Phoenix (1992) s02e05 Episode Script

How are you, Nat? Oh, bloody crook, Mr Murdoch.
I nearly carked it.
Yeah? Yeah, my lower bowel.
They took out about that much.
Fair dinkum? Yeah.
I keep it in a jar on the fridge.
In the fridge.
No, on.
On top of.
Mortality, you know.
"Shit, I'm still here.
" That sort of thing.
Yeah.
Let's walk.
How's Joycey? She went and buggered her hip.
Walks with a limp now.
That's no good.
Oh, it was her own fault.
She was up cleaning the gutter and swan-dived off the roof.
Ended up in hospital for about two months.
Cost us a bloody fortune.
Those doctors, they rake in the dough.
Yeah, we're in the wrong business, Nat.
So, what's the mail? Well, that's where I'm going, right? Well, Joycey gets these crutches and we do a pub crawl.
We bump into a couple of blokes that a mate of mine knows.
What mate? What blokes? I can't give you names.
Well, what am I doing here, Nat? I gotta consider my own health, don't I? Either you've got something or you haven't, Nat.
Don't bullshit me.
It's an address.
Yeah.
Joycey's getting pissed, see? And these two blokes, well Well, what is it? A house? What? That's where I'm going! The two blokes start coming on to her.
Starts off as a joke.
She's too blind to see it.
One thing leads to another.
She ends up rooting them out the back.
The whole pub's looking at me.
What's a man to do? There's two of them, at least 15 years younger, and when you get down to it, I'm a coward, right? Hmm.
So I take Joycey home, slap her around a bit, and I get onto my mate.
I beg and I plead, and he comes up with that.
Now, that's a warehouse that these blokes use, and it's chock-a-block full of hot gear.
See you, Mr Murdoch.
Supposed to be a heap of stuff inside.
Looks sweet to me, boss.
Real bloody sweet.
I'll have a word with the locals, see what else we can get.
MOON: I'll give Noddy a ring.
Not till we know more.
I don't want to disappoint him.
G'day, Betty.
Pam.
Hello, Betty.
What's he doing? He's going crazy.
He's not going crazy.
Mum! He won't talk to anyone anymore.
He won't leave the house.
He won't He's worried about more intruders.
I'll have a talk to him.
PAM: He won't go past the front gate.
He's turning this place into a fortress! I tried to ring the counsellor, but he was out.
The only thing he'll touch is his beef casserole.
He likes it fresh.
I bring it round each day.
So you're still living with Pam and Tony? I wanted to move back, but he doesn't want me to.
G'day, James.
Don't need your help.
I wish I could say the same thing.
I keep hitting a dead end.
Now, you've seen things, little things from the second one that could help us with our investigation.
Don't want to talk about it.
Well, keeping it bottled up isn't going to help anyone.
Not me, not you.
Betty, has James been talking to the counsellor? No.
He doesn't believe in all that.
Very old-fashioned, I'm afraid, when it comes to psychology.
Well, how do you feel about the way he's behaving? He's always taken his own time with this sort of thing.
I lost three babies early on.
Was much the same then.
But he got over it.
(KETTLE WHISTLES) I'll get it, Mum! So how are you coping? I'll be alright.
Are you sleeping? The hardest thing I feel I'm not myself.
Something's been taken away, and I'm not sure I'll ever get it back.
So when you were bashed with the shotgun, where were you kneeling? Oh somewhere here.
And where was Betty? On the couch, and then the bedroom.
The skinny one was I would have killed him.
And you took my gun away.
So, what has Betty told you about the incident? Nothing.
You haven't talked about it? What I want to do now, James, take you back, step by step.
This time I'm gonna write it all down, OK? They're coming back again, aren't they? Bullshit.
Not a chance.
That's what you said the first time.
DARBY: So, should we call in the shrink? What, and get him certified? That'll wrap it up nice.
Yeah, it'd kill Betty.
Don't know which one to be more worried about.
Worry about both of them, Darbs.
Worry about both of them.
It's good.
Yeah, you did good.
You needed this.
First time he'd let me talk to him.
Even though he was paranoid.
You know, is there any way we can get him out of the house? Been thinking about that.
The, um, grandkids barrack for Collingwood.
So, tickets to the MCG, boss.
