Father Brown (2013–…): Season 4, Episode 9 - The Sins of the Father - full transcript

You seem more on edge than before.

I received another letter.

Does this letter
urge confession, too?


Could these letters
be from your wife?

They're not her style.

But you two are estranged?

For many years, now.

Shall we talk about why she left?

I can be...

..obstinate, Doctor.


To what are these letters
urging you to confess?

That's my business.

We are bound by privilege here.

Your secrets will stay secret.

And what will happen if you don't do
what this new letter demands?

It says, if I don't confess today,
then my son will be murdered...





That was stunning.

Anyone would be hard pushed
to take the title from you.

I doubt I'll have to push that hard.

Now, Mungo Hooter
will open the programme

and then, you are on second? Yes.

And second, overall.

Beautiful. Thank you.

I believe I have the hall at six.

Can we not have a few more minutes?

I mean, young Calvin here
has yet to rehearse.

I don't need a rehearsal.
This one's a doddle.

And what will you be playing?

It's a surprise.

Calvin, we're going home.

Dr Jackson, good luck.
I'm sorry to miss it.

I quite understand.

Dr Jackson? Sgt Goodfellow,
Kembleford Police.

You know, I knew it was you from
your book. Oh, to be recognised!

I'm really looking forward
to your talk.

I can't wait to read the new book.

This is Inspector Mallory.

It's not going
to be a long one, is it?

You sound like a sceptic.

I am. Then, I shall do
my best to convince you.

Why wouldn't you say
what you're playing?

Does it matter?

A lot of people put
a lot of hard work into this

and he's not taking it seriously.
It's just a bit of fun!

Calvin, get in the car.

I know what you're up to. I just
want to know what he's playing.

You're sailing
very close to the wind.

If you know what's good for you,
I'd back off!

Everything all right, Rosie?

We'll see tomorrow.


As I explain in my book,

Still Waters -
A Journey Into The Deep,

throughout history, human beings
have held the mistaken view

that we are in control
of our experiences.

What I'd like to
convince you of tonight

is that we are not even
in control of our minds.

You're seriously trying to tell us

we're not in control
of the way we think? Yes.

Your choices, your feelings,
your passions

are all driven
by your subconscious mind.

So, we should say
Jack the Ripper wasn't a bad man,

because he had
a difficult childhood(?)

Yes. In fact,
I cover that in chapter five.


Now, may I have a volunteer?

Er... Yes, thank you.

Mordaunt Jackson.
Lady Felicia Montague.


Would you be so kind as to tell us
a little about yourself?

Your hopes and fears, your interests.

I hope I am charitable. Very good.

What else? Hobbies, perhaps?

I sing. Does that count?
Certainly. What do you sing?

In the church choir.

Would you be so kind
as to sing for us for now?

With pleasure. What would you like?

Whatever you're comfortable with.

# Morning has broken

♪ Like the first morning... ♪

Another letter, sir.

Who is it for? You.

Rosie Everton is done for.

Father, I need that for the show.

Check all the windows, check
all the doors. Lock everything.

We shan't leave the house tonight.

Nobody comes, nobody goes
till the morning. Clear?

Well, go on!

What was that with Rosie Everton?
What of it? Are we all right?

Lock up the house.


♪ ...of the new day. ♪


What can Lady Felicia's performance
tell us about her subconscious mind?

Why do you like to sing?

It makes me feel good.

You like to entertain others.

Freud would say that you require that

because your subconscious mind
feels ignored.

He would say that is evidence of
a personality craving attention.

Perhaps you feel the need
to impress others.

I see you wear a ring.

My wedding ring. I notice that
you touch it when you sing.

Just habit.

Heh. Freud would say there are
no such things as "just habits".

He would say they are evidence
of something deep-rooted.

Perhaps the person you wish
to impress is your husband.

He doesn't care for music.

Then perhaps your singing publicly

is your way of gaining the attention
that he doesn't offer.

Now, we've interrogated the roots.

Might you perform the song again?

Of course.

# Mor...


♪ M... ♪

I think I need a glass of water.

What was your father talking to
Rosie Everton about?

Why don't you ask him?

Did you enjoy your dinner?
It was foul.

I don't know why
he keeps you around.

You're drunk all the time, you can't
cook, nothing is ever in order.

I think you should turn in, Calvin.

I need to practise this new piece.

Is the house secure? Yes, sir.

Well, er...

Don't stay up late.
Goodnight, Father.

Thank you.

Oh, I'm sorry if I upset you.
You didn't.

