Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 3, Episode 11 - Hangman - full transcript

Detective Murdoch investigates a bizarre case when a convicted murderer apparently manages to survive the hangman's noose. When Cecil Fox's body is delivered to Dr. Ogden for a post-mortem, she finds a hollow tube inserted in his ...

This is a miserable business.

Believe me, the prosecutor's office
takes no pleasure in it,

but Cecil Fox did kill a judge,
a dear colleague.

I meant no disrespect.
Judge Mead was a fine man.

I hope you're not
a faint-hearted sort.

Fox crawled out of hell
to be born.

Mr Dillard and me,
we're just shipping him back.

Even so, Detective MacDonald,
bearing witness to execution

is a duty
I will never grow accustomed to.

I'll take good care.

Thank God I caught this bugger.
Some men just deserve to die.

Those who argue the ethics
of capital punishment

forget we are delivering

society's unwavering
response to evil.

The Lord's Prayer.

Our father...



Mr Catchpole.
And this must be Mr Cecil Fox.

Yes, ma'am.
Well, help me get him on the table
so I can dispense with formalities.


Is there something else,
Mr Catchpole?

Mr Pleasant says I'm
the best apprentice he's ever had.

Oh! Well, good for you.

I'll be the best hangman
that ever was, too.

I don't doubt it.

Well, you best be off. Yes, ma'am.

Good to see you, Dr Ogden.

One more sound and you're dead.

You've had quite a shock, Julia.

Are you sure you're all right?
I'm fine, William.

Sir, this metal tube?

Yes, George, it would appear that Mr
Fox has given himself a tracheotomy.

You mean he jammed this thing
into his own throat?

Windpipe, to be precise. Eurgh...
He'd have been able to breathe

shallowly as he hung from the rope.
Hardly noticeable.

But Dr, when a man
is hanged, the neck is snapped

from the spine, is it not?
The C2 vertebra.

How could Fox have survived,

even if he did have a...trae,
Trae... A tracheaenemy...?

Yes, George, clearly Mr Fox's
neck wasn't broken.

I suspect this was no accident.
We'll have to speak
with the hangman.

Theodore Pleasant, yes, sir.

Are you aware that he
and the Inspector are old friends?

No, George, I wasn't aware of that.
Thank you.

'Are you being serious?'

Theo Pleasant botching
a hanging to let a killer go free?

I would have interviewed him
straightaway but given
your relationship,

I thought you might want
to accompany me.

You're damn right.
20 years in the job

and he's not mucked up
a single execution.

Murdoch, we have visitors.

Now, listen, Detective MacDonald's
an obvious dunce,

but the Crown Prosecutor's
the top dog.

He could make life difficult
if we bugger this up, right?

Fox drove a blade into the judge
who sentenced him to hard labour.

He'd happily kill a few civilians
if it meant his freedom.

We've got the train stations,
the waterfront and hospitals covered.
Fox won't get far.

All right, then. For a half-wit
like Fox to survive the hanging,
he must have had help.

I'd be talking to that hangman.

Well, yes, Detective MacDonald,
excellent suggestion.

Detective, you know Fox, any idea
at all which rock he's crawled under?

Oh, uh... Well, there was the hussy.

The prostitute? I doubt he'd go
back to her after the way
she bungled his alibi on the stand.

She claimed Fox was with her
when Mead was murdered

but she had her times mixed up.

And since Fox defended himself, he
didn't have the brains to fix that.

Gentlemen, this woman's name?
Myrtle Smith.

Myrtle Smith?

Myrtle Smith?

I didn't do nothing.

I said, "I didn't!"

Hey, watch the hands there,

Miss Smith,
what were you doing in the trunk?

I was hiding, of course,
in case Cecil come back again.

Mr Fox was here?
How long ago?

A little bit ago. He came
barging in with that hole in his
neck, scared me half to death.

I says, "Cecil,
why aren't you dead?"

Well, he didn't like that.

Sir, looks like Fox
was leaking quite a bit.

Tried to clean himself up here.
Miss Smith, did you help
Mr Fox escape the noose?