Hop to it.
FAITHFUL: You know, he's a very strange man.
OK? MOON: Yeah, righto, boss.
Right, you fellas ready? Yeah, boss.
MURDOCH: We might have got lucky.
I haven't been inside.
If there's any gear from the ag burgs, you owe me a beer.
Boss, if this is as good as it looks, I'll owe you a barrel.
Well, uh, the joint's owned by investors in Malvern.
It's, um, rented out, cash.
No names, no pack drill.
It's not a bad joint for our Chrissie party, though.
And a panelbeater down the road reckons there's never anybody there during daylight, but, uh, security guard has seen comings and goings at night, two or three times a week.
How many heads? Probably the same two each time.
But he's only ever seen them from a distance.
So he couldn't swear to it.
What do they look like? Vague as a yabby in a bucket full of shit, mate.
But he reckons one of them could have blond hair.
How good's this? An old gig of mine.
Too scared to name names, but I like his reasons for giving up the address.
Revenge.
He's not setting us up, is he? Two blokes that use this place naughtied his missus while she was drunk, in charge of a pair of crutches.
FAITHFUL: So when do you want to do this place over, boss? Soon as you've knocked out the application, I'll get you the warrant.
What about upstairs? They'll know about this when they're told.
As far as I'm concerned, this is hot bloody shit.
I want these scallywags nailed inside with their hands all over the gear.
Oh, and one thing before the raid.
You want us to go in and see what the goods are.
You're ahead of me.
Part of the job, boss.
Well, get down to it.
Anybody stuffs up, I'll have their balls for breakfast.
He'd choke on mine, mate.
MOON: Hey, Darbs, you got a minute? DARBY: Yeah, mate.
MOON: Type this up for us.
Fluff, how are we doing? Give us a go, will you, mate? Andrew.
Nick off.
Russell? Russell, heading to the back door.
Very narrow.
The rear section's blocked off.
One-way access only.
(METAL RINGS) You bastard! Uh, Russell.
Yeah, I'm at the back door, which is locked.
(SIGHS) Come on.
Come on! OK, I'm in.
All quiet.
FLUFF: Mate, we've hit the jackpot.
The joint is chock-a-block with gear.
Fluff, kill your torch.
Car approaching.
Bugger it.
OK, it's stopping.
Can't tell how many heads on board.
They're 20 metres south of the front door.
Headlights off.
Shit! OK, if it's them, we'll have to intercept.
On my way.
FAITHFUL: Fluff, lock the front door.
FAITHFUL: Heads getting out.
Female, pissed.
Male driver - 20s, 30s.
Second female.
A fourth head.
Male.
And he's blond.
OK, Russell, he's heading your way.
The others are following.
(WOMAN LAUGHS) If they stop at the door, you wait for my signal.
Let them come in, mate.
Hear what they say.
We'll make sure they hang themselves.
No way, mate.
You'll be trapped.
No, bullshit.
Mate, I've got good cover.
They'll never see me.
MAN ON RADIO: It's between the two clubs.
One young male down and bleeding.
WOMAN ON RADIO: Russell Street 299 to VKC.
Shit! We're one minute off.
MAN: Russell Street, 299.
VKC, this is Crime 851.
Crime 851.
Yeah, Crime 851, can you see if there's another unit from my office, thanks? Sergeant Faithful needs urgent assistance to execute a warrant.
WOMAN: Whipper snippers.
Mandy, what? MAN: Yes.
MANDY: Nah.
Nah, I'll spew.
No, no.
MAN 2: Put it back.
Alright? Nah.
They're not gonna miss it.
They will.
They'll get shitty.
Sorry.
Oh.
I, um, thought they were meant to be your good mates.
They are.
Then why are you being such a wimp? Alright.
Alright.
So.
Where's the big TV? Hmm? We want to see the big TV.
MAN: Is that it? Go on.
(SIGHS) Crime 851 to Crime 855.
You there, Docket? Yeah, Noddy.
On our way.
ASAP, thanks, mate.
(WOMEN LAUGH) WOMAN: Check out that.
Why can't I have tits like that? I've got tits like that.
Look at her.
Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Noddy.
No problem, mate.
They've just started watching a porno.
