Whitechapel (2009–2013): Season 3, Episode 3 - Episode #3.3 - full transcript

Who's that?

It's Judy's sister.

I think she's got her eye on me.

You ought to run!

You'll like this - Adolph Luetgert was a sausage
maker in Illinois. His wife disappeared,

and the police found her bones and
teeth in his sausage-making vat.

Ugh, so when was that, then? No idea!

Huh, there's something you don't know, Ed! 1897.

It's just something I read in the hairdresser's.

Yes, I did! Ssh. Oh, come on!

You're Joe, aren't you?
Judy thinks we might have lots in common.



Really? I don't really have any other
interests apart from work. So -

Well, maybe you need one.

Sir. Sir!

Sir, it's your turn. Er, no,
but - Everyone else has had a go.

Really? Thank you.

Huh!

She likes me. You're a natural.

I think you're a lucky man. I know.

Don't tell him. No, no, no!

Oh, hello. Good morning.

Come in. Morning.

Ray, you look awful.

Yeah, cheers

Have you tried lavender oil at bedtime,
a bit of baby massage?



Yeah, and then the baby wakes me up.

It's the colic.

Ah, well, she should try expressing her foremilk

and just giving Martha the hindmilk.

Yeah, I'll mention that. Worth a try.

So this is all that's been recovered so far.

Yeah, what can you tell us about it?
The plastic used to wrap the arm

is ordinary black bin liner,
the cheap kind you get in a corner shop.

Fingerprints? No matches.

And the arm itself?

Well, the growth plates have fused,
so the victim was an adult.

Hair distribution and muscle
mass would suggest a female.

Was she, erm...

Was she dead or alive when
the arm was...removed?

I could see no white cell migration here.

Long dead, then? Well, no rigor...

and also no putrefaction.

So I would tentatively put time
of death at more than 36 hours,

less than four days.

Could it be hospital waste,
a junior doctor's prank?

This isn't a surgical amputation.

This was removed quite brutally,

with a heavy, flat blade.

Like an axe? Exactly like an axe.

You're looking at a murder.

We're checking against the DNA database,

but it'll take some time to get a result.

The arm...was left here.

But we don't know where the fox found it,

so we don't have a crime scene.

Foxes are scavengers. They find a
source of food, they go back to it.

The fox knows where the dumpsite is.

So right now, our only witness...
is a wild animal.

Hello?

Ah yes, over here, on the international shelves.

What are you doing?

Plugging the gaps.

This is a wonderful resource,

but it's only a record of British crime.

I intend to make the archive complete

by creating files on significant
international cases.

You're making too much work for yourself.

I'm doing what needs to be done.

Oh, all right!

Can I help? Er, DI Chandler.

I need to know how to find a fox.

Any particular fox?

Er, yes.

Have you seen it before?

I know where it's been seen.
Well, then that's easy.

Foxes are territorial.

And around here, their territory is
about a quarter square mile each.

You go back...at night,

and you wait for your fox.

He'll be there.

The same fox?

One fox, one vixen, one den,

quarter mile squared.

A fox hunt?

Yes, tonight when it's dark.
You've been on many, have you?

With horse and hounds, yes.
This one will be a bit different, I think.

Sir.

You have a DI Norray here
to see you from Richmond.

Go on then.

Mina Norroy. DI Joseph Chandler.

DS Ray Miles.

How can we help you?

I'd heard you'd found an arm.

Well, this morning we found a torso.

It's wrapped in plastic. Bin liners.

Just like the arm. Maybe we have a match.

Kent! You muppet!

What do you think of her then?

Uptight, buttoned down.

All repressed, waiting for a release.

Yeah, phew! I'd tap it.

Why don't you make a move then?

Nah, you shouldn't shag above
your ranks. It gets weird.

How would you know? There might
have been a DCI back in the day.

Like two peas in a pod, aren't they?

A pair of DI twins, his 'n' hers.

For the time being, let's assume the
torso and arm belong to the same victim.

The torso's female and has a small tattoo of
a star on her left shoulder. That's useful.

To a point. Stars are the most common
tattoo for women in this country,

I looked it up on the internet.

The torso was found in the river,
at 6am by Putney Bridge.

Now, I've had a quick look at the tide tables

and my guess is it went into
the water at Whitechapel.

As far as I'm concerned, it's your inquiry.
I won't fight you for it.

I believe Dr Llewellyn is
your pathologist of choice,

so I took the liberty of
sending the torso to her.

Er, let me, er...

Good luck. Um...the torso was your find.

I'd appreciate your input.