I was merely trying to demonstrate...

I don't mean to pop your balloon,
but I've had a sore throat

coming on for a few days
and it merely got the better of me.

If you don't mind, I need to go home
and rest my voice for tomorrow.


Still sceptical?

If questioning a crook's roots

shakes the tree enough
to get a confession,

then maybe that's something
we can talk about.

Then, why don't you read about it?
On the house.

With respect, Doc, all this
Freud stuff's French to me.

Freud was Austrian.

Padre, Dr Jackson. Goodnight.

May I?

I've always been fascinated by
civilisation and its discontents.

I'd be curious to hear how
a man of the cloth interprets Freud.

Why are you in Kembleford?

Publishers clamouring
for the follow-up.

No rest for the wicked,
particularly in London,

so I thought I'd write it here.

Enjoy it. We're all flawed, Father.

I suspect, even you.

Would you mind...? Yes.

Thanks, Doctor.

CALVIN PLAYS: Nocturne in B-Flat
Minor by Frederic Chopin


Requiescat in pace.


I am very sorry about your son,
Mr Twyman.

When did you find him?
This morning, when I woke up.

I came down and found him here.

So sorry I'm late.

Can we help you?

Mr Twyman is one of my patients.
Oh, hello, Doctor!

Good to see you again.

Goodfellow, how about you do
another sweep of the house?


And was it just you and Calvin
in the house, last night?

And Wallace here, my butler.

Any sign of a break-in?
I've got this, Padre.

The house was securely locked
from the inside, I made sure of it.

Mr Twyman, do you know of anyone
who would want to hurt your son?

Well, do you?

Rosie Everton. The journalist?

What's she got against your son?

She thought that he was a threat
to her title in the variety show.

I'm not sure she'd kill for that.

GOODFELLOW: Inspector! Excuse me.


The butler's bag, sir.

Quite a haul. WALLACE: I'll not
tell you again - get out of my way!

Drop it, Wallace! I didn't hurt him!
I've known him for 20 years.

He wouldn't do it. Then why is
he swinging a poker at my officers?

Please, Mr Wallace. Put it down.

I didn't hurt him, I swear it.

I know you didn't do it, Wallace.
But this isn't the way to prove it!


Right, Mr Wallace...

At last - the programmes
for the variety show.

Printed with only hours to spare.

Don't you normally sing
in this, as well, Mrs M?

Given that I'm compering,
I didn't think it was appropriate.

That's a shame.
It's really lovely when you sing.

Oh, well. Maybe I should...
Where do I come in the programme?

Straight after Rosie Everton.

I do hope you're recovered
from last night.

Yes, thank you.
I've been resting my voice today.

Oh, I heard it was
a little stage fright.

Not at all.

Well, that's good, because Marlon
Clifton is going to be our judge.

I shall make your
perfectly-printed programme proud.


Calvin Twyman won't be performing.

He can't pull out now!
He's in the programme.

He's dead. What?
Holy Mother of God!

Strangled, while playing the piano.

How bad was he? Sidney!

The police have arrested the butler.

Lester Wallace?

I know him from The Red Lion.

Beaten him a few times at poker.

He pinches the family silverware
for the buy-in.

Oh, that fits. Rumour has it,
he has light fingers.

He steals the silver for gambling?!
He wins it back.

Robert Twyman is pointing
the finger at Rosie Everton.

Oh, Rosie wouldn't hurt a fly.

She was certainly at that
boy's throat last night.

Yeah, but you wouldn't
strangle someone

over a little singing contest,
would you?

BOTH: "Little"?!

If you're going to run
after a murder,

why wait until the police arrive?

When we had a poke around your room,
what do you think we found...

..other than your bags packed?


and all this silver.


Why has a butler got all
this cash and valuables?

I think you were flogging
the Twyman's silver.

Young Calvin found out
and you kept him quiet.

I want to make a confession...

..to a priest.

Make it quick, Padre.

Mr Wallace.

Bless me, Father, for I have...
changed my mind.

Oh, that's disappointing.

Sorry to waste your time.
That's all right.

Mr Wallace, do you mind if I just...

rest my legs?


You've worked for Robert
for a long time.

Yeah, I suppose I have.

But you don't strike me
as the butlering sort.

I've known a lot of butlers,
and they all have delicate hands -

handling china cups,
that sort of thing.

You make things. I did.

I was an engineer.
At the aircraft factory?

Yeah, I was a panel fitter.

I've heard it's a RIVETING job.

Did you kill Calvin?
Of course not.

Why did you run?

