Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974 Page #5

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Dad's a Polack,

hardly speaks a word of English.

That's lucky.

Are you Michael John Myshkin

of 69 Newstead View,

Fitzwilliam?

Yes.

You are accused

that on or between

August the 31st

and the 1st of September

you did murder Clare Kemplay

against the peace of

our sovereign lady, the queen.

Mr. Myshkin, the West Yorkshire

Metropolitan Police

have requested

that you be held in custody

for a further eight days.

The court understands

that you have no objection.

No.

Michael John Myshkin,

due to the seriousness

of the accusation,

your case will be referred

to the Crown Court.

In the interim, you will be

remanded in custody.

And that concludes the business

for today, your worships.

Thank you.

Please! No!

It-it wasn't me!

It was the wolf.

Under those beautiful carpets!

What was that?

What did he-

what did he just say?

The wolf? What was that?

Something about carpets.

Bollocks.

[Telephones ringing]

[Typewriter keys clacking]

They got the bastard,

then, Scoop?

You can't go in there!

Oy!

Bloody farce isn't it.

Myshkin didn't do it, did he?

He's confessed.

Yeah, but it's-

it's absolute bollocks.

Nefarious deeds carried out

in what he called

his "underground kingdom."

Jack, did you see him?

He's retarded.

No, his dad's just a Polack,

that's all.

What's happened to your hand?

I hope it don't cramp

your style.

- F*** off.

- Now watch your language.

They found all kinds of things

in Myshkin's room, Scoop.

Photos of little girls,

boxes of them.

Well, he does work

in a photo lab.

He's coughing for the lot.

Clare Kemplay, Jeanette Garland,

and the Ridyard girl,

right back to 1969.

Right, so he's 22, right?

So, therefore,

he would have been 16

when Susan Ridyard went missing.

- So?

- So f*** you, Jack!

Hey!

Now, watch your language

in my office!

Feels wrong, doesn't it, eh?

All that slog,

all those hunches.

You just don't want it

to be him, Scoop.

I was the same once.

You're in their pockets.

What are you talking about?

Police going about

their business,

supported by the good old

Yorkshire Post.

The truth is the truth, Scoop.

And it's a bitter pill,

but you'll get used to it

one day.

I'll handle

the press conference, boss.

Thanks, Jack.

F***ing chamber yourself, Jack.

- Edward!

- Yeah?

I won't have you coming

in here like this.

- Like what?

- Like this.

Now, take the rest

of the month off

and get that hand sorted out.

Are you listening to me, lad?

Edward?

How well do you know

John Dawson?

Do you mind?

Edward, I haven't got time

for your adolescent

conspiracy theory.

Go on, get home,

and get yourself sorted out.

[Pensive music]

She's dead, isn't she?

It's all right.

[both breathing heavily]

[dramatic music]

[Doorbell buzzes]

[Door buzzes and unlatches]

- Love awhile

And when love goes

You try to hide

the tears inside

The Karachi's closed, hen.

It's all right, Clare.

He's with me.

Same again, love.

You look like sh*t.

Up all night.

What's your excuse?

I've got my weaknesses, lad.

Aye.

Paula Garland one of them?

Me and Paula go back a long way.

We're old friends.

I like this place.

It's private.

Just the wogs and us.

That's how I like things,

private.

- Cheers.

- Cheers.

Another round, Sammy.

And bring the pud trolley over.

I want to show Mr. Dunford

some delights.

I think you know we've got

an important investment

over at Hunslet Carr.

Feast your eyes.

What about that, then?

Eh?

Look.

It's got little trees

and everything-

what your Yanks call

a shopping mall.

You've got

your high-street chains,

cinema, bowling alleys,

cafs, restaurants,

all under one roof.

Put an hotel in there,

there's no need

to f*** off home.

Not bad, eh?

And your pals

on the West Yorkshire Police

already cleared

the site for you so...

Gypos.

Squatters.

That's my land.

So what's the problem?

I've got investors

to look after, haven't I?

Is Bill Molloy one of them?

Don't be a c*nt.

Of course Bill Molloy's

one of them,

not the only copper neither.

Give it to him, Paul.

Open it.

Take a f***ing look, lad.

[Laughs]

I apologize for the vile content

of these snaps, Mr. Dunford.

I hear you're a bit

of a c*nt man.

Sticks in the craw, doesn't it?

I mean, how can they do it?

Who is this?

Who is it?

Bloody hell!

That's Councilor William Shaw

of the Labour Party, that is.

That's your man

most likely to succeed.

He's your n*gger in the whatsit,

is Councilor Shaw,

traitor to the cause.

It's a scoop is what it is.

An ambitious lad like yourself.

Make your name with this one.

No. Wrong boy, Dawson.

Gonna be a failure

all of your life, son?

Come on, Eddie.

I need a little support,

a little cooperation.

You play your part, son,

we'll all get what we want.

No.

I'm a journalist.

Oh, yeah?

Like Barry.

I respected Barry.

He was a good man.

Problem is,

he had his own agenda.

Is that why you had him killed?

Aah!

What the f***ing hell

are you gonna do about it?

Eh, son?

Aah!

You're a f***ing student

with your notebook.

I do not want to be

a part of this!

Tough sh*t.

You already are.

[Groans]

[Dramatic music]

All right, yes.

I went to see John last night.

I told you. He's been very kind.

So you f***ed him?

You f***ed John Dawson?

Me?

I'll f*** anything in trousers.

You shouldn't have said that.

Go on, then.

What are you going to do?

You chose to get involved.

You see? You don't care.

You don't really f***ing care

at all, do you?

You just want to rescue me.

Well, you're not the first.

And you think

you'll be the last?

Oh, no.

Eddie, wait.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Please, listen to me.

Dawson fucks

who he wants to f***.

He takes what he wants.

How long have you known him for?

All my life.

[Muttering and sobbing]

We've got to get out

of this place.

What?

We've got to get out

of Yorkshire.

I can't.

Yeah. Yeah, you can.

Yeah, you can.

[Gentle guitar music]

They've got sunshine down south.

Yeah.

They've got sea view flats

and warm summer breezes.

Let's just go there right now

and never come back.

Pack a bag.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Okay.

I'll be back.

A couple of hours, all right?

All right, so you're one

of the good ones,

aren't you, Sergeant Fraser?

No, you are.

Not many of them left.

This is Barry Gannon's

life's work.

This is high-level corruption:

Business, local government,

West Yorkshire Police.

- Who in particular?

- Have a look.

Is this too hot for you?

I thought I could do it,

but I can't.

Look after that.

[door closes]

- Mmm-mm-mmm

Yeah

Oh, baby

Mm-hmm

Hang in there, baby

We'll make love tonight

Mmm

Don't be afraid

That'll make it all right

Ooh

I know just how you feel

Wanna hold you tight

And we've almost

got it made

Now that we've caressed

A kiss so warm and tender

I can't wait till we reach

That sweet moment

of surrender

Mmm

We'll hear the thunder roll

[doorbell rings]

feel the lightning strike

at a point we both

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