Criminal Record

Ever? That boy. Or is he fake too?

They can lock me up.

God knows they tried right here, right now. But the fact is nobody died.

Nobody died! Nobody.

And now you got margo and her posse being aided and abetted

by this lot here behind me.

Using this lie to justify a rollback of our rights.

A purge of our cherished freedom. And that's the real crime.

Light, shadow, light.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Ride the wave, let it flow.

Feel the movements of the body as you breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

Hello, bruv. You gonna put some clothes on?

Not a bad little upgrade you got there, is it?

What, you got a balcony?

En suite?

Did they put the chocolate on your pillow as well?

Do you think this is funny? Think I'm a joke to you?

- Billy. - I helped you.

I gave you the knife. I thought you were looking out for me.

- Easy. Easy. - You know what it feels like

to have the whole fucking world on your back?

Listen to me, we had no idea they were gonna put it out on the news, okay?

I swear to you.

- I promise you, that was not us. - You think I don't fucking count.

Well, that's not true, is it? Why do you think I'm here?

- I'm here for you, Billy. - No, no, no, no, no.

- Okay? I'm right here. - And he threw out my meds, yeah?

I need them. I can't sleep. My back is fucking killing me.

I can't sleep. I can't, like… so get them. Get them here.

- Now! - Subject three en route.

- Hello? Yeah, I know this is some… - entering the tower now.

…big fucking game to you, but you know what?

I'm done, yeah? I'm done. I'm out. And you can do what you like,

'cause I don't want your fucking bullshit deal!

Billy, it's me, Dan.

Listen, nothing has changed. The deal still stands.

This phone that you've got in your hand, you guard it with your life, right?

If you wanna talk, jp is here for you, anytime. Night or day, yes?

Billy, yes? Say it.

Yeah.

Stay on cosmo, be yourself. Lean into that.

Make him talk.

Any chatter about bomb makers, about a bomb factory...

how am I supposed to pick up chatter stuck here in this box?

Just hang in there, Billy.

He'll come for you.

- Wait, there's someone coming. - It's Kieran.

It's just your mate, Kieran, on his way up with your breakfast.

Hamburger, apparently.

See? Look, we're right here. We're just seconds away.

And if for whatever reason you can't get to your phone

and you feel personally in danger, give us the signal.

- Signal? What? - Yeah, just make a fist with your hand,

put it over your mouth, give us three short coughs. Show me.

Again.

Good boy. Now go find me those detonators.

As for you, focus.

He needs a firm hand. Orders, not tea and sympathy.

Fuck!

You talking to yourself again?

Billy?

When I think of you

my heart remembers

all the love we've ever had all the love we've ever had

just me and you

when I think of you

just me and you just me and you just me and you

we had a fight.

Which one?

Go on.

Well, I guess with…

Jake moving out.

And there's other stuff too.

Like my work, which... which you can't talk about.

Yeah, well, without getting into it, I…

I feel like there's a lot of people relying on me.

- Your family relies on you. - Relied.

Past tense.

We got into a blame game, or I did.

And…

Yeah, it's a hundred percent my bad, so, sorry.

It feels quite magnanimous when you say it like that.

But actually it's just like you're kind of…

Short-circuiting what's really going on in your mind?

Yeah.

It's just, you know, it's a bit rich that…

I'm the one that's short-circuiting.

I mean, come on, we made our bed way back, right?

What does that mean?

Well, when the going gets tough, not talking about it

beats fighting about it, right? No.

And… - no more.

Hang on. That's the way you…

Don't deny this. That's the way that you wanted it

and now I'm the one that's doing this.

Jesus Christ.

So let's talk about that.

Me first, yeah? Okay. Wow.

Okay. I…

I feel like you took him for granted. Jacob.

And honestly, he moved out because he looked at our place

and he looked at his dad's place and he liked that one better.

I would, wouldn't you?

You radiate chaos.

You spread it across the fucking walls

and we all have to carry on like nothing's happening.

No swearing.

Sorry, yeah.

Okay. Your turn.

He's my son, babe. He's not your son, he's my son.

Yeah.

Yeah, but he's not anymore, is he?

What about the family? Any words?

No autopsy report. No photo release.

Just some fake picture in the papers.

Did he ever exist? Ever? That boy. Or is he fake too?

They can lock me up.

God knows they've tried, right here, right now. But the fact is nobody died.

Nobody died!

…bunch of muppets here behind me.

- What is wrong with people? - I know.

And it's all over the news. It's, like,

"who are we to comment? Maybe there is something in it?"

- I know. - And, "light. Shadow. Light." Right?

- It's, like… - dawn of the dead.

- It's like we've given him... - they've given him a fucking loud-hailer.

Hey, hey. What are you doing? Playing hooky?

Kim, is there any word on this knife?

Yeah, I just got off the phone to Vinnie from the lab.

And?

Not good. I mean, it is the murder weapon. Blood on the knife, but…

But what?

No prints.

Fucking shit.

A few partials, nothing identifiable.

- So we're back to square one? - Afraid so.

Still, he wasn't exactly tiny Tim, was he?

Your lad, rohaan.

He was deep in with the nasties.

He was 15.

Those ragheads at that demo?

Seven of them on the extremist watch list.

- Okay, Kim. - This fucking guy.

- Haven't you got somewhere to be? - Hey, I'm just saying.

We've had 20-odd years of that lot blowing shit up,

pushing your pals off buildings.

Pals? What pals?

Liberals, bleeding hearts, people of a different orientation.

Right.

He went to that demo.

Actions have consequences.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

You'll never guess what Larry told me over at hackney fields.

No, I don't know. What did Larry tell you over at hackney fields, Kim?

Apparently, cosmo Thompson's not that far off the Mark after all.

Yeah, and how's that, Kim?

That photo.

"Light. Shadow. Light."

It was faked.

"Apparently."

Someone, I don't know, up on the eighth floor, whatever…

Had the photo, you know,

- "manipulated." - yeah, you really are a fucking moron,

do you know that? No.

She held him dying in her fucking arms.

Don't cry, mate.

Mummy's here.

Prick.

Are we doomed here, or what?

Are we?

Fuck.

- Sorry. Sorry. - It's okay.

Shit.

- You forgot to… with the… - no.

Thank you.

Ivy, hi.

So when it comes to disinformation, we have the clearest possible guidelines.

Never respond. Never engage. But what do you think?

Honestly,

I think screw the guidelines.

I mean, we can't just put our fingers in our ears. It's out of control.

What did you make of the boy's mom?

Zaynab?

I only spent five minutes with her.

She's a nail technician.

- She's very young. - Modern? Approachable?

- As in? - As in is she up to a press conference?

- That sounds painful. - Her pain is the point.

We front it out, rebut the lies, we kill it stone-dead.

Equally, let's not be naive, if you think it's too much for her…

look, as it happens,

she's on her way down here for a briefing on the case.

We would need to make a tactful approach.

You want me to ask her to do a press conference?

Please.

I thought you didn't want me anywhere near them.

That was then.

Will you talk to her?