Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1974

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Paul, Clare.

Come on, we've got to go.

Maurice, hurry up. We're late.

Yeah.

# Eia, Mater

# Fons amoris, fons amoris

# Me sentire vim doloris

# Me sentire vim doloris... #

Badger says he wants us all to go upstairs and have a drink.

After the dancing.

He says be discreet.

I'd like you all to meet a good mate of mine from

over the other side of the Pennines.

This is John Nolan.

Detective Inspector with Manchester.

Firstly, let's raise a glass to the Badger himself.

Bill Molloy...

on the marriage of his daughter. Cheers.

Cheers.

We've had enough of that bollocks downstairs, haven't we? No.

Let's drink to us. The bloody lot of us.

The bloody lot of us.

We'll keep this brief. John here has acquired offices

for us in the centre of Manchester.

He's got the printing and distribution end sewn up nicely.

Got a few Vice connections, too.

It's coming together.

Controlled vice.

Off the streets.

Out of the shop windows and into our pocket.

The whole of the North of England - the girls, the shops, the mags,

the whole bloody lot. We've got an opportunity here.

An opportunity to invest the money from our little, er...

venture and turn it into something even bigger.

Something great.

You all know the construction magnate,

John Dawson. John, please join us.

Gentlemen.

Mr Dawson has his own dreams. Don't you, John?

I do, Bill.

I'm offering you a business opportunity, gentlemen.

With your help,

I'm going to build a leisure and shopping complex.

And I'm not talking about some fucking rabbit hutch,

like t'Merrion Centre.

I'm talking about the biggest of its kind in Europe.

A place where you can buy everything you need.

Where you can go and see a film, or go bowling.

Where you can have breakfast, lunch or tea all under one roof.

I'm talking about an investment

of one hundred million pounds.

There's land close by the Hunslet and Beeston exit of the M1.

Be ideal.

We're going to to make this happen, gents.

And we're going to make some bloody money, too.

Some fucking, real, bloody money.

To us all. And to the North.

To the North!

To the North, where we do what we want.

At approximately 4pm yesterday evening, Hazel Atkins disappeared

on her way home from Morley Grange Junior and Infants.

Hazel is ten years old.

She has medium-length, light-brown hair in plaits and brown eyes.

She was wearing light-blue jeans, a dark-green top

and she was carrying a yellow bag embroidered with an H.

Hazel was last seen walking up Rooms Lane towards her home in

Bradstock Gardens.

When Hazel did not return from school, Mr and Mrs Atkins

contacted Morley police and a search was launched early yesterday evening.

As some of you are aware, the police was joined in the search by more than

one hundred local people.

Now, given the inclement weather and the fact that

Hazel has never gone missing before,

we're obviously concerned about her safety and whereabouts.

Mr Atkins would like to read a short statement in the

hope that any member of the public who may have information regarding

Hazel's whereabouts or disappearance

will come forward and share this information.

Thank you.

I'd like to appeal to anybody who knows where our Hazel is

to please telephone the police.

Please.

If you know anything at all, please telephone the police.

Please.

Let her come home.

We miss her.

I'll put Ellis out in the fields. Evans is in and out with the press,

and Jim's taking the parents back to Morley.

The evening papers mention Clare Kemplay.

Oh, aye, what do they say?

Nine years ago, the same school, goes missing,

Turns up dead in the foundations of a new estate.

Usual bollocks, then.

Talking of which... Ugh, Angus...

Angus wants us to go see a medium.

A what?

Mandy Wymer. Mystic. Fucking Mandy.

She contacted Kath Tyler at the Post.

Angus reckons it's worth a shot.

Come on. Let's get back to Morley.

# Tomorrow

# You're going to miss me

# Cos I'll be gone

# Oh, but the thought of me, baby

# Still gonna linger on

# You're going to miss me

# Sure going to miss me

# Cos I'll be gone

# Sure gonna miss me... #

There you go, Mam.

Back home.

Therefore shall he wash his flesh in water, and so put them on.

And he shall take of the congregation of the children of Israel

two kids of the goats for a sin offering,

and one ram for a burnt offering.

And Aaron shall offer his bullock of the sin offering...

Mr Piggott?

Mrs Myshkin.

Oh, your poor mam.

Sad you couldn't see more of her.

Yeah.

How's Michael?

You heard about that little girl?

What little girl?

Hazel Atkins.

Yeah. I did, yeah.

Can't blame my boy for that, can they?

It changes everything, doesn't it?

Possibly, yeah.

I don't really know.

Will you go see him?

Will you go see Michael?

Michael already has his own legal representation, doesn't he?

I've been serving his sentence with him.

Eight years.

Please.

Just go and see him.

Please.

# Closer

# Mm, closer

# Move, yeah... #

John Piggott here to see Michael Myshkin.

I'm his solicitor.

Visits are limited to 45 minutes.

You must both remain seated throughout the course of the visit.

You must have no physical contact.

No passage of goods.

Ciggies, whatever.

What's he like, then, Myshkin?

Pervert, same as the rest.

Violent?

Only with his right hand.

Hello.

Hello.

My name's John Piggott.

I used to live in Fitzwilliam. Near you.

I'm a solicitor now and your mother asked me to

come and talk to you about an appeal.

Now, an appeal's a very lengthy and costly procedure that involves

a lot of time, a lotta... A lot of different people.

So, before any firm embarks on such a course on behalf of a client,

we have to ensure that there are sufficient grounds for such an appeal

and that there's a great likelihood of success.

Now, even that costs a lot of money.

Do you... Do you understand what I'm saying?

How long have you been in here, Michael?

Long time.

And you know why you're in this place?

Tell me why you're in here.

Because of Clare.

Clare who?

Clare Kemplay.

All right. What about her?

She did get killed and they said it were me.

Who said?

Everyone.

Did you kill Clare?

No.

Why did you say you did, then?

Michael, why did you say you killed Clare?

They said I had to.

Who said?

Everyone.

Who's everyone?

The policemen, the solicitor...

Why would they tell you to do that?

I don't know. I told them who did.

You know who killed Clare Kemplay?

Who?

If it wasn't you, Michael, who was it?

Who?

It was the Wolf.

The Wolf?

The Wolf.

The Wolf! The Wolf!

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

All good children go to heaven.

Penny on the water,

Tuppence on the sea