Anatomy of a Scandal (2022–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Episode #1.6 - full transcript

Both.

I need to work.

And I love you for that.

One way or the other.

Thanks, lovely.

Mrs Whitehouse.

Miss Woodcroft.

Can I help you?

You look familiar.

Well, I should hope so.
I'm prosecuting your husband.

Have we met before?



Not that I recall.

Oh forgive my manners then.

Sophie Whitehouse.

Did you go to Oxford?

Liverpool.

Why are you here, Mrs Whitehouse?

It's just that you look so familiar.

Perhaps we shared a mutual friend.

Did you ever know Holly Berry?

No. I think I'd remember that name.

Did she go to Liverpool?

Oxford.

Well, we really shouldn't be speaking.

Because you're trying to send
my husband to prison?



- It's not personal.
- He's not a rapist.

You're certain of that?

I know my husband.

I suspect you do.

- So is there anything else?
- Yes.

I'm sorry to have disturbed you.

I'm so sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Do I know you?

- I should go.
- You don't mean that.

Not here.

- Don't be such a prick-tease.
- Daddy?

Daddy?

Daddy.

I can't sleep.

I can't sleep either.

Yes!

Coming!

You do realise
this is harassment now?

- Ali, she knows.
- Sorry?

Sophie, she knows.

Did she actually
come right out and say it?

Pretty much. She knows I'm Holly.

Look, I wasn't there,

but if she did know,
she'd have already told James

and you'd be in handcuffs by now.

What if she has told him?

What if they've gone
directly to the press,

bypassing Angela even?

Okay, now you're sounding a bit paranoid.

And what's he gonna say to the press?

"I'm being prosecuted
by the woman I raped at uni"?

What happens if they've found me out
and I've tried my last case?

- Don't say that.
- Because that would fucking kill me.

- Hey.
- Oh my God.

It's 1:30 in the morning.
Where have you been?

Walking.

Thinking.

Things might not go my way tomorrow.

I might go down.

You won't.

You've always defended me.

Stood by me.

I have.

Holly Berry...

what did she look like?

Why?

When was the last time you saw her?

I thought I saw her today.

Today?

Where?

In the street.

I saw a woman
and I thought, "My God, that's Holly."

It was just my mind...

playing tricks.

Please don't hate me, but, um...

the night of the end-of-year
Libertine party...

I might have been with her.

With Holly?

I was running back to your room,

and I collided with a woman
in the cloisters who looked familiar.

Um, just barely. It was dark.

We were both a bit drunk.

And it was...

...spontaneous.

You were spontaneous?

Am I to understand

a man jumped, or fell, to his death,

you ran from the scene,

collided with a woman
who looked "barely familiar"...

and proceeded to have sex with her?

Consensual sex.

But, um...

But what?

But...

Well, afterwards, she... she seemed...

shaken and...

She was a virgin, it turns out.

And my... my sense of it was that

the encounter fell short
of her romantic expectations.

And I was...

perhaps...

a bit...

Brutish?

Abrupt.

- So, what Chris Clarke said was true.
- Was rubbish.

It was certainly 100% not rape.

And look,
I'm just trying to be honest with myself.

I'm trying to be honest with you.

But if that was Holly
that I was with,

it is possible that we were not in sync,
and maybe I got it wrong.

I don't wanna hide anything from you.

Oh my God, are you saying there's more?

You know most of it.

I told you about that night
at the Libertine's party.

I just left out one small detail.

What?

Alec,

the one who jumped or fell.

Tom supplied him with the heroin,
and I disposed of the evidence.

That is not a small detail, James.

Alec died.

It was a tragedy, but I lied for Tom.

I lied for you.

I was your alibi the next morning

without knowing the full facts.

I am so, so sorry.

I was protecting you.

- I didn't want you to carry that weight.
- Oh God. I could have decided for myself.

Honestly, Soph, you didn't seem
that interested in the full set of facts.

All of your stories

keep changing.

I've told you everything now.

There is nothing else.

I swear it.

Miss Woodcroft.

Miss Woodcroft.

Thank you, My Lord.

One of them is lying.

You are here to determine the truth.

