Occurrence Reports Ripper Street

And now you're happy to let me hang alongside you,

when I bust my ass in here to free you?

Francis Thatcher is gone to exhume the body of Robin Sumner.

GUNSHOT

LONG SUSAN: All who kill must be punished.

I wish to surrender myself to the police.

And I too wish to surrender myself to the police.

For what crime?

Murder.

I do not know you, sir.

Who is this boy?

-Gustus.

-GUN COCKS

You know.

Take control of your station house, Inspector!

Your voice makes me want to shit!

RAISED VOICES

ABBERLINE: That's right, Constable.

All Whitechapel stands agog.

Most like, Scotland Yard sends a battalion to free their chief.

Be calm, lad. You be calm.

RAISED VOICES OUTSIDE

But I seen it.

I seen Gustus kill him.

He witnessed Sergeant Thatcher shot, Mr Drummond. I believe him.

And who is he, that we should give his word credence?

Who are you, an' all, Miss Hart?

GATE CREAKS

In!

GUN COCKS

You're going to leave her be, Drummond.

Then you shoot me now, Captain,

because this is either done by the law or it is not.

You let him do his job, Captain, and he shall let you do yours.

It is only you can make this case.

GUN CLICKS

SNIFFS

CROWD SHOUTS OUTSIDE

That was my Uncle Bennet's chair,

and before it was his it was my father's.

CHAINS CLINK

Inspector Drummond.

Are you returned to your authority?

Have you prevailed?

CROWD SHOUTS OUTSIDE

Leave us.

Now, you wish to make your case.

You go on, then, Tilda.

The man in the cells beneath...

he who says he is your brother, I am going to interview him.

Drummond?

I am going to make written record of it.

You will release me, Inspector.

Now!

A murdered child on a mortuary slab.

The entropy of the universe, extended to a maximum, Mr Dove.

Every stroke of this blade to the boy's body,

I'm imagining it done to you, sir.

I'm hearing your screams.

NATHANIEL: I do not know how...how long we sailed,

but I do remember the stench, miss.

I remember the fear.

Go on, sir.

I do not know how my brother found Rabbi Leon.

But he brung him from Paris

in the hope he might know how best to quiet my tempers.

But that counsel, he did not soothe me.

It only roused my hunger.

I had to feed it,

cos, you see, miss, he had shown me myself.

My childhood self.

I saw the forest...

..and the ease and grace with...

with which the wolves might move through it...

..whilst we simply trudged...

..so heavy and...slow...

..and as the rabbi spoke of the morning they found her,

I did not think on the sight of my mother,

no...

..of my mother's body and blood.

I thought only on their...

..power...

..the pure purpose of their need...

..and how that need might be met.

There's no frothing or waterlogging to the lungs.

There are, however, tiny haemorrhages to the lining thereof,

the burst capillaries beneath the eyelids.

The cause of death was suffocation.

There are contusions about the neck and face.

Similarly to his fists.

We may therefore presume his death a violent one.

Within the lining of the respiratory tract,

there are trace elements inhaled at the point of death and adhered within.

So, we have a wool fibre.

The wool is an alpaca blend, charcoal-grey in colour,

most likely from the person who throttled him.

The suspect is frequently seen sporting such an overcoat, Inspector.

-Correct?

-Grey alpaca.

Am I the only man in London with a woollen coat? No, I am not.

You have no witness, no physical evidence.

You have no fingerprints, Mr Reid.

You must surely see it, Drummond.

These men, these criminal murdering men,

wish to tar me with the black pitch of their own hearts.

Mr Reid.

Captain, please.

The boy must be found on the man or the man on the boy.

Augustus and Abel, they... they found a man...

..a madman, known to the police as such,

for his attack on... on another rabbi, see.

And, sir, that was Mr Isaac Bloom?

Yes,

and I heard them say how they would take my acts...

...and they would hand them to him.

-DRUMMOND:

-Captain, whatever it is you hunt for, please find it.

He will find nothing, because there is nothing to find,

save the wreckage of your life along with theirs.

My, sir. You are flush.

Mimi.

-Are you feeling all right?

-Other than flu, I'm fine.

Are you feeling quite well, sir?

GRUNTS

There's infection within.

A swollen tongue.

The throat red with infection, an infection he might have set loose

on any soul with whom he came into contact,

particularly one which was trying to kill him...

..because he would have fought.

He would have spat and screamed,

he would have clutched and clawed for the breathing of air,

and he would have sprayed that infection all over the man

whose arms were now choking the ten little years of life from him.

Does a fever rise in you, sir?

Is there a chill through your bones like a nameless haunting?

Well, I have the name for it.

Oh, you brave, clever little boy, Robin Sumner,

the gift you bring with you.

And, sir, will you confirm your spoken confession

that you murdered Inspector Bennet Drake?

Yes, miss.

And Assistant Commissioner Dove had full knowledge of this?

Augustus knew it.

Augustus knew it all.

And, um...how was it Augustus killed Abel?

HE SIGHS

Abel Croker wished to take my life...

..but Augustus Dove, he...

..he took his instead.

Gustus saved me.

Gustus...

