Underbelly (2008–2013): Season 5, Episode 3 - The Loaded Dog - full transcript

Nosey's careening out of control with paranoia and booze, and crashing his Harley into the back of a semi-trailer at 120kph. Their best informant hovering near death is one problem for Gary...

Police have identified
the body parts of a man

found in six bags
in the Hastings River at Wauchope

as those of missing prisoner
Terry Falconer.

You're the dog who murdered
my grandparents.

Take a look at this. These are
the ones who killed Terry Falconer.

That's Anthony Perish.

My old man used to say, "You gotta
do the right thing," you know?

"Even if it hurts.

"The more it hurts,
the righter it is."

Mate, are you sure
this informant of yours

isn't just leading you by the nose?

He's not a bad suspect
for Falconer himself.

This guy is as sound...

and as reliable as they get.

Gary Jubelin.

You dropped me in it,
didn't ya, hey?

You told Perish I was doggin' him.

Anthony Perish hasn't ever
had an account with Telstra

or any of the private
phone companies.

He's not registered with the
Housing Commission, Medicare

or any private health fund.

No super fund has any record of him.

He's got no outstanding fines,

no traffic infringements,
he's not on the electoral roll,

got no tax-file number,
no credit history.

Only someone with
serious badness to hide

would go to this much effort
to cover their tracks.

Gary Jubelin?

Pam Young?



Nuh. No, Sandro, I can drive myself.


OK, I'll see you down there.

There's a murder in Wollongong.

Sounds like a gay bashing.

Sometimes I wonder what it's like...

a normal life.

No, you don't.

See you when I see you, Jubelin.
Good luck catching your ghost.

Be careful.

Almost a year into the
Terry Falconer murder investigation,

Gary Jubelin was no closer to
finding his elusive prime suspect,

Anthony John Michael Perish,
the ghost.

What Gary didn't know,

the ghost was studying him and his
illustrious career just as closely.

"Know your enemy".

You're a star, mate.

Cop star.

For more than a decade,

Anthony Perish had managed to
fly under the radar,

invisible to police eyes.

Unlike most criminals,

he went to great trouble to leave
no trace of his passing.

He had never put a foot wrong
until Terry Falconer came along.

Don't rush me, OK?

For fuck's sake, Frank, I'm bustin'
for the loo. Are we clear?

We're clear. Go on.
Go on, get in, get in.

You, sometimes, I swear...
Shut the door.


Pippa! Come here!


Fucking hell!


Yeah, looks like a Jatz cracker.

It's a sign.

It's a biscuit.

Rooster and Undies
have been here, eh?

More likely that little kid
from next door.

No, it's a warning, OK?
Now, get inside.

Did you lock the front door?
Jeepers, you... you're scaring me.

You ought to be scared, eh?
No, you! YOU'RE scaring me.

Hey, inside. Go. Move it. Let's go.

Fucking hell.
Get inside. Inside.

Gary Jubelin's
second major focus

was the man codenamed 'Informant X'.

He knew Francis Xavier O'Rourke's
evidence would be crucial

if he ever got the chance to put
Anthony Perish on trial for murder.

You tipped off Rooster, eh?

And why would I do that?
Well, you're in his pocket.

You're up to your fuckin' eyeballs
in Falconer's murder.

You, Rooster, Undies.

And now you're trying to
stitch me up over it.

That's a load of
paranoid bullshit, Frank.


And I'm just crazy enough
to pull that trigger, huh?

Oh, shit!

Now, you agreed
to come alone, right?

Sorry, Frank, it's procedure.

Listen to me. Listen.

If I wanted to fit you up,

I would have planted
Terry Falconer's DNA in your house.

Well, maybe you did, huh?
Maybe I just haven't found it yet.

Well, why am I tellin' you?


Good point.

You know the best way
to lock this guy up?



Get him bragging about it -
"who" did "what",

all the fuckin' gruesome details.

Then you record it.

You know who the best
person to do that is?

You want me to wear a wire, huh?

Against Anthony Perish?

Oh, shit, was I wrong!

Nah, you're not trying to
stitch me up.

You wanna get me killed.
No, Frank...

Yeah, that's what this is about,
you lyin' bloody squarehead, huh?

