Unforgotten (2015–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - Episode #1.2 - full transcript

Male... The bones are in
pretty good nick, so young.

Until we know different, we
treat this as a crime scene.

- This looks like a car key.
- We think so, too.

'MS' stands for 'Morton Spider'.
You should be able to get the reg.

- You have it?
- We sold it to a Steve Bennett.

- Mr Bennett!
- Yeah?

Could those be from the Spider?

- Hang on. What's that?
- Just a bag.

A diary, 1976.

OK, go back to the fly-page, please.

Beth.



Father Rob.

Mr Slater.

Frankie C.

Hello, Jimmy. Let's get
you home, shall we?

♪ (SONG) OH WONDER: All We Do

♪ All we do is hide away

♪ All we do is, All we do is hide away

♪ All we do is lie in wait

♪ All we do is, All we do is lie in wait

♪ I have been upside down

♪ I don't wanna be the right way round

♪ Can't find paradise on the ground ♪

- She said she found it.
- A bottle of vodka?

I said, "Like you found the 20
quid in my wallet last week?"



- What did she say to that? - She said she
wished it was me that left instead of Mum.

- Nice (!) - If I tried to ground
her she'd make my life hell.

Oh, mate, I'd like to say it gets
better but you've got two girls.

- It just gets much, much worse.
- Oh, fabulous (!)

- Morning, everyone.
- Morning.

Morning.

OK. Listen up, everyone.

So, yesterday evening we ran
the name 'James Sullivan'

through missing persons records

and very quickly we found a
17-year-old man of that name,

who was reported missing in November 1976.

Jimmy, as he called himself,
was reported missing by his mum,

who I spoke to briefly
on the phone last night.

I told her I wanted to come up
to Liverpool, where she lives.

To take a DNA swab,

so that we could make
a formal identification

of remains that we
believe to be of her son.

39 years after she last saw him.

She cried like a child at this news.

As did I, as she told me
how she'd missed her boy --

it's her only child --

for every hour of every day of
every week since she last saw him.

So I'm gonna find who caused a
pain that's very much alive today,

who took his life, who took hers...

and I want to punish them.

39 years later.

Your associates here, did you do
your full due diligence on them?

They have the money, Dad. It's all kosher.

Oh, I'm sure they have
the money. It's just...

.. I can't do business with them.

Why, because they're Turkish?

No.

- Because they're criminals.
- They're not criminals.

They or their associates are
mixed in up illegal activity.

There is no way I can do
business with them. Ever.

I'm sorry.

It's... It's just your name, Dad.

That's all they want on the letterhead.

Just give me a break here, please.

We all feel the same.

But there's nothing more to say.

Right. So, we're concentrating
on five main lines of enquiry.

Firstly, family. As just said,

the boss is driving up to
Liverpool to speak to his mum.

Try and get a sense of who Jimmy was,

how he lived his life in
the years before his death.

Jake? We wanna know anything and
everything about 27 Arlingham Place.

From its incarnation as a hostel in 1972

up to the point it shut in the late '90s.

Kaz? Trace uniform and CID who
covered that patch in the '70s.

There should be plenty
of 'em still with us.

Was Jimmy Sullivan known to them?
Which residents were known to them?

Murray, there are several missing
person report files on him,

the first one from 1976.
Follow up on those.

Finally, we need to chase up the
names and numbers from this diary.

First up, Jo-Jo.

Is it a man? Is it a woman? Friend,
girlfriend? We need to know.

I want everyone to take
a copy of these names

and run them past whoever
-- whoever -- you speak to.

These are our tangible connections
to the past and to Jimmy Sullivan.

Let's start making connections.

OK, good stuff. Thanks, guys.

You OK, boss?

He'd only be a few years older than me.

All the life we've lived.

(DOOR OPENS)

Yo, Curtis. All right?

Head down, innit?

Have a choke, man.

Help them old brain cells.

Maybe next time.

What... She your bitch now?

(SNIGGERS)

Don't never trust them mudsharks, fam.

(CAR ENGINE STARTS)

- Morning.
- Morning.

OK. 'Fe'.

Iron.

(LIVELY CHATTER)

I have custard creams,
rich tea and digestives.

Thank you so much. You didn't
have to go to all that trouble.

