No Offence

The suspect's name is Patrick Llewellyn.

~ He's dead, Cathy. It's finished. ~ No, it's not.

~ I demand to know what you're hiding from me on the Downs case. ~ Nothing.

Patrick told you he was holding out for somebody straight?

~ What was his name? ~ Sean Lang, Viv, he faked his fucking death.

We couldn't have asked for a better son.

And he was a perfect brother to his sister.

Did he not mention her?

Excuse me, darling.

Whoa-oh-oh-oh

You could be

For me...

Not bad for a bunch of manky old farts. You coming home, yeah?

Yeah, yeah.

Thank Christ I missed that dick in the warm-up.

He sounds like somebody roofied Kate Bush.

You should come with us, you know. Best roadie we never had.

Tomorrow we march on Belgium.

If you need anything while you're on tour,

do not text me wish lists when you're pissed because I'm posting nothing.

"Can you just send me...?" No.

Post Office means two hours listening to that dreary old bitch

whingeing on about crime rates.

She once made a play for my dad in front of my mum.

~ You're blocking traffic. ~ Dinah's trying to get through.

~ Just behind us. ~ Viv, the traffic... ~ Two secs.

I know.

He thinks we're talking about work, so make an effort.

Give us that catalogue.

~ What about Sean Lang's employment record? ~ There's nothing in it.

Because you destroyed it?

I burned it.

I burned everything.

I don't care who he is to you, Viv,

you are not going to let him fucking walk.

~ Shut your fat, loudmouth face for two seconds and listen. Listen! ~ No!

You told us to stop, so it's going to happen here,

right now in this street - one of us or both of us are taking him in.

No-one is taking him in, Dinah.

I'm doing him in.

~ Everything all right? ~ Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

They made an arrest with an out of date warrant.

He's suing for trespass. Unbelievable.

~ I had the phone off at the gig. ~ Uh-huh.

I'll get a big McLaren no-no, but sod him, eh?

They think it might be thrush.

Fine, don't pick up.

Whatever you think you're going to do, you know we have to talk.

~ Hi, love. ~ Who was that?

~ Oh, a message for Viv. ~ What for?

Oh, the reason I didn't stick around at the gig.

I'm sorry, I know I said I'd...

Do you want me to tell you who I think it is?

Cathy...

This is a cast iron promise.

The people who did that to you won't be able to touch you any more.

Believe that.

~ Yeah? ~ 'Viv, it's Dan. We've got a problem.

'One of your officers has just been brought in in a state of distress - Jonah Mitchell.'

Jonah? But he's not on shift.

He turned up at my flat at 3:30.

~ I couldn't even tell what he was saying. ~ Get some kip.

I'll give you two hours' grace on the next shift.

Ma'am.

It was horrible.

I've seen dead bodies before but... A baby?

If I'd had sat nav I might have gone a different way

but it wasn't my car and it didn't,

~ and once you make the choice you've just got to stick... ~ Jonah.

First date.

Me and Ruth.

Met her after the gig.

Nurse? Irish?

Well played.

I'm out of practice.

So? You and Ruth? Well-set?

She gets a call from a friend of hers, Michael Docherty's housekeeper.

In a right state.

The wife's gone into labour unexpectedly

and he wasn't there and the ambulance wasn't coming, so we went over.

I was heading to A&E, but Ruth says,

"No, the mother's not going to make it, go straight to paediatric emergency."

I tried to call control for assistance.

I knew where I was going, I thought we had enough time.

Oh, God...

Fucking hell.

Michael Docherty's here.

With a... I was going to say legal team, but they look a bit Hogwarts.

Meet me in half an hour? Where were you?

Not now, I'm looking out for someone else's life.

One hour.

One hour and I bring him in myself.

Following the events of the night of the 22nd of September this year

that led to the deaths of my wife, Marilyn Rhys Docherty, and my son, Bren...

