Rake (2010–2018): Season 1, Episode 1 - R vs Murray - full transcript
Thought we were going to Mick's.
I don't have a lot of time, mate.
I gotta be at the club at 10.
Get out of the car.
Oh, come on, mate.
Mick knows I'm good for it.
Christ. I reckon I put
both of his boys through Cranbook.
None of us feel good about this,
Cleave - not Mick, not me.
After what you done for my brothers.
Oh, well, yeah.
Now that you mention it, Col.
Mick's got some
serious cash-flow issues.
He had to take on
a new business partner.
He can't be seen to be weak.
I can't be seen to be weak, either.
Not right now, mate. Ah, come on, Col.
Strict terms of trade now, Cleave -
14 days.
Hey!
Mmm... nice.
You should go to the hospital.
You'll do.
Oh, easy, tiger! Oh, fuck.
So we get to this bar -
in Ballathena, I think it was -
and there's this guy. Blindfold guy?
Uh-huh. And he could
play 20 games of chess at once.
What - some sort of Spanish Rain Man?
I swear!
I'd be wanting to see
the thread-count on that blindfold,
by the way.
Ah!
So his girlfriend told him the moves.
He couldn't see a thing, but
he remembered every single square,
on every board. Mmm-hmm.
He just strolled around the tables,
drinking Pernot and playing chess.
Who won? The guy in the blindfold.
Oh, there's a surprise.
But my dad gave him a run for his money.
ALERT TONE SOUNDS Aww...
..what, is she sitting out there
timing us?
Turning every decent bender
in this town into a reptile.
First my bookie, now my brothel-keeper.
12,000 years
I been coming to this place.
You'd think I would have accrued
some Frequent Fucker points by now.
Um, I can't do Thursday, by the way.
Alright?
Yeah.
Cleaves. Joe.
Jesus. What happened to you?
Cupboard door - eye height.
Ah, right. One of Mick's doors?
When are you gonna learn?
Oh, next life, maybe... one after that.
Give it away, mate.
Gambling's a disease.
I know. Have you got a driver?
Oh, mate, the days when I could
take a government car to the club
are long gone.
There is such a thing as ministerial
accountability, you know.
Pity. How's the election looking?
Oh, well,
tighter than a nun's proverbial,
but we will scrape through.
Yeah? Smart money says
you fellas are going down.
Oh, is that right?
OK, Smart Money - five grand?
Done.
The gruesome discovery
has sent shockwaves through the
corridors of power the world over.
Allie Black reports.
It was to this disused warehouse,
in Sydney's Inner West...
Oh... hello.
..that police allege
Professor Murray lured his victim,
West Australian solicitor,
Sebastian Carey,
after first making contact with him
in an internet chatroom.
How could the government
possibly have known
that Professor Murray was a cannibal?
He's been a key economic advisor
for the past two federal
governments, two Wall Street banks,
three major European hedge funds.
Morning, children.
Ciao! Healy!
His credentials were impeccable.
They were impeccable.
But isn't it the case
that the government based its latest
financial regulatory strategy
on a report written by a psychopath?
Might I remind the people
of this great and prosperous State
that our adoption of the recommendations
in Professor Murray's report
were backed not only by Moody's,
and Standard and Poor's,
but also by the Opposition.
Now, Professor Murray was
engaged as an economist.
What he does in his...
..his spare time, is...
that's another matter entirely.
I won't take any more quesitons.
You're fucking kidding me!
What do you mean there's no law
against cannibalism in this state?
Well, just that, really.
There's no law against cannibalism.
This psychopath has
made a laughing stock out of us -
but it's not as if there weren't
a few titters out there already.
Alright, get some charges laid,
some serious charges.
Get him on trial. Alright?
We cannot look soft on this prick.
It's an election year!
Colleen, how are we?
Hey!
Morning.
Col. Collissima.
What's the legal position?
We're homeless again. What?
Mr Barraclough's coming back
earlier than anticipated.
How much earlier?
Quite a bit earlier, I'm afraid.
Mrs Barraclough's broken her leg.
Well, he's only been gone two weeks.
I told him to get out of the place
for four months.
What sort of sabbatical
do you call that?
Well, it was day one on the slopes,
apparently.
Something about her being "piste",
or "off-piste"...
Well, they've got surgeons in France,
don't they?
They got hospitals,
a tres bon healthcare system,
I'm led to understand.
Nevertheless. Oh, pour la sake du fuck!
You want me to start calling round?
Yeah.
Find another room? Yeah.
You got the mention at 10.
Yeah.
Yes. Mr Potter.
Your Honour, we'd ask that
the subpoeana be answered,
or the respondant held in contempt.
It simply beggars belief
that the only files apparently lost
by the respondent
are those being sought
by the Taxation Office.
Mr Greene.
I couldn't agree more with my friend,
Your Honour.
It is indeed
an extraordinary coincidence.
But the truth is,
I am simply a victim of the weather.
Owing to a torrential storm
that was raging over the
Eastern Suburbs of Sydney that day,
the removalist I had engaged
attempted to rush through what
should have been a painstaking task.
A number of my boxes
suffered water damage.
Relevant diaries and files relating
to my financial affairs were lost,
as well as cherished personal items.
I'm assured that affidavits
from the removalist are forthcoming,
and so I would ask Your Honour
for an adjournment.
Mr Potter?
Submission respectfully stands,
Your Honour.
The Tax Office has been
more than patient with Mr Greene.
26th.
May it please the court.
Thank you, Your Honour.
What's up, Harry?
Removalists, rain-damaged boxes.
How long do you really think
you can keep this going, Cleaver?
Harry, there's nothing I'd like more
than to have my boxes back.
They would exonerate me in an instant.
Bullshit.
Language, please. My father here
has a very delicate sensibility.
And lay off the "Harry" crap.
It's starting to get around.
Are you coming Thursday night?
Yeah, mate, we'll be there.
OK. See you then, Barn.
See ya, Harry. Oh, sorry - David.
See ya, Harry Sorry David.
And I'll see you on the 26th, Cleaver.
Sure thing, Harry Sorry David.
Why are you getting chummy
with the oily tick
who's trying to bankrupt me?
Because I'm with him, mate -
you should pay taxes.
I don't see why
I should support your lifestyle
any more than I do already.
Shut it.
And in your internet post, you were
clear about your intentions?
This is a text of the message, Don.
"Is there anyone out there
who would like to be eaten?"
On the second page,
you'll find the deceased's response.
"I want to be eaten."
Right. So you still deny
the murder charge, Professor Murray?
Of course. I am not a murderer.
Tell us about the night in question.
He arrived at eight.
I'd bought a bottle of Krug,
so we drank a toast.
While I was busy
making preparations in the kitchen,
he consumed
a large number of sleeping pills.
A little while after that,
he passed out...
..and moments later, he was dead.
I proceeded to dismember him.
Over the course of the next three weeks,
I ate most of his remains.
Where was your wife at this time?
At home.
She knew nothing about it.
Have you seen her?
They won't let me talk to her.
I'm worried, I'm worried.
I think she might be a little upset.
There's that possibility. Yes.
Can you get a message to her?
What would you like to say?
I want you to tell her not to worry,
that we can get through this.
You know, every marriage
has its ups and downs.
My name is Sebastian Vincent Carey.
My address is 27 Holroyd Place, Perth,
in the State of Western Australia.
I'm a maritime lawyer, employed
by the firm Russell and Garland.
I'm about to commit suicide.
I have here sleeping pills,
purchased by myself,
which I shall take
in order to induce my death.
I repeat, I am committing suicide.
I wish for my remains
to be consumed by Professor Murray.
You've always been right, Dad.
I am shit. I've always been shit.
And now, I will be shit.
Cut fucking snakes, the pair of them.
That may be the case,
but the evidence would suggest
our client isn't a murderer, Don.
No! He's just a cannibal.
Cannibalism isn't a crime in this State.
Technically,
all he's done is mistreat a corpse,
and fail to notify police
of a death. That's two years, max.
He abetted a suicide - that's 10.
That's not the charge, Don.
They're going with murder.
Yeah - they don't want to look soft
with an election coming.