I get blamed for Falconer, you
and Rooster go on your merry way,

like a couple of bloody schoolyard
lovers, ya fuckin' idiot!

Jesus Christ, eh?
Fuckin' dreaming.

You like your little boys, do ya?

You get you fuckin' head read, mate.

Gary, you can't hang
an entire murder brief

on one tattooed lunatic.

He'll come around.

It's not bullshit.
He's turned his life around.

Just have some faith
in human nature, will you?

I got a tonne of faith, mate.

I just don't have unlimited bucks
to back it up. My strong advice?

Concentrate on catching
Anthony John Michael Perish

while you've still got
a strike force to do it.

Dickhead alert.

Permission to come aboard.

Oh, shit, is this necessary?

Can't stay here now, can I?

Not secure anymore -
all thanks to you.

Can I have a private word?

I've been thinking.
Yeah, well, don't.

You know the best means of defence
is attack, right?

The last thing the Living Deads
will expect

is a direct assault
on their clubhouse.


Nah, listen. We firebomb the pricks.

They come runnin' outside,
we put a few rounds into 'em.

Not to kill, just to panic 'em,

teach 'em who they're messing with.

I got all the men lined up,
all the hardware.

All I need is my orders.

It'd start a bloody war, mate,
not finish it.

And get the Gang Squad up our arse.


And how am I supposed to
do business with 'em

after a stunt like that, eh?

Well, you got a better plan?

Yeah, I do.

Peace summit.

A peace summit... with the Deads?

Better work on your apology, mate.

The keystone of
a successful informant relationship

is trust, yeah?

You have to believe
what he tells you,

he has to believe
he's safe in your hands.

The trouble with your Mr X

is after a lifetime's bad
experiences with authority figures,

he naturally assumes
you're going to betray him

and, therefore, he'll never
let himself trust you

unless he knows you trust him.

So, how do we handle him, Sonya?

You're late.
Were you organising back-up?

I'm on me own, Frank.
I give you my word.

What do you want, huh?

I've already told you
everything I'm gonna tell you.

Then why are you here?

Aren't you gonna pat me down, huh?
No, I'm not.

If we're gonna work together,
I've got to learn to trust you.

And vice-versa.

Sit down, Frank.

Who says we're
working together, hmm?

Here's what I reckon.

I reckon you got two voices
in your head

telling you
two very different things.

Just two? Happy days.

One of 'em's saying
"Never trust a cop,"

and the other one's saying, "He's
telling you to do the right thing."

And I reckon
that's your old man, Frank.

And I reckon that's why you're here.

I'm already a dead man,
talking to you.

Why would I stick my neck out
even further?

Well, what have you got to lose?

They can't kill you twice.

And you told me you didn't
want to go back to that life.

It doesn't mean
I want to be a dog either.

But you do want to be a better man.

Don't ya?

Is that what you want, Frank?

Think about your old man, mate?

Oh, every day, I do.

And what was he like?

He was an army man, drill sergeant.

Was all "spit & polish".

He hated bikies, eh?
Thought they were all crims.

Said if he ever caught me
on a Harley,

he'd put a bullet in me head.

I joined me first club
before I had me first naughty.

You good?

You know how it is.

How are the kids?
Yeah, they're good.

You OK?
Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for asking.

I know it's you, Frank.

Babe, what's wrong?

I'll do it.

Well, you're doing
the right thing, mate.

Come here, beautiful.

First, this maniac
beats my godson to a pulp.

The kid'll be lucky to walk again.

Then he comes after me
with a pair of frickin' six guns!

Yeah, and the reason we're all
sitting here, freezing our tits off,

the man wants to
apologise, Jasper, alright?

Look, I had no idea
he was connected.

What can I say?
The kid never said anything.

So... it's at least 50% his fault.

Why didn't he speak up?

It's 'cause you were kicking seven
shades of fuckin' shit out of him.

Put it down to collateral damage.

You're a deadset fuckwit, mate.

-We want compensation.
-I'll give YOU 50 cents to fuck off!

Fuck you...

Hey, hey, hey, hey, not in me car!
A little decorum, for fuck's sake.

Get off!

Settle down, you idiots.


Look, you got the moral high ground
here, Jasper. No argument.

How much we talking?

A million - cash.

Plus 20 kilos of pills.

