Whitechapel (2009–2013): Season 1, Episode 3 - Episode #1.3 - full transcript

This is my home.

My son picked up that parcel.

My job to keep this stuff outside
the house, not let it in the door.

I let 'em down.

It's Mary Bousfield's kidney.

Half of it.
Half? Jesus.

Get it off my table!

This letter came with the package.

It's handwritten, addressed to you.

I think it's safe to assume
it's from the killer.

What's it say?
It says,



"Mr Miles, sir,

I send you half the kidney
I took from one woman,

reserved it for you."

"The other piece I fried and ate.
It was very nice."

"I may send you the bloody knife
that took it out

if you only wait a while longer."

"Catch me when you can."

Exactly the same
as what the Ripper wrote.

What? I've done my research as well,
you know.

Handwriting's unusual,
the way he's shaped the letters.

It's eastern European.

I've done a lot of courses.

A woman was murdered in one of your
vans. We need to find the driver.

With all due respect, Mr Maduro,
you don't have a filing system.



If you can't help
we'll get the VAT man.

He'll have this sorted in no time.
No! No! VAT - not necessary!

I need a secretary, but how do I ask
someone to work in this place?

Ah - no, I have a filing system!

Please, let me think!
Mr Maduro...

It is coming to me!
The night before last, you say.

KFC.

I have many drivers.
All hard workers, you know.

Poles, Albanians -
you know what I'm saying.

That's off the books, then?
Everyone wants cash, don't they?

Ha! KFC.

Ha. I told you I have system.

Driver's name will be in there.

We're going to release Buchan.
No no no! Charge him.

How? We've no evidence of collusion.
I'll think of something.

We believe the killer
relies on him for advice.

Mary Kelly is his most complex
murder. He'll have questions.

We give him his mentor back -
let him get in touch.

Fine. We put him on surveillance.
PHONE RINGS

DI Chandler.
I've got a name for the driver

of the van, sir.
Works at the hospital.

Have you got a pen?
I'll have to spell it.

'Go ahead.'
Anthony Pricha.

Buchan - out.

Am I free?
Yeah.

I failed you all.

I failed poor Mary,
failed the inquiry -

failed all those
who had faith in me.

Oh, shut up.

Dr Cohen, this is DS Miles.
Do you have a minute?

Yeah,
but if this is about Emma Jones,

you should talk to Dr Phillips.
He treated her when she came in.

John, this is DI Chandler, the
detective I was telling you about.

I'm afraid Emma Jones
is still in a coma.

But I'd be happy to help if I can.

We're looking for a porter,
Anthony Pricha.

The morgue man?
The morgue man?

I'll show you where to find him.

Hello?

Great. He's not here.

Wait a moment.

This is Anthony Pricha.

So you're the morgue man?

You must enjoy
the company of the dead.

The dead...I don't care.
I want to sleep.

'You're 23, is that right?'
'Yes.'

(Phew...) Well, I don't look
too good for my age,

but come on. 23?

What the hell you been playing at,
son?

I lived through a war.
In Kosovo?

Yes.

And I...I...I see my family killed.

I see my house burned.

I am shot.

For them, I'm dead man.

But I live.

I come to England.

I work. I eat.

But I am dead man.

You must get flashbacks.
Nightmares.

I bet sometimes you feel like
you're going to explode.

So what do you do then?

Do you go and look for a woman?

For woman, you need time.
You need money.

Why waste time and money, eh?

You can do what you like
once they're dead.

Hmph!

I don't know what you say to me.

How long have you worked
for AC Maduro Health & Safety?

I no work there.
Driving vans,

for Mr Maduro?
I do not know Mr Maduro.

Well, he knows you. He hired you.

No. Not me.

All right, Anthony.
Tell me about the work you do.

'I work in hospital.'

I work in kitchen in Brick Lane.

Sometimes I work in factory,
but it's no good there I think.

They do not always pay.
But Maduro pays, cash in hand.

I do not know him.
If I know him, I tell you.

Have you heard of Jack the Ripper?