I'd be happy to help where I can.

Most blokes, they see a girl they like,
they ask for her number.

You invite her input in a murder.

Some men can speak to an attractive woman

without trying to bed her. 'Attractive', ooh!

Oh, shut up!

Ed?

Dismemberment.

Yes, dismemberment.

That's two shelves, over here.

Disposed of in the river,
correct? That's right. Torso, yes.

Then, this is for you.

'The Thames Torso Mysteries of 1887 to 1889.'

Four dismembered bodies scattered across London,

transported by the Thames as far as Rainham,

some dumped as close as Pinchin Street.

A woman's torso audaciously left
at the site of New Scotland Yard.

These murders were around
the same time as the Ripper.

Why haven't I heard of them?

Well, apart from Elizabeth Jackson,
a prostitute,

the women were never identified.

Without names or faces,
they never really existed to the public.

There was no one to remember them.

Without faces? Mm.

I'm afraid they never found their heads.

'Jane Doe' not good enough for you?

Jane Doe's just another word for anonymous.

I want the team to remember she was
a real person, and care about her.

Why 'Agnes'? It's Keats.

Until we discover her identity,

she should have a name
that evokes beauty, not...

dismemberment and death.

Sir, have you got a minute?

It's just poetry, Miles, not some weird fetish.

Right, missing persons.
They found a girl called Ella Bowe.

Last seen in Whitechapel,
been missing about six months.

25 years old, 5' 4", 8 and a half stone

and with a star tattoo.

Who called it in? Her mum.

Over 18, not vulnerable.

No suspicious circumstances.

No, which is why her disappearance
has never been investigated.

Better cover all the bases.
Contact the mother, get DNA. OK.

Initial tests indicate that the
arm did come from this torso.

We're waiting for diatoms to see if the
arm has spent time in the river as well.

She was a young Caucasian woman,

aged 18 to 35, no children.

Slim, well nourished, healthy.

She was between five foot and five foot five.

She has a small star-shaped
tattoo on her shoulder,

which, judging by the
blurring and fading of the ink

is about four or five years old
and was exposed to the sun.

How did she die? Oh, there's gross
inflammation of the oesophagus,

and haemorrhages of the gastric mucosa

with excoriated areas extending
all the way down to the pylorus.

Haemorrhages on the surface
of the heart and lungs,

although there's no damage
to the respiratory mucosa,

though the lungs are pretty
congested and oedematous.

She was poisoned. What with?

I've no idea.

Not the usual acid or alkali.

This is like nothing I've ever seen before.

She'd have felt like she was
burning to death, from the inside.

So what exactly is Mr Buchan's role?
Good question!

He's an advisor, who provides
us with a different perspective.

He's a distraction! He's an asset.

An idiot.

Poisoners! One moment.

Edward Buchan, pleased to meet you.

Er, do you mind? No, no. Not at all.

In the Victorian era,
with the advent of life insurance

and the ready availability
of arsenic in flypaper,

there began the epidemic of poisoning...

and women discovered their metier as murderers.

Women are more likely to poison
or suffocate their victims,

and their victims are usually close
to them - family members or friends.

Mm, Mary Ann Cotton poisoned
her husbands and children.

21 victims over 20 years.

Mary Wilson killed four lovers using phosphorus,

and claimed they took it in
sexual stimulation pills.

But women don't dismember.

Poisoning followed by
dismemberment suggests a man,

like Dr Crippen.

I have scores of cases here.

Women poison.

If a man's prepared to dismember,
he's capable of violence.

Well, he'd stab or strangle.

So why bother with the poison?
The poisoning's the point.

Dismemberment's just clearing up.

So we're looking for someone who poisons
like a woman and dismembers like a man.

A couple? Ah, 'folie a deux',

the madness that overcomes lovers.

I could bring you files from
our new international section

on the Lonely Hearts Killers.
Or perhaps you'd be interested

in The Black-Eyed Borgia and her playboy lover -

Yeah, I think we've heard
enough to be going on with.

Thank you.

When will you know if it's Ella?
Might take a while, I'm afraid.

That's my daughter.

Oh, she's so beautiful.

Very musical child.
She used to sing in our church.

Why did she leave home?

We argued over her obsession with a band.

The Devil's Architects weren't famous
or successful or anything, but...

she thought they were wonderful.

The last time I heard from her,

she was working in a sweet shop by day

and going to gigs at night.

Well, that's not unusual for a girl of her age.

I haven't had any contact
from her in six months.

That is unusual, I promise you.

OK, thank you.