Might have to dock
your wages there, digger.

And I heard you supplied the Bloods
with grenade launchers.

We might be able to
rustle up a few more.

Will you take a deposit?
Say, uh, 20 grand?

You wouldn't be thinking of
stiffing us, would ya?

Jasper, mate.

How long have you and I
been doing business for, eh?

Come on. Forever.


Looks like the Living Dead are in
the market for a new president, eh?

Any thoughts there, Kenny?

Congratulations, mate.
Couldn't have picked a better man.

Thanks, mate.
Yeah, congratulations, Mr President.

Now, piss off.

And don't forget
who done you this good turn.

Man, right in the heart.
No blood, no mess.


I owe you, Rooster.

Yeah? You think?

You're fuckin' jokin', alright?

Me, I'd casually wear a baggy shirt...

Mate, I got a boombox
smaller than that thing.

I'm gettin' a beer, drown me
sorrows, you bloody amateurs.

I'm going straight back to
the tech department after this,

find the boss, rip his head off
and shit down his neck.

You got my word
we'll do better, Frank.

Say you do, right?

Then what's me excuse
for lobbing on Rooster's doorstep?

Well, the thing is we can't tell
you what to say. That's entrapment.

Just gets
fuckin' better, doesn't it, eh?

Frank, have you
been summonsed to appear

at the new inquest
into the Perish grandparents?

Me? No.

- Bit of an oversight.
- Yeah. Could work.

Had to be.

Tink'd never tell. It's not
in his... whatcha-me-call-it..."DNA".

Besides, he knows what would
happen to him if he did.

I don't know.

Have you told Rooster?


No need upsetting him
for no good reason.

Yeah, and what if he finds out
we knew but never said nothin'?

The main LD's in the bum bag.

What if Undies asks
what's in it, eh?

Well, just tell him... bums.

That's funny, eh? Dark horse.
Funny. Hey?

First back-up's in your phone.
Battery compartment.

- For fuck's sake, don't drop it.
- "First" back-up?

Second back-up's in your smokes,
behind the foil, see?

- Right.
- Don't forget and chuck the pack away.

- Alright.
- That's it.

What if he gets onto me?
Where's MY back-up, huh?

There isn't any, Frank.
You're on your own.

Oh... right.

You really know how to make a bloke
feel appreciated, Jubes, hey?

Mr Positive. Hey?
We all set?


Right, this is
Detective Sergeant Gary Jubelin

and Francis Xavier O'Rourke.

The time is 3:19pm,

the date 30/11/02.

This is the commencement of
an operation for Strike Force Tuno.

In a short time,
you will be speaking to people

who may be involved in
criminal activities.

You may be asked questions, you may
need to give appropriate responses.

I've also been authorised to provide
you with the following inducement"

"Nothing you say or do

can be used against you
in any court in this State."

Do you understand that, Frank?

I heard a whisper that
you'd been talking.

To Tuno.

Talking to tuna? What are you...?

It's the task force that's
looking after the Falconer thing.

Now, is that true, Tink?

Yeah. Yeah, you bet
I've been talkin' to cops, eh?

Check this out.
Yeah, I've been summonsed.

The new inquest,
your grandpa's murder.

I mean, shit, why do they
want to hear from me, huh?

So, where's Rooster? He around?

So, this... this is why the cops came
round? Serving you with a summons?

Yeah. That's why
I need to see him, mate.

I want to know how to play it
and what to do, right?

Call him, will ya?

Go on, call him now!
Yeah, I'll fucking call him!


See them photo-fits in the paper?
It looks like Rooster and me.

I never read papers.
There's too much news, eh?

Someone's been talking.

What - are you sayin' I dogged?

When have I ever dogged,
you paranoid fuck, hey?

Fuckin' hell...
I'll call him later.

Oh, now you're pulling my dick. Ring
the right fuckin' number, dude, hey?

Hey, darl, have you got
the code for star pickets?

I'll be back in a sec. Take that.


Don't take the fucking code sheet
off the fuckin' wall.

OK. Um...

I'll talk to him, OK?


Righto. Make sure you do, eh?

Take it easy, Undies, eh?
Have a good day, mate.


something, something".

I didn't get it, eh?

- This is Anthony's number, yeah?
- Yeah.