Me? Ha, I can work miracles
between the sheets, honey,
but that's asking a bit much.

Did Mr Fox give any indication
as to where he might be going?

The man's got a bunny's brain,
he's just running.

(George, we'll post a constable
outside in case Mr Fox returns.)


Thank you, Miss Smith. Good day.

Theo! Theo?!

Is it raining?
No, your front door was open.

Oh! With you in a minute, Tommy boy.
How about a wee nip of gin?

I'm sure there's ample supply.

Mr Pleasant, I'm Detective Murdoch.

I'd like you to have a seat please.


Mr Pleasant... I'll save
you the trouble, detective.

No, I don't know what went wrong.

Cecil Fox should be dead.

Vexes me that he's not.

Murdoch, allow me.

You're the expert, Theo, speculate.

Well, some men
are just hard to kill.

But even if the man's neck was
the size of a bull's, I always
leave them hanging 10 minutes.

He should have suffocated to death.

Except that we think Fox shoved
a metal tube into his gullet
to enable him to breathe.

Yes, isn't that interesting?

My gut's in knots for days
before I have to hang them.

But I treat everyone with dignity,
never a judgment.

And after, they're just dead.

But me? Well...

Your friend is obviously
in some turmoil, sir.

Theo was a good pal,
a good family man.

He only took the job
because nobody else would
and it needed doing properly.

A little while back, something
happened. A pint a day turned into...
Well, you saw for yourself.

His wife had enough, left with
the daughters, went back to Halifax.

Sir, I admire your loyalty to him
and I sympathise with his
situation, but...

Murdoch, his reputation
is all he's got left.

I just can't see him
involved in Fox's escape.

What about this assistant, Catchpole?

And that's what happens
if the drop is too long -
the noggin goes a-sailing.

William, if Catchpole is a suspect,
why are you allowing him to give
this demonstration?

Your expertise could be handy
if he puts a foot wrong.

Well, all right,
but just being here is draining.

Capital punishment
IS the will of the majority.

Surely, William, you can't
support a law so prone to error?

I have my qualms, Julia,
but I also have my duty to the law.

Now, on the other hand,
too short a rope
and the client's neck don't pop.

Then you just sit back and wait.
The more he fights,
the slower he goes.

Kicking like mad, some of them.

Mr Catchpole, I've perused
Marwood's table of drops.

It's rigorously specific.

Yes, sir, it lays it all out.
How far the prisoner has to drop,

according to his/her weight
and physique, so the neck snaps
nice and neat.

Did Mr Pleasant use Marwood's

Everything by the book, sir.
He weighed Fox the day before,
came in at 190lbs on the nose.

Table of drops says
eight feet two inches for 190lbs,

but Fox had a strong neck
so Mr Pleasant added eight inches

to the drop length.

8ft 10.

Making it 8ft 10 inches.
8ft 10 inches.

As always, Mr Pleasant hung sandbags
the same weight
as the prisoner for 12 hours.

It takes the stretch
out of the rope.

You don't want any recoil. No, sir,

causes the client some grief.


Yes, ma'am, it shows
we respect the poor buggers.

And lastly, he marked the 8ft 10
distance on the rope
with copper wires.

Then, all is ready.

Is this the rope Mr Pleasant
used to hang Mr Fox?

Oh, no, sir. That would
be in execution box A.

But only Mr Pleasant has the key.
Execution box A.

Would be worth
some money now, I'd say.


Copper wires marking the drop length
are exactly 8ft 10 inches.

That's right. Mr Pleasant
says 8ft 10 drop, 8ft 10 it is.

That means the drop length
was correct.

Fox's neck should have snapped.

Look at this, Dr.

There's a fragment
of copper in the rope.

Where one of the copper wires was
originally set to mark the length.

Meaning the drop would have been...

6ft. No broken neck.

And the tracheotomy allows
him to survive the strangulation.

That can't be right.
Only Mr Pleasant handles the rope.

So that would mean Mr Pleasant...

Let a killer go free.

Why would I destroy my reputation
on a low-life like Cecil Fox?