I reckon there's a window here.
A window?!
You don't really think, Cleaver,
they could ever possibly
let that lunatic out?
We'll plead insanity, and he'll
be sectioning off to Bedlam
before lunch on the first day -
game, set and match.
The fact that he'll spend
the rest of his days in an asylum
doesn't mean that we should cop a
murder plea if he didn't kill anyone.
Cleaver, I know reality is a daunting
topic of conversation for you,
but our client ate another human being.
Look, he might be as mad as a meat-axe -
he probably used a meat-axe -
but if he didn't kill the deceased,
then there's a murder charge
that's gotta be defended.
That's what we do, isn't it?
I'm running late. Gentlemen.
Well, we got the wife at three.
Cleaver can handle that.
And get some character witnesses,
if you can find any.
Justice must be seen to be done,
I suppose.
Well, is that everything for now?
Yeah. Thanks, Don. Thanks, Don.
Thank you, linesman.
Thank you, ball boy.
Why does he assume
that I was the linesman?
Is it impossible, Barnyard,
that you're the linesman
and I'm the ball boy?
12 years, we've been married.
You think you know someone.
I mean, you prepare yourself
for marriage, don't you?
Sickness and health and all that.
But then you...
He told me it was chicken!
Beg your pardon?
The remains that...
they found in our freezer, at home -
he told me they were chicken fillets.
You didn't actually...?
With garlic, white wine, pepper,
and a little balsamic.
Um...
..did, uh, did you know anything
about your husband's tendencies,
Mrs Murray?
Of course not.
He's been a vegetarian since he was 23.
Well, from vego to cannibal, without
so much as a chop in-between.
Was your husband ever prone to violence?
No, never.
Did he ever threaten you with violence?
No. He was a very gentle man.
I'm not sure why
you're asking me these questions.
Surely there can't be
any legal issues here?
It's important to establish
that your husband wasn't
given to violence.
Wasn't given to violence?
He hacked that poor man's body apart.
Yes, but only after he was dead.
We've started gathering a list of people
who might
speak on your husband's behalf.
I'm sorry? Potential defence witnesses.
Defence witnesses?
We assume, as he's your husband-
You can't.
You can't
intrude on these people's lives
and ask them to speak
on behalf of a cannibal.
They have families, reputations!
Graham's insane. He's obviously
never gonna be released.
Yes, but he's not a murderer.
I forbid you
to speak to anyone on that list.
You forbid? I'm sorry.
You're not in a position
to forbid anything.
Will you please just... stop this thing?
It just... doesn't serve any purpose.
OK. Who's Tyler Banks?
A family friend.
Jeremy Brown?
Another friend. Aden Sinclair?
A friend.
Oh, fuck.
Yes.
Jesus.
Hello? Eager beaver Cleaver!
Ah - the belle of Burton Street.
How's tricks?
End of the quarter, you know.
Always a bloody nightmare.
GST, some shit about payroll tax.
I don't know why I ever went legit.
Yeah - I wouldn't have.
Missy won't be in tonight, love.
Is she alright?
She quit.
What do you mean, she quit?
Not coming back.
Well, she didn't say anything to me.
She wouldn't just quit
without saying something.
Well, she said
she wanted to make a clean break.
You know,
she's talking about going to uni.
'The number
you have called is not connected.
Please check the number
before dialling again.'
Five years.
What?
Well, it's a lot more common
than you'd think.
What is?
Falling in love with a prostitute.
That's not what this is about. Really?
What's it about?
It's about... trust,
and... ethics.
Well, what did you expect?
I mean, she was role-playing.
It's what they do.
Wendy, she wasn't role-playing, alright?
Her feelings were genuine, believe me.
Did you pay her to visit you in rehab?
No, I did not. Well-remembered, Doc.
So, you know... I mean,
if it's all about business,
why was she visiting me in rehab?
Maybe you thought finally you had
a relationship you could control,
dictate all the terms,
but yet again, you transgressed
the normal boundaries,
and allowed feelings-
The normal boundaries of prostitution?
Well, there are boundaries
to every relationship, Cleave -
business, marriage, whatever.
Most people are aware of them.
Tell me,
what do you miss most about her?
Well, the sex, of course.
OK.
What can I say? It was great sex.
It was so good.
But that's not what you miss
the most, is it?
What are you talking about?
It was every man's dream.
It was uncomplicated, it was hot.
But what do you miss the most?
The backgammon.
Have you tried to make contact with her?
Changed her number. Moved house.
She's disappeared
off the face of the earth.
It's like being
in a bloody Polanski movie.
There's this guy I know
who works for a credit agency -
I got him off a couple
of stalking charges a while back.
He's looking into her records for me,
but after that...
Mum? DOOR OPENS
In here, darling.
Hello, mate. Hey, Dad.
Scoring another freebie?
Yes.
"She walks in beauty,
like the night of cloudless climes
and starry skies.
And all that's best of dark and bright
meets in her aspect, and her eyes.
Thus mellowed to that tender light
which heaven to gaudy day denies."
Bugger me, he was good.
Yeah, but what use is it?
What do you mean, what use is it?
It's poetry, you knucklehead.
It has only one use,
and that's for pulling chicks.
Trust me, mate -
you inhale a bit of Byron now,
in a few years, the dividends
will speak for themselves, boy.
Hey Dad, can I ask you a favour?
Fire away.
If Mum asks,
can you tell her I stayed
at your place on Friday night?
Oh, yes?
And why would we be lying to Mum?
Cos she'll be pissed off
if I tell her the truth.
Which is? You don't wanna know, Dad.
Actually, I do wanna know, Fuzz.
No, you don't.
It's no big deal, I swear.
It's something you told me you did
like, 1,000 times
when you were a kid, so...
Then I really wanna know.
Look, Dad...
..what you need
is plausible deniability.
If Mum ever found out
what I was really doing,
she'd ask you if you knew.
This way,
you can honestly say you don't.
Otherwise, you're just gonna get
caught up in another web of lies,
Mum will drag us
back to family counselling,
and we both know what
Dr Stirrup will have to say.
What is this?
Dad, I'm trying to help you out here.
If Mum finds out the truth,
we both know you'll be held
responsible one way or another,
because you're a "terrible role model."
He said that once,
and that was in an early session.
Yeah, but if you back me up,
it'll be a non-event.
Forget about it, pal. This is extortion.
I'm not gonna be compromised in
this way by my own flesh and blood.
Remember what happened
when she busted me smoking?
Last Friday?
Oh, yeah, had a great night.
What'd you do?
Oh, just stayed in, had some Thai.
He brought around a couple
of hilariously unwatchable DVDs.
Why do you ask? No reason.
Oh, listen - I got another love
letter from the school yesterday.
Ah, OK.
You're 11 grand down on last year,
Cleave.
I can't keep doing it by myself.
No, no, no.
Right. No, look, I'm good for it.
My cannibal should cover that.
What?
How could you possibly
turn that into a money-spinner?
He ate someone. You'd be surprised.
CAR HORN BEEPS It's a hopeless case.
They're the only ones
worth fighting for, darling.
Oh! Wish Barn a happy birthday for me.
CAR IDLES Shit.
Barney's birthday. Yes, yes, good.
Good point, good point.
I want an elephant one. OK!
But you do realise
that last week you wanted giraffes,
so I went out, and I spent - oh,
what - a gazillion billion dollars
on giraffe band-aids.
Oh, what do you know?
The last elephant in the pack.
Come on, let's see the damage.
She didn't really say that?
I'm afraid she did, and it's official -
- we do taste just like chicken.
- Oh, no!
And what have we got here, Scarlet?
No, no, look, I am enjoying it.
It's just...
Hello? Ah, Joe!
Sorry, sorry -
traffic, and everything else.
Cleave, how are you, mate?
Yes, very good.
Hey, mate. Hello, Sal.
Happy birthday, mate.
Oh, don't apologise to me.
So what body part was it she ate?
GENERAL GROAN Well...
Sammy, please - I've been up
to my neck in this psycho all day.
Yeah, but what would be the point,
Cleave?
Point of what, Sal?
You said you were
pushing to pursue this to trial.
