Rake

For any new inmate,

the first day in our small hell is usually the worst,

but for Cleaver Greene, every day was worse than the last,

and that's how we wanted it.

Cleaver had no shortage of enemies -

former attorney general Cal McGregor, close mate of the Justice Minister

and therefore untouchable.

My right-hand man, Colin Mancusi

and me, Mick Corella, who would never forgive that fucking dog

for tooling my wife, Kirsty.

And then there was my brother.

Georgie had already done 12 years of a 160-year stretch

when I was put away - quadruple murder.

What he did to those fellas even makes me turn white,

and I cut a bloke into a dozen little pieces

and had him buried under asphalt.

All the other blokes thought we'd be as thick as,

but my first day inside was the first day we'd seen each other for 20 years.

It was the first time we'd met

since I stole his fiancée, Kirsty Fitzgibbon, from him.

The power of love should never be underestimated.

I figured, after 20 years, Georgie might have got over Kirsty,

but I couldn't have been more wrong.

I'm not going to tell you how he killed me,

'cause I'm sensitive like that.

Welcome to the end of days,

and abandon all fucking hope, ye who enter here.

It is the unanimous finding of this court

that the guilty verdict in the case of the Crown and Greene was unsafe.

The trial itself was riddled with untrustworthy witnesses,

three of whom have been convicted of perjury as a result.

We find that His Honour erred in both allowing and disallowing

certain crucial pieces of evidence to be put and not put before the jury.

Given the totality of these egregious miscarriages in the passage of time,

we did not find that a fair and transparent trial could be held.

The conviction is therefore quashed,

and the appellant is free to go.

Yes.

I've built up a bit of a hunger and a bit of a thirst.

A man's not a camel.

Harry! I wasn't expecting to see you here.

I just wanted to be one of the first to say

that I knew you'd eventually beat this thing, Cleaver.

Oh, mate. That's very decent of you.

'Cause you always manage to slime your way out of things.

- David! - Always.

A sweet old man is dead because of you,

but it's time to party, isn't it, Cleaver?

I told you I'd put an end to you one day.

Malcolm!

Malcolm! For the love of Judith Christ, mate,

do we have to have this conversation again?

Look, it's not that I don't like you. I do, as a friend, OK?

But I'm telling you, for the five billionth time,

it's not going to happen.

- This is more than just a prison thing. - So you keep saying.

You're my rock. You're my port in a storm. You're my soulmate.

I can't be your rock and your port in a storm, mate,

'cause that's just a shipwreck.

I can't help feeling this way.

And I can't help not feeling that way.

I can't help not being sexually attracted to you.

It's nothing personal, mate, it's just the way I was built.

I get out in six weeks. We don't have much time together.

Look, you're tired.

We're all tired.

I can't remember the last good night's sleep I had.

Sorry.

Oh, for the love of perpetual motion, will you stop it?

Mate, I've been in here 11 months

and I can't think of a single thing worth having a go at myself over.

You've been in here 17 years.

It's only possible because of you.

That's it!

I wish I was on laundry detail. How do you get on laundry detail?

Kitchen's not that bad.

I've known fine dining.

I've known eggs that didn't come in powdered form.

I've known meat that came from actual cows.

So Georgie's got his stuff for breakfast, right?

Yes. Georgie's got his stuff for breakfast.

'I have met them, close of day, coming with vivid faces

from counter or desk among grey, 18th-century houses.'

Oh, Patrice!

You look...

happy with yourself today.

Got a new arrival coming.

Oh, yeah?

Kirsty's nephew, Connor.

Got done for extortion.

Lovely boy. Kirsty dotes on him.

Figured I might take him under my wing, look after him.

Kirsty would appreciate that, don't you think?

'Course, mate.

She'll come. I know she will.

She'll come...

see us, see her boys.

'Course she will.

Fuck! Why are you telling me that over breakfast?

Where are you going to stay when you get out?

I don't know. My sister's?

You'll be a free man. You've got your whole life waiting for you out there.

