In Plain Sight (2016): Season 1, Episode 3 - Episode #1.3 - full transcript

'He had a knife.'

He told me if I screamed,
he'd cut my throat.

Manuel's put in a request
to conduct his own defence.

The witness, by her own admission,

spent over three hours,

half the night with me.
He's lying!

The law let you down badly today.

But I want you to know
that I will not rest

until Peter Manuel is behind bars.

Do you really want another
Anne Kneilands on your conscience?

She's not on my conscience,
Muncie,



because Peter was here that night.

Webley, .38.
What you got that for?

'The first time I arrested
Manuel in '46 for house

I saw the exact same thing that
I saw at 18 Fennsbank Avenue today.'

Hello, Peter Manuel.

Manuel murdered my wife
and my daughter, Mr Muncie.

There's nothing he can say or do
that can unsettle me.

You tell Muncie, he'll need
to do a lot better than you.

Son, that's a proper pair
of gentlemen's gloves, there.

You stole these things, Peter. I cannae
get anything without you saying that.

Girl's gone missing.

It's Manuel. Here I am.

Public enemy number one.

Our Theresa said you'd spoken to her.



That you're on the warpath
about some missing girl and,

well, given our history,
I thought it wise to come prepared.

It's a record of my movements
since leaving home on Christmas Day.

So, you're saying you've been
in this city the whole time.

In bars and drinking clubs,
the pictures...

Aye. That's something I do
when the mood takes me.

A film spree. You can check
with all the usherettes.

They'll all remember me.
I guarantee it.

Yes. It's very helpful you've
provided us with all the names.

Aye, well,
when I'm turning on the charm,

I always start with
an exchange of names.

See, I'm very partial
to the usherettes.

It's the tray of goodies.

The uniforms.

What happened to your uniform,
by the way?

I'm CID now.

Is that right?
Well, congratulations, darling.

Old Muncie -
What did you do for sleep, Peter?

He's all business, this one.

I just napped around.

Bus, pub.

Flick house, greasy spoon.

It's funny that, because at home
I'm a terrible insomniac.

Where were you yesterday evening
between the hours of 6:00.

Sorry, did I neglect to include...
Without your crib sheet.

Dracula. 6:30 showing at the Scala.

You should get your boyfriend
to take you.

You could cuddle him
at the scary bits.

You ever seen
this young woman before?

Well, I think I'd remember.
It's a nice-looking lassie, that.

Her name is Isabelle Cooke.

That's the Mount Vernon lassie
you told my sister about.

The missing one.

No. Never seen her before.

Don't lower the boats?
It's not been 24 hours yet.

Maybe there's some perfectly
innocent explanation.

I don't know how you kept from
smacking him one in there, sir.

Without a body,
there's no arresting him.

That's my priority now.

Plough every resource
into finding her.

You really think there's no chance
she's alive?

I'm sorry, sir.
Just wishful thinking.

Joe Brannan? Who wants to know?

Superintendent Muncie, Hamilton CID.

Good for you.

You're not in any trouble, Joe.

I just want a word.

Been doing well
since you got out, Joe.

New job.

New house.

I'm commending you, Joe.
I'm saying "Well done".

Well done
and how's about being a rat?

That's what this is about, right?
Manuel?

Informing on somebody that's killed four
people in cold blood isn't being a rat.

And now there's this.

Do you think this was him as well?

I know it.

Christ.

We've been tailing him
for a while now.

I've got eyes on him.

I need somebody who can hear
what he's saying.

He's very chatty just now.

Wants an audience.

And you've got his trust.

You can get close to him.

You could save somebody's life...

and can get paid for your trouble.

No-one would find out?

I give you my word.

Er... Where are you going?

You appealed for volunteers
to help with the search, so I.

Gwenlie said she'd look after
the girls.

I'm not sure I'm comfortable
with you coming on this search.

I want to help, Bill.

I take it you've heard about
the Reverend Houston and his wife?

What?

Well, while we were
all at the church on Christmas Eve,

The presents were stolen
from under the Christmas tree.

A camera,
a pair of gloves for the reverend,

a silk ladies head scarf
that Doris bought for Frances.

It's all gone.

Do you know
what my first thought was?

Was it Peter Manuel?

Did they report it? I assume.

Actually, can you write that down?
My notebook's in my pocket.

Before I forget.

It's going to be
a quieter than usual Hogmanay.

Everybody's leaving.
You know, I wouldn't be adverse

to you taking the kids
to my mother's.

Peter Manuel is not
running us out of town.

I'm so sorry, Mrs Cooke.

Up closer, son.

Tea for the hard-working mechanics.

That is very welcome.

There's Agnes. Coo-ee!

Hello, Doris. Peter.

You have a happy new year.
And to you.

Have a lovely holiday, Michael.

You too, Mrs Muncie. Bye!

Wouldn't do for us to have only one lamp
to see by all the way to your uncle's.

Thanks, Marion.

Coming through.

There we go, boys.

Peter.

A little pending money for you, son.
That's mighty kind of you, father.