So what would the point be?
The time and the money
wasted on an exercise
which is gonna make absolutely no
difference to your client's future.
Well, to be brutally Francis with you,
I don't give a shit
about my client's future.
What I do give a shit about,
believe it or not, is the law.
Since when?
Well, I don't know about you lot
but I don't wanna live in a society
where, for purely political reasons,
someone could be charged with a crime
they didn't commit.
You know, that's a pretty serious
accusation, mate.
Puh-lease. And it's all kosher
because he's got
a couple of mental health issues.
A couple of mental health issues?
He ate someone, he's a monster.
He's misunderstood.
So you're gonna convince the jury
that this cannibal isn't a monster?
Well, it's easier than convincing
them an economist is a human being.
So, but the tax payers of this State...
This great and prosperous State, Joe.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Have to fork out
because one of your highly selective
principles
has reared its ugly head, eh?
Don't give a rat's arse
about the law, Cleave.
You get lowlife crooks off all the time.
51% of the time.
And once again, you misread me.
The very reason
I get my lowlife crooks off,
is because I care about the law.
It's justice I don't give a toss about.
You're looking more battered than usual.
No, I'm all right.
Barney told me that
your little friend at the club
has flown the coop.
My little friend?
Your prostitute.
Oh, my prostitute.
My harlot, Scarlet.
Don't worry, I'm sure there's plenty
more fish in that particular sea.
It's a shame you never met, you know.
You'd like her, Red.
You've actually got a lot in common.
Oh, yeah? Do tell.
Oh, well,
you both resolutely pretend that
you're not madly in love with me.
Sad, really.
Who's madly in love?
No, I'm just explaining to your wife
here
that she's secretly in love with me
and she's not alone.
Oh, well.
Do whatever you have to, you two.
I'm buggered,
gotta be up with the sparrows.
I'm gonna call a cab.
Stay, don't go on my account.
Night, cock.
Oh, goodnight, cock. Happy birthday.
Thanks, man.
Be gentle with him, won't you? Yeah.
And I haven't forgotten
about that birthday present.
Yes, lots of big ideas.
Now, where were we?
Ah, yes. You were banging on about
this threesome with me and my harlot.
Look, Red, it's gonna be tricky.
Yeah.
Hey.
Red.
Red!
Red, Red.
He is such a good man.
He's such a fucking good man.
I can't do this anymore.
You can't do what?
This marriage.
Fuck.
You're kidding me. No.
What do you mean?
Have you spoken to him about it?
No, of course not.
Of course I fucking haven't, Cleaver.
I'm a woman. I internalise
everything until I explode.
Well, listen, listen, come on.
Whatever it is,
you're gonna work it out, all right?
And you've got to speak to him about it.
You've got to give him a chance to atone
for whatever it is
he needs to atone for.
He doesn't have anything
he needs to atone for.
All right?
That's the trouble.
Oh, fuck.
Missy!
Missy! Missy!
So?
So? What the fuck?
You just vanished
without so much as an adios?
I'm going to law school.
Law school?
I guess I should be flattered.
It's nothing to do with you.
My father was a lawyer.
I thought your father was a diplomat.
He was a lawyer first.
Given what we had...
We had a business relationship.
That's not how
I would choose to categorise it.
The use of a credit card
is usually evidence of
a commercial transaction, is it not?
What about all the times
you came around to my place?
You still paid. All right.
What about when you visited me in rehab?
Oh, Jesus, Cleave. What's your point?
My point is it wasn't just
a business relationship
and you know that's my point,
so stop being whatever it is
that you're being.
I'm being me. You're not.
I know you. No, you don't.
I was who you wanted me to be.
Some guys want me to be the nurse,
some guys want me to be a schoolgirl,
a dominatrix, whatever.
You wanted me to be your friend.
And so I was, that was the gig.
That is horseshit.
You can choose to believe
whatever you like.
I'm not choosing to believe anything,
it's an objective fact.
What is? You and me.
Us. This. Our connection.
It's real and palpable.
And you can't just write it off
as a part of some exit strategy.
I'm happy when I'm with you.
I guess that's why I got the big bucks.
If we happen to bump into each other
in the future,
I trust I can rely on your discretion.
My discretion?
Of course. Thank you.
Adios.
Hey!
What about our things?
What about Ravel?
Go away, please.
Henry Miller? The Marquis de Sade?
Jackie Gleeson.
Non-conceptual art.
Huh? I gave all these things to you.
So what do I owe you?
You owe me an explanation.
I owe you nothing.
You got what you paid for.
I've drawn a line in the sand.
You are part of my past now.
Ladies and gentlemen,
my name is Cleaver Greene.
I've counselled
and I've been asked to step in today
for your usual lecturer,
who's temporarily indisposed.
Now, who can tell me
where you're all up to?
That girl there.
Yeah? Blondie? You?
No? Yeah?
We've been discussing
the Trade Practices Act.
Ah. Misleading and deceptive conduct.
I know it only too well.
Section 51:1 was designed
to protect the unsuspecting
from the unscrupulous.
If in the course
of a professional transaction,
the party whose services you've
engaged make certain warranties,
are you not, as the purchaser,
entitled to rely upon those warranties?
OK, let's look at this
from a whole other angle.
How many here today are fans of Ravel?
Huh?
Oh, don't you just love him?
What about Piano Concerto in D?
No?
What about the easy-listening classics?
Everybody loves a Bolero. Come on.
Greene?
Professor Morrison,
glad you've made a speedy recovery.
Ladies and gentlemen,
you've been a terrific crowd.
Thank you, Corporate Law One!
Professor Sinclair, this is Nicole.
How do you do?
My back is killing me, thank you.
We're between digs.
So you were close to Professor Murray?
Very. Both Friedmanites
down to our bootstraps.
Both pro-market,
both anti-big government.
We co-authored countless papers,
we sat on a number
of advisory committees together.
In the late '90s,
we were both seconded to Treasury.
Costello dubbed us the "twin apostles".
Did Professor Murray give you any clue
that he may have been a cannibal?
Of course not.
So until the moment you heard
he'd eaten Sebastian Carey,
you thought he was perfectly normal?
No. But nothing's been normal
since the crisis began.
You don't mean
the global financial crisis?
I am married and my wife is an invalid
and very dependent on me.
But minutes before the Lehman
Brothers' collapse was announced,
Professor Murray's wife and I
finally consummated
what had been a longstanding
but up until then,
purely emotional affair.
The very same day, Mr Greene,
almost down to the second.
I slept with my best friend's wife
and betrayed my own...
..and almost instantly, the world
as I knew it ceased to exist.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Yes!
Game, set and match.
Thank you linesman. Thank you, ball boy.
It was the late Mr Osbourne's opinion
that you should plead guilty of murder
but by reason of insanity.
But I killed no-one.
That's right.
So why am I still in here?
You've been charged with murder
so there has to be a trial.
Well, they will find me innocent.
Perhaps.
Then I can go home to Annie.
Graham, you ate someone.
You're never going home.
He was already dead.
I mean, what could be more natural
than wanting to consume human flesh?
It combines our two most primal
instincts into one single act.
Remember your first kiss, Mr Greene?
Your tongue snaking down
into someone else's soul?
We caress necks, we kiss them,
we give each other love bites.
And these bloody gorgeous purple bruises
that we wear as badges of honour.
But you break the skin,
you go that one tiny step further
and we're considered vampires,
monsters that should
be consigned into eternal darkness.
It's the worst sort of hypocrisy.
Did you call Roy? Yeah, he'll be here.
I was thinking, maybe you shouldn't
refer to Graham as Professor Murray.
Makes him sound a bit smart. Good point.
We shall prove beyond reasonable doubt
that the defendant preyed on the
frailties of a mentally ill person
in an effort to induce his death
and then eat him.
The defendant,
Professor Graham Murray, AM,
is a brilliant economist.
These are not my words.
These are words that have been applied
to Professor Murray many times,
as recently as 12 months ago
by Ben Bernanke,
Chairman of the US Federal Reserve.
He was for a time head
of economic policy for the OECD.