The fox dropped the arm here,
so we know this is part of its territory.

We'll fan out in a quarter mile
radius and wait for it to appear.

This is a fast animal, so be prepared to run.

Mansell, Riley, you go north.

Kent, Norroy, you go west. We'll take this area.

Good luck. Happy hunting.

Why don't you pair up with Norroy?

Because she's not my sergeant.
You should get to know her.

I do know her. She's
professional and analytical.

Well, it's a good match then.

Look, this isn't Jane Austen, you know.

You can't hang around making moo eyes
for decades and not say anything.

You see a girl you like, you say something.

Your DI is very good.

Yeah, he is.

I'm not so sure about your sergeant.

The boss is sure of him.

They might argue, but don't be fooled.

Nothing comes between them. Really?

What's the matter? Eva.

Aw, is she missing you already?

She doesn't believe I'm staking out a fox.

What does she think you're doing?

Playing away.

And have you been?

Six months of marriage and
you're cheating already?

I get bored.

You're a dickhead!

You are.

Unbelievable!

Miles?

Were you asleep?

Catnap. What, standing up?

Old Bobby trick.

Listen.

Something's coming.

There! There!

Keep quiet and try not to scare it.

Damn, it's seen us!

Which way did it go?

Follow Miles. Don't let it
out of your sight. Yes, sir.

Mansell, Riley, go round the back
but don't get too close. Yes, boss!

There it is, by the bins.

- Have you seen it?
- Down there.

This way!

Come on, down here. It's down here.
Let's go, let's go!

This way, this way!

There it is!

Look, over there!

We're never going to find it in here.

What about there, under that slab?

Could be it.

I can see something in there.
It's partially buried.

Quite far in. I don't think I can reach it.

Here. Oh, thanks.

You read my mind.

I've got it.

Ugh!

Call it in. This is DI Norroy.

Seal off the area, we have a crime scene.

Hold it. We've found a foot.

Good job. Bit of running. Some heroics.

If I was a bird, I'd be impressed.
I touched a severed foot.

If I don't clean my hands right now,
I'm gonna lose my mind. Thank you.

Look, I'll seal off the garden if
you want to take the house. Right.

Miles.

Hello?

Watch your step.

Jesus Christ!

Can you smell something?

Something's dead in here.

Hello?

Watch out! Whoa!

Jesus Christ!

It's a mantrap.

One more step and you'd
have triggered an avalanche.

Let's find another way.

Potions?

Or poisons.

What was that?

What the...?

Oh, my...

It's OK.

You're safe now. We'll get you out of here.

What's your name?

Who did this to you?

Is he...? Is he still in the house?

What?

I won't let you take me.

I'll never leave.

Never.

Come on, darling. Let's...

Boss, where are you?

Mansell! Get him out!

You take this. Anything you can.
Watch your back!

Jesus! Get out! Get out!

You guys all right? Yeah,
we're all right. Are you?

Yeah, I'm good. Let's get out of here.

Just stay there. OK. I'm gonna get a medic.

Stay there. I do feel a bit funny, mate.

It's all right. Don't move. OK?

We can't get into the house

till there's been a risk assessment.
Typical health and safety.

It's not a bad thing. The house is
designed to kill you. Never mind.

This back garden's a bloody graveyard.

Erm...where's your husband...Jack?

He's gone hunting.

Hunting? Explain what you mean by hunting.

Looking for useful things.

People are always throwing
away perfectly good furniture.

And Jack can't bear it.

He can see the use in things.

He goes out on hunts and he brings things home.

When will he be back?

I don't know.

Weeks. Months.

It depends how long it takes him

to find whatever it is he's looking for.

Listen, I have been here for hours.

Who's going to feed the foxes?

How often do you feed them?

Every day.

What do you feed them?

Meat, of course.

What kind of meat?

On the bone. It's good for their teeth.

Where's the meat from?

Jack finds it.

If they don't eat, they'll die.

They have cubs.

We found a human foot in your garden.

Did you give it to the foxes?

You're lying.

We have a picture.

I see what you're doing.

I know what you're up to. And what's that?

You disapprove of me,

my house and the way I live, don't you?

You think that because my house is cluttered

and in disarray that my mind must be too.

But Detective Inspector,
I know what you're doing.

You, my neighbours, the council...

you all just want me out of my house.

In a home. Out of the way. Gone.

Thanks a lot. Cheers.

Hello.

Morning, what can I get you? DC Meg Riley.

I'm making enquiries into the
whereabouts of Ella Bowe.

I can't help very much.

She worked here for a few months
then one day she didn't come in.