Miss Lytton has given you an account
of a crime that was committed against her,

in a lift in the House of Commons
on the morning of the 12th of October.

A violent rape.

Mr Whitehouse has told you
a different story.

Two narratives that start off the same
and then diverge.

Did she or he call the lift?

Did she or he enter the lift first?

Did she or he initiate the kiss?

And then one crucial,
glaring, irreconcilable difference.

One of them is lying.

At the beginning of this trial,

I said that Miss Lytton's journey
in the lift was one from yes to no.

Yes, when they were kissing,

and no as soon as Mr Whitehouse
became violent.

"Not here" means "no."

Whatever the defence suggests,

it was a clear indication that Miss Lytton
did not want to continue.

He called her a prick-tease.

Why would she lie about that?

She didn't.

He raped her

in black and white.

I know you'll not make
the mistake of thinking

that different rules
apply to the rich and powerful.

That people who aren't used to the word no

should be exempt from hearing it.

That their liberties are different.

Members of the jury, I think we know
exactly which one of them is lying.

People of privilege can no more
break the law without consequence

than anyone else.

James Whitehouse's privilege
does not extend to rape.

Miss Regan.

Did James Whitehouse
commit rape or make love?

The answer to that question
can be found in only one place,

the evidence.

So let's look at the evidence.

I'm going to start
with what they agreed on.

They had engaged in spontaneous sex
several times before.

Aggressive consensual sex.

On the day in question,

after Miss Lytton told Mr Whitehouse
she found his arrogance attractive,

they enter the lift
and began to passionately kiss.

All consensual and not in dispute.

Now, let's look at
what they don't agree on.

Miss Lytton claims there came a point
when she became unwilling.

But how can a person here know

when it hasn't been said?

Mr Whitehouse maintains
he never heard "not here."

But even if she did say it,

"not here" does not mean "no."

It does not mean unwilling.

In fact, it might be taken
to communicate "yes,"

just not here

in this location.

Why would James Whitehouse
force himself upon Olivia Lytton,

a woman who still loved him,

a woman who was willing
to resume the relationship?

Something she told us herself.

Why rape a woman
who was willing to have sex with him?

The simple answer is he didn't.

James Whitehouse had an affair.

But an affair is not a crime.

It is not for the defence
to supply a motive

for Miss Lytton's lies.

Perhaps she felt embarrassed,

or ashamed, or even angry.

But shame, anger, humiliation

should not have the power
to convert consensual sex

into rape.

1,753, that's more like it.

So you got it fixed then?

No. They replaced it.

Turns out the old one was defective.

A "Shitbit" as it were.

"Did James Whitehouse
commit rape or make love?"

Not bad, Angela.

I enjoyed your use
of "privileged" and 'liberties"

in the same sentence.

Trying to invoke
the Libertine club, weren't you?

Oh, honestly,

sometimes, I can't believe
I spend my life defending these people.

Ugh.

Time to be done with this case.

Hello.

Oh this works.

As long as you can't see it.

Where's Daddy?

He's still at court.

- Have they had lunch?
- Yes.

- Did we win?
- Not yet.

But we will, because we're Whitehouses.

Where are you going?

Just outside for a bit of fresh air.

Why?

Air is crucial.

What's "crucial"?

It means we can't survive
if we can't breathe.

I'll be back.

What?

Nothing.

There you are.
They're calling us back.

Already?

Four hours?

Must be sending them home.

There's a verdict.

I saw the note come in.

You all right?

Never better.

Jury foreperson,

please answer my next question
either "yes" or "no."

Has the jury reached a verdict
on which you are all agreed?

Yes.

Will the defendant please rise?

Do you find the defendant,
James Whitehouse,

guilty or not guilty

on the count of rape?

Not guilty.

Members of the jury,

it only remains for me to thank you

for your careful deliberations
in this matter.

That's our boy.

Dodged another bullet, didn't he?

We understand that your service
comes with genuine personal sacrifice.

You leave with our gratitude.

The jury is dismissed.

Mr Whitehouse, you are free to go.

All rise.

- Thank you.
- My pleasure.

Mr Whitehouse!