(WOMAN LAUGHS) MANDY: Oh, my God! FAITHFUL: Docket and two, 10 minutes off.
On their way.
Russell, received? RUSSELL: Received.
Alright, now just stay where you are.
You keep your head down.
You're not dealing with white-collar embezzlers now.
These are proper shitmen with bad attitudes.
So no screw-ups.
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Shit a brick.
(MANDY LAUGHS) Check that out.
Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Nose to the grind.
This is getting good.
(WOMAN ON FILM MOANS) I want to watch.
It's funny.
Hey! I want to watch.
It's funny.
FAITHFUL: Right, headlights off.
Prop there.
Now, I'm a bit further up, so just leave the car there and come down on foot.
You there, Fluff? Backup's here.
No rush, mate.
The big bloke's just about to sink the lizard.
Looks better than the porno.
WOMAN: How could he still be doing it? This is bullshit! MAN: It's all faked.
I can do that.
Bullshit.
What do you know, Lindy? Hey? I said, what do you know? What do you know, Lindy? What are you talking about? Great.
So we've got four heads - two males, two females.
One of them could be our rapist from the ag burgs.
We've got Russell at the back.
Boomer, you go with him.
Kermie, Docket, you stay with me.
You don't know, Lindy.
You don't know what this guy can do.
I know he can't keep up a stiffy for three hours.
No-one can do that, can they? Not many of us.
MAN: I'm not talking about that.
I'm talking about brains.
This whole bloody place.
What do you mean? Mate, that's It's alright.
It's alright.
Go on, tell her.
LINDY: Tell me what? LINDY: Hey, leave him alone! I'm not joking.
Just shut up about it.
Alright.
Alright.
I'm just going for a slash.
LINDY: Des, come back and sit down.
Stand by.
They're on the move.
There's a male head coming your way for a piss, Noddy.
MAN: Are you deaf? Roger.
Police.
Don't say a word.
Des! LINDY: Des, what's going on? Where are you going? Another male heading your way.
LINDY: What am I supposed to do? Des! Police! Don't move! Police! Don't move! LINDY: Mandy, where are you going? Police! Don't move! Shit! Get off me! MANDY: Get off me! Docket.
Lindy! Docket! Don't move.
You bloody stupid Arggh! (SCREAMS) Police! Stop, police! Get off! Police! Drop it! Drop it! Shithead! Bloody stop her! (SCREAMS) Shoot her in the head! Christ! Hey, I I'm joking.
I'm Oh, fuck! I'm now going to ask you about a set of keys which Senior Detective Nicholson is placing in front of you.
Never seen them before.
Would you agree that these keys were found in your possession? You must have put them there.
That's all I'm saying from now on.
Oh, he's the one with the foul mouth.
Leave you with it, mate.
How's it going? I reckon we might start kicking a few goals soon.
Listen, Boomer's in there with him now.
Just a quick word with the brawler.
LINDY: Awful things they did.
All the screaming and grabbing at me.
I asked them to stop and they just laughed at me and kept doing it.
What did they do? It was disgusting, Mum.
(CHUCKLES) Poor little thing.
She's just finished bitching to Deputy Dawg.
It's terrific, you know.
He sets up the job and we get the complaints.
MAN: Are you saying that you've never seen this stuff before? MAN 2: I'm saying I've got nothing to say.
Detective Inspector Murdoch, Mr Blake.
Everything alright? Would you like a cup of coffee? No.
I want to make a complaint to the Internal Investigations Department and the Onbudsman.
OMbudsman.
Right.
And what's the nature of this complaint? I'm not telling you.
I'll tell them.
OK, Mr Blake.
You'll have that opportunity in due course.
No! I want to see them now.
At this stage, these detectives have more questions to ask.
Shit.
You'll be able to lodge your complaint at the completion of these formalities.
Yeah.
Bullshit.
Any joy with the facefit? Nope.
Could be either of them.
What about the ag burgs? Any gear in there from them? Nope.
And that's the link I need.
There's a lot of stuff there.
It's gonna take time.
Oh, Peter.
A couple of things.
Jeez.
He's gonna bitch, right? So I'm gonna have to notify IID.
So, what'd she say? That one of your men ripped her clothes off and sexually molested her.
We already told you about that.
Russell was using minimum force.
And she got the better of him.