I don't know why you did it,
I only know you did.

We found copper wire
at the 6ft mark on the rope.

I'd have hoped you'd have let that
pass, Thomas, showed me the respect
that our friendship has earned.

Yes, I spared his life.
And for one simple reason -

Cecil Fox did not kill Judge Mead.

Cecil Fox, lawfully
convicted of murder, is innocent
based on...your intuition?

It's more than that.

I could see it when
I was sizing him up for the drop.
It's in the eyes.

You think I did it, but I didn't.

Have you ever looked into
the eyes of the condemned,

Detective, as I have,
in their final moments?

No... Then wish you never do.

I've put 155 men to death,
do you think I don't
know what the guilty look like?

And the innocent?

But how can you possibly expect
us to believe...?
Because it happened before.


A few months before.
A young man named Michael Workentin.


The young man who was hanged
for strangling his girlfriend.
That's the one, yes.

That was the day, Thomas, that's
what I could never tell the missus.

I didn't kill her. Please!

You've got to believe me, sir,
I would never...

I believed him, but I buried
it deep. I'm good at that.

But, Theo, it was just a feeling.

That's what I put it down to,
until a month later,
Freddy Duckworth was to be hanged.

Duckworth was a foul scrag
to the bone.

He cut an old woman to pieces.

How does it feel to hang
an innocent man?

That won't work with me, Freddy,
you're as guilty as Judas.

I don't mean me, I mean
that Workentin boy you hanged.

It was me who strangled his girl.
How's that feel, hangman?

Now, at night,

I see Michael Workentin standing on
the trap, begging for mercy,

until I'm almost mad
with an unholy fear.

It was the same feeling
with Cecil Fox.

It was the same feeling I had
when I sent the Workentin lad off.

I swore I would never
go through that again.

So you plotted with Fox?

I showed him how to use the tube
for his breathing.
I took care of the rope.

After that, he was on his own.

I've told you my secret now, Thomas.

That earns us a drink, no?

No wonder the man's all cracked up.

He seems to genuinely
believe what he's saying.

But the charges against him will
have to stand in the absence
of evidence exonerating Fox.

In the absence of evidence.

Sir, you aren't actually

I can hear Dillard's voice now.

You want to re-open the Mead case
because the sozzled hangman
is a mind reader?! Sir!

And you agreed, Murdoch?

I remain open to the possibility.

Gentleman, I prosecuted Cecil Fox,
I had no doubt of his guilt. The
trial judge and jury had no doubt.

True, but...
Let's start with Fox's alibi

that he was with Myrtle Smith,
her testimony was so confused

it sealed Fox's fate
rather than exonerate him.

Motive -

the six years that Fox spent at hard
labour, thanks to Judge Enoch Mead.

Admittedly, we've got little...

Opportunity -

Cecil Fox was seen at the courthouse
on the day Judge Mead was killed.

And several people
heard a loud argument.

Between Fox and the judge?

Yeah. The jury didn't need much help
to draw their own conclusions there.

Conclusions you made for them.

That's my job.

Inspector Brackenreid...

I suggest you put your friendship
with the hangman aside and start
behaving professionally.

Enoch Mead was
murdered by Cecil Fox.

I vowed to put my friend's killer
to the noose, and that's what I did.

The case is closed.
Of course. You're right.


Well, I'll begin preparing
the charges against Mr Pleasant.

And, please, find Cecil Fox.


Still want me
to re-open the Mead case?

What do you think?

Higgins, you in there?

Come on in, George.

Hot tea and doughnuts.

Bless you, my good man.

Any sign of Fox?

Long and boring watch, I'm afraid.

Got me thinking about
being executed.

Oh, you must be bored!

No, what would it be like
to know that your life is going to
end at a certain point, you know?

I think I'd like to
go suddenly without knowing.

Like my Aunt Begonia,
she died laughing. Quite literally.

My Uncle Calvert fell off a
milking stool and she died laughing.

I guess she went happy, then.

I suppose so.

I think I'd go happy if I died
choking on one of these doughnuts.

They're so good.

