please call me
when you get this.

LINE RINGS

I need to meet.

Yes, it's important. I'll come to you.

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES

DS BEGUM: Mr Hodgson.

How can I help you?

I want to report a m*rder.

The Langley Green victim.

Yeah?

We know about that.

It was me.

I k*lled him.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Dr Alexander?

Yes.

We have a warrant
to search these premises.

What?

NIKKI: It's not possible.

Jack said that he went
to the gym that night.

I believed him.

- Jack doesn't lie.
- He seems to think that

his punch caused
the extradural haematoma.

He could go for manslaughter.

- m*rder, even.
- Oh, Nikki.

We've seen these before, Harriet.

One punch.

We've helped prosecute them,
for God's sake!

What is it, Nikki?

It's happened before.

What has?

He was young.

Jack's brother got into a fight.

He went to help.

He broke the other man's jaw.

Jack's brother took the fall for it.

He went to prison for GBH.

I didn't know that.

Do you think Jack's capable
of k*lling someone?

Oh, I think we all are.

I've always thought that m*rder was

the... one crime I could understand.

Why didn't he tell me?

Why did he lie?

I don't know.

Shame?

Scientific reasoning?

I mean, the man walked away
after the altercation.

His body was found
almost eight hours later.

There is nothing to prove that
Jack's punch caused his death.

And there's nothing to prove it didn't.

I can prove it didn't.

It's what I do, isn't it?

Unlocking the truth about a death.

Nikki... The Bowman Centre
can no longer be involved

- in this case.
- Oh, Harriet, please.

No, you know that.

This can't be our case any more.

I need to prove that
Jack didn't k*ll that man.

- To the police or to yourself?
- To him.

- I need to prove it to him.
- We will. We will.

If Jack is convicted,

then everything is finished, Harriet.

How's he going to survive in there?

Especially when they find out
he works for the police.

One step at a time, Nikki.

I can't just sit here, Harriet.

It is protocol.

The body must be moved from
here to another group practice.

Let the system do what it does.

Thank you.

Hodgson.

Right, Mr Hodgson,
step up to the desk, please.

I'm Officer Barnes. I will be
processing your reception

into this establishment today.

Full name?

Jack Edward Hodgson.

Date of birth?



And your next of kin?

Nikki Alexander.

My wife.

So, Mr Hodgson, you are being
remanded in custody

while awaiting trial for...

m*rder. And intent to cause
grievous bodily harm.

Right. Thanks for the input.

One wallet, containing...

..£65 and three bank cards.

One... mobile phone.

One... wristwatch.

One set of house keys.

One car key.

- Is that correct?
- Yeah.

Any jewellery?

You can keep that on.

- Is that it?
- That's it.

Right.

Sign here to confirm.

These items will be stored
securely until your release.

Right, the nurse will see you shortly.

- Why?
- Because that's what happens.

You can make a phone call
once we've finished processing.

- I'm good, thanks.
- It's up to you.

You will now be escorted
to healthcare for an assessment,

then I will take you to your cell.

Understood?

I need to know you understand.

Yes, I understand.

I've made you a tea-based hot beverage.

- I've heard it helps.
- Thanks, Kit.

He hasn't called.

It'll take a while.

At least he's on his own, safe and sound.

They'll look after their own.

Is he their own?

We're neither/nor, are we?

He didn't k*ll that man, Nikki.

- I know it.
- We don't know it.

- That's just the point, Kit.
- No.

Jack's not responsible for this.

He was defending himself.

That's clearly not what
my husband thinks.

That damn Northern Irish upbringing.

An aggravatingly solid sense
of what's right and wrong.

Nikki, can I borrow you
for a moment, please?

We've just had a new arrival.

Death waits for no woman.

HARRIET UNZIPS A BODY BAG

Harriet, I'm not sure how much use
I'm going to be while Jack...

Save it, Nikki. We don't have much time.

What?

Harriet?

I won't let you jeopardise your position.

I think I've earned the right
to make my own decisions.

If they want to retire me,
good luck to them.

I shall sleep easy.

Now, it's Friday,

and they won't look at the body

until first thing Monday morning,

so you have got 48 hours, Nikki.

PRISON OFFICER: The building is divided

between A Wing and B Wing.

All remand prisoners are kept on B Wing.

Evening meals are in the dining
hall in the communal area,

shared between the two wings.

All other meals
are delivered to your door.

But if you want anything other
than baked beans

for your dinner...

..I'd advise being in line bang on five.

On you go.

PRISONERS CHATTER

PRISONERS YELL AND BANG

Oi-oi! Fresh meat!

PRISONERS CALL OUT

PRISONER WOLF-WHISTLES

YELLING AND CLATTERING

You might have read about
the overcrowding issue

- in the prison estate.
- Once or twice.

Well, I'm here to tell you
that it's not an issue.

It's a nightmare.

Welcome to the Little House
On The Prairie, Mr Hodgson.

I was told I would be
in a single-occupancy room,

due to my circumstances.

Single occupancy is summat
of an elastic concept

here at Fenmarsh.

And it's only for the night.

Hopefully.

Sorry, pal.

DOOR CLOSES

DOOR LOCKS

SHOUTING OUTSIDE

NIKKI LAUGHS

CELLMATE: It's Hodgson, right?

Yeah. Jack Hodgson.

Well, good to meet you, Jack Hodgson.

I'm Jason Macklow.

♪ Testator silens

♪ Costestes e spiritu

♪ Silencium. ♪