The experts reckon he was
a foreign fella like yourself.

I no work for Maduro.
No work for Jack.

There's a Russian.
He knows where to get jobs,

but he's bad man I think.

You're going to stop with
all this helpless asylum-seeker crap

and start answering
the bloody questions,

or you'll regret the day
you set foot in this country.

My mother is dead.

My father is dead.

My brother, my sisters are dead.

What can you do to me?

I have nothing for you to take!

We need Maduro to ID Pricha,
and get past this whole pretence

of him not knowing about the van.

I'll fetch him myself.

McCormack, trace the parcel.

See if anyone remembers
Pricha sending it to Miles. Guv.

I hate witnesses.
Necessary evil.

They're all boss-eyed,
with memories like goldfish.

Can't make a case without them.

OK.

Take your time.
Look at each man carefully.

When you're satisfied,
tell me which man you hired

to drive for your company.

Uh, you made a mistake.

Is the wrong line-up.
Anthony is not even there.

Yeah, I remember that parcel.

Really?
Well, I remember HIM.

I KNEW he was up to something.
You can tell, innit?

Ugh, didn't like him at all.
He made me think of the devil.

What do you mean, the devil?

Like an evil presence, you know?
Ugh!

He has this parcel,
and he wants to know

is first-class post 100% reliable.

He doesn't want his parcel
to go missing.

I tell him about recorded delivery,
he don't want to know. I say,

"You've got legs - why not walk it?
It's only round the corner, innit?"

I didn't see why he had to post it
when he could have easily taken it.

Can you describe this man?

5'9", medium build,
not fat or nothing,

um...staring eyes,

like a wolf.

He had a hat on, one of those blue
felt ones with a little peak.

Big moustache. I thought maybe he
wasn't English, but he sounded OK.

And the colour of his hair?
His eyes?

Dark. Very dark. All over.
You mean black?

I mean his aura.

So if you saw him again,
would you recognise him?

Yes, I would. Want to see him?

We have CCTV.
I don't believe this.

That's fantastic, Mrs Buki.

I wish all witnesses were like you.

No, not him.

It's further on, actually.

That's him.

Are you sure?
Yeah. That's who gave me the parcel.

See? That moustache and the hat?

Stop. That's the man I hire.

That's Anthony.

The killer stole Pricha's identity

and used false documents to obtain
a job at AC Maduro Health & Safety.

The Anthony Pricha we arrested
had no idea his ID had been taken.

He's a genuine refugee,
and has no connection to the murders.

THIS is the man who sent half of
Mary Bousfield's kidney to DS Miles.

THIS...is the man Mr Maduro hired.

It's the same man.

This is our killer.

I know him!

I mean, I've seen him before.
Get the mug books.

Find him.

I've seen him. I know it. I remember
those eyes. They gave me the creeps.

Give him some air!

Take your time.
Look at one face at a time.

Saw his face recently.

There was a picture...

I know him. I just know it. I...

Is that him?
Yeah!

Yeah, that's him.

That's Severin Klosowski,

hanged 1903 for poisoning his wife.
Oh no.

Abberline, the detective who chased
the Ripper, said he was the one.

We're not getting any closer
to this guy, and he knows it.

Sorry, sir.
Oh, it's all right.

Be on Traffic tomorrow.

Nothing remains
of no.29 Hanbury Street.

And this is as close as we can get

to where the body of Annie Chapman
was found in the back yard.

Annie Chapman had three children,

Emily Ruth, Annie Georgina
and John.

Poor John was a cripple,

and Emily died of meningitis.

Annie took to drink,
and her marriage fell apart -

Oh, get to the murder!
ALL: Yes!

Isn't it enough for you
that the poor woman died?

The New Ripper's
been killing them round here.

Why don't you take us
to those murder sites?

At least they exist!
Yeah! Come on!

This is a classic Ripper tour.

Where's your decency,
your compassion?

What?
Murder is not entertainment!

Go home.

Crawl back under your rocks!
Show us the murder sites!