Did you know a cow
invented the doughnut? Go on.

Some old Bessie
knocked over a vat of boiling oil,

there was a glob of pastry there,
and the doughnut was born.


Yes, Higgins, really.

Where did you hear this?
You are such a sceptic.

It's common knowledge
that a cow invented the doughnut!

I'll see you later.

Actually, it may have been a goat.

I'm quite sure it was a goat.


Mead took his usual route home
from the courthouse that night.

Cut through a laneway off
King Street, and that's where
Fox caught up and did him in.

You found no witnesses?
Can't find witnesses
if there aren't any witnesses.

I'll make a note of that.

Are you trying to get me going?

I'm doing my best to co-operate here.
I brought you my files, didn't I?

And I appreciate it.

Well, I don't. It feels like
people are doubting my work.

I don't care for that.

It says here that Fox claims Judge
Mead sent him a note to meet him
the day that Judge Mead died.

The famous note, yeah.

Fox tried to say Mead asked him down
there, but the note didn't say why.

Fox didn't go down there
to threaten Mead for six years'
hard labour. Oh, no.

Where is this note?
There is no note.

Look, Fox went down
to the courthouse on his own

because he had a bee in his bonnet
about Mead, can't you see that?

So, Fox admitted
to meeting with the judge
the day the judge was murdered?

No! He said when he got
there the judge had left!

Wouldn't you know!

And the postmortem?
Single stab wound to the heart.

Old Doc Philpot did the exam.
Francis Philpot? Isn't he retired?

He still likes to dabble in it.

It must be nice to be able to dabble.

Indeed. Perhaps we should have
the judge's body exhumed
and re-examined by Dr Ogden.

Suit yourself, Murdoch.

Fox was your only suspect.

The only one that mattered,
since we knew we had our man.

Yes, but...
There was another fellow

who wrote the judge some mouthy
letters after his son was hanged.

This other fellow -
what was his name?

Oh, um, Workentin.

Joe Workentin.

Mr Workentin, is it true you sent
Judge Mead threatening letters
after your son was executed?


Is it because Judge Mead
sentenced your son to hang?

No. Because Mead seemed bound
and determined to do it,
evidence be damned. What do you mean?

Michael was never anywhere near
his girl's house that night.

But on the last day of the trial,
all of a sudden, there's this
new witness, out of nowhere.

She said she saw Michael
fight with his girl.

Put his hands around her throat.

I see. A last-minute eyewitness
with damning evidence is suspicious.

That's what Michael's lawyer argued.

But Judge Mead let
her testimony stand.

That lady was lying
through her teeth.

Do you recall her name?

Yeah. Agatha Meldrum.

And, Mr Workentin, where were you
the night Judge Mead was murdered?

I was on duty
at Fire Hall Number Three.


Higgins! For the love of God,
you scared me half to death.


Well, Judge Mead,
a month in the ground hasn't done
your health a weight of good.

You're not going to jump up
and grab me, are you?

Oh, bloody hell.


I got a call from Detective
MacDonald. Apparently you're looking
into another one of my cases.

Sir? The Workentin case.

Oh! Actually, we were simply
confirming Joe Workentin's
alibi in Judge Mead's murder.

Now that you mention that case,
Mr Dillard, we had a chat

with Joe Workentin, and he insists
that his son was railroaded.


Your case against Michael Workentin
was going badly, until,
in the 11th hour,

you found an eyewitness who swore
she saw Michael kill his girlfriend.

Lucky break? Due diligence.

Agatha Meldrum was a reluctant
witness, it took some persuasion
to get her to come forward at all.

What are you playing at? Grounds
for appeal in the Fox verdict?
We are just being thorough.

By suggesting that I sent,
not one, but two innocent men
to the gallows? My God.

I stand by my record, gentleman,

I'm prepared
to defend my reputation,

even at the expense of yours.

That was interesting. Indeed.

What in the world?

Where's your bloody trousers?!

Cecil Fox stole my uniform, sir.

I'm afraid he caught me off guard.

Higgins found me unconscious.

