Blue Murder: Killer Cop

Once a poster boy for good policing.

But tonight, Roger Rogerson is a convicted killer

for murdering a young student in a drug deal gone wrong.

Rogerson's nickname, "The Dodger", was well-earned.

Back in his glory days,

he was nominated for bravery awards. But in the early '80s,

the lure of drugs and the dark side of the law took hold.

A jury cleared Rogerson over Lanfranchi's death.

Lanfranchi's girlfriend,

prostitute Sallie-Anne Huxtep, publicly implicated Rogerson.

She was murdered. The jury would later acquit Rogerson

of conspiring to murder undercover drug cop Michael Drury.

Rogerson was once known as "The Enforcer"...

cunning, ruthless, brilliant.

_

_

This is home for the rest of my life.

They convicted me of murder and commercial drug supply.

I'm not complaining, just telling you.

Right?

Probably my earliest memory,

I was sitting on my father's shoulders,

watching a parade.

In 1945,

soldiers home from winning the war,

beating the Japs.

All I ever wanted to be was one of them, a hero.

And I am.

Get out! Get out! Fuckin' get out! Get out of the car!

You sleep easy 'cause people like me kept things neat and tidy.

You know,

I probably know more about criminals and how to catch them

than any other ten blokes in the country.

Makes you wonder how I got in here.

But, that's another story.

That's what happens when you cross paths with shitheads.

_

All right, in you go.

A lot of crims,

some of them still in here, who'll tell you that I verballed 'em.

Maybe I did, some of them.

You know, maybe I did. You do what you have to do to get a result.

Tell a little porky pie. Who knows?

Maybe I'm telling porky pies now.

But there are the facts, then there's the truth.

And they aren't always a match.

Hello, Warren.

I've been in this force since I was a kid.

How dare they treat me this way.

Get off him! Get off him!

Shit, take your hands off him, you pig! Get off me!

- You fuckin' pig! - Jesus!

They'd sacked me and I'd been out of the force

for four years, doing any shit job I could find...

- Stay down! - ... looking for a way to get

- back into the main game. - You dropped something.

- And here it was. - What's this?

- I've no idea, Officer. - Mickel Hurley,

one of the richest crims in town.

- This was a chance to get him onside. - It's hers, mate.

Really? You put her in the shit that quickly?

Sweetheart, is this yours?

- No! - You sure? It's not hers.

But to do it, I'd have to cross Mark Standen,

a Fed, star investigator.

They were calling him the new Roger Rogerson.

Bring him along. Book 'em both.

Just trying to have a night out here, Officer!

Mickel! Mickel!

Mickel!

Mickel, just shut up!

To save Hurley, I was going to have to switch evidence,

which was doable with a few old cop mates.

Cocaine looks a lot like baby formula, you know?

Weigh it. It's cocaine, a commercial quantity.

Senior, charge 'em both. We're going to have to process her, too.

But I had nothing to do with this. I need a lawyer, too.

- I'm not staying here. - Sh, calm down.

It's not mine. I didn't do it.

The press called me "disgraced former detective",

but I was always welcome in my old station.

Robbo. Dave. How are ya?

- G'day, mate. - Larry.

Switch this for us, will ya, mate?

- There you are, you beautiful man! - Oh, hey!

- Baby formula. - Christ!

Who would have thought it?

Don't... don't ever kiss me again, right?

- What do I owe ya? What do I owe ya? - Kiss him again.

Well, not that. Not a kiss, I'll tell you that much for free.

Whatever it is, I'll double it.

- Well, don't double your kiss. - Let's get a round of drinks

- here for everyone. Rack 'em up, mate. - Who?

- Drinks for everybody! - A rum and Coke, mate.

We here for a good time, or a short one?

I'm here for a good time, mate.

Just get off me, will ya?

- Jesus! - Hi, love, you all right?

- Having a good night? Yeah. - What do I owe ya? Hey, darling.

- Mate, what can I do for ya? - Oh, well, I'll think of something.