Did you tell me that you grabbed her friend around the tits? I don't know where I grabbed her, OK? She'd already kicked Docket in the nuts, so I wasn't too fussy.
And one final thing.
Did one of you threaten to shoot her in the head? No way, boss.
Sometimes I wonder what the hell I've started.
They've kept detailed records, boss, but the names are all in code.
Right.
Anything from the ag burgs? No, more like shops, factories, other warehouses.
Oh, well, it's early days yet.
There's got to be something here.
How's Peter going? Well, not writing out confessions, if that's what you mean.
Listen, mate, have you ever come across the toecutters? No, a pleasure I've been avoiding.
Oh, well, you'll get your chance.
(SIGHS) What are the complaints? Oh, they're good crooks.
It'll be the usual.
Boss, she was ripping my face off.
I was just trying to hang onto the bitch.
Well, tell it to the IID.
Straight, right? No bullshit.
What about, uh Look, did Peter tell you what I said, boss? No.
I was high on the raid, boss.
(STAMMERS) Had any breakfast yet? I got names, and they're not coded.
Look at this.
"Davo", a phone number.
Then you've got "Elec + W goods".
Electrical and whitegoods.
Yeah, gotta be.
Davo's one of their receivers.
Then you've got "Elbow.
Sporting" OK, OK.
Look, leave it here till Darby arrives.
I need you at Property.
Shouldn't I keep going through this? Other agendas, mate, OK? We've got to check all the ag burg stuff against all the property coming in.
We're cleaning up half the burgs in the state.
There's got to be something in it for us.
Guess what, mate.
Jelly-knee wants the tape off.
Um All the stuff you've been telling me - the evidence and that.
We're gonna go down, right? Right.
Well well, I've been watching you blokes, and you reckon we done these bloody ag burgs, raping old ladies and that.
I'm not copping that.
We don't do private homes and we don't flog people unless they're jacks.
FAITHFUL: So, what have you found? GOOSE: Can't be sure yet.
Well, can you give me a hint? Is that one of the jemmies? Yes.
It's the last from the warehouse.
And is that a mark that was left by the jemmy on the Arthurs' back doorframe? Very good.
Well, do they match? What do you think? No.
None of the others do either.
Tell me.
I haven't been out there yet.
What did you find at the place they were living? Not a lot.
No sneakers with the right tread pattern? No Blundstones, no shotty.
Not even any stolen property.
They kept it all at the warehouse.
Did you strip them? No recent dog bites.
No signs of lead poisoning? Their gums and fingernails are about the only normal thing about them.
Yeah.
Yeah, burglars they ain't.
Is that hint enough for you? Shit! Please! Go and thump somewhere else.
Sorry.
FEMALE RECORDING: Level seven.
(ELECTRONIC BEEP) Sir.
Good raid last night, Peter.
Yeah.
Yeah, thanks.
Did they get bail? Uh, no, sir.
They were remanded.
FEMALE RECORDING: Level 10.
Kicked up a bit, though.
Ignored our instructions, sir.
How did it go? Cleaned up half the bloody thefts in the state.
What have we got for it? Heap of complaints, just like old times.
Even though they're not our shipment, I want to keep following up on our black book.
Right.
They must have had bloody good receivers to get rid of that much stuff.
Good reading, eh, Darbs? (LAUGHS) "Davo.
Electrical and whitegoods.
" Phone numbers.
"Elbow, sporting goods.
" Fuckin' numbers.
Full list of receivers, boss.
And you want to start doing them over? Peter Faithful.
We may as well just invite the toecutters to set up an office here.
What do you say? Hey, Noddy.
That would suit you fine.
"Antiques and" Darbs.
You'll follow that up? Yeah, I will.
And you know what it says? It goes, "Oh, shit.
I wish I had tits like that.
" (ALL LAUGH) Why are tits so funny? MAN: Why don't you ask the expert? FLUFF: The way he got her gear off, I thought he was bloody auditioning for the porno.
Don't worry about it.
Doesn't get any better.
You're sick, Fluff.
You know that? I wasn't thinking about doing them over.
I want to know who else they could be dealing with.
What, like the ag burgs? If BCI can get a line on them, we might be able to move it very bloody quietly.
Fair enough, but just slow down a second.