The multibillionaire, Warren Buffet,
once spoke at a dinner
in honour of Professor Murray.
He said, "There is nothing
Graham Murray can't do
if he puts his mind to it.
The man is a genius."
Roy! Roy!
Anything useful yet?
They look like they hate him.
They're not saying that they hate him.
They're saying
they're scared shitless of him.
Mr Greene?
Thank you, Your Honour.
Ladies and gentlemen, the only charge
being defended in this trial
is that of murder.
There is, in fact, no law
against cannibalism in this State.
But I'm betting, and tragically,
I'm nothing if not a betting man,
that if you had to decide
right now...
..you would find the accused
guilty of murder
because the very idea of being
in the same room as a cannibal
scares the hell out of you.
We don't deny the accused is a cannibal.
We don't defend that fact.
But that is not the charge.
The charge is murder, and we will prove,
using the deceased's
very own last words,
that Graham Murray is innocent.
The charge is murder
and you must remember, it is
a universally accepted legal doctrine
that you cannot murder a dead man.
Dr Hartcher? Yes?
Have you read the police report
into the death of Sebastian Carey?
I have.
Were you able to draw any inferences
from this report
in terms of the victim's state of mind?
Objection. Oh.
Pardon me, Your Honour.
The deceased's state of mind. I have.
Whilst most of us make the
transition from adolescent to adult
with varying degrees of success,
there are some amongst us
whose egos are so badly traumatised
by the process
that they lose any sense of self.
In a very small number of cases,
this abnegation of the self
becomes so extreme
that it develops into a fetish
of sorts, of self-degradation.
This could manifest
as a desire to turn oneself
into another's excrement.
Dr Hartcher,
do you believe that such a mind
may be vulnerable
to powers of suggestion?
Psychological manipulation? Yes.
Dr Hartcher, have you ever eaten
another animal's flesh?
Yes.
Having cooked that flesh yourself?
Yes.
Seasoned it? Your Honour...
I'm happy to move on, Your Honour.
I have here a raft of sworn statements
by colleagues of the deceased,
senior West Australian lawyers,
which mustn't be held against them,
Your Honour.
Have you had an opportunity to read
these statements, Dr Hartcher?
I have.
He worked on average 15:4 hours a day,
usually six days a week.
None of these statements
even hints at self-abnegation.
The common threads are
"quiet, kept to himself,
professional, dependable, dull".
This is not inconsistent
with our research, Mr Greene.
Oh? As I have repeatedly stated,
people such as the deceased can
be fully functional professionally.
Now, Dr Hartcher, I need you to be
absolutely clear about this.
Are you saying
that it is entirely possible
that the deceased presented himself
to his West Australian colleagues
as rational and functioning?
Yes.
They would have had no idea or
suspicion as to his mental capacity?
Well, if they did, I presume
he couldn't function as a lawyer.
Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that.
It follows, therefore,
that the deceased could
have presented himself to my client
as rational and functioning on
the night they met in the warehouse.
But for the fact the deceased
was going there to be eaten.
I should have thought
that would present a bit of a clue.
She ran right over you!
I made my points.
She ran right over you!
Dr Hartcher was much more impressive
than anticipated.
Where's Annie?
Why isn't she here yet?
Where's Aden? Don't know, Graham.
I need her here.
Where is she?
Oh, Jesus, you blokes, give her a break!
Come on, Teddy, you're better than this.
A man's gotta eat, Cleave.
Always after your pound of flesh,
aren't you?
Nothing but a bunch of bottom feeders.
You ought to know. Bite me!
Those hacks, they follow me everywhere.
That'll be them now.
It's never going to end.
What I want to know is who told them
that I ate it too?
It wasn't us.
That would have been a cop on retainer.
Mrs Murray, have you seen
Professor Sinclair recently?
Yes, I have.
Did he happen to mention to you
that he told us about you and he...
Yes.
Yes, he did.
I don't know what possessed him
to tell you.
It's no-one else's business.
I think he feels a little guilty.
We did it once!
One time!
And it just happened to be
the morning that Lehman's collapsed.
So Aden's got it in his head somewhere,
he thinks that
the whole financial crisis
is some sort of moral retribution.
Sometimes I wonder who's madder,
him or Graham.
It's only a matter of time
before he feels the need
to confess to someone else.
His wife, maybe.
The faculty.
Oh, God.
What if he tells the press?
It'll never end.
He's not gonna do that, Mrs Murray.
Mrs Murray,
your husband needs you in court.
I told you, I'm not going to testify.
We're not asking you to testify.
Did you talk to Barn? Yeah, sweet.
When you take that sip of water.
Anything else?
You've got most of the jury on side.
They think that Sebastian
topped himself.
But one or two of the old ducks,
they still think that
he's too clever by half.
All right, great. Thanks, mate.
Had you met Mr Carey
before that night at the warehouse?
No, regrettably.
Did you have a conversation with him?
Yes, we had a nice chat.
He was a lovely fellow.
Very sad but he was a lovely fellow.
Did you discuss the GFC?
Beg your pardon?
The Global Financial Crisis.
Did you talk about that?
Um... no.
Is it a topic of conversation
you'd prefer to avoid?
N-not especially.
You failed to predict it.
Didn't you, Mr Murray?
Yes, everyone did. Well, not everyone.
There were a handful in
the United States who predicted it.
There were a couple in Europe.
Keynesians.
Their modelling was deeply flawed.
Oh, so they just got lucky, did they?
The truth is, Mr Murray,
you're just not that clever, are you?
I beg your pardon?
How could you possibly be a genius
when you failed to predict the single
biggest economic event of our times?
You missed it by a mile, didn't you?
You and your free market pals.
You thought you'd factored in
everything.
It was a perfect market,
except there was one thing that
you failed to take into account -
the bottomless pit of human greed.
And that's something
that's impossible to quantify.
Isn't it, Mr Murray? Well, er...
It finds a level.
But it didn't. Did it?
Mr Greene, this is
a most unusual re-examination.
Your Honour,
my friend spent a lot of time
asking Mr Murray about his expertise.
Very well.
Mr Murray,
did your wife Annie know anything
about your assignation
with Sebastian Carey?
No, nothing. I told you.
I swear. S-she means the world to me.
I'd never do anything to hurt her.
I'm so sorry, my love. I-I'm so sorry.
I-I didn't mean to hurt anyone.
I'm not a killer!
I'm an economist!
This is the prosecution's
criminal mastermind.
This is their cold-blooded genius.
Mr Greene.
You've come to a verdict
in the charge of murder?
We have, Your Honour.
And what verdict have you come to?
We find the defendant not guilty.
Thank you. You're dismissed.
Now pending further
psychiatric evaluation...
YES! Mr Murray...
Yes! I knew it!
..will continue to be held
in medical remand. I knew it! I knew it!
I knew it! I'm innocent!
Yes!
Hey.
Hey.
You good?
Yes, I'm great.
You?
I hear...
..you won your cannibal case.
In a manner of speaking, yeah.
Oh, do you ever shop?
What?
What do you mean, what?
I mean, what?
Why the Munch face?
Well, I thought, um,
lines had been drawn
and the sands of time parted.
You were right.
I do owe you an explanation.
I had a charmed life
as a little girl, Cleave.
My dad...
..took me to all these fabulous places
where we met fabulous people.
Yes, it was a fairytale. I know.
Just before I turned 18, my parents
were killed in a car crash.
And I fell apart.
Everything turned to shit.
Deep, serious shit.
You can guess the rest.
Now I have a chance to start again.
I want to start again.
Do you understand?
So...
..I was wondering
if you could explain this to me.
It's all Greek to me.
Latin, actually.
My name's Melissa Partridge. By the way.
Cleaver Greene.
How do you do?
Bolero played by amateur orchestra
Closed Captions by CSI
But no.
Because of some legal mumbo jumbo,
my daughter remains in prison.
She's good.
Harry fucking Potter.
The guy's trying to bankrupt me.
Barney know where you are?
Yes. I'm at my sister's.
Lucy Marx does not go to jail.
She was right. The system failed
both her and her daughter.
Have you met Cleaver Greene before?
Mr Greene, how are you?
I'm... seeing someone, Dad.