Well, I thought I'd better get a choice

because the cornershop has gone now,

and it is a ten-minute walk to Tesco's.

Oh, you had me at custard creams.

- Have you kids yourself?
- Er, yeah, two.

Oh, they're grown-up now. Both at college.

(CLEARS THROAT) I only erm,
see them when they want,

you know, money or their
erm, their clothes washed.

There's no word for it, you know?

Single mother who's lost her only child.

It's like...

no word would be enough.

Cos I mean, what are you, you
know? What's the point of you?

It is him, isn't it?

We'll know for sure when we've
done the DNA match but...

.. I think it's pretty likely it is.

Yes.

I'm so sorry.

No, no, no. I want it to be him.

I want it so much to be him.

I got us a plot at St Matthews.

I just want us to be able
to be together again.

How much was in there?

'All the money from the disco last night.'

Drinks, ticket money, about £1,200.

Ooh, Sheila.

'I normally take it home but my
car's still in the bloody garage!'

And I never use the bus
if I've got takings.

And anyway, I thought, you know... (SIGHS)

But this is their money, the estate's.

Why would anyone want to
steal their own money?

- Have you phoned the police?
- 'Been and gone.'

'But really, what are they going to do?'

I don't think there's CCTV footage
and it's not exactly Brink's-MAT,

- so... - 'Oh, Lord, Sheila!
I'm really very sorry.'

'Yes, well, I'll call you later.'

I met his father in 1959.

He'd come over from
Barbados after the war.

I was just 15.

When I fell pregnant,
my parents disowned me.

But Thomas....

.. he agreed to marry me.

Turns out it was the last
nice thing he ever did.

Pretty soon, the only thing that gave him

any more pleasure than drinking was...

beating me.

When Jimmy got older, beating him.

And so I drank -- too much.

To blot it all out.

And one day I came home from work...

.. Jimmy was gone.

He left a note.

He'd gone to London to find work

and he would send money to help me escape.

Which, bless his beautiful heart, he did.

And then one day the letters just stopped.

And I waited.

I waited, even though I knew...

I had this instinct, I had this dread

that something very,
very bad had happened.

And after about four
months, I think it was,

I went down to London,

and I told the police.

They asked me had we had
a row, and I said no.

They asked me about his father,
and I told them about that,

and they said maybe that's
what it was, and I said...

no.

No matter what his father was like...

Jimmy always loved me.

So they told me not to
worry, that he'd turn up,

"like a bad penny," one of them said.

And I said...

he wasn't bad.

Ever.

So I kept waiting and waiting.

But because he'd sort of run away once,

they decided that's what he'd done again.

Even though I told them...

.. Jimmy wouldn't have done that to me.

Because he loved me.

And I was right.

Wasn't I?

Yes. You were.

Well, we moved in here in '72.

- Right? - 'There's no-one
in our family by that name.'

Right, and no post ever
arrive for a similar name,

Elizabeth, Betty, Liz?

Nah, but I mean, I could ask my mum.

She did take in a few
lodgers when I went to poly.

- Yeah, when was that?
- 'That would've been '75 to '78.'

- Well, that would sort of fit.
- I mean, I can't promise anything.

She's in a home now, not
in the best of health,

- but I could try. - I would
really appreciate that, Mr Leeming.

- 'All right, I'll get back to you.'
- Thanks. Yeah, speak to you soon.

Cheers. Bye.

Ah. Good afternoon. DCI Kendrick?

I haven't been called that
in a while. Who's askin'?

DC Karen Willets. Bishop Street nick.

I wondered if you could
spare five minutes?

Need to pick your brains about
a case we're working on.

Well, I was gonna slit my wrists
in front of Cook Me The Money but...

- seeing as you're so pretty...
- (CHUCKLES)

.. come in and pick away, love.

Some of these lads, you know,

not much older than
Jimmy was before he died.

And I've seen them over
the years on the telly.

And I think of the
things they've done and...

.. and the life.

It's not just the obvious
things, you know, the...

birthdays, the christenings, the weddings.

It's the little things your
friends tell you about their kids.

The cheap holiday Malky got online and...

the funny video Jason's little
girl made for the YouTube.

So much life one person
can create, Mrs Stuart.