No.

I'm sorry.

I can't do this any more.

At least give us our money back.
We paid our money!

Here! Come back!

'Police have come under fire
for being slow to react

to the spate of Jack the Ripper
copycat murders in the east end.'

'Fear has gripped Whitechapel...'

'It's one week since Mary Bousfield,

a community support officer, was
found murdered in Mitre Square,

thought to be the third victim
of the Jack the Ripper copycat...'

'..waiting game, if they are right
about the theory...'

'..according
to leading Ripper experts,

the final murder will take place
on November 9.'

'All the police know is
that the victim will have red hair

and the murder will be acted out
in London's east end.'

"The Ripper destroyed her face.

He cut off her breasts, gutted her

and stripped the skin
from her thighs."

"Mary's heart was cut out
and never found."

'..police are now...'
'..happen anywhere,

and police are no nearer
to pinpointing where.'

"All we know is this."

"Mary Kelly had long red hair,

and her last meal consisted
of fish and potatoes."

'Public concern focuses on the lack
of perceived police presence

in the east end...'
'Police are under enormous pressure

to catch the killer
before he strikes again...'

Where's McCormack?

Interviewing his third Ripper
of the day.

All the loonies are confessing.
I know.

Sanders is on the Buchan shift.

Everyone else is out interviewing
Mary Bousfield's friends.

The DI seems to be living here.
D'you think he's all right?

No.

I know what you need.

You got to eat.

You got to focus.
You got to eat.

What, you got no appetite?

We've got two days until he copies
the murder of Mary Kelly.

I've been out all night,
retracing his steps,

over and over, trying to work out
how he's going to do it.

Well, this murder could happen
anywhere, in any flat.

She was torn apart. He completely...

he completely ripped her to pieces.

You were right about me.
All PR and paperwork.

I can't hide it any more.
I'm - I'm not up to it.

I don't think there's one of us
that finds it easy.

When we're at the scene,
we get on with it.

There's a process. We're trained.

But once we're on our own,
it's different.

McCormack dreams of his perfect pub.

Sanders takes his kids out.

He thinks we don't know,
but Kent has a little cry

in the bogs or the car park.

You say you're not up to it.
Being up to it

has got nothing to do with the dead.

Being up to it's turning up next
morning at 9:00am no matter what.

So eat up, sir.

What about you? What do you do?

When I get home
I go straight down to my garden,

to my pond.

I've got a nice bit of seating
there, away from the house,

a bit of privacy,

and I feed my fish.

I got carp, real beauties.

They come up,
take the food out of my hand.

Them fish save me,
my job, my marriage.

You want to get yourself some fish.

Better than crying in car parks.

Thank you all for coming.

Glad you made it, sir.
For some time...

Thought you should see this.
What's happening?

as the world's premier expert...

It's not a Ripper tour.
It's something else.

Many of you have read
my best-selling book

Like other authorities on Jack,
I have long believed

that Mary Kelly was the last victim
of the Ripper.

Well,

I was wrong.

I would like it to be known
that in my expert opinion,

Mary Kelly was NOT murdered
by the Ripper.

Kelly was murdered in her lodgings
on her bed,

but Jack always killed
in the street.

Mary was torn to pieces in a frenzy,

but Jack always had an objective
and he was controlled.

I believe Catherine Eddowes
was Jack's last victim,

here in Mitre Square.

After her, there were no more
Ripper killings.

Do you truly believe that?

I'm prepared to destroy
my life's work and start again,

such is the force of my conviction.

He's lost the plot.

No. I know what he's doing.

Are you going to be OK?
Mm.

That's all I could think of
to stop him.

It's not much,
but it's all I've got.

There's still your inquiry, though.

Well, nobody else wants my job.

They just want to stand back
and watch me go down in flames.

Tell me, Joe, who do you think
was Jack the Ripper?

What does it matter?
I'm serious.

If you can't decide
who the Ripper is,

how will you catch YOUR killer?
It's completely irrelevant.

Well, the killer's decided
who the Ripper was.