..always saved me.

Reid, did you catch scarlet fever as a boy?

-I did.

-So did I. Caitlin too.

Now, what that means is that, once caught, we cannot catch it again.

Now, Miss Morton, I believe, has not suffered it before,

because she suffers it now.

And where else might she have contracted it,

but from a sickly child who's taking refuge with her?

It's like a string of purple pearls.

Streptococcus pyogenes.

It's scarlet fever.

HE INHALES

DOOR OPENS

Sir? Commissioner Bradford.

Well, Fred. What do you say?

It is a cat-meat soup, Teddy.

You should know your own presence here,

a retired civilian gone rogue, it's unconscionable.

But, under current circumstances,

there is one more intervention you might perform for us.

Reid.

There will be an inquiry, internal,

but we here have decided what Edmund Reid's fate shall be.

And the others? Your man Dove?

Imagine the world's joy at our disgrace, Fred. No.

Sudden illness.

Lengthy convalescence.

Disappearance from public life.

Get him out.

BRADFORD: Dartmoor Prison will receive a new inmate, however.

The victim of a clerical blunder.

His paperwork lost.

The man likewise.

Gustus?

Think how far we came, brother.

How very far.

Gustus, where...where do you go?

Hush. We must be brave.

I knew chaos and horror a good long time

before I came to Whitechapel, Mr Reid.

I'm to bring you out as well, sir.

Mr Abberline's waiting for you outside.

Augustus Dove is to be buried deep and forgot.

Our shame alongside.

Is this the reason for our stroll?

How else is the pit to be limed, Fred?

The brother, that beast, he is to be choked and in short order.

The woman Hart similarly.

What else, Edmund? Clemency?

-And the Captain?

-Send him home.

Where he belongs. Besides...

it is not the fate of that evil pair brings me to you now, but your own.

And that too is decided, I imagine?

A little further yet.

That is right, my friend.

Think of what you and I once found in a tenement room

off that courtyard beyond.

The cut and strewn remains of the Ripper's last victim.

Ten years ago, Edmund.

Ten years.

That barbarism then, that which these Dove brothers have only now enacted.

They were forged from the same furnace,

a furnace which requires permanent vigilance, Edmund.

A watchman...set for the night,

when that fire finds another crack in the world

and sets its creatures free once more.

Bennet Drake was a fine man.

But he...

That paleface Drummond,

they do not see.

Not in the way you see.

You are needed here, Mr Reid.

My crimes?

Wish to face them, do you?

They are true. I would own them.

I am to tell you that such an owning will not find favour...

..and to extend Commissioner Bradford's wish and invitation

for Edmund Reid to resume his command at Leman Street.

That is some bold denial to mount.

It is a public redemption of a good man wronged.

And if I refuse?

Well, then, your American will not find himself so easily forgot.

In point of fact, his many misdemeanours will be

pursued with full rigour...

..and he will dangle, Edmund.

LOCK CLICKS

-Have the man brought out in irons.

-Miss Susan?

Where do they take me?

Wait. Wait. Please. Please, please. Please, wait.

No! Don't! Stop! Don't! Stop! Leave him!

No, please! Where do you take him?

JACKSON: I'm with you, darling. I'm coming too.

Come with me, Miss Hart.

Wait, Drummond. What...what about me?

What about me, God damn it? What...what about me? Take me.

Your prisoner, Mr Reid.

Reid? What the hell?

Where's he taking her?

Reid?

Reid?

Reid. God damn it. What?

Your personal effects, Captain Jackson.

You're releasing me?

MAN: Murderer! WOMAN: Hang till you die!

SHOUTING OUTSIDE

Caitlin! Caitlin.

You sons of bitches!

-Let him go.

-Let me go!

-Let me go!

-Let him go.

God damn it!

For him?

You did this for him?

I did it before. I'll do it again. I'll save you.

No. No, you will not.

You are a father now.

What kind of example would that be for our son?

No.

What kind would I be, if I let you die?

But you must, you see.

Because he must have one of us to care for him...

..and it seems that one will be you.

It was you and me.

You and me.

And it ever will be.

Because of our boy.

We are in him.

One.

So, you go and you raise him good.

Raise him right.

I'll think of how we were made

and I'll do the reverse.

I love you.

I will never stop.

Please, Mr Drummond,

take me away.

Bye.

You little yahoo.

Come on, Connor, just leave her be now.

Mimi, I...

No.

Please.

Walk with you?

Is there a law that says you can't?

Well, then.

SHIP'S HORN BLARES

Well, goodbye, Master Judge.

Shake the man's hand, Connor.

I'll be seeing you, Reid.

Captain.

Are you going there now?

I am.

Erm...

Tell her, erm...

Tell her...

What?

Ah, never mind.

It don't matter.

SHIP'S HORN BLARES

Nathaniel.

Miss Susan.

Mr Theakston, please, only for a moment.

Do not let them touch.

We are to go together, then.

-One after the other.

-Mm-hm.

They've found a priest who speaks my mother's tongue.

He says if...if I am repenting, I should be spared hell.

But why should I be spared it just for the saying of some words?

But you feel the regret?