I never heard from her again.

Did she ever mention a band?
The Devil's Architects.

Oh, yes. She only came to
Whitechapel to be close to the band.

She was devastated when they split up.
They don't exist anymore?

No. Gone. OK. Thank you.

OK.

The DNA tests have come back
and this girl is not Ella Bowe.

That's disappointing.

Also, I can tell you she
isn't on the DNA database.

So, no arrests, no convictions.

Probably not a prostitute
like the Thames Torso Murders.

She's not been reported missing.
She could have been here from abroad.

To study or work. So no-one's
gonna tell us her name, then. No.

And if you want to know her name,

you're gonna have to find this poor girl's head.

Right. Listen up. Attention, please.

This is our prime suspect. Jack Grace.

6ft 4. 18 stone.

In the 1970s, he was a fashion photographer.

Adelina was his muse. Now,
they bought the house in Napier Street

and did it up and it was
considered a beautiful house.

It featured in magazines.
No-one knows what happened.

They started hoarding.
Adelina says that Jack is out hunting.

He's a big man. Whitechapel's
a small place. Find him.

Yes, sir. Come on, Kent. Let's go. I'm driving.

Sir.

I'm sorry. I've hit a dead end with Ella Bowe.

She moved to Whitechapel
when she followed a band

called the Devil's Architects but
vanished when the band split up.

She didn't go back home?
No and the mum's very religious.

And disapproving.

Once a groupie, always a groupie.

She's probably found another
band to chase. Meg, sorry.

You don't need to worry.
I just need a bit more time.

No. The body isn't hers.

Oh. A wild goose chase, then?

No. Ruling someone out is never
a waste of time. Thank you.

What is this?

Black walnut.

It treats ringworm.

And opens your bowels.

Do you make these yourself? Of course.

What's this? What's this one?

Horse chestnut for circulation.

And this?

Tansy.

Jack has worms.

Oh. That one kills cats.

They kept coming in the
house pissing everywhere.

Dirty animals. Their eyes are dead.

So you poison them? If they
come in uninvited, of course.

They're vermin. What about foxes?
They're vermin, aren't they?

They're beautiful...and wild.

And they never came in.

You can't compare my foxes with those cats.

Who else did you give this one to?

No-one.

Just the cats.

What about a young woman?

Did you poison her?

Did Jack chop her up for
you to feed to the foxes?

That's absurd! Tell us, Adelina,

did you kill her and have Jack throw
the leftovers in the river? Oh!

I'm gonna take your house apart piece by piece

till I find what I'm looking for.
Don't you dare!

What's in that house is none of your business!

It's personal. It's private.
It's nothing to do with any of you!

What are you hiding, then?

What's in that house?!

Ssh! Ssh! Ssh!

This is for you.

A story of HH Holmes.

This isn't from the archive.

No. I compiled it.

Take a look and see.

HH Holmes was a pharmacist who
lived in Chicago in the 1890s.

He built a hotel opposite his pharmacy,

and scores of young girls who
travelled to Chicago to find work

stayed there.

Holmes Castle.

A sealed room all bricked in.

Room of the three corpses.

Secret chamber. Death shaft.

I take it he was a serial killer.

He was a poisoner.

He built his hotel in such
a way that it was a maze

filled with hidden rooms and trap doors.

Sound familiar yet?

Adelina's house.

Holmes constructed a special
room to gas his victims.

Then he experimented on and
dismembered the corpses.

Where were the bodies found?

Buried in the basement,
thrown in pits of quick lime,

and cremated in his own incinerator.

How many victims were there?
Between nine and 200.

Most were young women travelling
far from home for work.

They checked in to Holmes's
killing hotel and well...

..they never checked out.

A hotel? HH Holmes needed
a steady supply of victims

to satisfy his desires so he constructed a hotel

that effectively became a murder factory.

So we're looking for torture
chambers, killing rooms

and burial pits.

No sudden movements. I'm right behind you.

Imagine a terrified young woman
trying to get out of this house.

If she ran in here, she'd be cut to pieces.

Sorry.

You're all right. Go on.

OK.

Mind your face.

One more.

Sorry.

Be careful.

I suppose we have to go over it.

Is this safe? I don't know.

Probably not.

Are you all right? Yes.

I'm all right.

What the hell is that?

I don't know. Let's have a look.

Do you think there's a girl under here?

Boss.

Who the hell is that?

Oh, God!

Mr Jack Grace.

How long has he been dead?
Would you like to hazard a guess?

The neighbours have never
seen him so I don't know.

Any time in the last 30 years.