Because I've had trouble
with the police before -

but I didn't kill him
and neither did Mr Twyman.

But it was definitely just
you and him there? Yes.

I really don't know what happened.

You're not still doing that,
are you? I really don't think...

Robert Twyman wants it to go ahead.

What? The concert.

He said "the show must go on".

Now, four hands are better than two.


I really do have the most
terrible scratch in my throat.

What are you talking about?
You haven't shut up all morning.

It comes and goes. Oh, well.

If you're really feeling poorly,

I suppose there's
only one thing for it.

I'll take your spot in the show.

I won't have you muscling in
on my limelight.

Only offering to help.

Of course you are(!)

Sydney, I need a pineapple.

A what-apple?

What in heaven's name
do you need a pineapple for?

It's what the professionals use.
I wouldn't expect you to understand.

What's a pineapple?


How will you manage
without Mr Wallace?

Is there anything I can do to help?
No. No, thank you.

We can hold the funeral as soon
as the police release the body.

I don't think I have the necessary
qualifications to become a butler.

What did you look for in Mr Wallace?

He's loyal.

Bit of a change from
being a panel fitter.

It's all my fault. I...

I didn't look after my boy,
I didn't protect him.

You can't blame yourself.

Nobody could have predicted
something like this happening.

Why aren't the police
talking to her?

You think it's Rosie Everton. Why?
I know how it looks.

Just me and Wallace in a
locked house - but it was her.

Seems a bit of a stretch...

over a talent show.
You don't know what she's like.

Calls herself a journalist.
She's nothing.

Who gets to 35 and is still
sniffing around a local rag?

I mean, look at this -

Kembleford's hedge-laying champion,
front page news? It's a joke.

She's just desperate for
something to say, the vulture.

Would she... Would she kill,
just to make a headline?

You don't know how far
she'd go to get a story.

I'm sorry, I'm...

You must be exhausted.

I am.

We'll talk about
the eulogy another time.

It's for you.

Goodbye, Father.
Again, my condolences.






Hello, Father. Hello.

I just wanted to make sure that you
knew the concert was going ahead.

Yes, I'd heard. Thank you.

Terrible news, about the boy.

Robert Twyman thinks you did it.


I think you'd better come inside.

So, tell me exactly what Robert said.

He was adamant.

What, because I was so envious
of his son's great talent,

I shuffled him off(?)

Why else would he point the finger?

You covered the Belcher scandal.

I did.

I covered business interest pieces.

I read that article.

It was very well-written.

I won Economics Correspondent
Of The Year for it.

So, why are you writing about
hedgerows for the Gazette?

I just love the local issues -
more time to play the piano.

And you are a composer, too?
Oh, just tinkering.

In another life, I could have
been a concert pianist.

Was Robert Twyman the subject
of one of your articles?

Why would I be interested in him?
You tell me.

He's a local hero, Father.

He's a philanthropist,
a local luminary -

he's a good, good man.

Something tells me that
you don't believe that he is.

There are some men
you just don't cross.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Father,
I must rehearse.

I'll see myself out.

How long does it take
to find a pineapple?

If you're going to sing
in this competition,

you are going to have to rehearse.

I can't, until I've had my juice!

Well, what did Wallace have to say?


He had changed his mind about
confessing before I arrived.

Did you know that Lester Wallace

didn't start out working
for Robert Twyman as a butler?

Before that, he worked in
Twyman's aircraft factory.

Did he?

If you've got everything, why
employ a panel fitter as a butler?

Well, maybe he just saw
the good in the man.

I think your friend Rosie

was writing
a newspaper article about him

and I think she was silenced.

I don't think so.

Rosie Everton is one of the
most formidable women I know.

I hardly think a man like that
could silence a woman like her.

Anyway, she was
a leading journalist. Was.

Well, she chose to pursue the piano.

Can't begrudge a woman for pursuing
her dreams, can you, Father?

I'm not.

I'm just suggesting that
Robert Twyman may have influenced

her career change.

Let me speak to her.
I'll see what I can find out.

I've known her an awfully long time.
Thank you.

You are meant to be rehearsing!

No note shall come out of my mouth
until I have my pineapple juice!





Can I have my book back now, sir?

I'm reading the chapter
on self-interest, Goodfellow.

Do you have a problem with sharing?

No. Good.

Seems like Twyman's
bought Wallace an expensive lawyer.

Doesn't matter. See, there were
two people in that house...


..Wallace and Twyman.

And Twyman has no motive.

Kembleford Police.

