Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974
- Year:
- 2009
- 105 Views
[Film projector whirring]
[Rousing instrumental music]
[thunder rumbling]
[ominous music]
[radio static squealing]
A little girl goes missing.
The pack salivates.
If it bleeds, it leads, right?
Eddie Dunford,
crime correspondent,
back home to take the North.
Business first.
Dad won't mind waiting.
Edward.
I'm sorry to hear
about your father.
Oh, yeah, thank you very much,
Mr. Hadley.
He had a good innings, eh?
This is Detective
Superintendent Jobson.
Oh, right.
Pleasure, sir.
Pleasure to meet you.
Mr. Dunford's hoping to be
the Post's
new crime correspondent.
Oh, aye, I always got on well
with Jack Whitehead.
[Chuckles] Good old Jack, eh?
He'll be standing in
for a trial period.
That's right.
Pleasure to meet you...
and to work.
Is he a local lad?
Well, he cut his teeth
on our Yorkshire Post,
but he's been down south.
Young Turk, then, eh?
Made a pig's ear of it
from what I understand.
I'm giving him a month
to prove himself.
So where's Whitehead?
- Jack?
- Yeah.
On the piss, probably.
Don't worry, son.
You've got your legs
well under the table.
Just do the job.
I know, I know.
F*** him.
He's not getting in on this one.
Yeah, funeral is in two hours.
It's going to be tight.
I know. We'll make it.
Aye-up, owl's on.
Gentlemen,
we'll keep this brief.
At 4:
00 p.m. yesterday evening,3rd of September,
Clare Kemplay disappeared
on her way home
from Morley Grange
Junior and Infants.
Clare is ten years old.
She was wearing a red anorak,
gray school uniform,
and red Wellington boots.
to read a short statement.
Thank you.
- Poor cow.
- No, I know.
Yeah, do you reckon dad did it?
I would like to appeal
to anyone who knows
where my Clare is,
or who saw her
after yesterday teatime,
Clare is a very happy girl.
And I know she wouldn't just-
never just run off
without telling me.
Please, if you know
where she is...
[Sobbing] Please, this is...
I'm sorry.
[Sobbing]
All right, lads,
that's your lot.
[Gentle guitar music]
Oh.
I'm sorry, Mum.
I'm really sorry.
I'm really, really sorry
I'm late.
"Business before pleasure,"
he always said.
She means Dad.
Remember Dad?
[Speaking indistinctly]
He were Yorkshire's
finest tailor, William was.
He was a good lad, your dad.
You knew where you were
with him.
Reliable.
Well, now, Edward Dunford,
North of England
crime correspondent.
"Mrs. Sandra Kemplay
made an emotional plea
this morning..."
Did you write that, love?
Our new byline boy is Eddie.
You'll be wanting
his autograph next.
He'll always be
"Little Eddie" to me.
It's a step up, lad.
It's a pity your dad's
not here to see it.
Hey, is that one of his?
This? No.
This is a Lord John,
Carnaby Street.
Oh, aye.
It doesn't look good, does it?
This Kemplay lass.
24 hours, not a thing.
There's been a couple now,
aren't there?
Yeah, going back.
from Rochdale?
There were one not so long ago
in Castleford.
Yeah, Jeanette Garland.
Never found her neither.
No? Didn't they?
Hear them wheels.
Never do, though, do they?
[Dramatic music]
Aye-up, Chuck.
How are you? You all right?
Good to see you.
The prodigal returns.
Eddie.
[Mixed conversation]
Here to see the old man,
Miss Moneypenny.
Didn't cut it down south, then?
Funny.
So, sir, if I could get
your attention,
They're all aged
between eight and ten.
1969, 1972, and then the day
before yesterday.
And they all go missing within
miles of one another, sir.
This could be the A34 murders
all over again.
Well, do let's hope so,
eh, Mr. Dunford?
Yeah, fingers crossed, eh?
I was being sarcastic, Edward.
Sorry.
Have you spoke
No.
No, this is-this is my story.
Isn't it, Mr. Hadley?
Spot the Ball.
It's the reason why 39%
of working-class males
buy this paper.
That's interesting.
What about-
about working-class males?
Do you think
it could be the same man?
Yes, sir.
Yes, I do.
Right, I'll fix you up
with a one-to-one.
First thing in the morning
with DCS Molloy.
Bill Molloy suspects itinerants.
Gypsies.
Oh, well...
[Laughs]
Of course he does.
Now, don't push him, lad.
This paper enjoys
a good relationship
with our newly amalgamated
police force.
And I, for one, would like
to keep it that way.
Of course, sir. Of course.
Good.
You know, you really ought
to have a go at these, Edward.
They'd be right up your street.
Thank you, sir. I will.
- Edward.
- Yep?
Don't cock it up, eh?
[Soul music playing]
- You think you've got it
all set up
Yeah, unbelievable.
They hacked the f***ing
swan's wings off.
Clean off.
Left the poor bastard
lying there.
You're joking.
Yeah. Still alive, apparently.
Some kids found it.
- Hey, Eddie.
- Yes, yes.
How did it go with Hadley?
Ah, he's not convinced.
Usual bollocks,
"Don't cause a fuss."
Right.
One thing's for sure:
They're linked, all right.
I know it.
Yeah, but linked how?
Everything's linked, Eddie.
Show me two things that aren't.
Stoke City
and the f***ing championship.
Hmm. Come here.
Eddie, it's a conspiracy.
We've got MI5 keeping an eye
on our Harold,
Mountbatten waiting in the wings
with a military junta.
Bollocks.
There are death squads
out there.
They give them a taste
in Northern Ireland,
bring them back home hungry.
F*** off! Death squads.
And every city
has its death squads.
Sentence first, evidence after.
All right, well,
I'll steer well clear
death squad, then.
You can laugh.
I will.
Why not work Watergate in there,
Death squads, Barry?
Come on, you're losing it, mate.
- Oh, sh*t.
- What?
Oh, you're a lucky man, Dunford.
Mr. Gannon?
BJ, in there.
Are you all right, fella?
[Catcalls and whistles]
F***ing hell.
Business.
I didn't think
it were pleasure, did I?
Oy.
Having a nice time
back up North?
Yeah, you know, Barry.
Gets a bit obtuse.
Obtuse?
There's a big word for you.
Oh. How about you?
How about me what?
Are you having a good time?
Oh, I love being on me own
in bars.
Oh, no, you weren't.
You weren't alone.
You could have come over.
Well, I wasn't invited.
Oh, poor baby.
Oh, I love you.
I love you, Eddie.
- Who had love
that's now departed?
I know I've got to find
Some kind of peace of mind
I've missed you, Eddie, love.
[Toilet flushes]
[Telephone ringing]
Eddie.
[Knock at door]
It's for him.
Yeah?
Dunford, I thought you were
a f***ing journalist.
Well, you best start
asking questions.
Who is this?
You don't need to know.
Are you interested
in the Romany way?
White vans and gypos.
Where?
Hunslet Beeston exit off the M1.
When?
Mischief night came early,
and you're late.
[dial tone drones]
[Suspenseful music]
[Horse snorts]
[Baby crying]
Someone had torched
the whole f***ing place.
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"Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/red_riding:_in_the_year_of_our_lord_1974_16706>.
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