Good to see you again, Joe.
Been a while?

Hasn't it just?

I was beginning to think
you were avoiding me.

You know how it is.
Gainful employment.

Wife and children. Family man?
Aye.

Happy Hogmanay. Cheers.

And at you, two.
King Kong and Gormless.

My two baby-sitters, courtesy of
Detective Superintendent Muncie.

I'll tell you, Joe, I'm starting
to think that plod fancies me.

Aye, aye. He's moving.

He's going to the lavvy. Relax.

Evening, lads.

Ain't you ever heard of windows?

Enjoy your dump, shithead!

"Ten, nine, eight, seven,

six, five, four, three, two, one."

Happy new year!

Happy new year.

Hey, what's this,
young Mr Bob-a-job?

Can't sleep.
Well, that won't do.

We'll have to be up and out
in six hours.

Glasses off.

Scoot down.

All right.

Feels nice. Course it does.

I'm an expert.

Where are you off to?

I'm joining
the Isabelle Cooke search.

Hop in. I'll give you a lift.

I'm going to the quay
to try and find her.

It's one of the muster points
for the volunteers.

That's the old Dunkirk spirit.
You know, everybody pulling together.

That's them.

Thanks, again.

If it isn't Superintendent Muncie.

Where were you between the hours
of 2:00 and 7:00

on the morning of
Wednesday the 1st of January?

Happy new year to you, as well
Wednesday the 1st of January,

between the hours of
2:00 and 7:00am, where were you?

I was here. All night.

You're lying. He's not.

We were all in New Year's Eve.

Ask your boys,
if you don't believe me.

Your boss needs a lie down,
Detective.

He's not looking very well.

Get statements.

Aye, come a way in.

Make yourself at home.

Where were you?

About 3:30, we went to get a car
cos of the cold.

You both deserted your post?

We thought they were
all asleep, sir.

The lights had been off
for over an hour.

Then when did you return?

About 6:00.

We went to get
something hot to eat.

Get out of my sight.

What time did it happen?

Sometime between Wilson
and McLeod leaving and coming back.

A couple of hours.

That's all he needed.

Why them?

Why the Smarts?

Because of what he is.

He felt the urge to kill.

He knew he didn't have much time.

So, that's it?

Three people wiped off
the face of this earth

because they were
the most convenient?

Little Michael.

God. Little Michael.

"Scout packs and vigilante groups
patrol the streets."

Women sleep with knives
beside their beds.

Ironmongers and locksmiths
report record sales

of locks, padlocks, and deadbolts.

"The people of Lanarkshire
are living in fear."

Alibi or no alibi, Bill,
we can still get him for this.

Right from the start,
you had his number.

Thought he was just
a snot-nosed thief.

But this...

You know, Bill, there'd be no shame
in you handing over the reins.

I could put a call in to
Glasgow CID.

Have them run things.

No, absolutely not, sir. I'm fine.

Well...

Don't work too late. Sir.

Thief.

Here.

Sir?

This was empty, right?

Yes, sir.

Excellent.

He's made a mistake.

In all the other murders,
he's never stole a penny.

He's never mixed stealing
with killing.

But Peter Smart's wallet was empty.

The evening before, he was supposed
to go off on a five-day holiday.

And this morning
I spoke with an informant

who was with Manuel
on New Years' Eve.

Manuel was broke.

His father even gave him a few bob
just to keep him going.

But the very next day,
January the 1st,

the day after the murders,

Manuel took that informant
out on a pub crawl.

Spending money like water.
Buying rounds wherever they went.

And all the time,
with brand-new blue one pound notes

issued by
the Commercial Bank of Scotland.

Peter Smart's bank.

Now, I went to his branch
in Uddingston.

And they confirmed
that on December the 31st,

Peter Smart withdrew £15
in brand new one pound notes.

This is the list
of the serial numbers.

They're all consecutive.

This is a list of the drinking
establishments they went into.

Now, if you can find
these banknotes in these pubs,

then we'll have him.

So, let's get to it.

You two.

Sort out a watch.

Twenty-four hours.
Now, until we've got him.

And you stick to him like glue.

We will, sir. Yes.

Have they gone to bed?

Aye. What are you doing?

Thinking about all the things
I'd like to do to them two plods.

Do you never think about our ma
and what this is doing to her?

Don't start.

I know we've never been
the best of friends, Peter...

but you're still my brother.

I don't want to see you hanged.

Hanged?

What are you on about?

Well, that's how this
is going to end.

No-one's getting hanged.

I haven't done anything.

Go on. Go to your bed, nursey.

I want him arrested early.

PC Lowe will be in charge.

I want Manuel off balance.

I want him surrounded by faces
that he doesn't know.

And do not,
under any circumstances,

engage with any of his backchat.

I want a welcoming party
waiting here for him.

I want you to get every single
report you can lay your hands on.

WDC Laird is going to conduct
the interview.

I want a woman in there
goading him

and needling his male pride
because I want him humiliated.

And I want him angry. Yeah.

Get your hands off him!