You're doing the -?
Hey! Harry!
I don't have a lot of time, mate.
I gotta be at the club at 10.
Get out of the car.
Oh, come on, mate.
Mick knows I'm good for it.
Christ. I reckon I put
both of his boys through Cranbook.
None of us feel good about this,
Cleave - not Mick, not me.
After what you done for my brothers.
Oh, well, yeah.
Now that you mention it, Col.
Mick's got some
serious cash-flow issues.
He had to take on
a new business partner.
He can't be seen to be weak.
I can't be seen to be weak, either.
Not right now, mate. Ah, come on, Col.
Strict terms of trade now, Cleave -
14 days.
Hey!
Mmm... nice.
You should go to the hospital.
You'll do.
Oh, easy, tiger! Oh, fuck.
So we get to this bar -
in Ballathena, I think it was -
and there's this guy. Blindfold guy?
Uh-huh. And he could
play 20 games of chess at once.
What - some sort of Spanish Rain Man?
I swear!
I'd be wanting to see
the thread-count on that blindfold,
by the way.
Ah!
So his girlfriend told him the moves.
He couldn't see a thing, but
he remembered every single square,
on every board. Mmm-hmm.
He just strolled around the tables,
drinking Pernot and playing chess.
Who won? The guy in the blindfold.
Oh, there's a surprise.
But my dad gave him a run for his money.
ALERT TONE SOUNDS Aww...
..what, is she sitting out there
timing us?
Turning every decent bender
in this town into a reptile.
First my bookie, now my brothel-keeper.
12,000 years
I been coming to this place.
You'd think I would have accrued
some Frequent Fucker points by now.
Um, I can't do Thursday, by the way.
Alright?
Yeah.
Cleaves. Joe.
Jesus. What happened to you?
Cupboard door - eye height.
Ah, right. One of Mick's doors?
When are you gonna learn?
Oh, next life, maybe... one after that.
Give it away, mate.
Gambling's a disease.
I know. Have you got a driver?
Oh, mate, the days when I could
take a government car to the club
are long gone.
There is such a thing as ministerial
accountability, you know.
Pity. How's the election looking?
Oh, well,
tighter than a nun's proverbial,
but we will scrape through.
Yeah? Smart money says
you fellas are going down.
Oh, is that right?
OK, Smart Money - five grand?
Done.
The gruesome discovery
has sent shockwaves through the
corridors of power the world over.
Allie Black reports.
It was to this disused warehouse,
in Sydney's Inner West...
Oh... hello.
..that police allege
Professor Murray lured his victim,
West Australian solicitor,
Sebastian Carey,
after first making contact with him
in an internet chatroom.
How could the government
possibly have known
that Professor Murray was a cannibal?
He's been a key economic advisor
for the past two federal
governments, two Wall Street banks,
three major European hedge funds.
Morning, children.
Ciao! Healy!
His credentials were impeccable.
They were impeccable.
But isn't it the case
that the government based its latest
financial regulatory strategy
on a report written by a psychopath?
Might I remind the people
of this great and prosperous State
that our adoption of the recommendations
in Professor Murray's report
were backed not only by Moody's,
and Standard and Poor's,
but also by the Opposition.
Now, Professor Murray was
engaged as an economist.
What he does in his...
..his spare time, is...
that's another matter entirely.
I won't take any more quesitons.
You're fucking kidding me!
What do you mean there's no law
against cannibalism in this state?
Well, just that, really.
There's no law against cannibalism.
This psychopath has
made a laughing stock out of us -
but it's not as if there weren't
a few titters out there already.
Alright, get some charges laid,
some serious charges.
Get him on trial. Alright?
We cannot look soft on this prick.
It's an election year!
Colleen, how are we?
Hey!
Morning.
Col. Collissima.
What's the legal position?
We're homeless again. What?
Mr Barraclough's coming back
earlier than anticipated.
How much earlier?
Quite a bit earlier, I'm afraid.
Mrs Barraclough's broken her leg.
Well, he's only been gone two weeks.
I told him to get out of the place
for four months.
What sort of sabbatical
do you call that?
Well, it was day one on the slopes,
apparently.
Something about her being "piste",
or "off-piste"...
Well, they've got surgeons in France,
don't they?
They got hospitals,
a tres bon healthcare system,
I'm led to understand.
Nevertheless. Oh, pour la sake du fuck!
You want me to start calling round?
Yeah.
Find another room? Yeah.
You got the mention at 10.
Yeah.
Yes. Mr Potter.
Your Honour, we'd ask that
the subpoeana be answered,
or the respondant held in contempt.
It simply beggars belief
that the only files apparently lost
by the respondent
are those being sought
by the Taxation Office.
Mr Greene.
I couldn't agree more with my friend,
Your Honour.
It is indeed
an extraordinary coincidence.
But the truth is,
I am simply a victim of the weather.
Owing to a torrential storm
that was raging over the
Eastern Suburbs of Sydney that day,
the removalist I had engaged
attempted to rush through what
should have been a painstaking task.
A number of my boxes
suffered water damage.
Relevant diaries and files relating
to my financial affairs were lost,
as well as cherished personal items.
I'm assured that affidavits
from the removalist are forthcoming,
and so I would ask Your Honour
for an adjournment.
Mr Potter?
Submission respectfully stands,
Your Honour.
The Tax Office has been
more than patient with Mr Greene.
26th.
May it please the court.
Thank you, Your Honour.
What's up, Harry?
Removalists, rain-damaged boxes.
How long do you really think
you can keep this going, Cleaver?
Harry, there's nothing I'd like more
than to have my boxes back.
They would exonerate me in an instant.
Bullshit.
Language, please. My father here
has a very delicate sensibility.
And lay off the "Harry" crap.
It's starting to get around.
Are you coming Thursday night?
Yeah, mate, we'll be there.
OK. See you then, Barn.
See ya, Harry. Oh, sorry - David.
See ya, Harry Sorry David.
And I'll see you on the 26th, Cleaver.
Sure thing, Harry Sorry David.
Why are you getting chummy
with the oily tick
who's trying to bankrupt me?
Because I'm with him, mate -
you should pay taxes.
I don't see why
I should support your lifestyle
any more than I do already.
Shut it.
And in your internet post, you were
clear about your intentions?
This is a text of the message, Don.
"Is there anyone out there
who would like to be eaten?"
On the second page,
you'll find the deceased's response.
"I want to be eaten."
Right. So you still deny
the murder charge, Professor Murray?
Of course. I am not a murderer.
Tell us about the night in question.
He arrived at eight.
I'd bought a bottle of Krug,
so we drank a toast.
While I was busy
making preparations in the kitchen,
he consumed
a large number of sleeping pills.
A little while after that,
he passed out...
..and moments later, he was dead.
I proceeded to dismember him.
Over the course of the next three weeks,
I ate most of his remains.
Where was your wife at this time?
At home.
She knew nothing about it.
Have you seen her?
They won't let me talk to her.
I'm worried, I'm worried.
I think she might be a little upset.
There's that possibility. Yes.
Can you get a message to her?
What would you like to say?
I want you to tell her not to worry,
that we can get through this.
You know, every marriage
has its ups and downs.
My name is Sebastian Vincent Carey.
My address is 27 Holroyd Place, Perth,
in the State of Western Australia.
I'm a maritime lawyer, employed
by the firm Russell and Garland.
I'm about to commit suicide.
I have here sleeping pills,
purchased by myself,
which I shall take
in order to induce my death.
I repeat, I am committing suicide.
I wish for my remains
to be consumed by Professor Murray.
You've always been right, Dad.
I am shit. I've always been shit.
And now, I will be shit.
Cut fucking snakes, the pair of them.
That may be the case,
but the evidence would suggest
our client isn't a murderer, Don.
No! He's just a cannibal.
Cannibalism isn't a crime in this State.
Technically,
all he's done is mistreat a corpse,
and fail to notify police
of a death. That's two years, max.
He abetted a suicide - that's 10.
That's not the charge, Don.
They're going with murder.
Yeah - they don't want to look soft
with an election coming.
I reckon there's a window here.
A window?!