And I'm gonna do everything I can

to find whoever stole
that from you, Maureen.

Everything I can.

What?

Frankie C.

- Rings a bell?
- Well, it might if it's the same one.

- Who? - I think the
'C' stands for 'Cross'.

When he started making a bit of money,

started using his middle name 'Phillip'.

The 'Sir' was still a few years off.

That's Sir Phillip Cross?

He certainly called himself
'Frank' or 'Frankie C'.

- And how did you know him?
- He was just a face on the street.

Ran a stall down Chapel Market.

Cocky little runt.

I think he might've briefly
been a driver for the Fenwicks.

- Who are the Fenwicks?
- North London firm.

Protection, prostitution, loan-sharking.

- So he might have form?
- Not sure having form is a requirement

for being a government
business tsar, is it?

- So I doubt very much if he ever
got pulled for anything. - Right.

But listen, the Fenwicks
were nasty bastards.

Not many people worked for
them for any length of time...

.. without having to do some pretty
horrible stuff themselves so...

.. he might not have got pulled...

.. but doesn't mean he
didn't do stuff, does it?

- SUNNY: 'What d'you reckon?'
- I'm watching him on the box now.

Yeah, worth a chat, definitely.

And I emailed you some stuff
on the Fenwick family, as well.

Yeah, great. Thanks.

'So how was Liverpool?'

Good. You know...

Sad but I think I've got
some really useful stuff.

I just need to go through it properly.

But listen, long day.

Thanks for all this, Sunny.
Really, really good work.

- 'Night, guv.'
- I'll see you tomorrow.

- Hi, Dad. - Hi, I made some
risotto. Do you want some?

Love some. Starving.

Hard day?

Can you imagine anything worse

than going to your grave never
knowing where your baby was?

You wonder how people go on.

(SIGHS)

The mother said to me today,
"What's the point of me?"

I guess you look for
meaning in other things.

Like?

After our kids, the rest is
just... It's filling, isn't it?

(TV CHATTER)

(CHUCKLES LIGHTLY)

'.. strangled. From behind...'

You evil fucking pig!

- W-What? - I know what you
are. I know what you did!

Wh... Claire? Sweetheart, where you going?

I'm going to my sister's.

(CLAIRE SOBS) Do you think I'd
stay here another second with you?

- What?
- (DOOR SLAMS)

Wh... L-Les?

(STUTTERING) Yeah, it's
Dad. Look, I'm sorry.

It's happened again.

I'm so sorry about this, Tim.

I did invite her in but she
wanted to wait outside.

I don't know where Carol is, Les.

I don't know why this man is in her house.

Carol doesn't live here any
more, Mum. Shall we get you home?

Yes, I... I want to see Eric.

- I want Eric.
- Yeah, let's go and see Dad.

Thanks again.

Yeah, well, that all chimes
with the original MISPER reports,

a grand total of 17 sheets
of A4 over eight years.

Did you manage to trace any
of the officers she spoke to?

Yeah, I got three main ones,

one of whom's dead, the other two retired,

- and only one of them remembered
anything about the case. - Yeah?

Which was?

Well, he... felt it was open and shut.

Jimmy was a runaway and ditched
his violent, alcoholic parents.

She said she told them he loved
his mum and they were very close.

Yeah, he said that she said that.

So?

Well, the copper I spoke to...

he kept refering to her
er, "coloured husband",

"interracial marriage" and erm...

"coffee-coloured kid".

Er, I'm not sure how much credence
he gave Mrs Sullivan's opinions.

'70s, eh? Good times (!)

Ta.

(TV CHATTER)

You said on the phone
you remembered her, Mum.

'Beth Laws' you said her name was.

I'd have never have rented her the room

if I'd seen her head properly.

She wore a hat.

Why did you need to see her head, Mum?

She were a skinhead.

And her boyfriend.

Well, you wouldn't have known it
from when she knocked on the door.

(SCOFFS) Butter wouldn't have melted.

I had to get my brother and
his mates round in the end

to chuck 'em out.

Only there a few weeks but...

the way they was...

The things I could hear them saying

about the Pakistanis and the West Indians.

I got the carpets cleaned after they went.

Whole house felt filthy.

- MAN: Mum?
- Out in a sec, babes.

JIMMY: 'All going well, Mam.