Did he give you any indication as
to where he might be headed?

No, sir.

Well, Inspector,
you still think Fox is innocent?

Put the word out
to the other station houses.

Sir. You lot, stop
gawping and move your arses.

George, are you all right? No, sir.

When he took my trousers,
he took my dignity.

And my knees have taken a chill...

George, please go and
fetch another uniform.
Fox may still be in the vicinity.


Sir, why would
Fox need a police uniform? Sir?

Dillard was right, Murdoch.

Fox is as guilty as hell
and Theo's just...pathetic.

Mr Fox!

Is that the last of the doors?

You try to scream and I'll kill you.

You're choking me!
Don't talk to me about choking.

I won't try to escape.

You need my help. I can't help
you if you don't let me go.

You think I believe a word you say?

Is that who I think it is?

Judge Mead, yes,
I believe you've met.

I didn't kill him.

I just meant
when he sentenced you to hard labour.

Why's he here?

Apparently, the police
have doubts concerning your guilt.

Don't try to trick me,
Doc, just fix me up.



Where did you get your uniform?

I borrowed it from Tiny Malone. Why?

If Fox is simply running,
as Myrtle Smith said,
then why is he still in Toronto?

Well, sir, I was thinking, he needed
to have that wound tended to.

But then we're covering
all the hospitals.

I also wondered, in order to fund
his escape from the city, Cecil Fox

stole my uniform as a disguise,
in order to launch a series of daring
daylight bank robberies.

That's an interesting notion,
George, but wouldn't a police
uniform attract more attention?

maybe he just wants to stroll on in
here and have lunch with the boys.

You could be right, George.

In that uniform, Cecil Fox could
blend in near a police station.

This station happens to be across
the street from a certain
doctor Fox knows.

This thing hurts something awful.

There is a serious infection.
You need...

Don't answer it.

But... All right.

You need to get to the hospital.

Coppers are watching the hospitals.

Well, as you wish.

Remove your jacket and shirt.

Are you all right? Tore up my
right shoulder doing hard labour.

Been like this for a long time.

Really? Relax.


What the hell?!
You do that again and I'll...

Kill me, yes, I know.

Julia! Are you all right?

Open the door!

Come any closer and I'll stick her.

Mr Fox, let her go.
We mean you no harm.

Right. You'll just bring me back
to the gallows. No harm there.

Mr Fox, I must insist.
No, everyone be quiet. I've
examined the judge's knife wound.

The angle of the entry conclusively
indicates that he was stabbed

with an over-the-shoulder
descending motion
and that the killer was right-handed.

But I'm right-handed. For goodness
sake, whose side are you on?!

Raise your right arm.

I can't. That's the point.

His right shoulder is quite
immobile, and judging by my
examination, has been for months.

Meaning that Mr Fox was sentenced
to death and hanged for a crime
he could not have committed.

Well, obviously, a grave miscarriage
of justice has been averted.

Thanks to you both.

Had I had the benefit
of Dr Ogden's expertise...

The blame rests with Dr Philpot's
shoddy postmortem, does it?

And with Myrtle Smith's misguided
attempts to provide Fox with an
alibi, they seemed a certain lie.

Throw in Fox's history of violent
crime and...what was I to think?

So what of Theodore Pleasant?

I regret that he will be relieved
of his duties, for obvious reasons.

But release him,
I'll drop the charges.

The obvious question now is,
who did kill Judge Mead?

Yes, that's your priority.

I'm afraid this case was bungled
from the beginning.

We were so sure about Fox.

Perhaps if we'd taken more time,
properly collected evidence...

I trust you will revisit all that,
Detective? Why, yes, of course.

Well, good. Fox is being treated
at St Mike's, is he not? Yes, sir.

I owe him an apology.

And...tell Mr Pleasant I'll pay
him a visit when he gets home.


I'll have the men do
a thorough evidence sweep
of the judge's office.

What the hell is that, Murdoch?

Sir, are you familiar with
Symbolic Logic by John Venn?

What do you think? Right.

The idea is that connections between
two or more groups of things

can be represented by
the overlapping portion

of the diagram in the centre.