- Didn't get the last three digits?
- Well, slap my wrist.

Stick a finger up me arse
if you want.

I did get the make and model of
the dog and bone though, yeah?

Smart piece of work, mate.
Well done.

Thanks, Gary.

Am I happy?

Well, a Nokia 3315, plus the first
seven digits of the number.

I'm optimistic you'll be happy.

So, we need warrants for local phone
tower dumps for that period, yeah?

Say, an hour either way.

You realise a single tower dump
could cost $1,000 or more?

Alright, well, get it done.

You can't hide forever, pal.

- Want me to help?
- It's a job for experts.

You see, every mobile phone has
its own electronic signature.

- It's just a matter of cross-checking...
- I know, Kevin, I know.

...the right make and model
with the partial number.

When you find it,
can you call Gary Jubelin asap?

Only if you give me his number.


Kevin? You ID'd the number?

Of course I did.
Am I not a professional?

Now all you have to do
is get a warrant to pull it off.

I'll call Gary J. immediately.

Wasn't expecting you this week.

Just making sure
you're putting in the work.

Look, how long do I have to stay
in this bloody dump?

Long as I say so, hey?


Sergeant Jubelin? Technical branch.

We've identified the number.

Anthony Perish's mobile number?


What's this in aid of?

It's a carrot cake.

And we're all just stopping work
to have cake now, are we?

It's for your birthday, Jubelin.

Happy birthday, Gaz.

Yes, Kevin?

There's been a slight mix-up, mate.


Have you got any idea how hard
everyone's been working to do this?

You had one job to do. One job!

Get out of here before I...

It would be over a year
before Gary Jubelin

got another chance
to bring down his prey.

You are too cranky.

I'm not cranky.
You are.

You're too cranky.

I'm not. Really, I'm not.


Alright. I'm very, bloody, cranky.

My fat aunt could have
figured out his number

from what I told ya, eh?

Yeah, it's a little more complex
than that, the whole warrant thing.

The Listening Devices Act's a prick.

What are you driving at?

I need you to put the wire back on.

Fuck me, Gary!

Every time I front them dudes,
I risk me life. Don't you get that?

Or you just don't give a fuck?
Huh? Huh?

Hey, I know what they're
capable of, alright?

I saw Terry Falconer's body parts.

That's why it's imperative
we put him away.

And your role in this
is vital, Frank.

You're the only one who can do it.

It's the right thing to do.
You know it.

You mention my old man again,
I'll fuckin' chop YOU up.

It's 'cause you left the pen
lid off - it's not working anymore.

I haven't had a chance
to call him yet.

Bullshit, Undies. Lazy cowboy.

Give us his number, I'll call him.

If I gave you his number,
he wouldn't be happy.

Leave the summons with me
and I'll call him, OK?

Just leave me to
fuckin' eat my hummus in peace.

There's another thing.

You know that money for me boat?

I wanna pay him back.

It's only a couple of grand.
Don't stress out about it.

Oh, I know the way he works, right?

I want to pay him back every cent.

You tell him that, OK?

So, one more thing.

You're giving me
a fuckin' headache, Tink.

Mate, it's important, right?


Now, you know that document?

What document - this one?

No. The document you and Rooster
came round and showed me, right?

The one that said Falconer
had been dogging to the jacks.

I just remembered something.

I handled it.

You know what I'm sayin'?

It's got me fingerprints on it.

Tink, there's probably
100 fingerprints

on that fuckin' document.

What if these Tuna dudes decide

I'm suspect number one 'cause of me
record, and link me to you?

- Tink...
- That's why I gotta talk to Rooster. I gotta bloody clear this up!

Shut up, alright?
You just need to relax.

I will... I will call him
and set up a meeting, alright?

But you just need to relax, alright?
'Cause nobody knows that we did it.

Nobody knows it was us
who killed the prick.

"Nobody knows it was us
who killed the prick."


You sure that's what he said?
Yeah. What do you say, boys? Huh?

Huh?! Hey?

Eh? Eh?

Gold star, mate. Gold, gold!

I fuckin'... I deserve a beer, eh?

Six bloody beers! 100 bloody beers!
Bring 'em on!

It's a forklift or something.