I don't need to read this book
to know what a murderer looks like -

and our murderer looks like Wallace.


Lady Felicia.


What were you doing in
Rosie Everton's house, Mr Twyman?

Did you argue?

Then, how come she ended up dead,
Mr Twyman?

I don't know.

Did you kill Rosie Everton
and did you kill your son, too?

I had a dream... Speak up!

I had a dream that I did.

A dream?


Father Brown, for Mr Twyman.


Get me the shrink.

She was just lying there. When?

When I woke up.

I knocked...

She was playing the piano,
she couldn't hear, so I went in...

..and the next thing
I remember is...

..she's dead.

She died while playing the piano?

How can I not remember?

You received a letter, when I left.

Yes. What did it say?

"If you don't confess,
you will die today."

Confess to what?

Who's threatening you?

Her. She was.

That's why I went to confront her.

Was Rosie Everton writing
a newspaper article about you?

How can I not remember
killing my son?

How, indeed.

Dr Jackson. Ah. I came
as quickly as I could.

We've caught our killer.

Who is it?

Robert Twyman.

Robert Twyman killed his own son?

And he's just killed someone else.

Who? Rosie Everton,
a local journalist -

killed at her piano.

Oh, my dear Lord!

Did you know Rosie?
No, no, I didn't.

The man's completely lost his head.

I'm going to need you
to screw it back on,

so he can start giving answers.

What if he doesn't know the answers?

We caught him red-handed, Padre.
He did it.

Yes, but why?

Inspector, I think you need
to keep an eye on him.

I believe his life is in danger.

What are you talking about?

He received a letter,
threatening his life.

So, he's going to be murdered,
as well?

Apparently so.

Wouldn't it be better
to err on the side of caution?

Unless the murderer wants to
break into a police station,

I think he'll be safe for now.
Dr Jackson?

Off you pop, Padre.


I've come to a decision.
Oh, here we go.

I've decided not to sing.

Rosie was a dear friend

and it feels disrespectful
to sing in her absence.

But that's three performers
out of the running!

At this rate, all we'll be left
with will be Mungo Hooter!

I'm afraid that's my final decision.


I've got it! Well, she's only
gone and thrown in the towel.

Whoa, whoa! I've been halfway
to Hereford for this thing.

Now you're telling me
you don't want it?

Well, my voice is ruined
by screaming, anyway.

There is nothing wrong
with your throat.

This is about what happened
last night, isn't it?

You are scared of making
a fool of yourself...again.

No, I'm not. Yes, you are.

Bring it back when it's pulped.
When it's what?

Extract the juice, Sidney.

I'm afraid Robert
is a deeply-disturbed man.

It's quite clear
he's collapsing into himself.

Well, what do you suggest?

Well, there is a method in my book
I've explored, but it's a long shot.

We need to calm him,
bring him back around.

I have conducted several experiments
that demonstrate that classical music

can draw a patient with this
kind of psychiatric collapse

back into cogency.

It might just be enough
for a confession.

What do you need for it?

A simple record player should do.

I could have one brought over.

I know it's unorthodox,
but I think it's worth a shot.

What do we have to lose?

I can't believe he killed his son.
Neither can I.

I think you two
were working together.

I think you were going
to confess and he got to you

and convinced you to keep quiet.

What I don't understand is,

why were you sending the letters?

I didn't send the letters.

I think I know why
Robert killed Rosie,

but perhaps you can help me to
understand why you killed Calvin.

I didn't kill Calvin!

I can only assume...

..that it was
because of the aircraft.

Rosie Everton may have been sacked
from the broadsheets,

but she was a brilliant journalist.

Brilliant journalists don't need
to break the Official Secrets Act

to get their stories.

That's hardly a crime, compared
with what you and Robert did.

We were found innocent.
No, you weren't convicted.

You knew you were
fitting faulty parts.

But you put profit over safety.

When did Calvin find out?

I... I don't think he did.

Then, why kill him? I didn't!

Only you and Robert
were in the house.

The door was locked from the inside.

We weren't the only ones here.
But it can't have been her.

Rosie Everton.
'She was only here a few minutes.'

'After I'd locked up the house,
I cooked the Twymans their dinner.

'Whilst they were eating,
I led her in.

'She copied it down and left.'

She copied the music?

Why did you let her in?

I wanted to keep her on our side.

She might have lost her job,
but she still knew our secrets.

Calvin had been promised
he'd be told in advance

what the head judges'
favourite piece of music was.

He was a deeply-unpleasant boy.