Now, you've been working all night, right? You've got a mountain of paperwork.
You look like shit.
Speak for yourself.
When was the last time you took time off? Oh, does Jesaulenko still play for Carlton? So waste a grand.
Go up the coast with the wife.
Chrissie would hate it.
She'd get sunburnt.
Moony, I'm on top of it, OK? Fluff! Top raid.
Just what we wanted.
Wally's rapt.
Watch Murdoch take the credit.
Fluff.
Yeah, what's happening, mate? Oh, just talking about the weather.
Darbs is gonna follow up on our little black book.
DARBY: So there's nothing on Elbow? Oh, you're breaking my heart, Robert.
Now, what about Joe? Has that come through yet? Well, Robert, don't tell me that.
It's me you're talking to.
Voice of an angel and the temper of a demon.
Do you want eternal nightmares? Right, you're a cold tinnie at Christmas.
What are you doing, breathing down my neck? Well, you're all I got, Darbs.
Come down to these firm, broad shoulders.
Oh, doesn't it always? Always worry about you when you start grovelling.
You need a cold bucket of water, I'm telling you, you know? So, what'll happen to me? She was resisting.
Yeah, she'll say I touched her up.
And we'll tell IID that that's bullshit.
The truth, OK? Complaints from a bloke are one thing, but when a sheila takes up the cause, IID gets bloody hot under the collar.
MURDOCH: If I thought he was having fun with her, Wally, he'd be out the back door like a shot.
And why didn't Peter step in? He was a bit busy.
OK.
If you're happy, I'm happy.
Whichever way you look at it, Wal, it was a good pinch.
Two more worthy bastards sent off to college.
So I'll let it be known that the whisper isn't on.
What whisper? When the fuss was over, two of your blokes took the girl out the back and inserted a shotty up her rear end.
Look, just chill out, OK? DARBY: OK, boys.
Listen to this.
It'll be cool.
My friend Robert, who's never met me and sounds younger than my son, has come up with intelligence on two of the numbers - Davo and Joe.
God, we'll send him a rose, eh? I always wanted a toy boy.
Davo is Kevin Albert Davidson, also known as a David Albertson.
Priors for burglary, assault, assault police.
Now pushing 60, working the pubs, flogging hot microwaves, cellular phones There was a Davo up at Sunshine when I was there.
What's his turf? Yeah, that's him.
That's him.
It's, um Preston, Sunshine.
He's now Flemington.
Yeah.
Headbutted a Salvo, caused a riot.
Well, he's yours, then, you and Fluff.
Alright? We could go undercover as Mormons, mate.
That'll stir them up, hey? Can't believe you, I'll tell you.
And the other one - "Joe, paintings and antique posters", is Giuseppe Pinolamberti, also known as Shit.
No, not Shit.
Joe the Spag.
Joe the Spag.
Good.
He owes me a favour.
FAITHFUL: A Drysdale? MAN: I'm defending the family's honour.
Come and sit down.
FAITHFUL: He's out of control.
He's driving them crazy.
So I think to myself, "Joe the Spag can wait.
"It's the little kid I'm gonna worry about.
" Oh, yeah, by drowning me in the Snowy River.
I got - what was it? - seven other shitheads.
We took them on one of these Outdoor Experience things.
Whitewater rafting, with him and three other coppers, for two weeks.
I couldn't believe it.
I'm saying, "Chuck me in jail, please.
"I don't need this.
" Hey, you did alright.
Best thing I ever did.
Salute.
Salute.
Cheers.
Have you eaten? I'll get you a table.
No, it's OK.
We're looking for someone.
They can wait.
You like red wine? I've got the best Italian red Marcello, it's your old man.
What? I need to talk to him.
You're working? I thought this was, uh What, for old times' sake? Yeah.
It is.
Now, he can talk to me, or he can talk to the Armed Robbers, who don't know him from shit.
He's not into all that anymore.
He's importing posters and stuff from Napoli.
What's he done? Look, I can't tell you that.
I'm just trying to save his stupid arse.
There's a two-up game.
Frank's or Souter's? Shit.
WOMAN: Here we go again.
(CAMERA CLICKS) 0230 hours.
Peter Faithful and unknown male exiting Frank Marlin's two-up game.