You've got to see things
through his eyes.

This is your last chance.

Who killed Mary Kelly?

I've done all I can, Joe.

It's down to you now.

Oh, lovely! Oh, look at that!
It's a board game!

It's like a game,
and helpful to the inquiry.

We'll play it! Happy birthday, Skip.

I'll get it.
Hey, give him a beer.

Joe! Lovely. Come in.

Did you come on your own?
Yeah.

Happy birthday.
Thanks!

Well, you could have brought
a friend,

or a...partner.

You think I'm gay?
Wouldn't matter if you were.

I'm not gay.

No. Well, no one is on the Job,
obviously.

But don't you worry.
My boys are above all that.

I appreciate your openness
and inclusivity!

Come and have a drink, and thanks
for the fish food. Very thoughtful.

He's obviously covering his tracks.
Buchan's trying to prevent a murder

by convincing the killer
Mary Kelly never happened.

You can't change history.
He's trying to save a life.

You should have seen him
burning his books. He was gutted.

You may have to change your mind
about Buchan.

Irritating, interfering, pompous -

I thought you'd appreciate
the importance of a man's reputation,

and what it costs him
when he loses it.

Buchan's destroyed a name he took 20
years to build. That means something.

Yeah, all right.

Maybe he didn't know who he was
talking to on the website.

He's an unwitting accomplice.
Yeah, all right.

So if Buchan doesn't lead
to the killer...

..where does that leave us?

I mean, the next killing's
tomorrow night.

I'm going to check on my fish.

Beer?
Oh, cheers.

Cheers.

If you'd been a copper back then,

if you were Abberline,

who would you fancy for the Ripper?

Yeah, I've thought about that a lot.
Yeah, me too.

What if the original Jack
was also wearing disguises?

What if Jack was a woman?

A crazed abortionist,
stealing uteruses?

Yeah, that's likely.
Nurses make great serial killers.

Jill the Ripper.
(Ha!)

Can't have kids herself,
so she steals women's wombs,

stops them from having
what she can't have.

No. Women poison, or they shoot.

Their victims are usually
the very young or the very old.

All right then. Whodunit?

Well, I think Jack would have been
in his thirties.

He was local, lived alone,

probably in the area
where the murderers took place.

He was a labourer, shabbily dressed,

well known to the prostitutes,
who trusted him.

He knew two victims quite well,
Catherine Eddowes and Mary Kelly,

since he mutilated their faces.
OK. You've given me a profile.

So now give me a name.

George Hutchinson.

A witness saw him with Mary Kelly
before she died.

After that witness gave her
statement, Hutchinson gave another,

saying he'd seen her
going off with another man.

Hutchinson's statement
was incredibly detailed,

even down to the man's
horseshoe-shaped tiepin.

And we know what witnesses are like.
No memory, and boss-eyed.

He talked about the colour
of the man's spats,

the fact that he was carrying a
parcel covered in American cloth,

he remembered brown kid gloves -

all at 2:00am,
by an unlit passageway? Please.

He invented that man,
without question,

to avoid being the last person
to see Mary Kelly alive.

Was Hutchinson ever a suspect?
No.

The police believed his story about
a posh man in an astrakhan coat.

They went looking for somebody
quite unlike Hutchinson.

I still prefer my mad bird theory.

Fire Investigation
have identified the accelerants

used in the Wilkes St fire.
They took their bloody time.

Benzoin, phenyl, collodion.
That mean anything to you?

Maduro had them in his vans!
Come on.

Where to, Maduro's?
No. Wilkes Street.

I think the killer
set fire to this building

the night of the first murder, to
set the right historical atmosphere.

But he had no blueprints
to work from, no coroner's report.

He was improvising,

so he might have made a mistake.

It says here
there were three seats of fire.

There...there...

..and over there.

He knew what he was doing, then?
No, just the opposite.

A professional arsonist
would set one blaze

and completely gut the building.

This guy didn't trust his tools.
He went belt and braces.

He set too many fires, which ate up
all the oxygen in the room...