You don't really think, Cleaver,
they could ever possibly
let that lunatic out?
We'll plead insanity, and he'll
be sectioning off to Bedlam
before lunch on the first day -
game, set and match.
The fact that he'll spend
the rest of his days in an asylum
doesn't mean that we should cop a
murder plea if he didn't kill anyone.
Cleaver, I know reality is a daunting
topic of conversation for you,
but our client ate another human being.
Look, he might be as mad as a meat-axe -
he probably used a meat-axe -
but if he didn't kill the deceased,
then there's a murder charge
that's gotta be defended.
That's what we do, isn't it?
I'm running late. Gentlemen.
Well, we got the wife at three.
Cleaver can handle that.
And get some character witnesses,
if you can find any.
Justice must be seen to be done,
I suppose.
Well, is that everything for now?
Yeah. Thanks, Don. Thanks, Don.
Thank you, linesman.
Thank you, ball boy.
Why does he assume
that I was the linesman?
Is it impossible, Barnyard,
that you're the linesman
and I'm the ball boy?
12 years, we've been married.
You think you know someone.
I mean, you prepare yourself
for marriage, don't you?
Sickness and health and all that.
But then you...
He told me it was chicken!
Beg your pardon?
The remains that...
they found in our freezer, at home -
he told me they were chicken fillets.
You didn't actually...?
With garlic, white wine, pepper,
and a little balsamic.
Um...
..did, uh, did you know anything
about your husband's tendencies,
Mrs Murray?
Of course not.
He's been a vegetarian since he was 23.
Well, from vego to cannibal, without
so much as a chop in-between.
Was your husband ever prone to violence?
No, never.
Did he ever threaten you with violence?
No. He was a very gentle man.
I'm not sure why
you're asking me these questions.
Surely there can't be
any legal issues here?
It's important to establish
that your husband wasn't
given to violence.
Wasn't given to violence?
He hacked that poor man's body apart.
Yes, but only after he was dead.
We've started gathering a list of people
who might
speak on your husband's behalf.
I'm sorry? Potential defence witnesses.
Defence witnesses?
We assume, as he's your husband-
You can't.
You can't
intrude on these people's lives
and ask them to speak
on behalf of a cannibal.
They have families, reputations!
Graham's insane. He's obviously
never gonna be released.
Yes, but he's not a murderer.
I forbid you
to speak to anyone on that list.
You forbid? I'm sorry.
You're not in a position
to forbid anything.
Will you please just... stop this thing?
It just... doesn't serve any purpose.
OK. Who's Tyler Banks?
A family friend.
Jeremy Brown?
Another friend. Aden Sinclair?
A friend.
Oh, fuck.
Yes.
Jesus.
Hello? Eager beaver Cleaver!
Ah - the belle of Burton Street.
How's tricks?
End of the quarter, you know.
Always a bloody nightmare.
GST, some shit about payroll tax.
I don't know why I ever went legit.
Yeah - I wouldn't have.
Missy won't be in tonight, love.
Is she alright?
She quit.
What do you mean, she quit?
Not coming back.
Well, she didn't say anything to me.
She wouldn't just quit
without saying something.
Well, she said
she wanted to make a clean break.
You know,
she's talking about going to uni.
'The number
you have called is not connected.
Please check the number
before dialling again.'
Five years.
What?
Well, it's a lot more common
than you'd think.
What is?
Falling in love with a prostitute.
That's not what this is about. Really?
What's it about?
It's about... trust,
and... ethics.
Well, what did you expect?
I mean, she was role-playing.
It's what they do.
Wendy, she wasn't role-playing, alright?
Her feelings were genuine, believe me.
Did you pay her to visit you in rehab?
No, I did not. Well-remembered, Doc.
So, you know... I mean,
if it's all about business,
why was she visiting me in rehab?
Maybe you thought finally you had
a relationship you could control,
dictate all the terms,
but yet again, you transgressed
the normal boundaries,
and allowed feelings-
The normal boundaries of prostitution?
Well, there are boundaries
to every relationship, Cleave -
business, marriage, whatever.
Most people are aware of them.
Tell me,
what do you miss most about her?
Well, the sex, of course.
OK.
What can I say? It was great sex.
It was so good.
But that's not what you miss
the most, is it?
What are you talking about?
It was every man's dream.
It was uncomplicated, it was hot.
But what do you miss the most?
The backgammon.
Have you tried to make contact with her?
Changed her number. Moved house.
She's disappeared
off the face of the earth.
It's like being
in a bloody Polanski movie.
There's this guy I know
who works for a credit agency -
I got him off a couple
of stalking charges a while back.
He's looking into her records for me,
but after that...
Mum? DOOR OPENS
In here, darling.
Hello, mate. Hey, Dad.
Scoring another freebie?
Yes.
"She walks in beauty,
like the night of cloudless climes
and starry skies.
And all that's best of dark and bright
meets in her aspect, and her eyes.
Thus mellowed to that tender light
which heaven to gaudy day denies."
Bugger me, he was good.
Yeah, but what use is it?
What do you mean, what use is it?
It's poetry, you knucklehead.
It has only one use,
and that's for pulling chicks.
Trust me, mate -
you inhale a bit of Byron now,
in a few years, the dividends
will speak for themselves, boy.
Hey Dad, can I ask you a favour?
Fire away.
If Mum asks,
can you tell her I stayed
at your place on Friday night?
Oh, yes?
And why would we be lying to Mum?
Cos she'll be pissed off
if I tell her the truth.
Which is? You don't wanna know, Dad.
Actually, I do wanna know, Fuzz.
No, you don't.
It's no big deal, I swear.
It's something you told me you did
like, 1,000 times
when you were a kid, so...
Then I really wanna know.
Look, Dad...
..what you need
is plausible deniability.
If Mum ever found out
what I was really doing,
she'd ask you if you knew.
This way,
you can honestly say you don't.
Otherwise, you're just gonna get
caught up in another web of lies,
Mum will drag us
back to family counselling,
and we both know what
Dr Stirrup will have to say.
What is this?
Dad, I'm trying to help you out here.
If Mum finds out the truth,
we both know you'll be held
responsible one way or another,
because you're a "terrible role model."
He said that once,
and that was in an early session.
Yeah, but if you back me up,
it'll be a non-event.
Forget about it, pal. This is extortion.
I'm not gonna be compromised in
this way by my own flesh and blood.
Remember what happened
when she busted me smoking?
Last Friday?
Oh, yeah, had a great night.
What'd you do?
Oh, just stayed in, had some Thai.
He brought around a couple
of hilariously unwatchable DVDs.
Why do you ask? No reason.
Oh, listen - I got another love
letter from the school yesterday.
Ah, OK.
You're 11 grand down on last year,
Cleave.
I can't keep doing it by myself.
No, no, no.
Right. No, look, I'm good for it.
My cannibal should cover that.
What?
How could you possibly
turn that into a money-spinner?
He ate someone. You'd be surprised.
CAR HORN BEEPS It's a hopeless case.
They're the only ones
worth fighting for, darling.
Oh! Wish Barn a happy birthday for me.
CAR IDLES Shit.
Barney's birthday. Yes, yes, good.
Good point, good point.
I want an elephant one. OK!
But you do realise
that last week you wanted giraffes,
so I went out, and I spent - oh,
what - a gazillion billion dollars
on giraffe band-aids.
Oh, what do you know?
The last elephant in the pack.
Come on, let's see the damage.
She didn't really say that?
I'm afraid she did, and it's official -
- we do taste just like chicken.
- Oh, no!
And what have we got here, Scarlet?
No, no, look, I am enjoying it.
It's just...
Hello? Ah, Joe!
Sorry, sorry -
traffic, and everything else.
Cleave, how are you, mate?
Yes, very good.
Hey, mate. Hello, Sal.
Happy birthday, mate.
Oh, don't apologise to me.
So what body part was it she ate?
GENERAL GROAN Well...
Sammy, please - I've been up
to my neck in this psycho all day.
Yeah, but what would be the point,
Cleave?
Point of what, Sal?
You said you were
pushing to pursue this to trial.
So what would the point be?