Brendan Doherty,

and after consultation with medical legal specialists,

I'm seeking the arrest for manslaughter

of PC Jonah Mitchell and Ruth Cheetham.

Whoa, I'm so sorry. Ma'am, sorry about that. Sorry.

I'm so sorry, Mr Docherty.

That's PC Thompson. 24796, if you want to add her to your list.

Excuse me. Sorry.

You don't even look embarrassed.

Was this scripted?

Corner him without the lawyers?

Bad call, because I know more about the law

than those two turkeys ever will.

Yet you bung them 500 sods an hour to get you in this kind of state,

how is that respectful?

This isn't my decision to be talked out of, Inspector.

They caused the deaths of the two most valuable things that

I've ever owned.

I want them nailed to a cross.

Even though they did their human best, as citizens?

Well, whilst you're banging in the nails, Michael,

your wife and son are lying in boxes in a mouldy redbrick in Moston wearing barcodes.

I'm going to slaughter the fucker.

~ How? ~ I know people.

We all know people and we know them for a reason, Viv.

Do you know people? I know people.

He didn't just do this to you.

I want Cathy to see him in court, look him in the eye

and know in her bones that she wins, that she is better than him.

If he gets to court, he's got an audience. He'll love it.

Love seeing what he's done to her.

What he's done to all of us.

I'm not going to give him that satisfaction.

Best fella I've found in years was only sharing my bed for this reason.

I can't believe Laurie planned this for you.

Six weeks touring, then it's acid bath or pig food.

Six weeks?

You want him sending postcards of his latest victims?!

I know what I'm doing, I just need to square the corners.

Got Dad on my side.

It's not your dad, Viv, it's a pony.

If you're not caught now,

it'll be when you've forgotten all the lies you've had to tell

and you drop one wrong word, one word, and we're in the shit.

We?

Whatever you do, the least I owe you is to clean up after.

And the most.

Understood?

But you need to decide and it's got to be now, not six weeks' time.

Today.

Cathy needs to go with you.

OK.

Is that you?

What are you doing home?

Think I trust you to pack your own bag for a six-week stag do?

~ Won't be like that. ~ You'll be smashed out your skulls

before the ferry's out the docks. The lot of you.

Did you really come home for me?

Why else?

~ What's wrong with these? ~ You can't take just jeans.

They're a bugger to dry.

Driving long distances in damp denim's

an invitation to fungal infection.

You OK?

You're not quite yourself.

Don't take me wrong, Laurie,

but for all the gigs, albums, tours that never happened...

I can't tell you how chuffed I am for you all, but...

six weeks feels like...

I am coming back, you know?

Home is where the heart is and God knows you're home to me.

Jumpers.

~ What time are you meeting the band? ~ Picking me up about six.

There is something, though, isn't there?

Mm? What is it?

~ Have you got a surprise for me? ~ No.

No. But I wish I'd thought of it.

Send you off with a little something.

I've got new toothbrushes. Take one of those.

~ You all right in there? ~ Yeah.

Yeah, I'm... I'm...

Nearly there.

Is this about Sean Lang?

Where have you been?

I were chasing a lead on that betting shop fraud.

~ Can't see it going anywhere. ~ No, no, I'm not surprised.

The Llewellyn case.

Why did Viv get Connie to dredge up a dead employment record?

And who's Sean Lang?

What employment record?

Dinah, I'll take one lie, but looking at me straight in the eye

while you try to slip another one past me, that's taking the piss.

I'd tell you if I could. You know I would.

Joy, there are some things I just can't...

The case is still alive, isn't it?

~ Joy? ~ Yeah, just a second. Isn't it?

That's OK. Find out for myself.

Docherty's pointing a gun at Jonah's head. I'm going to go and see Ruth.

~ We need to get that whole story. ~ Yeah, I'll come with. ~ OK.

Who have you told, Viv?

I've told no-one.

I'd love to believe you.

You don't know how badly...

I'd love to believe you.

I destroyed evidence for you.

~ Did you? ~ Yes, I did.