We sent it off-site
to get it enhanced,

they've sent it on to
some experts in London, but...

What about the back-ups?

Same, only worse.

Better luck next time.

We can't take a fucking trick.

Who's gonna tell Francis Xavier?


So, what - you want me to go back?

Try again, huh?

That'd be good.

We'd also like you
to make a full statement, Frank.

Put down on paper
everything you've told us...

names, dates, details.

Your full criminal history.

What? No! No way!

It's just a way of formalising...

I make a statement, the whole world
knows I've dogged me mates.

Right? No.
They're not your mates.

You fuckin' idiots don't understand
a thing, right? Now get out!

Go on, get out!

Wait up, idiot. Fuckin'...

Take this bastard, right?

I was gonna give it to you anyway.

What the fuck is this, Frank?

Haven't you ever seen
a pipe bomb before, hmm?

Had it rigged
to protect me front door, yeah?

They usually make 'em
out of galvanised pipe

but this one's PVC,
so don't bump it.

Now get out of my face,
you bloody idiots,

and take that piece of junk
with you.

Go on. Get!

Watch your step.

I'll call the Bomb Squad.

We can't risk bringing them here
and exposing Frank.

Tell 'em we'll meet them in a park.

Hey! Youse blokes want a Coke?

No thanks.

We get the bomb there how?

Stick it in the boot
and drive very fucking carefully.

Mum wanted me to be a dentist.

Sorry, Pippa.

Transporting an IED
in the boot of a car?

Didn't you idiots
do any explosives training?

Anthony Perish
had a habit of using people.

Buy them, bully them,
manipulate them.

As long as they did exactly
what he wanted, nobody got hurt.

Decker was handy.

He had his uses,
but he was accident-prone

and he had to be punished
for past mistakes.

That's one reason

Anthony kept him a virtual prisoner
at his Girvan property

for three lonely months.

And since he was sitting up there,
cooling his heels,

Anthony put him to work
installing a defence system.

After all, there was
a lot to protect.

A single cook-up
from this one drug lab

could produce several million
dollars worth of amphetamines.

Eat up, champ.
It'll get cold.

Well, why are you all eating pizza
and I'm not?

I brung you a special treat,
that's why. Don't you like it?

It smells funny.

What are you talkin' about?

It's the best chicken and chips
on the coast.

It was lovely the other night
when we had it, wasn't it, Muzzy?

Yeah. Uh, Monday?
It was scrumptious.

Monday? That's a...
that's a week ago.

Fair enough.


Whoo! Look out teeth,
look out gums, eh?

Oh, come on. Where are you goin'?

By the way, cops have
posted a reward

for that little shoot-up
of yours at JB's.

100 grand.

Hope you haven't been big-noting
yourself to your bogan mates.

Security's my middle name, Rooster.

Glad to hear it.

Eat up. It's rude
to leave food on your plate.

There's a story going around

that when Anthony Perish
was a teenager,

he shot 200 cats.

It's probably apocryphal.

I mean, who was counting?

But where there's smoke...

Did the Gillespies say
why they were getting rid of it?

Well, see, they're going
back to England, and Mum's allergic.

You're my last resort.

And what about the RSPCA?

I can't believe you said that.


Sweetie, if I wanted a dog,
I would have got a proper dog.

Alright? Not a white,
fluffy dog. Who is it?

Some guy called Frank.
Says his life's in danger.

What's the matter?

Is that your son just now?


It's the guy who cleans my guns.

He sounds alright, eh?

What do you want, Frank?

This'd be what you cops call
an induced statement, yeah?

We'd never use it
to bring charges against you.

Unless, of course, you lie to me.

Then they'd want to
throw the book at you.

Let's be clear, Gary.
I'm not signing it, alright?

It'd just be for you.

I can't risk word getting back to
our mate. You know what I'm saying?

And I need my bloody head read,
that's for sure. Later.

Oh, my giddy aunt.


Hey, Rooster, you fucker!


How'd you know where I was,
you fuckin' bastard?!

Come on, come and get me,
you bastard!

Hey? You fucker!

Hey! Come on Rooster,
I'm not afraid of you!

I nearly got a part
in 'Muriel's Wedding.

Except they said I was too tall.

I mean, go figure that out.

He was here a minute ago.

What have you done with him?