Never mind all this symbolics
logic, what are you doing?

I'm looking for a connection between
the Workentin and Fox cases.

If there is another suspect
in Judge Mead's murder,

perhaps he or she
is hiding in that area.

Right, well. Here's the evidence
that Detective MacDonald

originally collected
from Judge Mead's office.

Perhaps that will help.

No notation of fingermarks,
no hair or fibre samples. No notes.

Single malt Craigleith - pricey.

Judge's appointment book.

Oh! What? His last days.

The judge had an appointment
at 8am at The Lion,
two days before he died.

The Lion is a bucket of blood
on Church Street.
What would a judge be doing there?

Detective, we went through
Judge Mead's office again,
as per your request.

In case MacDonald missed anything.

Which it seems he had done. We found
hair and fibre samples, finger
marks on the Judge's guest chair,

various detritus, but most peculiar,
sir, we found this piece of glass.

We found it wedged
in the wall by the bookshelf.

The lettering is familiar.

George, I need you to get to
Mr Pleasant's home before he does.

Sir, we may have a problem.

This is the shard of glass recovered
from Judge Mead's chambers.

This is a bottle
of Blue Cat gin George retrieved
from Mr Pleasant's home.

Where are you going with this?

Sir, you saw yourself, Judge Mead
preferred fine single malt whisky,
not cheap gin.

This is a fingermark recovered
from that shard of glass

from Judge Mead's chambers.

The second fingermark was retrieved
from the Blue Cat gin bottle
from Mr Pleasant's home.

It belongs to Theodore Pleasant.
Bloody hell.

It was Theo that was in chambers
arguing with Mead the day he died.

A fact Mr Pleasant
chose not to divulge.

He said he looked in Fox's eyes
and knew he was innocent.

Something I never
fully accepted, sir.

I believe that Mr Pleasant did
know that Mr Fox was innocent,

but because Mr Pleasant
murdered Judge Mead.


Mr Pleasant. Come on in.

You're just in time.

Put it down, Theo.
We have some questions.

Questions? Yes.

Why did you not let on you had
an argument with Judge Mead?

If I'd said I went down
there in a drunken rage,
what would you have thought?

The same thing you're thinking now!

Mr Pleasant,
did you kill Judge Mead? I did not.

I believe you did. You went
down there and confronted him...

To tell him that Freddie Duckworth
confessed to the murder that
the Workentin lad had hanged for.

That he'd sentenced an innocent man
to die and obliged me to kill him.

I needed him to hear that.

But he didn't seem to care.

We got into it.
I suppose I threw my bottle at him.

Bloody hell, Theo,
don't shrug it off.

You had a violent row with
a man the day he died. The day?

No, it was a week before.
Not the day.

I didn't kill him, Thomas.


If he had it out with Mead
a week before the murder,
then something's not right.

He has lied to us before.
I'm just saying, "think", Murdoch.

If that wasn't Theo in Mead's
office the day of the murder,
who could it have been?

Who's left?

Perhaps whomever the judge
met with at The Lion two
days prior to his death.

That has to be it.

I'm telling you,
Theodore Pleasant is no murderer.


It would seem The Lion isn't open
until noon,

but the innkeeper does recall
the judge being there at night,
around 8pm, and with a woman.

The judge's tart? Apparently not.

The innkeeper seemed to think
they didn't know each other,

but that they had strong words
before she left.

Who was she? He didn't know.

So, why would Judge Mead
write 8am, if The Lion
wasn't open at that time?

Oh. I should have seen this.

Sir, the comma after the hour.

"AM" isn't a reference to the time.

It's someone's... Initials.

Agatha Meldrum. The last-minute
eyewitness in the Workentin case.

Judge Mead met with Agatha
a few days after Pleasant
confronted him.

Perhaps he believed the
Workentin boy was innocent.

So he questioned her about her
testimony that she saw Michael
Workentin strangle his girlfriend.

He must not have liked what
he heard, otherwise
they wouldn't have fought.

Perhaps the judge had second
thoughts about her testimony.