I thought she might like to know
in advance what advantage he had.

So, I invited her over. How was
Calvin promised the inside track?

The head judge is one
of Dr Jackson's patients.

The man knows everyone.
Said he'd just call and ask.


Welcome to the
Kembleford Variety Show.

Due to certain tragic circumstances,

there are some changes
in the programme,

but as we say, the show must go on!

So, without further ado,
would you please welcome...

Is that it?
Big fruit, not a lot of juice.

..Mungo Hooter and his six shooter!


Do you have a moment, Doctor?
Of course.

May I?


Ooh! Knees.

Not your speciality, I know.

I read your book
from cover to cover.

The other day, I was trying
to remember my father's face

and you wrote that
I should remember in context,

so I thought
of a favourite hymn of his -

and there he was.

As clear as day.

I'm glad you found it therapeutic.

I admire your work.

I admire the methods you use
to treat vulnerable minds.

Thank you.

But I am troubled that you might
be using your methods for ill.

I apologise again,
if I embarrassed your friend.

I'm not talking about Lady Felicia.

I'm talking about Robert Twyman.

I believe that you put
the weapon into his hands.

What do you mean?

I'm not suggesting
that you committed the murders.

I am suggesting
that you are responsible.



You cover it in great detail -
chapter nine.

# Dear Lord and Father of mankind

♪ Forgive our foolish ways. ♪

And there he is...

..my old dad.

Just that melody connects me
to such a clear vision -

and that's it, isn't it?

Music is the murder weapon.


Calvin died
because you sent him music,

with the promise that
it would win the competition.

You knew he would practise it
in front of his father.

And that...

..would trigger his murder.

But what you couldn't know

is that Rosie Everton
would copy the music...


..and would be playing it

when Robert Twyman
visited her this morning.

Both of them were murdered because
you had hypnotised Robert to kill

when he heard that
particular piece of music.

And why would I do such a thing?


Did Rosie come to you
with the information

she had about the cover-up?

I...don't follow.

Perhaps because she knew
that your son had died

at the controls of one
of Twyman's faulty aircraft.

Is that your son?

I don't believe you're in
Kembleford to write a book.

I think you are here to exact
revenge on Robert Twyman.

You sent him letters to unsettle him

and you dangled your services
in front of him,

pretending that you could
give him some peace.

But why toy with him?

Why not just expose him?

I wanted him to confess.

To feel the pain of what
it's like to lose your own son.

And how do you feel
about Rosie's death?

She did her best
to get justice for your son.

She lost her job,
then she lost her life.

I... I'm sorry about that.

Then, confess.

He's the one that has to confess.

That's between him and God.

Vengeance doesn't bring peace.

Then...what does?


I fear it may be too late.

What do you mean?

The music...

Well, let's hope
this does the trick.

MUSIC: Nocturne in B-Flat Minor
by Frederic Chopin

Goodfellow, turn it up.

Sgt Goodfellow! What?

Turn it off!
Why? Turn the music off!


What's going on?

Padre! Robert?



Mr Twyman!

Stop, Mr Twyman!

Sgt Goodfellow, turn it off!

Please! Goodfellow!


What the hell is going on?


You're on next. I can't do it.

There is nothing wrong
with your throat.

I know.
But that awful man was right.

I do just sing for attention.

And? I should sing for myself.

Well, go out there and do it.

But what if I can't?

Lady Felicia, I really hate
to be the person to tell you this,

but you have one of the most
beautiful voices I have ever heard.

Oh. Really?

So, go out there and do us proud.



Doctor. Sorry to interrupt.

Have you got a minute?
Er, not really. Needed in London.

What a shame.

We were enjoying getting to
know you, weren't we, Goodfellow?

Can't be helped.

Before you go, would you mind
coming in and talking to us

about the murders of Calvin Twyman
and Rosie Everton?

We'd like to hear a psychoanalyst's
view on the matter.

Of course. I'll follow you in my car.


Let me give you a ride.

By the way, that music you gave us

didn't quite have the
soothing effect one might expect.

Oh, dear.

But it certainly
helped Robert open up.

He's singing like a canary.

With me, Doctor.

This way, sir.


Mungo Hooter, ladies and gentlemen.

And now, for our next act,
Lady Felicia Montague.


That's your cue.

Go on, milady!

Sorry, er...

Can you start again, please?




I forgot to mention,

this is a duet!

# That certain night

# The night we met

# There was magic abroad in the air

# There were angels
dining at the Ritz

# And a nightingale sang

♪ In Berkeley Square. ♪