Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974 Page #3

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about Jeanette.

Sure?

Thank you.

Mr. Garland about, or...

No.

What is it that you want,

Mister-

Mr. Dunford?

Um, well...

I'm doing this article,

and it's about the...

about parents of children

who have gone missing.

It's about how people

like yourself,

like your husband, have coped

after all the fuss

has died down.

It must be a very difficult time

for you, bring it all back.

I understand that.

I know how you must have felt.

No, you have no idea how I feel.

No.

I mean, one of the things,

for example...

do you feel

that the police

could have done anything more

to have helped you?

Yeah, there was one thing.

Right. What was that?

They could have found

my daughter.

Yeah.

You come into my house

like you're discussing

the weather

or some war

in another f***ing country.

You know, this thing

happened to me.

Can you get out, please?

Just get out!

He killed himself.

What?

Her husband's dead?

Never got over Jeanette.

Sucked on a shotgun a year back.

Oh... sh*t.

You're supposed to know

these things, Dunford.

It didn't exactly make

the front page down south,

did it?

Well, it did here.

You should have f***ing known.

Do your job.

Time, gentlemen, please.

How about you?

How was, um-how was Shangri-la?

[Sighs]

Mrs. Dawson told me

my life's in danger.

Bollocks.

Look, Barry, if you believe it,

you've got to tell someone.

Oh, yeah, who? The law?

F*** that.

These people are the law.

- Eddie.

- Yeah?

That gypsy camp, Hunslet Carr.

- Yeah?

- Take a closer look.

Dawson set up a 100 million

property trust.

100 million.

It would be interesting to know

who else is on that board.

There are death squads

out there, eh?

You're ignorant, Dunford.

Try carrying a history book

along with

that notepad of yours.

[Scoffs]

Want a lift or what?

I'm going t'other way.

[Laughs] Piss head!

Never had the urge

to deliver us from evil, then?

No, never.

The devil triumphs

when good men do naught.

[Tires squeal]

[Siren wails]

What are you doing here, lad?

Just been for a pint.

What about you?

[Chuckles] F*** off.

It's all right; I'm over 18-

- Shut up, you little poof!

[Groans]

I didn't do anything!

What do you want?

I'll tell you

what we don't want.

We don't want tits like you

bothering people

we don't want bothering.

Yeah. Not very nice, is it?

Is it?

F***!

[Groans]

[Gasping]

[Car door slams]

[Coughing]

[Engine revs]

[Dramatic music]

All right, Mrs. Garland?

It seems like a nice local.

Yeah, yeah. It used to be.

You mind if I have a seat

for a sec?

One of them for me?

Come here often?

It sounds like you're trying

to pick me up, Mr. Dunford.

I hope your friends in the force

don't see us here together.

What?

What are you talking about?

It's all right.

I got the message.

You didn't have to do that.

You didn't have to go

to the police.

Well, I never-I never said

anything to the police.

- No?

- No.

- Who'd you tell, then?

- No one.

Look, Mrs. Garland...

Paula.

It's Paula.

Paula, I'm very, very sorry...

about earlier.

It's all right.

You were doing your job.

Might help find my little girl.

Yeah, but still,

I was right out of order.

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

I didn't know

about your husband.

Right.

Well...

the ring always felt

a bit loose, to be honest.

[Chuckles]

And there, that was

a stupid thing to say.

Do you want another drink?

Just another drink, that's all.

That's a bad idea.

[Dog barking]

[Dramatic music]

[Telephone ringing]

Eddie?

It's for you.

About Barry.

Come on!

Come on! Come on!

[Muttering]

[Indistinct conversation]

[Talking stops]

His brakes went.

Straight into the back

of a van, bang.

A pane of glass sliced through,

scalped him.

Took the top of his f***ing head

clean off.

Are they sure it's him?

Barry's dead, mate.

Yeah, and in f***ing Morley too.

Dead drunk is what I heard.

Yeah, you'd know,

wouldn't you, Jack?

Oh, mea culpa.

But it wasn't me

getting the dear departed

pissed up, was it?

Come on, lads. Press conference.

Are you sure you've got

the stomach for it, Scoop?

What, just like you, Jack?

Oh, no.

No, you're the man.

Jack Whitehead's away

from his desk just now.

Sergeant Bob Fraser.

Thanks for coming, Mr. Dunford.

Yeah.

I know you were friends.

Mm, yeah.

So the van was carrying

plates of glass?

Yes.

And one of them went

through his windscreen?

Yes.

So you reckon

it were instantaneous?

I'd say so, sir. Yes.

Yeah.

F***.

Yeah.

I understand

you last saw Mr. Gannon

in the Shakespeare Public House.

Would you say that he was

drinking heavily?

No.

No.

And you've no idea

where he went from there?

Mm-mm.

No idea why he might have

come to Morley?

No, none.

I see.

Mm.

We almost have

all the details, sir.

There will be

an inquest tomorrow.

That's a bit quick, isn't it?

I think the family are keen to,

you know, get it all sorted.

If anything occurs to you,

I can be reached

through the Morley

police station.

You're one of the good ones,

aren't you, Sergeant?

I do my best, sir.

Not good copy, is it?

No.

[Laughter]

No.

[Footsteps]

[Gentle guitar music]

"We live in an age of

great investigative journalism.

"Barry Gannon was one of the men

who gave us that age.

"Where he saw injustice,

he asked for justice.

"Where he saw lies,

he asked for the truth.

"Barry Gannon once said,

"'The truth can only

make us richer.'

"For those of us

who seek the truth,

Barry Gannon's passing

can only make us poorer."

Not overly panegyric, is it?

Panegyric?

No, I don't think so.

Here.

Do we really need this?

Interesting story.

Been a spate of

animal mutilations,

hacked-about swans

found over on Bretton Park.

I'm not stupid, lad.

Jack showed me the post-mortem.

Right, well,

it's background, isn't it?

We'll get some police quotes.

Maybe we'll run it on Thursday.

Thank you very much, sir.

No mention of Clare Kemplay,

mind.

Just straightforward

animal abuse,

like those pit ponies.

All right. Yeah, no problem.

And try and pull back

on the more visceral details.

You don't want that

with your cornflakes, do you?

No.

Absolutely, Mr. Hadley.

Thank you.

- Edward.

- Yes?

You're trying too hard.

You're just like Barry.

Do you know we could be sued

because of Barry?

Mrs. Dawson's recovering up

at Hartley's after his visit.

Hartley's loony bin?

Nursing home.

Sorry.

Sorry to, uh-to hear that, sir.

Take care, won't you, lad?

Yeah.

[Phones ringing]

I'm just here to see

my Auntie Marjorie.

Marjorie Dawson. Sorry.

We had to give her something

for her nerves.

She was in a right state

when they brought her back.

Mrs. Dawson, you have a visitor.

It's Eric, Mrs. Dawson,

your nephew.

It sometimes takes her a while

to come round.

I know. I understand.

Oh, thank you.

It's locked.

Who are you?

I'm Edward Dunford.

I'm a journalist.

So you've been telling lies?

It's the privilege

of the profession.

[Laughs]

I just want to ask you

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