The transcripts
would be illuminating.

We're bringing in
Miss Meldrum for a chat.

Detective, Agatha Meldrum
moved out of her flat the day
after she met with Judge Mead.

She's left no forwarding address.

What's that, sir?

A transcript of Agatha Meldrum's
testimony in the Workentin trial.

what did Myrtle Smith call you?

Oh, yes, most unique it was.

Quite a low term, slang for
somebody of little consequence.

Demeaning, really.
It was "Huckleberry".

Have a look.

Hey, watch
the hands there, Huckleberry!

Come on now, Huckleberry.

That's the Huckleberry I saw
strangling that poor girl.

Michael Workentin. Alas, Agatha
and Myrtle are the same person.

As I understand it,
Agatha Meldrum has left town.

And Myrtle Smith is not Agatha.

Now, I have appointments.

Myrtle Smith is a woman of
dubious character, to be sure.

The last nine times she was
arrested for various crimes,
your office dropped all charges.

For lack of evidence. Nine times?!

She's beholden to you, isn't she?

To do your bidding.

One time she's Myrtle Smith.

The next she's Agatha Meldrum, or
whoever you need her to be in court.

A witness in your employ.
Whatever gets a conviction.

You knowingly sent two innocent
men to die on the gallows.
I did no such thing.

Your case against Michael Workentin
was falling apart.

So you brought in Myrtle Smith,
who claimed to be eyewitness
Agatha Meldrum.

Her testimony doomed
Michael Workentin to hang for
a murder he did not commit.

So far, so good.

Until another condemned man, Freddie
Duckworth, confessed to the murder
that Michael Workentin hanged for.

Pleasant tells Mead.

Mead confronts Agatha Meldrum.

And then she tells you
the judge is onto your scheme.

Not so.
So now there's only one option.

Judge Mead has to die
before he exposes you.

And now you're accusing me of
murder as well? That's delusional.

Sit down!

Your first step
was to frame Cecil Fox.

So you had Myrtle Smith meet him,
seduce him and provide him with
an unreliable alibi to sink him.

You also needed Fox to be seen
on the same day that
you planned to kill Mead.

So you forged a note from Judge Mead
to lure Fox down to the courthouse
to be seen by witnesses.

You were sure to have a row
with the judge,

so a loud argument was overheard.

You tell Myrtle Smith to
destroy the note so that
Fox sounds crazy at trial.

And that was supposed to be that,
until Dr Ogden's findings
confirmed Fox was innocent.

You panicked.

So you planted evidence against
Pleasant in Judge Mead's chambers.

You were going to let
Pleasant hang for your crime.

Are you done with this fantasy?

And do you realise how thoroughly
I'm going to ruin you both for this?

What's this?
My man found it in your garbage.

It has your fingermarks on it.
So we glued it back together.

It's all there,
except for one piece.

That also bears your fingermark.

The piece you planted
in Judge Mead's chambers.

The justice system
must protect society.

But time and again it fails to keep
dangerous criminals off the street.
I've had enough.

This nonsense was going to stop
with the Workentin boy.

But...Judge Mead was weak.

I did what I did

in sacrifice for the greater good.

You see that, don't you?

I'll take good care.
I promise that death
will be swift and without pain.

Come on in.

Theo. What's become of you?
A new leaf?

Ah! Hello, Thomas.

Well, what do you think?

And me - three weeks, not a drop.
Really? And you're feeling better?

No, much worse, actually!

But it's a start.

Dillard was hanged today.

Hanging is a miserable
business, Thomas.

The condemned die only once,

the executioner dies every time.

Poor Catchpole.

Well, you don't have to worry about
that any more. It never leaves you.

But I did the job, didn't I?

Not one of them suffered.
You can be proud of that.



I just performed the postmortem
on Crown Prosecutor Dillard.

All is well?

No, William.
Gideon Catchpole botched the hanging.

The drop was too long. Oh.

Do you ever question
your calling, William?

What we have to do every day?

Well, I admit, sometimes
there is a price to be paid.

But we must accept it. Really?

Must we?

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