I'm staying in Kentish Town
with some lads I met from Kirby.

One of them knows Uncle Robbo's
got me work hauling bricks...'

'Went to see a punk band last night.

The latest thing, apparently.
They were shite...'

'Mam, have you ever eaten a Bendy Burger?

It was brilliant...'

'You'll be pleased to hear
I went to church last week.

Got chatting to the
priest, Father Greaves.

Turned out to be an all right bloke,

even if he is a QPR supporter...'

'I watched an NF rally last
week from my bedroom window.

It was horrible. The stuff
they were screaming.

And the police weren't
even that bothered...'

'I hope you got the cash OK.

Would've sent more but I've
just bought myself a car...'

'Your little Jimmy has a girlfriend now,

and she's beautiful and
I really like her...'

'Lots of love, your Jimmy.'

(PHONE BUZZES)

Lab just texted. Confirmed it's Jimmy.

BT have identified the
number next to Frankie C.

From 1973 to 1987, that
number was registered to...

.. Mr Gordon Fenwick.

I've counted three murder
cases against the Fenwicks.

No convictions.

OK. That's interesting.

- Let's have a catch-up with everyone
first thing tomorrow morning. - Sure.

DISTANT WOMAN: Hello?

Hi, love.

And these I didn't pinch from a grave.

- Thank you.
- (CHUCKLES)

- I might moan at you more often. - Huh.

OK, er...

Tuesday's bolognese or Wednesday's fish?

Er, Tuesday's bolognese will be fine.

- Late tonight?
- Mm. I was at the food bank meeting.

Of course you were. So
are we all ready to go?

Starting next Thursday.

And we got Morrisons on board
today, as well, which is great.

That's fantastic. Aw, well done, you.

I spoke to Caroline today.

She said that you went with
her to her scan yesterday?

Mm. (CHUCKLES) Just a bit of hand-holding.

You know? Ten minutes or so.

She was really touched.

Well, just trying to be around a bit more.

Good. We like having
you around a bit more.

Beth or Elizabeth Laws
approximately matches the age

of the tenant described by Mrs Leeming,

has eight convictions
between 1975 and 1978.

Drugs, shop-lifting, D-and-D and an ABH.

- She serve time?
- Six months suspended for the ABH.

- Which was? - An assault
on a West Indian shopkeeper.

Alongside this man, Vincent Erskine,

who nine years later was convicted

of the murder of a
Pakistani postal worker.

Get him up.

And we think this
could've been the same man

- that she rented this room with?
- Yeah.

His name appears as the boyfriend
on several of her arrest sheets.

Anyway, the ABH gave me

a probation officer and a social worker.

Which in turn chucks up a file

detailing a name change in 1988 to Wilton.

She got married.

And even better, an address that
matches current council tax records.

- And Erskine? - Died 14 years
ago in prison of hepatitis C.

Excellent work, Murray. We
have our first living link

to someone who we can assume
knew Jimmy. Well done.

Jake... no pressure, mate (!)

- (CHUCKLING)
- Two key names so far.

Arlingham Place records
confirm that Jimmy Sullivan

stayed sporadic nights over a
six-month period in early '76.

That's confirmed stays of June that year.

And the name Mr Slater in the diary
probably refers to an Eric Slater,

who was a bookkeeper for the
hostel for most of its incarnation,

- but he was certainly working there
when Jimmy was a resident. - OK.

Also now we have Elizabeth Laws' name.

Can you also check if either she
or Erskine ever stayed there?

And there's erm, a mention of
er... a Father Robert Greaves

in some of Jimmy's postcards home.

He seems to be associated
with the hostel in some way.

The records I have obviously
only detail paid employees.

See if you can finding
anything relating to him.

And Karen, see if you can track him
down through the church as well.

And lastly, Murray,

can you see what the Fenwick
family is up to these days?

OK? I think that's it.
Well done, everyone.

That is really good work.

Maybe I'm just old fashioned. To me,
it's a common courtesy to call ahead.

Yeah, do accept our apologies, Mr Cross.

Please, call me 'Sir Phillip'.

So... what was his name again?

James Sullivan.

Er, but you would have almost
certainly known him as 'Jimmy'.

And why might I have known him?

If we could come on to that.