The time and the money
wasted on an exercise
which is gonna make absolutely no
difference to your client's future.
Well, to be brutally Francis with you,
I don't give a shit
about my client's future.
What I do give a shit about,
believe it or not, is the law.
Since when?
Well, I don't know about you lot
but I don't wanna live in a society
where, for purely political reasons,
someone could be charged with a crime
they didn't commit.
You know, that's a pretty serious
accusation, mate.
Puh-lease. And it's all kosher
because he's got
a couple of mental health issues.
A couple of mental health issues?
He ate someone, he's a monster.
He's misunderstood.
So you're gonna convince the jury
that this cannibal isn't a monster?
Well, it's easier than convincing
them an economist is a human being.
So, but the tax payers of this State...
This great and prosperous State, Joe.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Have to fork out
because one of your highly selective
principles
has reared its ugly head, eh?
Don't give a rat's arse
about the law, Cleave.
You get lowlife crooks off all the time.
51% of the time.
And once again, you misread me.
The very reason
I get my lowlife crooks off,
is because I care about the law.
It's justice I don't give a toss about.
You're looking more battered than usual.
No, I'm all right.
Barney told me that
your little friend at the club
has flown the coop.
My little friend?
Your prostitute.
Oh, my prostitute.
My harlot, Scarlet.
Don't worry, I'm sure there's plenty
more fish in that particular sea.
It's a shame you never met, you know.
You'd like her, Red.
You've actually got a lot in common.
Oh, yeah? Do tell.
Oh, well,
you both resolutely pretend that
you're not madly in love with me.
Sad, really.
Who's madly in love?
No, I'm just explaining to your wife
here
that she's secretly in love with me
and she's not alone.
Oh, well.
Do whatever you have to, you two.
I'm buggered,
gotta be up with the sparrows.
I'm gonna call a cab.
Stay, don't go on my account.
Night, cock.
Oh, goodnight, cock. Happy birthday.
Thanks, man.
Be gentle with him, won't you? Yeah.
And I haven't forgotten
about that birthday present.
Yes, lots of big ideas.
Now, where were we?
Ah, yes. You were banging on about
this threesome with me and my harlot.
Look, Red, it's gonna be tricky.
Yeah.
Hey.
Red.
Red!
Red, Red.
He is such a good man.
He's such a fucking good man.
I can't do this anymore.
You can't do what?
This marriage.
Fuck.
You're kidding me. No.
What do you mean?
Have you spoken to him about it?
No, of course not.
Of course I fucking haven't, Cleaver.
I'm a woman. I internalise
everything until I explode.
Well, listen, listen, come on.
Whatever it is,
you're gonna work it out, all right?
And you've got to speak to him about it.
You've got to give him a chance to atone
for whatever it is
he needs to atone for.
He doesn't have anything
he needs to atone for.
All right?
That's the trouble.
Oh, fuck.
Missy!
Missy! Missy!
So?
So? What the fuck?
You just vanished
without so much as an adios?
I'm going to law school.
Law school?
I guess I should be flattered.
It's nothing to do with you.
My father was a lawyer.
I thought your father was a diplomat.
He was a lawyer first.
Given what we had...
We had a business relationship.
That's not how
I would choose to categorise it.
The use of a credit card
is usually evidence of
a commercial transaction, is it not?
What about all the times
you came around to my place?
You still paid. All right.
What about when you visited me in rehab?
Oh, Jesus, Cleave. What's your point?
My point is it wasn't just
a business relationship
and you know that's my point,
so stop being whatever it is
that you're being.
I'm being me. You're not.
I know you. No, you don't.
I was who you wanted me to be.
Some guys want me to be the nurse,
some guys want me to be a schoolgirl,
a dominatrix, whatever.
You wanted me to be your friend.
And so I was, that was the gig.
That is horseshit.
You can choose to believe
whatever you like.
I'm not choosing to believe anything,
it's an objective fact.
What is? You and me.
Us. This. Our connection.
It's real and palpable.
And you can't just write it off
as a part of some exit strategy.
I'm happy when I'm with you.
I guess that's why I got the big bucks.
If we happen to bump into each other
in the future,
I trust I can rely on your discretion.
My discretion?
Of course. Thank you.
Adios.
Hey!
What about our things?
What about Ravel?
Go away, please.
Henry Miller? The Marquis de Sade?
Jackie Gleeson.
Non-conceptual art.
Huh? I gave all these things to you.
So what do I owe you?
You owe me an explanation.
I owe you nothing.
You got what you paid for.
I've drawn a line in the sand.
You are part of my past now.
Ladies and gentlemen,
my name is Cleaver Greene.
I've counselled
and I've been asked to step in today
for your usual lecturer,
who's temporarily indisposed.
Now, who can tell me
where you're all up to?
That girl there.
Yeah? Blondie? You?
No? Yeah?
We've been discussing
the Trade Practices Act.
Ah. Misleading and deceptive conduct.
I know it only too well.
Section 51:1 was designed
to protect the unsuspecting
from the unscrupulous.
If in the course
of a professional transaction,
the party whose services you've
engaged make certain warranties,
are you not, as the purchaser,
entitled to rely upon those warranties?
OK, let's look at this
from a whole other angle.
How many here today are fans of Ravel?
Huh?
Oh, don't you just love him?
What about Piano Concerto in D?
No?
What about the easy-listening classics?
Everybody loves a Bolero. Come on.
Greene?
Professor Morrison,
glad you've made a speedy recovery.
Ladies and gentlemen,
you've been a terrific crowd.
Thank you, Corporate Law One!
Professor Sinclair, this is Nicole.
How do you do?
My back is killing me, thank you.
We're between digs.
So you were close to Professor Murray?
Very. Both Friedmanites
down to our bootstraps.
Both pro-market,
both anti-big government.
We co-authored countless papers,
we sat on a number
of advisory committees together.
In the late '90s,
we were both seconded to Treasury.
Costello dubbed us the "twin apostles".
Did Professor Murray give you any clue
that he may have been a cannibal?
Of course not.
So until the moment you heard
he'd eaten Sebastian Carey,
you thought he was perfectly normal?
No. But nothing's been normal
since the crisis began.
You don't mean
the global financial crisis?
I am married and my wife is an invalid
and very dependent on me.
But minutes before the Lehman
Brothers' collapse was announced,
Professor Murray's wife and I
finally consummated
what had been a longstanding
but up until then,
purely emotional affair.
The very same day, Mr Greene,
almost down to the second.
I slept with my best friend's wife
and betrayed my own...
..and almost instantly, the world
as I knew it ceased to exist.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Yes!
Game, set and match.
Thank you linesman. Thank you, ball boy.
It was the late Mr Osbourne's opinion
that you should plead guilty of murder
but by reason of insanity.
But I killed no-one.
That's right.
So why am I still in here?
You've been charged with murder
so there has to be a trial.
Well, they will find me innocent.
Perhaps.
Then I can go home to Annie.
Graham, you ate someone.
You're never going home.
He was already dead.
I mean, what could be more natural
than wanting to consume human flesh?
It combines our two most primal
instincts into one single act.
Remember your first kiss, Mr Greene?
Your tongue snaking down
into someone else's soul?
We caress necks, we kiss them,
we give each other love bites.
And these bloody gorgeous purple bruises
that we wear as badges of honour.
But you break the skin,
you go that one tiny step further
and we're considered vampires,
monsters that should
be consigned into eternal darkness.
It's the worst sort of hypocrisy.
Did you call Roy? Yeah, he'll be here.
I was thinking, maybe you shouldn't
refer to Graham as Professor Murray.
Makes him sound a bit smart. Good point.
We shall prove beyond reasonable doubt
that the defendant preyed on the
frailties of a mentally ill person
in an effort to induce his death
and then eat him.
The defendant,
Professor Graham Murray, AM,
is a brilliant economist.
These are not my words.
These are words that have been applied
to Professor Murray many times,
as recently as 12 months ago
by Ben Bernanke,
Chairman of the US Federal Reserve.
He was for a time head
of economic policy for the OECD.
The multibillionaire, Warren Buffet,
once spoke at a dinner
in honour of Professor Murray.