I'm... I'm gonna keep this really brief.

I just want to thank the women and men
of the jury for seeing the truth.

For recognising my innocence.

Justice has prevailed.

It's been a long, long uphill climb,

but I got my life back.

I'm a grateful man.

To my children, my loving wife,

these last few months
have been a living hell for my family,

and I want to thank them
for standing by me unequivocally.

The facts have spoken.

The British judicial system
has once again proven its sturdiness...

Mr Whitehouse!

Daddy!

- Daddy!
- Daddy!

Dad!

Hello, you. Hey.

- Are you home for good?
- I am.

I am, my darlings.

- Mummy, hug, too?
- Hi, sweetie.

- Hi.
- I'm starving. You guys?

- Yeah.
- Let's go.

Justice has prevailed.

It's been a long, long uphill climb,

but I got my life back.

I'm a grateful man.

To my children, my loving wife,

these last few months
have been a living hell for my family...

Fuck!

Fucker!

Kate?

Hours after a rumoured
motion of no confidence

in Prime Minister Tom Southern's
government,

Malcolm Thwaites, Labour MP for Penthorpe,

has been arrested for soliciting
young male prostitutes for sex.

This isn't the first time
Malcolm Thwaites...

The impeccable timing
of one Chris Clarke.

How do you know?

Just got off the phone with Tom.

Now that we've regained our sure footing,

he's bringing me back
into the Home Office.

Undersecretary of State
in charge of drugs policy.

- Are you joking?
- No.

Do you remember when I said
your luck had run out?

How wrong I was.

You sound a bit ambivalent, darling.

Impressed.

It's almost like you're being rewarded.

Rewarded, no. Restored.

To the future.

Omertà of the Libertines.

Tell me the truth, darling.

Did you say it?

Did you say,
"Don't be such a prick-tease"?

I answered that question in court.

I heard your answer in court.
I'm asking you here, now.

Did you say it?

What do you think?

I think it's possible
Olivia asked you to stop.

That you decided she didn't mean it.

That you said,
"Don't be such a prick-tease", joking,

but also not joking.

Because it sounds like something
you would say.

You said it.

Of course she didn't mean it.

It was a game we perfected.

You can't possibly know that.

I can and I do.

Olivia loved risky situations.
We both did.

The idea we might get caught.

Oh my God.
I'm sorry. Sorry.

That is not what you said in court.

I couldn't stay that. How would it look?

You testified that it was a foul phrase.

It is.

I told the core truth,

which is that she wanted it.

The core truth is that I would never,
ever force myself on a woman.

That's great. Thank you so much.

- Keep the change.
- Thank you.

Okay. Good night.

Alison?

Jesus!

I'm sorry.

It's Sophie Whitehouse.

Greenaway, at university.

Sophie.

I'm so sorry
for showing up like this at this hour.

I know it's been... It's been a while.

Well, I would ask,
uh, "How's things?" but...

Yeah.

- Do you want to come in?
- Thank you.

No, this won't take long, um...

I'm trying to find someone.

Holly Berry.

I thought maybe you could help.

Uh,

I'm not in touch with anyone from Oxford.

I more or less cut ties.

And they don't bother to contact me,
because I'm just a schoolteacher

and ill-equipped to fund science wings.

But you and Holly were very close.

Oh we were. Yes.

Do you have any idea where she is?

No.

Do you know anyone who might?

- I wish I could help. Sorry.
- Do you?

Look, I told you. She's gone.

Gone?

Gone because Holly Berry
is Kate Woodcroft?

No.

Uh...

No, you're mistaken.

I just don't know where she is.

We drifted apart
after she moved back to Liverpool.

Thank you for your help.

Why do you want to find her?

I need to ask her something.

The answer's yes.

What?

I tried to tell her she was wrong.

But you're a shit liar.
You always have been.

I'm sorry.

No, it's my fault. I'm fucked.

I can't kill Kate and can't deny Holly.
I'm fully fucked.

Her husband is a rapist, and she knows it.

I'll call you back.

Look I know it's late,
but I really need to speak to you.

Kate?

That's not my name.

What are you talking about?

What's going on?