Been inside, uh, 26 minute Oh, Peter, not that way! Well, now Joe's back out again.
(CLICKS SHUTTER) Oh, this is good.
MAN: What? What? We've got the same target.
Us and the Majors? You're kidding.
Joe the Spag.
Shit! I hope they get in his car.
FAITHFUL: Joe.
This is shit, Peter.
I play quite a game and you pull me out like a tooth.
Well, I just want to talk to you about a couple of your mates.
It's too dark.
I don't know nothing about no-one.
(MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY) FAITHFUL: Is that better? JOE: What do I say to this, hey? I never seen them before.
Everybody knows what happened last night.
(TRANSMISSION CUTS OFF) Shit! They didn't get in.
The other one's still waiting.
Why aren't they both doing this? Well, that's been hand-passed across to the Armed Robbers.
They got a lot of loose leads they need tying up.
You're one of them.
No, no, I don't do that.
Not for years.
If you lie to me, Joey, I'm gonna let them follow up what I already know.
Alright? Understand? Peter, you know the feeling in my heart.
You did good for my son.
I don't forget that.
So if you say, "Help me," I am listen, but what do I know? You know about art stuff.
Paintings.
And a lot of those have been going off from the aggravated burglaries that I'm investigating.
I am get nothing to do with them.
No effing way.
Shit, man, give me a break.
I want you to find out for me.
Now, if you haven't had any dealings with them yourself, you're in the right line of business to know people who have.
Talk to them.
Give me a name, place, time.
Something that I can use.
We're on again.
JOE: Look at what you do.
I could be sitting down with Marcello - pasta, vino.
But you don't listen one thing to me.
FAITHFUL: You're in more shit than a Werribee duck.
And I need you to get me what I want.
(JOE LAUGHS) Yeah, yeah.
You think easy, not trouble? I know how far your greedy fingers go.
Now, I knew that eight years ago.
Did I do a bad thing by you then? I told you, I don't forget.
I did good by you.
Now you do good by me.
Peter, if I do this business with you, the Armed Robbers, you keep them away from me.
They don't arrest.
They don't come to the house.
Nothing.
If you do this for me, that's the deal, Giuseppe.
But if you don't deliver the goods, I'm gonna nail your arse to the wall, OK? Now, it's come to that.
You understand this? Do you know what I'm saying? I understand.
A deal? A deal, then.
Prego.
(SPEAKS ITALIAN) What do you think? Well, we didn't hear it all.
Did we need to? Either married or bent.
AC: Taken by a surveillance team when they taped a conversation he'd had with one of their targets.
WALLACE: Shit.
The guts of it is your man could have been operating outside the rules.
This bloke know he was being taped? No.
The listening device is wired into his car.
BCI have been getting some good information about a series of robberies from local restaurants.
Why was Peter talking to him? As I say, I haven't heard the tape.
But given the pressure he's been under, you can understand why I'm worried, especially when the complaints from the raid are still hanging over his head, like that teeny-bopper's tits.
Well Think it's safe to say there are times when we sit up here and forget what it was like.
He was letting him run for the greater good? We've all done it one time or another.
It's still unlawful.
Conspiracy to pervert.
Sure.
And we apply that in every case, where would you and I be sitting now? I've just put in a new bluestone path, Wal.
I'd hate to see him go for being overzealous, that's all.
Proactive policing doesn't mean going out and blackmailing crooks.
Our new direction isn't a silly game we're playing.
And it's high time these sort of cowboys understood that.
Did you know he was meeting this bloke? MURDOCH: He told his senior sergeant, and he passed it on to me.
OK, I'm happy you said that.
I tried to reassure the AC and he was sceptical, but if it's there in black and white in Peter's diary Well, you can ask him yourself.
No, no.
That's for Moon.
Five sugars and don't stir it.
My hands are full.
Did you find Davo? Cross him off.
He couldn't receive communion.
Back living with his mummy, mate.
She's 92.
He's been living with her for the past six months.
You heard back from Joe yet? Not yet.
Maybe it's time to go for another yell, cobber.
Grumpy tell you about the deal? Oh, yeah.
Uh, Robbers don't get Joe's name till you say.
(DOOR OPENS) PAM: Dad? (KNOCKS) Dad? Call out, love.