Get off!

Leave him alone!

What's going on?

Get in the car!

Open the door for him.

Get in the car!

Go.

I take it the scarf was for you,
Mrs Manuel?

Yes.

It's very pretty.

Peter's always had good taste.

Very artistic right from
when he was a boy.

Well, then,
would you mind telling me

why something so precious

would be kept underneath
the kitchen sink?

I bought it.
I bought all this stuff

so Peter would have something
to give us on Christmas day.

You're always there for him,
aren't you?

Covering his tracks.

What do you mean?

Where?
Where did you purchase these items?

They were from some spiv
down at The Stag.

They were stolen on Christmas Eve

from the home of Reverend Houston.

I didn't... I didn't know.

You don't fool me!
You don't fool me!

I didn't know! Mum!

It's all right, Tess.

It's all right.
It's all right, Tess.

My girl. It's all right.

It's all right.

You'll notice how the serial
numbers on the notes

stolen from Peter Smart's wallet

exactly match those found
in the cash registers of The Stag,

the Woodend Bar,
and the Gordon Club.

All establishments
which numerous witnesses

stated you visited on the night of
the 1st of January 1958.

Buying rounds of drinks for men
who'd like nothing better

than to see you hanged.

And all with crisp, new notes...

stolen from your victim's wallet.

Not really criminal
mastermind material, are we?

Peter?

Not one flaming word, sir.

I blew it.

No, you did not, Laird.

We've got him exactly
where we want him.

He's not talking
because we've got him in a corner.

He's down there
with his mind fully occupied

on how to dodge the Smart charge.

It's good for us.

Cos that means
he won't see me coming.

This is our chance to get him.

And not just for the Smart murders,

but for all these victims.

He's always been torn between
getting away with it

and seeing his deeds
written in headlines ten feet tall

telling the world
how clever he is.

After what he's been through
for the past few hours,

he's never been closer
to giving us just that.

Full confession.

Right now, the only person that
wants the truth to come out.

You want one?

I have to hand it to you, Peter...

never seen so many reporters
in my life.

Not just the Scottish papers,
either.

Manchester Guardian.

Mirror.

News Of The World.

The Times of London.

You have nothing.

Is that right?

No murder weapon. No motive.

The most you can charge me with
is stealing some cash and a car.

I mean, who in their right mind
would give a lift to a copper

after slaughtering three people?

You're not in your right mind.

Are you?

You think you're a gangster.

But you're not. You're a psychopath.

You're a psychopath
that murders women and children.

People asleep in their beds.

You think you're a hard man,

but you're not.

You're a milksop.

You're a wee boy
that goes round to his daddy

when the going gets tough.

That's what
they're saying out there.

That it was your dad...

that helped you dispose
of Isabelle Cooke's body.

He's always been there for you,
though, hasn't he?

Your good old dad,
and his little van.

So, we've arrested him...

for aiding and abetting
in the disposal of a corpse.

Father and son.

Partners in murder.

Not a bad headline.

You're bluffing.

Am I?

All this time we've known each other
and you still haven't got a clue.

Peter Manuel doesn't need
anybody's help.

Must burn you up?

Knowing that if you'd been
running things

when I did Anne Kneilands,
you might have been able to stop me.

That seven innocent people
would still be alive.

All the pleading.
All the screaming.

And there was nothing
that you could do.

Nothing.

Let the old man go.

I'll show you
where the Cooke girl is buried.

We're standing on her.

Take him in the car.

The arrested man
has made a full confession.

And he's been charged.

Over the course of
the last two years...

this man has killed
eight of our own...

and caused untold grief
and fear.

But men like that
are the exception.

They're not the rule.

And there is some comfort
that we can take from that...

in the rarity
of such terrible things.

I'd ask you now to go home
to your families, please...

and say a prayer for the victims
and their loved ones.

Thank you.

Well done.

Yes, I will.
I'll be there first thing.

You too.

Bye.

Sir.

He's asking for you.

Sir.

We did it.

Yes.

Yes, we did.

What can I do for you?

I want that press told
I'd never have shot Michael Smart

if I'd known he was just a child.

Anne Kneilands was a child, though.

Vivienne Watt was a child.
Isabelle Cooke was a child -

Come on, Muncie.
You know what I mean.

I'm no child-killer.

Why did you go back
to the Smarts' house?

To get the car.

No, that only accounts
for one of your return visits.

We know that you went back to that
family's home at least three times.

Why?

Was you first visit,
was it too rushed?

Did you need more time
to savour what you'd done?

I went once, for the car.

It's the gospel truth.

You know...

You're not the only person
who can lie, Peter.

We arrested your dad
for reselling stolen goods.

Never posed any threat
to your share of the limelight.

Goodbye, Peter.

You walk away from me...

Nobody walks away from Peter Manuel!

Do you hear me?
Do you hear me, Muncie?

Do you think you can lead me a mile?

This has just started!
Do you hear me, plod?

This is nae over!

Peter Manuel has not finished yet!

Do you fucking hear me?

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