Frank, you're not well.
Come back to the hospital.

Fuck off.

Babe, don't do this to me.

You need blood. You need surgery.

You need antibiotics.
We can protect you from Rooster.

No-one can protect me
from the Rooster.

He's everywhere.

It was an accident.
Rooster had nothing to do with it.

Frank, get in the fuckin' car.

- Frankie!
- Soldier!

Get in the car, mate.

Brownie, grab his arm.

Gary decided
a remote, secluded beach house

was the best place
to debrief Frank O'Rourke...

far away from girls, booze, dope...

and helicopters.

So, Undies picked you up and took
you to a restaurant in Newtown.

That's where you met Anthony Perish?

Yeah, well, it sounds right, yeah.

What - it sounds right
or is it right?

Righty-right, Captain, eh?

Was this October 16th or 17th?


I give up, eh? I can't remember.

Well, what day of the week was it?

Uh... Pippa wasn't
working that night.

Could have been a Wednesday, eh?
Yeah, Wednesday.

Wednesday was the 17th.

What was the name of the restaurant?

How am I supposed to remember that?
Well, try concentrating.

Where was it? Was it King Street?
Oh, shit.

Look, we've been over this
before, Frank.

Alright, what sort of
cuisine was it?

Was it Asian, was it Italian,
was it Martian?

Did you like it? Could you eat it?
Did you enjoy it?

Gary, how would I know, mate? Hey?

All I remember is I didn't want to
be there and I was shittin' bricks.

What does it matter?
It matters, Frank! Alright?

We have to dot every "i",
get every detail correct,

or the defence
is going to rip us apart.

That's assuming we get to court.

I never agreed to no court!

I'm not goin' nowhere near
no fuckin' bloody court!

Alright, alright, relax.
Alright, just think.

Was the restaurant... was it flash,
was it downmarket?

Think, Frank.

It was flash.

Flash, yeah.

OK, I've got Newtown restaurants.

Jesus, there are hundreds,
so get comfy.

This could take a while.
From the top.

"Alberto's Pizzeria"?
Does it ring any bells, Frank?

- "Anise".
- "Booze"!


Making good progress, champion.

You'll be asking for a pay rise.

Any wage at all would be a bonus.

Yeah, nah, I'm gonna miss ya.

What do you mean?

You can't hang around up here,
enjoying yourself forever, hey?

So, you're cool if I just leave?

Yeah, you done a good job, mate.

Useless till he signs it...
IF he signs it.

Well, you can use it
as a scribble pad if he doesn't.

Having said that,
it's quite an achievement.

Well done him, and you, Gary.
He will sign, yes?

Well, it's his better nature
fighting his criminal instinct.

But, yeah, I think he will.

I'm afraid there's not very much
in the budget to resettle him.

Well, how much is not very much?

Two grand? Pull the other one.
That is a disgrace.

We can't go back to him with that.

Don't have much choice, do we?
Short of robbing a bank.

What if we chipped in ourselves?

If I sign, I'm dead, yeah.

And if you don't sign,
you don't get relocated.

- You're dead anyway.
- Mm.

Only closer to home.

What about the relocation money?
Just another lie, was it, huh?

It's a bank statement.
Account's in your name.

Your new name.

This six grand? For me?

It's not a lot, mate.
It's all we could do.

I can't believe
you're for real sometimes.

But you've got to sign and date
every page of that.

And you gotta stand by it.

Which means what?

You know what it means, Frank.

It means you gotta look Rooster
in the eye in court one day

and you gotta tell the jury
what happened.

That's what it means.

Might like to learn a trade, eh?
Something with me hands.

You any good with your hands? Hey?

No, I'm not, Frank.
Yeah, I wouldn't think so.

Give me that pen.

"Francis Xavier O'Rourke"
is a fictional name.

The man himself is real,

but his true identity cannot be
revealed by order of the court.

He was relocated,
instructed to keep his head down

and wait for the day Tuno officers
would call on him

to testify against
Anthony John Michael Perish.

You are not so cranky today.

How can you tell?

I cannot hear your teeth grinding.

Things going better at work?

- Yep.
- And at home?

Got a dog.

He likes cheese.

Cheese is good, in moderation.

Now, "fei chang fang" - monkey style.