- Now will you have a drink with me? - No, I can't. Work.

- Why won't you have a drink with me? - Well, I'm working.

- Making me drink alone? - Well, I'm working, mate.

Why don't ya?

- 'Cause I'm working. - Why don't ya have one?

Have one!

- Just to shut you up. - Then shut.

He tried to touch me.

I wouldn't let him.

All right! I'm going to up the degree of difficulty.

Oh, come on! This is for the Australasian record!

Come on! Straight away, boys.

Get on it! Straight away!

You'll go down with him! You'll go down with him.

Oh, he's not goin' anywhere, mate, is he?

I promise you, right?

I'll get both of you.

- How? - Get off me! Get off me.

You're a jumped-up customs clerk.

You're not a policeman's arsehole.

We'll see. Fuckin' disgrace.

You're a disgrace. What a dickhead!

You're a disgrace.

- No, you're a disgrace. - You are a bloody disgrace.

You scheme and fight, cut corners where you need to.

Then you find the best

and most important thing in your life

standing next to you in a Lebanese takeaway.

- Chilli sauce on that, mate? - Nah. And I'm not your mate, all right?

- Give you a hand with those? - Um...

No, I know you're strong and you don't need help but,

you know, we're both going the same way, so...

- You don't know where I'm going. - Yeah, I do.

You live a couple of blocks down from where I used to live.

I'm not stalking you or anything.

I'm just, you know...

I've seen you about the place.

You're Roger Rogerson.

Yes, guilty.

Don't believe everything you read in the papers, right?

- Anne. Anne Melocco. - That's pretty.

- Hmm? - Your name.

She got the house, I got the trailer.

That's all right. My fault, not hers.

Look, uh, I might be getting ahead of myself here but, um,

I'd like to see you again.

Well, I suppose you'll find me. You are a detective.

Disgraced former detective.

- I don't believe everything I read. - Well good.

- Roger. - IDs.

Standen? Prick's Federal.

There was a time we wouldn't let him in the building.

Not his call.

- Times have changed. - Well what does he want?

Mickel Hurley. He had him, you let him go.

He had him on a piss-ant little street deal.

It was leverage. Hurley owes you.

Work with him for a couple of months.

Give Hurley to Standen. He will help you on this.

Operation Omega's still ongoing.

I was found innocent of the Drury shooting.

The word on the street is that

Chris Flannery might have had something to do with it.

You were found not guilty,

and Flannery's disappeared, which is convenient.

We can still find assault, extortion, even kidnapping charges.

- Do that on your head. - How're you going to do that?

Get Neddy Smith to roll on you.

There's not a court in the land that's gonna listen to Neddy Smith.

He's a convicted killer.

- You wanna bet? - Yeah, I wanna bet.

Jesus, where did you two idiots come from?

I mean, did you get in with uni degrees or something?

Sociology? Gender studies?

Are you living at home with Mum?

I mean, I was doing this shit when you two were foetuses.

You're past your use-by, Roger. You and your dirty mates both.

You keep talking, I'm gonna pick up that phone book

and give you a fuckin' master's degree in policing.

Charge me, all right?

Oh, don't bluff if you haven't got the balls to follow through.

Jesus, it's like amateur week at Pumpkin Creek.

Don't do this shit on the streets,

or they're gonna take your little gun and shove it up your arse.

Fuck!

Neddy was an old mate, in for life.

Truth be told, he could have been in for three lifetimes.

- Who're you here for? - Neddy Smith.

Neddy Smith. Serious crim.

Real good mate. One of the best.

I tried to have him killed one time, but that was a misunderstanding.

What would you know? You're not the golden-haired boy anymore, mate.

You will always be on the outside. You have no choice in that matter.

Do you understand me?

The things you see when you don't have a gun.

Hey, Ned.

- Look at me. Pathetic, aren't I? - No, mate.

Looking great.

It's this fuckin' Parkinson's.

They lookin' after you?