Sorry. No, I don't remember
anybody by that name.

Can you tell me anything more about him?

Oh, I... I can do better than that.

Here we go. That was taken about
six months before he died.

17 years old in that.

Sorry. I wish I could help you.

OK, er... no problem.

Er, could I just ask, then,

if you recognise this
phone number, Sir Phillip?

01 946 09 27.

Well, 01 is obviously
an old London number.

Aside from that, no, I don't. Should I?

It was written next to your
name in the addresses section

of a 1976 diary belonging to Mr Sullivan.

Er, sorry, when I say
"your name", I mean...

Well, it's when you used your first name.

Erm...'Frank'.

'F-Frankie'.

Do I need a lawyer?

Oh, well, that's entirely up to you.

As I think my colleague explained to you,

this really is just a
fact-finding mission but...

if you think you need a lawyer,
we're very happy to come back.

All that says is 'Frankie
C'. It could be anyone.

OK, and do you recognise
any of the other names?

No, I don't recognise
any of the other names.

OK. No problem.

- We done?
- Er, there's one more thing. Erm...

- The Fenwick brothers --
- You know what? I think we are done.

I don't know his lad or anything
about what happened to him

but I do know how much you lot love a
celebrity fish wriggling on your hooks.

Doesn't matter if they've done nothing,

- just makes you look like you're doing your job
a bit better than you frequently are. - (BLEEP)

You wanna talk more, fine,

but I want my lawyers present if we're
dragging up ancient history like the Fenwicks.

Cara.

Can you show DI Khan, DCI
Stuart to the lifts, please?

Thank you so much for
your time, Sir Phillip.

No problem. Nice to meet you.

We'll be in touch.

Thanks.

- Shorter than he looks on the telly.
- And fatter.

(SHOUTING AND CHEERING)

Good afternoon. Elizabeth Wilton?

- Yes.
- Come on. Come on, lads.

[.. and DCI Stuart, Bishop
Street police station...]

Curtis? You're in charge.

Two minutes.

You OK, love?

They're police officers, Ray.

They just wanna ask some
questions about er...?

An historical case.

- What historical case?
- She'll be fine, Mr...?

Wilton. I'm her husband.

Shouldn't be long. Just going to the
changing block to find somewhere private.

- Want me to come with, love?
- She'll be fine, Mr Wilton.

- How did he die?
- His skull was smashed in.

A hammer, baseball bat, we're not sure,

but er, blunt instrument
trauma. They call it.

Sorry, no, I don't know him.

- No? - No, or if I ever did, I
don't remember him now, I'm afraid.

Any ideas why your name
might've been in his diary?

No.

OK, no worries.

So where were you living
in 1976, Mrs Wilton?

Various squats and flats around London.

I was a... little bit lost back then.

How d'you mean? "Lost".

It took me a little while to find my feet

when I moved up from Crawley and er...

I ended up having some problems
with alcohol, other stuff.

Do you remember ever staying
at a hostel in Willesden

called Arlingham House?

- No, I don't think so.
- How about a rented room in Lisson Grove,

in the house of a Mrs Leeming?

- No, sorry.
- Well, let me help you out.

Because she remembers a girl
called Beth staying with her.

Beth Laws -- that is your
maiden name, isn't it?

- Yes. - She remembers a Beth
Laws staying for a couple of weeks,

and then throwing her out because
she wouldn't pay her rent.

Neither her nor erm...

her boyfriend.

Was this your boyfriend,
Mrs Wilton? Vincent Erskine.

I went out with him for a
few months 38 years ago.

We have a number of co-convictions
spanning nearly two years.

I didn't know this boy Jimmy.
I would never have hurt anyone.

OK. Maybe just say you just...
you just can't remember.

I'd remember that.

Well, tell me if you remember this.

- August of 1977...
- Please.

.. you were convicted of a violent
assault on a West Indian shopkeeper.

That was Erskine, not
me. I tried to stop him.

Both sentenced to six months imprisonment,

suspended for two years.

Erskine, a man who,
only a few years later,

robbed an Asian post office worker
before stabbing him to death.

Did Erskine ever mention
staying at a hostel?

- I don't remember.
- Do you have any recollection

of him ever mentioning a Jimmy Sullivan?

