Inspector George Gently

Isabella...

I put it to you, Detective Chief Inspector, isn't every

single detail of your testimony against these dedicated

and highly decorated officers just fabrication?

You worked with these men for five years.

You know that there was no corruption,

there was no money in brown envelopes or deals done in smoke-filled rooms.

Isn't your testimony just the last desperate croakings of a disillusioned rebel?

- No. - Oh. No more questions.

Why?

I'm sorry, sir?

Over 30 years on the force.

You could've retired quietly in a couple of weeks.

And yet you stand here, open to public ridicule and humiliation,

risking your reputation.

- Why? - I'm a police officer.

When my wife...

When my wife died, I was going to retire.

But Isabella, she always said,

my duty is my life.

No more questions.

- Don't scab labour! - Unite, fight!

- Don't scab labour! - Unite, fight!

Here they come, don't let them through!

Don't let those union scabs take your jobs!

Scab! Scab!

You can't just leave us!

We've got to get in there and get paid.

I'm in the transport union. I'm not crossing a picket line.

Come on. Just get us through.

Please.

In Newcastle, angry scenes at the Bateson-Donnelly dispute.

It's been six weeks since the management fired workers

who refused to give up their union membership

and replaced them with casual labour.

Bateson-Donnelly claim their

non-union workers are being subjected

to a campaign of intimidation,

while unions complain of heavy-handed police tactics.

Don't let them take your jobs! Solidarity!

- Dirty scabs! - Scumbags!

Guilty.

Yes, defeat at the election for my party was a bitter blow --

for the party, for the country,

and the Defence Secretary Mr Healey, wasn't it, Dennis?

Yes, it was very bitter.

I felt it bitterly, admittedly.

As Defence Secretary I was ensuring the safety of this country

by developing intercontinental ballistic eyebrows!

What other country in the world would let comedians make

fun of its war heroes?

Healey... made the beaches at Anzio, you know.

I do. Italy was hard graft.

You were there?

Eighth army. Taranto to Bologna.

I resent people called Harold, I can't think why.

And I do like Mr Heath,

there's something about him.

I think it's cos he looks like my horse.

Prime Minister, I am so sorry.

He's just a dirty old man who can't keep his mouth shut.

I'm sure you know the type.

On behalf of the special investigations unit,

the new commissioner's asked me to thank you.

He appreciates and admires what you've done.

This is a new decade, a new regime at The Yard.

The battle we won today is only the start.

I want you to know that.

What else do you want from me, Ian?

Hmm.

I'd appreciate it if you'd meet me here.

Tomorrow morning, say 9:15am?

What's wrong with Scotland Yard?

Prying eyes and ears, you know.

- Union jobs! - For Union workers!

- Union jobs! - For Union workers!

- Union jobs! - For Union workers!

Why are they still here?

Bastards won't disperse and let us do our job.

They're saying we're using this as an excuse to break up their protest.

I don't have enough men for this job.

Look, I'm sorry, but it's not my department, all right?

Sir, crime scene's looking messy.

We're not hopeful of getting much.

His name's Jonny Wilson. But nobody knows much about him.

Well, it's ever since the company fired all of its union men,

him and his workers have been brought in from all over the country.

Great. There's about 200 suspects, isn't there?

- Yeah, I know. - Has the press been here?

Every day for the last six weeks.

I'll get onto the papers. See what pictures they've got.

- Who's the chief commie here? - Him. Owen Thompson, with the red scarf.

Him? Right.

Here they come! Here they come!

They have fit up-starts now, eh?

I don't know what you're implying.

I'm asserting you and your uniformed henchmen,

as representative instruments of the capitalist society of...

All right, all right, all right. I want these men cleared. Someone is dead.

- A scab. - That man has a family. People who love him.

And my men have families, too. All we want is a fair deal.

You call your men off, otherwise I'll have you arrested!

Do you understand me? You and the rest of your men.

Go ahead, pig.

Let's have a riot.

You're taking this too far, Owen.

My men have an inalienable right to protest against the policy

of this company and your government.

It's not my government any more.

Labour. Tory. All the same to me and my men.

Your men?

They're not your men.

- Eh! - You people don't belong here.

Michael Clements, MP.

Detective Inspector Bacchus. This is DS Coles.

Do you mind if I try and talk some sense into these men?

No...

All right, lads. Listen! Quiet!

Listen! I said quiet!

I am not here to dispute your right to protest

at the unethical employment policy of this company.

But please, in the name of common decency,

let the police do their jobs.

Don't allow yourselves to be painted as a mob of cold-hearted thugs.

A man is dead.

Show a bit of respect... eh, lads?

Haway then.

Hey... Adolf.

Did you see that? Now that's what I call leadership.

A single stab wound.

By the depth of the incision, some kind of stiletto knife.

Not something you'd purchase on the high street.

- More specialist, would you say? - Yeah.

Inserted between the ribs and straight up into the heart.

- Death would have been instant. - So either the killer got lucky, or...

.. he knew exactly what he was doing?

You said it, but you're not wrong.

So you really think one of those pickets could what?

- Assassinate a scab? - Ah-ah. Not a scab.

Non-union labour, all right.

- We're impartial, you remember that. - I'm just saying,

I don't think we should rule out the other... forces,

who'd like to see those pickets discredited.

All right, OK, all right. So that, er...

That building company's hired a double agent, have they?

- An agent provocateur? - I didn't say that exactly.

Yeah, you've been spending far too much time with the Guv.

Look, Jonny Wilson's death might have had nothing to do with that dispute.

And maybe someone else was out to get him for some other reason, right?

Are you going to organise a do?

For the Guv? To mark his retirement?

I don't think he'd want me there, Rachel.

- He'll come round. - Will he?

Look, in two weeks' time, he'll be gone...

I don't want to end it on a sour note, I don't.

Excuse me.

- You made it. - I made it.

Lesley Pierce, aged 19.

She was found dead, 27th of July, 1966.

Close to the record factory where she worked in Washington...

County Durham, not DC.

.. which is why we're asking for your help.

It was a violent attack,

although there doesn't seem to have been any sexual element.

Cause of death?

Massive internal bleeding as a result of a fracture

to the back of her skull.

So what exactly is the problem?

No-one was ever charged.

It does happen.

Who was the officer in charge?

DCI Alan Kidd.

Didn't he leave the force?

Took early retirement not long after. Lives in Portugal now.

And he's not returning our calls.

Listen, George, I know this crime didn't happen in your patch,

but it's your neck of the woods

and we thought you might know some of the officers involved.

So what exactly would I be looking for?

Any irregularities in the inquiry that would be of concern to the Special Investigations Unit.

This all happened up north. Why is it in your remit?

Two days ago, we had an anonymous tip-off about this inquiry.

They told us the police buried evidence and protected someone.

Protected who?

The caller didn't say. And he wouldn't identify himself.

But...

.. he sounded scared, very scared.

We traced it to a phone box in Storey's Gate.

In Whitehall?

Hardly something we can ignore, is it?

Mrs Pierce? Eileen Pierce?

Yeah.

Thank you for agreeing to meet me.

I didn't want you at the house. My husband won't talk to the police.

He thinks you let us down.

He's not wrong, is he?

There are a few officers on the force, myself included,

who are not satisfied with the inquiry into your daughter's death.

Whoever killed her...

we could be sitting on the bus with him,