(KNOCKS) Hold this.
You know he won't answer if he doesn't know it's us.
Mum! I've been calling.
Dad? (MOANS) He hasn't left a message for us.
It'll be OK if he does the right thing.
Now, if he says anything I'm pretty flat out right now, Marcello.
I'll try and do that.
OK.
Ciao.
Got a minute, Peter? You're not gonna like this, but, uh, you've just had a bucket tipped on you.
So, what is it this time? Joe the Spag's a BCI target.
The car's bugged and you're on tape.
Yeah, go on.
One guess what they're trying to make of it.
What, so now I'm corrupt? How stupid can they get? The question's been asked.
That's all.
What about the BCI? Why didn't they tell me? OK, so, what's the story? What's the story?! I'm working my arse off and they're knifing me in the back.
That's the story! (KNOCKS) Sorry.
Got a message from D24.
There's been a shooting at Arthurs' place.
Local CI thinks it's a execution.
James is dead.
Sergeant Faithful, Major Crime.
Senior Detective Saunders, Major Crime.
Senior Detective Cath Darby.
Ah! You bastard! You bastard! Darbs, Darbs.
Easy, easy.
(PAM YELLS) You in charge? No, Senior Detective Bastin.
Where is he? He, um He went round there.
(MAN COUGHS) Ragnar? Ragnar? Peter Faithful.
We, uh, met the first time.
Oh, right.
You're the one that kept me up half the night.
Yeah, that'd be right.
Thanks for giving us a call.
I thought you'd want to know.
Crooks blew his head off.
They got him in the, uh in the lounge room.
And then he made a run for it and then they finished him off in the bedroom.
So have you rung Homicide? Uh Yeah.
They told me to secure the scene and wait for them.
Hey! What do you think you're doing? This is a crime scene! No media allowed.
Get them out of here.
Fluff.
Mate, neighbours reckon they heard a car backfire about 5pm and another one about two minutes later.
See anything? Nothing at all.
No-one.
Goose.
We're booked into a very expensive restaurant tonight.
I hope this is not gonna spoil my appetite.
We're just waiting for Homicide.
They won't be long, OK? RASTIN: Hang on, what are you doing? Hey, you can't do that.
Uh, Peter, sort him out, will you? No-one goes in there until someone from Homicide tells them to, OK? Look, with all due respect, that's bullshit.
I haven't come all the way out here to twiddle my thumbs.
Ragnar, this is your crime scene until they arrive, but he does know what he's doing.
GOOSE: Better come with me.
Jesus wept.
Piece of meat.
With a name.
Why have they done this? Brief reminder.
The heavy domestics hate contamination even more than I do.
If you feel like you're gonna be sick, don't.
So is that where it started? Looks that way.
No spray or tissue on the walls.
Oh, a lot of it sprayed over the floor.
So, what sort of weapon? You saw the bedroom.
Shotgun.
Broad gauge.
Heavy impact of the exit.
Bone and tissue.
So if that's where he copped the first one, he must have broken away and gone into the bedroom.
Why would they let him? They would if they were playing with him.
Having fun - I wouldn't have thought of that.
So he was lying on the floor.
I'd say he was lying face-up.
Piece of denture there.
Why would they make him lie on the floor? More fun? Got bullet pellets up in there.
Powder burns all round the extremities, what's left of his face.
Close range or contact.
Whatever the case, it's left him with a permanently bad complexion.
Be nice to get a better look at the second exit wound, but I can't touch him till the coroner gets here.
So there were two shots? Yeah, at least two.
That's interesting.
Classic spattering on the back of the hand.
Spattering of blood? Yeah.
A backspray of high-velocity blood droplets.
Same on this one.
Which means? When the gun went off, he was he was he was probably holding it, like this.
Chair.
There's a chip out of the ceiling.
There.
What would have done that? It's a good question.
Good question.
How would That's a funny place to keep it.
Shit.
We've got the weapon.
Can you see the saw cut on the barrel? Pretty rough.
And recent.
Done without much thought for the future.
Oh, and look at this.
FAITHFUL: Oh.
GOOSE: Cartridges.
You're joking.
Beginning to think he did this himself.
But that's stupid.
It's not possible.
In credible, I know, but it fits what I'm seeing.