I don't remember.

Well, have a think about erm,

what we've discussed today. Mrs Wilton.

Erm, if you think you can help
us, in any way erm, just...

.. call me.

How could I be a racist?
You've seen my husband.

Maybe not now. But then?

No. Not now, not then, not ever.

Yeah, OK. Give us a shout.

Yeah, do that. Bye.

(SIGHS) That was Jake.

According to the records, she
stayed at the house eight times

between January and November 1976...

five of them nights when Jimmy was there.

- And Erskine?
- Still checking.

She's a good little liar.

I think we'd all have to give her that.

'Erm, yes, Father Greaves is
very much still practising.'

One of our more dynamic priests, in fact.

Great. Can you give me
his contact details?

(CLEARS THROAT) So erm,
how'd they get your name?

It was in this boy's diary, apparently.

Oh.

But you er... definitely
didn't know him, right?

I said I didn't remember him, Ray.

If someone mentioned the names of people
you'd met once or twice 40 years ago,

would you remember them all?

Nah. Probably not. (CHUCKLES)

No. Exactly.

(DOOR SLAMS)

Erm... Hmm...

- Hi, love.
- Hey.

There's a shoebox on the kitchen
table with some letters in it.

They were written to your mum.

20 years ago.

I found them.

Hidden away after she died.

I'd like you to read them.

- S-Sorry, what did you say?
- I'm off out for the evening.

W-What letters?

Just read them, love,
please. Don't wait up!

(PHONE)

- 'Hello?'
- Hi. It's erm, it's Robert Greaves.

- Oh, Rob. Hi.
- 'Erm, listen, Geoff.'

I-I just wanted to put your mind
at rest about the bookkeeping thing.

Er, it turns out that Grace er...

'.. accidentally put a cheque
into a personal account,

couple of years ago. Erm...

She was a bit overworked
at the time, I think.

Anyway, I've transferred the right amount

into the diocesan account so...

well, it's all sorted.

Oh. Oh, OK, well, that
sounds simple enough.

'And er... I'd appreciate it if
you didn't mention this to Grace.'

She's at a bit of a low
ebb at the moment, so...

- 'Oh, sorry to hear that, Rob.'
- No, no, it's all right. Just er...

She just probably needs
a good holiday, really.

(CHUCKLES) We both do.

No problem. Mum's the word.

Good. Thanks. All right, thanks, Geoff.

Sorry, one quick thing, Robert.
Did the police get hold of you?

- The police? - 'Yeah, I got a call
from a police officer earlier today

asking for your contact details.'

- Oh, no, no.
- Oh. Right, well...

they're investigating some
historic case, apparently...

'.. and they thought you
might have some information.'

Historic?

Er, what did they mean, historic?

No idea. They wouldn't tell me.

Very old case, I guess, but er...

hey, I put in a good word for
you so you should be all right.

(CHUCKLES) Yeah, thanks.

'Anyway, they wanted it pronto...'

.. so I'm sure they'll be in touch soon.

Yeah. OK. Thanks, Geoff.

- Er, yeah.
- 'Well, night then, Robert.'

Yes, night.

But we asked you, both myself and
the Press Office, Sir Phillip,

we asked you repeatedly if there
was anything you needed to tell us.

And there wasn't. There's
absolutely nothing in it.

How many times? It doesn't
matter if there's nothing in it.

What matters is that by the time

the police work out there's nothing in it,

we will have lost five
points in the polls.

That's why we vet.

That's why we ask for full disclosure.

Because perception is
as important as reality.

So when we ask you if there's
anything you need to tell us,

it's not up to you to decide what
is and isn't fucking important.

It's for --

I've had a very bad day, Liam.

Don't make me make it worse.

(BREATHES SIGH OF RELIEF)

ERIC: There. Sleep well, love.

I love you, Eric. I'm sorry
I keep getting confused.

Don't be silly. W-We're all allowed
to be a bit confused now and again.

- Are we going to be all right?
- Of course we are.

We've got the party to look forward to.

There. Night-night.

'Hi. This is Joanna. I can't
take your call right now.

- Please leave a message.'
- (BLEEP)

Hi, Jo-Jo, it's me.

Er... I need to talk to
you as soon as possible.

Erm...

I'll call you first thing.