I've been in here since I was 18, Cleave.

- I've got no life outside. - You're going to have to start one.

Who's going to give me a job? I murdered my dad.

Who beat your mum to death. Yeah?

- That's not the way the judge saw it. - Oh, I remember old Fitzie.

Crazy old fucker.

Can we get a bit of volume?

Justice Kieran Webster was sentenced to six years for perjury

- and corruption... - Fuck!

In relation to the now infamous Cadamaya land deal.

- Another one. - The former judge was a friend

of former Labor Party power broker and Planning Minister, Vince McCarthy.

Vincie!

And former Gaming Minister, Paul Fennely...

Hey, Pauly!

Who are both serving eight years for their role in the Cadamaya scandal.

Sentences are expected to be passed on five others later this week.

No, no, it's OK.

Oh, really?

What about Stein? He's a bloody silk. I thought he was...

Shit!

All rise.

Be seated.

This is a very serious matter

that could affect the cohesion of our community.

I'd like to thank my fellow judges for making themselves available

at such short notice.

The court would also like to send its best wishes for a speedy recovery

to Mr Stein QC, who somehow lost a fucking ear last night.

Mr Greene will appear in his place.

Let's hear the charges.

Today, Your Lordship and Your Honours sit

to oversee a charge against our friend Tonto here,

of, quote, "Trying to slip one up Paddo"

while they were on laundry detail, unquote.

My friends of the jury, you all know Tonto.

This is his fourth stretch for B and E.

Never copped a plea. Never took a lesser charge,

never, ever grassed - a thief whose honour is beyond dispute.

What happened in the laundry was an easily explained accident.

Gentlemen, there is no way that I will dispute the honour of a good thief.

I am many things but I am not a hypocrite.

This case is not about B and E, my friends, it is about B and D.

Objection.

It's a fucking good line. I'm going to allow it.

Despite my friend's submission, Your Lordship cannot possibly accept

a slipped-in-the-shower defence

for the simple reason the offence did not occur in the shower,

it occurred in the laundry.

Your Lordship, the slipped-in-the-shower defence is honoured in every wing

of every jurisdiction in the land,

not just literally but in its clearly intended spirit.

I find that a very broad interpretation, Mr Greene.

Absolutely, yes - fucking broad.

My Lord, we all know what is meant by 'slipped in the shower.'

It means that the incident was an accident.

It's an allegory, a conceit.

Your Lordship, whatever the currency or plausibility of the expression may be,

it derived from the fact that when people in showers slip, they are naked.

People on laundry detail are not naked.

This was an attack on Paddo.

I am reliably instructed

that Paddo, in what may have been an innocent bout of rambunctiousness,

flung a bucket of water over my client and himself, rendering them both sodden.

My client was the sodden one, Cleaver.

My client and Paddo, in this brutal winter period,

were forced to remove their moistened clothes

in order to put on dry ones.

The floor in the meantime, having become moist and slippery,

was a water trap.

My client slipped, instinctively grabbing Paddo's shoulders

to break his fall.

My client has absolutely no form in this area,

whereas we all know Paddo's reputation for receiving swollen goods.

Yes. Well, I reckon he's got you there.

My brethren?

Jury?

Fair enough. Case dismissed.

Out you get, son.

And you, Your Honour.

Oh, fuck.

- What? - It's Kirsty's nephew, Connor.

That's his sister's boy. You met him, yeah?

Oh, yeah. He's an annoying little shit.

Oh, Jesus.

Jesus!

- Kirsty adores him, Cleave. - So what?

So? So he knows about me and Kirsty.

He used to come around the house all the time. He had a key, for fuck's sake.

- There was one night when we were... - What?

Col, you're not still in contact with Kirsty, are you?

- Oh, mate. - Wouldn't you be,

if she was the love of your life?

You don't know what it's been like for this last year,

not being able to see her face, her smile.

She can't even visit. If Georgie finds out...

- Well, they didn't kill me. - Why would they? You were just a root.

Just a root, was 1?