He said, "There is nothing
Graham Murray can't do
if he puts his mind to it.
The man is a genius."
Roy! Roy!
Anything useful yet?
They look like they hate him.
They're not saying that they hate him.
They're saying
they're scared shitless of him.
Mr Greene?
Thank you, Your Honour.
Ladies and gentlemen, the only charge
being defended in this trial
is that of murder.
There is, in fact, no law
against cannibalism in this State.
But I'm betting, and tragically,
I'm nothing if not a betting man,
that if you had to decide
right now...
..you would find the accused
guilty of murder
because the very idea of being
in the same room as a cannibal
scares the hell out of you.
We don't deny the accused is a cannibal.
We don't defend that fact.
But that is not the charge.
The charge is murder, and we will prove,
using the deceased's
very own last words,
that Graham Murray is innocent.
The charge is murder
and you must remember, it is
a universally accepted legal doctrine
that you cannot murder a dead man.
Dr Hartcher? Yes?
Have you read the police report
into the death of Sebastian Carey?
I have.
Were you able to draw any inferences
from this report
in terms of the victim's state of mind?
Objection. Oh.
Pardon me, Your Honour.
The deceased's state of mind. I have.
Whilst most of us make the
transition from adolescent to adult
with varying degrees of success,
there are some amongst us
whose egos are so badly traumatised
by the process
that they lose any sense of self.
In a very small number of cases,
this abnegation of the self
becomes so extreme
that it develops into a fetish
of sorts, of self-degradation.
This could manifest
as a desire to turn oneself
into another's excrement.
Dr Hartcher,
do you believe that such a mind
may be vulnerable
to powers of suggestion?
Psychological manipulation? Yes.
Dr Hartcher, have you ever eaten
another animal's flesh?
Yes.
Having cooked that flesh yourself?
Yes.
Seasoned it? Your Honour...
I'm happy to move on, Your Honour.
I have here a raft of sworn statements
by colleagues of the deceased,
senior West Australian lawyers,
which mustn't be held against them,
Your Honour.
Have you had an opportunity to read
these statements, Dr Hartcher?
I have.
He worked on average 15:4 hours a day,
usually six days a week.
None of these statements
even hints at self-abnegation.
The common threads are
"quiet, kept to himself,
professional, dependable, dull".
This is not inconsistent
with our research, Mr Greene.
Oh? As I have repeatedly stated,
people such as the deceased can
be fully functional professionally.
Now, Dr Hartcher, I need you to be
absolutely clear about this.
Are you saying
that it is entirely possible
that the deceased presented himself
to his West Australian colleagues
as rational and functioning?
Yes.
They would have had no idea or
suspicion as to his mental capacity?
Well, if they did, I presume
he couldn't function as a lawyer.
Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that.
It follows, therefore,
that the deceased could
have presented himself to my client
as rational and functioning on
the night they met in the warehouse.
But for the fact the deceased
was going there to be eaten.
I should have thought
that would present a bit of a clue.
She ran right over you!
I made my points.
She ran right over you!
Dr Hartcher was much more impressive
than anticipated.
Where's Annie?
Why isn't she here yet?
Where's Aden? Don't know, Graham.
I need her here.
Where is she?
Oh, Jesus, you blokes, give her a break!
Come on, Teddy, you're better than this.
A man's gotta eat, Cleave.
Always after your pound of flesh,
aren't you?
Nothing but a bunch of bottom feeders.
You ought to know. Bite me!
Those hacks, they follow me everywhere.
That'll be them now.
It's never going to end.
What I want to know is who told them
that I ate it too?
It wasn't us.
That would have been a cop on retainer.
Mrs Murray, have you seen
Professor Sinclair recently?
Yes, I have.
Did he happen to mention to you
that he told us about you and he...
Yes.
Yes, he did.
I don't know what possessed him
to tell you.
It's no-one else's business.
I think he feels a little guilty.
We did it once!
One time!
And it just happened to be
the morning that Lehman's collapsed.
So Aden's got it in his head somewhere,
he thinks that
the whole financial crisis
is some sort of moral retribution.
Sometimes I wonder who's madder,
him or Graham.
It's only a matter of time
before he feels the need
to confess to someone else.
His wife, maybe.
The faculty.
Oh, God.
What if he tells the press?
It'll never end.
He's not gonna do that, Mrs Murray.
Mrs Murray,
your husband needs you in court.
I told you, I'm not going to testify.
We're not asking you to testify.
Did you talk to Barn? Yeah, sweet.
When you take that sip of water.
Anything else?
You've got most of the jury on side.
They think that Sebastian
topped himself.
But one or two of the old ducks,
they still think that
he's too clever by half.
All right, great. Thanks, mate.
Had you met Mr Carey
before that night at the warehouse?
No, regrettably.
Did you have a conversation with him?
Yes, we had a nice chat.
He was a lovely fellow.
Very sad but he was a lovely fellow.
Did you discuss the GFC?
Beg your pardon?
The Global Financial Crisis.
Did you talk about that?
Um... no.
Is it a topic of conversation
you'd prefer to avoid?
N-not especially.
You failed to predict it.
Didn't you, Mr Murray?
Yes, everyone did. Well, not everyone.
There were a handful in
the United States who predicted it.
There were a couple in Europe.
Keynesians.
Their modelling was deeply flawed.
Oh, so they just got lucky, did they?
The truth is, Mr Murray,
you're just not that clever, are you?
I beg your pardon?
How could you possibly be a genius
when you failed to predict the single
biggest economic event of our times?
You missed it by a mile, didn't you?
You and your free market pals.
You thought you'd factored in
everything.
It was a perfect market,
except there was one thing that
you failed to take into account -
the bottomless pit of human greed.
And that's something
that's impossible to quantify.
Isn't it, Mr Murray? Well, er...
It finds a level.
But it didn't. Did it?
Mr Greene, this is
a most unusual re-examination.
Your Honour,
my friend spent a lot of time
asking Mr Murray about his expertise.
Very well.
Mr Murray,
did your wife Annie know anything
about your assignation
with Sebastian Carey?
No, nothing. I told you.
I swear. S-she means the world to me.
I'd never do anything to hurt her.
I'm so sorry, my love. I-I'm so sorry.
I-I didn't mean to hurt anyone.
I'm not a killer!
I'm an economist!
This is the prosecution's
criminal mastermind.
This is their cold-blooded genius.
Mr Greene.
You've come to a verdict
in the charge of murder?
We have, Your Honour.
And what verdict have you come to?
We find the defendant not guilty.
Thank you. You're dismissed.
Now pending further
psychiatric evaluation...
YES! Mr Murray...
Yes! I knew it!
..will continue to be held
in medical remand. I knew it! I knew it!
I knew it! I'm innocent!
Yes!
Hey.
Hey.
You good?
Yes, I'm great.
You?
I hear...
..you won your cannibal case.
In a manner of speaking, yeah.
Oh, do you ever shop?
What?
What do you mean, what?
I mean, what?
Why the Munch face?
Well, I thought, um,
lines had been drawn
and the sands of time parted.
You were right.
I do owe you an explanation.
I had a charmed life
as a little girl, Cleave.
My dad...
..took me to all these fabulous places
where we met fabulous people.
Yes, it was a fairytale. I know.
Just before I turned 18, my parents
were killed in a car crash.
And I fell apart.
Everything turned to shit.
Deep, serious shit.
You can guess the rest.
Now I have a chance to start again.
I want to start again.
Do you understand?
So...
..I was wondering
if you could explain this to me.
It's all Greek to me.
Latin, actually.
My name's Melissa Partridge. By the way.
Cleaver Greene.
How do you do?
Bolero played by amateur orchestra
Closed Captions by CSI
But no.
Because of some legal mumbo jumbo,
my daughter remains in prison.
She's good.
Harry fucking Potter.
The guy's trying to bankrupt me.
Barney know where you are?
Yes. I'm at my sister's.
Lucy Marx does not go to jail.
She was right. The system failed
both her and her daughter.
Have you met Cleaver Greene before?
Mr Greene, how are you?
I'm... seeing someone, Dad.
You're doing the -?
Hey! Harry!