Harry Brown Page #4

- F***ing hell.

if you ever want to walk again.

F*** off!

F*** off.

F***.

F***.

F***ing wait.

- What the f***?

- Goodbye, Marky.

No, I got the whole f***ing thing

on my phone.

- You what?

- F***. I'm sorry, man.

- We was just retaliating, bruv.

- Where's the phone?

In my pocket.

Go on, make it work.

Calm down, bruv.

Right, kill him, man.

Kill that pensioner, blood.

F***, I'm sorry.

We just meant to sh*t him up.

It wasn't me that stabbed him.

Who did?

So ain't no one warned you about me, no?

- No.

- You think you're a big girl?

Yeah?

Come on, tease me.

Feel my gun.

Carl.

What?

Get the f*** out of here.

Get out. He's got a gun.

Who's got a f***in' gun?

Who's got a f***in' gun?

Boys, please.

Don't f***ing shoot, man.

Wait, please.

F***.

F*** this.

F***ing hell, Carl!

Wait! F***ing hell!

F***ing wait!

F***!

Mr. Brown, can you hear me?

Do you remember me?

I'm Sergeant Terry Hicock.

I'm sorry, sir, I've got to ask you

a couple of questions, is that OK?

Did you see anyone on the canal tow path?

No. Are you sure?

Excuse me?

If you want to interview Mr. Brown

then you'll have to come back.

He's not well enough

to answer your questions.

No, of course.

- What exactly is wrong with Mr. Brown?

- Emphysema.

For more information

you'll have to speak with the doctor.

Wait.

Here, sorry.

Thank you.

So much for our witness.

Where was he found?

Listen, ma'am, we're gonna be late

for this briefing.

Is this exactly

where Mr. Brown was found?

Yes, ma'am. Uniform said he had trouble

breathing and couldn't answer questions.

- Did they search him?

- Search him for what?

What do you think he was doing here?

Taking a piss. Walking his dog.

I smelt cordite on his coat.

Right, look, I'm sorry, ma'am, but...

the Super's briefing started 15 minutes ago

and we're supposed to be there.

Apologies, sir.

I have 13 warrants to execute on the estate.

I hope your witness was worth it.

The witness proved unreliable, sir.

Claims not to have seen anything.

Pity.

Sir, I don't think Harry Brown is a witness.

I think he's our chief suspect.

I'm sorry, I was under the impression

uniform found an elderly gentleman

on the tow path.

Yes, that's right,

that's correct, sir.

Mr. Brown

is a close friend of Leonard Attwell,

the senior citizen found

stabbed in the pedestrian subway.

It's the same pedestrian subway

where last night's shooting took place

and both victims were questioned

in connection with Mr. Attwell's death.

It's too much of a coincidence

that Mister Brown just happened

to be found so close by.

So, what you're telling me is

this escalating violence

is down to a vigilante pensioner?

Yes.

Do you have any evidence to support that?

Not at the moment,

but I'd like to get a warrant

so I can have Mr. Brown's clothes

tested for gunfire residue.

Where is Mr. Brown?

He's in the hospital, sir.

He's having trouble breathing.

Emphysema.

Also, Dean Saunders was found

on that canal stabbed to death.

He too was questioned by myself

and Hicock and then released.

Did you know that Troy Martindale

was shot in his car last night?

Martindale was a major heroin importer.

who operate out of Curzon street

were also shot dead a week ago.

Neither of whom you've questioned

in connection with the killing

of this old man in the subway.

Of course, you'd have known all this

if you'd been at the briefing.

He was with the Royal Marines,

stationed in Northern Ireland.

I had the MOD

send me his old service record.

Terry, give us a minute, please?

I've had a request from Division.

They're looking for an experienced officer

to head up a major inquiry

into identity theft.

Your background

makes you the perfect candidate.

I've recommended you

and they've accepted.

Take the weekend for yourself, Alice.

Good luck.

F*** off.

Give me your other arm!

Oi, f*** off!

Move out.

I'll get you. Come here!

- Get on the f***ing floor!

- Show me your hands!

F***ing, pricks! F*** off!

Get off me!

Visors down!

Mr. Brown?

Mr. Brown, please.

Mr. Brown!

Petrol bomb!

- Get down, incoming!

- Move back!

I'm really sorry.

Do you really think

Mr. Emphysema's got it in him

to top a load of hoodies?

I've just spoken to the hospital.

He's discharged himself.

Well, we're off the case now,

thanks to you.

I think he's going to the estate.

I think he's going to kill Noel Winters.

Who gives a f*** if he is?

Noel Winters is a c*nt.

His dad was a c*nt.

One day he's gonna have loads of cunty kids.

As far as I'm concerned,

Harry Brown's doing us a favour.

Come on then.

You f***ing bastards.

F***ing hell.

Sh*t!

Sid. It's me. It's Harry.

Open the door, mate.

Move that table,

I want to put him in the corner.

That's it.

Get an ambulance.

Don't move, son.

He'll be all right.

- Get an ambulance!

- Yeah, I'll...

You all right, love?

It's not Northern Ireland, Harry.

No, it's not.

Those people

were fighting for something.

For a cause.

To them out there,

this is just entertainment.

But where does it end...hm?

You shoot Noel for what he did to Leonard

and then Sid shoots you?

Sid?

What's Sid got to do with it?

Sid Rourke's Noel Winters' uncle.

Not looking too good there,

me old son.

Where's Noel,

Uncle Sid?

Get out here, Noel.

Put that down!

F*** that. This senile old c*nt

killed Marky and Carl.

I told you to put it down.

Come on, Harry.

You're not going to shoot a kid

when there's 2 coppers upstairs, are ye?

- He killed Leonard.

- He swore to me that he didn't.

Now what am I supposed to do?

- He's my sister's boy. He's blood.

- Blood?

Do you want to see Leonard's blood?

These f***ing animals

filmed the whole thing

on their f***ing phones.

All right.

I defended him when I shouldn't have,

but I can't let you shoot him, Harry.

I can't have that.

Are you all right, Harry?

Are you OK, me old mate?

Officers need assistance.

Armed response, come in.

Over.

What are you drinking there, love?

You f***ing slag.

F***ing dirty b*tch, look at me.

Look up.

F***ing sket.

I told you I'd f*** you, didn't I?

You f***ing c*nt.

You see this?

This is the sort of thing

I'm talking about.

It's not a f***ing game.

Now in future,

you do as you are f***ing told!

Yeah?

OK. We do them in here.

Dump them on the street.

That way it'll look like

they got caught in the sh*t storm.

He's half done already.

See that?

It's nice and easy.

Turn over, you f***ing slag.

Come on.

Look at me.

Go on, f***ing look at me.

I'll be the last f***ing thing

you see when you die.

Go on, struggle.

Struggle. Go on.

Go on.

Go on. Do me a favour.

Pull the trigger.

Do you have a clear target?

Do it.

Please.

Following the findings

of the enquiry

concerning the aftermath

of Operation Blue Jay.

The ruling of the committee

commend not only myself,

but other members of the squad.

In particular,

Detective Sergeant Terry Hicock,

who having tragically lost his life

in the line of duty

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