He was in the lounge, lying down on the floor.
He put the gun under his chin.
Blew away his lower mandible, denture, most of his face.
Big mistake with the angle, though.
He was still alive.
Jesus! The gun's only a single-shot.
So he gets up, he gropes his way through the hall, falls down, gets up, finds his way in here, gets another cartridge, reloads.
This is the fascinating part.
This time, he stays on his feet.
He puts the gun here, gets the angle right and successfully blows his brains out, but in that last split second of life, as he's thrown backwards onto the bed, his arms do a sharp reflex.
He flings the gun up to the ceiling and it falls back down the dresser.
I mean, textbook stuff.
A man of extreme determination.
Does that fit? Stubborn as an old coot.
(DOOR OPENS) Mrs Hansen.
Betty.
Betty.
Peter.
I have to tell you that your husband your father died of his own hand.
PAM: That's absurd.
That's what I thought, but our forensic people have convinced me.
He wouldn't have felt any pain, just a burning sort of sensation.
I'm sorry.
You did all you could.
I'm so sorry.
Fuck you.
MOON: Take him out and get him pissed.
That's what his wife said.
Don't let him home when he's like this.
Toecutters! Christ! Not now! They're on their way now, boss.
Boss, he's gonna go them.
Right, we're not here.
Come on, Peter.
Time you weren't here.
Come on, mate.
Head them off at the lift.
Just relax and tell the truth.
(LIFT BELL DINGS) Oh, shit.
Yeah, well, OK, um You stay on that for the minute, alright? Alright.
I've got that there, boss.
Yeah, and if the wind changes Well, we'll just have to change What? Don't you blokes ever knock? MOON: God, this is a good red wine.
Mark! Mark! This is a good red wine.
You said it twice.
You don't have to say it.
Well, it's a good red Don't have to say it! I talked to my father, alright? No, it's a it's an excellent red wine, mate.
I tell you.
Now, I used to think I used to think this dago wine was ratshit.
Mate, he is a senior sergeant.
He wouldn't know wine from puke.
Stuff me steadily.
Now, what'd you let these bastards in for? Oi! Hey, we're over here! A toast to the BCI.
So the IID - how did you go? Yeah, toast to you, Grumpy.
So how did you go? Hey, tell us all.
Well, we had a, uh Yeah? big long talk, and, um They bloody believed him.
Yeah! Talk about gullible, mate.
Well done.
Thanks, boss.
They bent over backwards for him.
(ALL TALK AT ONCE) Watch these blokes.
They can do anything for you.
(BREATHES HEAVILY) Now, listen to me.
Those complaints are a joke.
Right? Now, Russell's in the clear.
You will be too.
And that other thing If you're corrupt, mate, we all are.
I don't care about that stuff.
He looked me in the eye, and I wasn't there.
I mean, I've seen it enough times before.
Bullshit.
I let him think it was OK.
Why didn't I scream for a psychiatrist? (PULLS PAPER TOWELS) This didn't happen, alright? Yeah.
Come on, mate.
(SOBS) WALLACE: IID are talking to Faithful tomorrow.
No, I'm thinking now in terms of this being an internal security matter.
To my way of thinking, replacing the toecutters with the headhunters is only gonna make this whole thing blow up even further.
Well, I can't see it that way.
IID are public knowledge.
ISU are within these walls.
If he's clean, he's clean.
But if he's not, it needs to be dug out.
MOON: Ohh, God.
Oh, jeez, look at the time.
Come on.
We're out of here.
Call me a cab.
You're a bloody cab.
Sit down.
Bloody sit down, you wanker.
Peter.
Jesus, mate! MOON: Righto, then, what's for lunch? FLUFF: Well, listen.
What do you reckon, Grump? Hey? Listen, mate Yeah, well.
Not here, outside.
No, no, no, no, no.
You never know who might be listening.
OK, I tell you name.
Carlos.
Carlos? Carlos the Colombian.
Very nice, big house.
He likes good paintings.
You know what I mean.
No bull.
I talk to people.
People you don't know.
This is what I get.
Speak to Carlos.
That's what I give you.
FLUFF: I didn't know old Grump had been circumcised.
Boys.
Mate.
(SIGHS) Let's hit the piss.
Good bloody thinking!