I did something terrible. Unethical.

Like what?

I prosecuted
someone I knew in another life.

- Sounds a bit dramatic.
- It's the truth.

Are you talking about Whitehouse?

You knew him?

At uni.

He assaulted me,

when I went by a different name
and looked like a different person.

What?

Christ.

- Does he know who you are?
- I don't know.

But I think so.

- Should I confess?
- No, you'd end your career.

Better to do it before he does.

If he outs you, he outs himself.
That's mutually assured destruction.

- I'm a fucking liar.
- Kate.

- Just like him.
- Stop it.

It's true.
You don't even know me, not really.

I...

I can't do this anymore.

You mean this?

I may leave her one day.

But the truth is,

I chose you because you're unavailable.

I need to stop doing that.

I see.

Do I go to the judge?

- And say what?
- Do I get a lawyer?

Will you be my lawyer?

No, you can't be my lawyer.
I've fucked up.

Sussex?

Why are you taking them there?

- Because I'm leaving you.
- What?

No. Now?

But, Sophie, why? We've been in hell,
but we've come through that.

- I... I don't understand.
- I know.

What... what can I do?

Nothing.

Don't be smug, Sophie.
You owe me more than that for God's sake.

Smug? Me?

That is not how I feel, James.

I've been a part of it too, complicit,
and I hate myself for it.

For what? You're speaking in riddles.

For the way I've always let you
curate the truth.

Pick and choose details

so they were aligned with the world
as you preferred it to be.

It's like a toy for you, the truth.

And you play with it through elisions,
omissions, and half-truths.

You can't help yourself.

- Everybody does that.
- Everybody bloody doesn't.

I turned a blind eye all these years

because I always thought
I alone got the real thing from you.

I feel

foolish and so ashamed, honestly.

But you did get the real thing.

- Oh God.
- This is it.

This is the real me.

I am sorry if it didn't...

No one knows me like you.

I love you, Soph.

- Do you want me to beg?
- Please don't.

I'm begging you.

Don't.

Oh don't. James.

I don't know who the fuck you are anymore.

And I don't know who the fuck I am,

because I always define myself
through you.

I can't stay.

Because if I do,
who will our children become?

Exactly who they were born to become.

Please don't tell me
I've lost you.

May I ask

what you're planning to tell the children?

The core truth.

Do you know what finally gave you away?

Your left-handed scribbling
and your colour-coded notes.

Hmm.

It is remarkable though.

What?

The ways in which you are unrecognisable.

You don't look the same,
you don't sound the same.

You go by some made-up name.

Not made-up.

My middle name,
plus my ex-husband's surname.

What were you running away from?

Why did you wanna meet me?

James.

At Oxford, you fancied him.

He assaulted me.

He said it was consensual.

He assaulted me.

Why didn't you report it to the police?

Who do you think they would have believed?

I didn't stand a chance.

It was rape.

You know, I often wonder
what it must be like

to know that however you behave,
you will always be excused and forgiven.

I had no idea at the time.

You have to believe me, I did not know.

Well, now you do.

What are you suggesting?

Do you still expect me
to do your homework for you,

two decades on?

I have been simultaneously
over and underestimated my entire life.

If I have traded on the currency
that the world told me was mine, well...

that's what I was raised to do.

But don't for a second assume I am unaware

of the personal cost
of those transactions.

A lot of people think they know me.

You think you know me.

Trust me, you don't.

What about you?
Who are you, Holly or Kate?

I guess I'm finally both.

Listen, are you gonna expose me?

That night he raped you...

was the same night that one
of the Libertines fell to their death.

I remember.

It was the only time
I'd ever seen him cry.

Huh. Well, I doubt his tears
were anything to do with me.

No.

They were because
he'd come dangerously close

to destroying his golden future.

What are you talking about?

I made a call today

to an acquaintance in the press.

A lot of horrible things
happened that night,

aside from what happened to you.

Something that could be
prosecuted in court?

Yes.

Why are you doing this?

Course correction, perhaps,

for the greater good.

Her Majesty's government
is about to implode.

Merry Christmas, Holly Berry.

- Come on, Mum!
- Coming!