..and stopped the fire
from spreading.

The killer stopped e-mailing Buchan
after the first murder, didn't he?

Yeah, the same night as the fire.

Well, I think I know why, then.

Could be the killer's computer.

Get this examined straight away.

Miles, we think we found
the killer's computer,

at Wilkes St.
'That's great, boss.'

So are you coming in?
'No. I've something I need to do.'

George Hutchinson lived
in the Victoria Working Men's Home,

at the epicenter
of where the murders took place.

It's a block of flats now.
I'm going to knock on a few doors.

Call it my eureka moment.
He's had a eureka moment.

Don't go in without backup.
It's a rough estate.

I'll be fine, Mother.

We'd better go and hold his hand.

Yeah, man, who that?
It's me, mate, innit?

Excuse me? Hello?

Hello? Can I - I was wondering -

Excuse me? Thanks for stopping.

Could I ask some questions
about some of your neighbours?

I'm down on whores,
and I shan't quit rippin' 'em

till I do...get...buckled.

Hm!
What did you say?

Ahh! Ohh...

Oh, my God!

Sir, you've got a head injury.
You need to go to hospital.

I'm not going anywhere.
You're as pretty as me now.

Not quite. I didn't hit every step
on the way down.

You ready, sir?

Do it.

Bloody hell.

Miles! In here.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Bloody hell. Sir!

There's more.

I can't believe this.

Oh, my God.

Bloody hell.

It's the leather apron.

Ugh...

I want Socos in here now. We need to
go through every inch of this place.

It's all here. Every last detail.

Is there anything about Mary Kelly?

Nothing we don't know. She lived
in Miller's Court with a Joe Barnet.

Her last meal was fish and potatoes.
That's really going to help.

Miller's Court's over the road.
Not now. It's a car park.

Well, what do you want me to say?

All we know is he's going
to rip her apart in her flat,

on her bed,
and recreate what happened -

The victim will have long red hair?

Yeah.

Well, I think I've found her.

I've seen her before.
She's a nurse from the hospital.

Get her ID'd and under protection.
Go. Now.

McCormack, go with him.

There must be something amongst all
this that tells us who the guy is.

Excuse me, love?

Excuse me. Do you know this woman?
I need to find her.

TV: '..physician, Aesclepius,

who enraged the gods by bringing
a dead man back to life.'

'As punishment
for this manmade miracle,

Zeus killed Aesclepius...

..but from respect for his ability,

placed the dead physician's soul
amongst the stars...'

Oh, this is a nightmare. There are
dozens of birth certificates.

One of them must be his.
I don't recognise any names.

Yeah. Kent?

Her name is Frances Coles.
She's a midwife.

They've ID'd her.
Frances Coles, a midwife.

Have they made contact?
Have you made contact?

'She's not answering.'
He can't get her on the phone.

'Her address is Clerkenwell Rd...'

They've got an address.
Send a tactical unit. Get Tactical.

We'll meet you there.
No! We need to find HIM.

The answer must be here somewhere.

The last murder will be tonight.
Something must point to who he is.

These are obviously
false identities.

I think the real man disappeared
years ago, and we're left with this.

As far as we're concerned, he's an
unidentified person. A John Doe.

John Doe? Oh my God!

You know what the police called
a John Doe of Jewish origin in 1888?

What?
David Cohen.

Who's David Cohen?
Dr David Cohen!

We can postpone if you like.
No, don't be silly. Come in.

Sit down. Make yourself at home.

I don't want to be alone tonight,
anyway.

Where's John?
Couldn't get away from A&E.

Ah. Typical.
He said to say sorry.

He wanted me
to really look after you.

I really hope you like fish pie.

Mm! I love it.

Yeah.
We're just about to go in now, sir.

They're going in.

That was wonderful. Thank you.

Great. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Where's your bathroom?

It's through the bedroom
and on the left.

I hope you like ice cream.

Any thoughts on music?

Clear.

Clear?
Clear.

All clear, boss.
Shit.