Natural mummification is
rare but not unheard of.

Given the right conditions.

A cold, dry space with good
air circulation is essential.

And being wrapped or covered
in paper and wood helps.

10 years. 10 years.

Not even close.

A year.

I know he was a big man but,
at the time of death,

he was little more than skin and bones.

Very little body fat and very dehydrated.

Plus he was taking Adelina's home worming remedy

which had an antibacterial effect.

So, when he was entombed,
the flies couldn't get to him.

He didn't putrefy,
and over a short space of time,

he dried out and became this.

What was the cause of death? Pancreatic cancer.

Hence the weight loss.
So he couldn't have been helping Adelina

to dismember the bodies. The other thing.

The initial tests are back
on the homemade potions.

While some are nasty and would have
caused irritation and discomfort,

and some vomiting,
there's nothing that would cause

the kind of corrosive action
we've seen in the torso.

You'd better start giving us some
good news or we'll stop coming.

We found Jack.

What have you done with him?

You knew he was dead?

Yes.

Why did you lie to us?

Why did you leave his body there?

Because that's his home. It's where he belongs.

With me.

He deserves a decent burial. He had one.

Close to me where I could talk to him every day.

If you take him and put him
in the cold ground somewhere,

who will talk to him, then?

You could visit... No!

He belongs with me.

We love each other. We are meant to be together.

Till death do you part.

But I'm not dead yet.

Give him back to me.

There's only so many files
you can cram in here, Ed.

Don't you think you should stop?

Stop? But I've only just scratched
the surface of major US crime.

I still have to tackle
Japan and India and Europe.

I shall need a polyglot.

You can't be serious. My work saves lives.

What could be more serious?

Through there, please.

Beef bones.

All of them? No. No. There's
some fragments of chicken bone.

Not many of those.

And this is a bit of mutton bone.

No victims in the garden? No.

But the foot definitely spent time in the river.

Like the arm and the torso.

The torso was taken by the
tide up stream to Richmond.

The arm and foot could have been
put in the river as the tide turned

then they washed back up and the fox found them.

If you want to find the other body parts,
check the river bank

from Richmond to Whitechapel.

Do you want to do the other side now,
lads? Yeah. Cheers.

We're gonna be here all
night at this rate. Come on.

If her head is still out there, we'll find it.

She'll get her name back.

Miles?

Miles.

Miles.

So no-one's gonna tell us her name, then?

(LLEWELLYN'S VOICE ECHOES If you wanna
know her name, (LLEWELLYN'S VOICE
ECHOES If you wanna know her name,

you're gonna have to find this poor girl's head.

Without names or faces,
they never existed to the public.

Oh, I just can't...

I know what you mean.

After a while, the waiting just
seems oppressive. Fresh air.

Yeah. Good idea.

Kent. Yes, sir?

If they find anything,
will you call me straightaway.

Yes, sir. And get a squad
car to take Miles home.

I think he's done for the night.

What am I not doing right?

You've done everything I would do.

The fact is you have an
unidentified murder victim

and the river's the dump site.

These cases can take years.

I'm gonna find out who she is.

You run a good team.

Thank you. I wish you could have
seen my squad when I took over.

Crumbled, unshaven and mutinous
at the idea of a woman in charge.

I went through much the same thing.

So the ties and deodorants are your idea?

I introduced the concept of using bins too.

I insisted everyone brought
a toothbrush to work.

No coffee breath on the witnesses.

That's a good thought.

My original sergeant didn't think so.

He fought me all the way.

Sergeants are a territorial bunch, aren't they?

That's why I had him transferred.

You're kidding.

Yeah. Of course I am.

Miles and I hated each other on sight.

But we've been through a lot.

He's like family now?

Well, I wouldn't want to spend
Christmas with him so yes, he is.

Riley, over here.

Bingo.

Maybe next time we go to the pub,

we'll talk about something
other than work. I'd like that.

Riley, what have you got?

We're on our way.

Sir. Do you have her head?
We haven't opened it yet.

Open it, Mansell.

Oh, damn it!

It's a left foot. We already found
a left foot in Adelina's garden.

This belongs to another girl.

In 1887, the river started bringing detectives

the body parts of young women.

They ended up with four bodies.

I think this is just the beginning.

Our killer likes one type of
girl and one type of murder.

Arthur Ford. 1954.

They died from his unrequited love.

In agony.

We need to take a closer
look at Celeste and Max.

I think they're the same person.

I don't care what you think.
I only care what he thinks!

When I told him I wasn't interested,
he changed. Became someone else.

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