She's not here.
What do you mean?

The flat's empty.

Search the flat for anything
that might tell us where she is.

Mum, dad, brothers, sisters,
boyfriends - whatever.

I want every address within
a five-minute walk of where I am now.

She's close, I know it. Just round
the corner, just like Mary Kelly.

We need to look for an address
where she might be. Go!

Yes, yes, yes! Kent!

Got an address book, sir.
An address book.

NO!
Somerford St?

No. No, no. Nearer.

How about Leonard St?
Leonard St? It's miles away.

Nearer than that! Hutchinson lived
a stone's throw from Mary Kelly.

The address must be a street away.
'Like Wentworth St?'

Wentworth or Dawes St.
It's as near as that.

Come on, we're running out of time.

If we get this wrong, she's dead.

I've got one. Got one.
Hang on a sec.

It's Bethnal Green. Sorry.

Come here, you bitch!

I've found one.
Could be a boyfriend, really close.

A man called John Phillips,
237 Chapel Wharf Buildings,

Flower and Dean St.
Flower and Dean. Spot on. Got it!

NO!

How do you know
she's going to be there?

I know him now.
This is what he wants.

I can feel it, Miles. Trust me.
All right.

Dr Phillips's flat.
237. Fifth floor.

Who are you?
Mph!

Ohh...
Hm!

Gotcha, you bastard!

Ahh!

Ahh!

Agh! Ohh!

Check the girl. I'm all right.
Check the girl.

Are you all right?
(Yeah...)

Are you sure?

Miles, she's fine.

Miles?

Miles? She's fine...

Miles? Miles!

Emergency assistance required.
DS Miles is down.

Suspect on the run.
He's wearing scrubs.

It's OK. Just...just hang on. Please.

Just hang on.

OK. You're going to be OK.

You've failed.

With due respect, sir,
I saved two lives.

That lunatic is still free.
How long till he kills again?

What atrocities are still to come?

He won't kill again.
Why should he stop?

We don't even know who he is.

We know nothing
about his real identity.

9 November is over. He doesn't get
another chance to kill a Mary Kelly.

He's failed.
Nothing left to live for.

He'll want to die
and preserve his anonymity.

He wants to be a myth,
like the first Jack.

I think if we monitor suicides in
the capital over the next two weeks,

he'll turn up.
Well, it's not your call any more.

You could have been great.
We had such ambition for you.

But now...

..I'm going to have to
cut you loose.

Nothing but a DI.

Thank you.

Your mother said I'd find you here.

Hello, Joe.

How are you, Ed?

I have to know.

You looked into his eyes.

What was he like?

He was just a man.

And I'm always amazed
at the evil men do.

Will you drink to her?

Yes, of course.

To you, Mary.

What will you do now?

Oh, my investigating days
are not over.

Wherever there's a mystery,
the unexplained,

the whiff of conspiracy,
I'll be there.

I'm you're the right man for the job.

Join me. We'd make a great team.

Boss!

We gotta go!

Would you like a lift?
No, no no.

You're very kind,
but I prefer the bus.

You see all of human life that way.

It's not all serial killers
and car chases

and saving the girl, you know.
I know that.

Gangland murder. Drug-related.
Domestic. Aggravated burglary.

Knock on the head for no reason
on a Friday night - Whitechapel.

You up for that?
I'm here, aren't I?

Two tea bags and milk, Skip.
Green tea, sir.

Want a biscuit?

They're wholemeal. Help you think.

Ah, ha!
All right, what have we got?

Stab wound to the chest.
Looks like a mugging gone bad.

It might be. Perhaps the killer wants
us to dismiss it as a random attack,

so we don't dig any deeper.
Oh, don't start.

Don't you have a nice desk
to go to?

No, I don't. Let's go.

I mean, with the greatest respect,

nine times out of ten, if it looks
like a mugging, it's a mugging.

And if it looks like a domestic,
it's a domestic.

But it wasn't last time, was it?
No, fair enough,

but that's the exception that proves the rule.
And if this is an exception?