Nothing but.

Miss Susan, they must be allowed to proceed.

Perhaps I shall speak with this priest after all.

Forgive her, I shall say...

...and let her see her Connor once more.

I should be grateful.

I'm...I'm...I'm coming after you, Nathaniel.

I shall be following you on, calling your name,

and, whatever it is that waits, we will go there together.

SHE PRAYS IN LATIN

LOCK RATTLES

KNOCK AT DOOR

Mr Reid! Mr Reid, sir!

-KNOCKING AT DOOR

-Please, sir, raise yourself!

Stop your hammering, Sergeant. I'm here.

Mr Reid, you must come, sir. There is another.

RETCHING

Her name was Mary Jane Kelly.

Edmund.

I want to unmake the world.

PIANO PLAYS

CHATTER AND LAUGHTER

Drum!

Drum! The toasts.

GLASS TINKLES

CHATTER STOPS

My Mathilda.

-This is the last, I believe.

-Oh, thank you, sir.

There's no need to "sir" me, not any longer.

So, you really couldn't have waited another few weeks?

Samuel doesn't want the child born here, Father.

Of course.

-Well, travel carefully.

-Father, please.

It is the Great Western to Cheltenham Spa, not a steam turbine to the Congo.

I know, Mathilda, but, erm...

Bad things happen everywhere. I know.

You are my daughter, and I worry.

Don't.

Remember the conviction that you held that I was alive?

Yes, of course.

Then surely it is not such a struggle

to hold the simpler belief that I am well?

Mr Reid.

Samuel.

Right.

-You will visit, of course?

-No, Drum.

He won't come. He won't ever.

He cannot.

-Sergeant.

-Sir.

-He is within?

-He is, Mr Abberline.

Nothing?

A witness.

Of sorts.

Description?

Five foot six inches,

fair, curled moustache, 34 years of age...

..about.

Well, I shall add it to the catalogue.

These are not clues, Fred.

They are half-glimpsed imaginings, a tangle of shadows,

and you and I floundering at them,

in the ever-vainer hope that we might corral them into meaning,

when we will not.

We will not.

I said.

I almost begged it of you when you lost her.

Forgive me.

When your Mathilda went down on that boat.

But I say it again.

Tend to your wife. Take the leave.

-You are due it.

-I prefer to work.

Then work, Edmund!

Fight!

No, Mr Reid. Go home.

-Here, Mr Reid, let us get you home.

-No, no.

Sergeant, Sergeant, Sergeant. Sergeant.

My girl is gone.

My wife will barely look me in the eye,

without the wish to spit in it and curse me for the loss of her.

So...no home.

-Come, sir, please.

-No! Damn you!

Damn your care! Damn your endless fawning!

Are you a dog?

Are you?

-I am not, Inspector.

-Then stop following me!

It shan't bring you any good.

That's it, up a bit. More, more, more to me. How's that, sir?

Afternoon, Inspector.

Six months they're gone.

He is now a teacher. She, erm...

She writes a novel, she says,

and the child prospers.

Have you been to see her, the child?

Er...no. Not yet, no.

Your granddaughter, Edmund.

Soon, however.

I shall, erm, take some holiday.

And so, your visit?

This is the death certificate of a woman named Mary Spinks.

Her named husband, see, is George Chapman,

only that is not his true name.

Sorry, Fred, but...

George Chapman only became so in 1895.

Before that, however, he was called...

Severin Klosowski.

The Severin Klosowski who was once a suspect of ours in the Ripper murders?

But he has gone to America.

Not since 1892, he has not.

He has returned to this country.

Ah. Confidential autopsy report.

His wife.

He beat her.

Ceaselessly. You know?

-He's a brute, I'm sure.

-And more than that.

Severin Klosowski.

1885, he finishes his surgical studies at the Praga Hospital in Warsaw.

June '87, he's in London as a barber,

a position in a shop

on the corner of Whitechapel High Street and George Yard...

Yes, the skills and the knives, Fred. I do not forget.

George Yard, where Martha Tabram was killed in August '88.

I never credited Miss Tabram as his.

Oh, did you not?

And the world must kowtow to Ed Reid's theories, must it?

Not mine, no.

Her killer was right-handed. The Ripper used his left.

You know that, Fred, you know that, and you sit here now

in the belief I might recommence those same investigations.

-The file remains open, Inspector.

-And what?!

A man we once identified as a suspect has a wife who dies of consumption,

and you are roused from your retirement to berate me

that I do not set myself and my station house to his capture?

Read the autopsy, Inspector!

Consumption would present itself as a hardening rash on the arms and legs.

What she had were pustular swellings around the eyes and mouth.

Now, I am not your American surgeon,

but I know the symptoms of antimony poisoning.

Fred! Fred.

Even if it were true and proved, it is still only a poisoning.

The man that we hunted eviscerated his victims.

He ripped the flesh and the organs from their bodies.

Nevertheless, it is murder by a man we know capable of that evisceration,

who was proximate to the acts,

who even now is abroad in this town,

acting out his hatred of women upon their bodies.

Means. Opportunity.

Motive.

Will you bring him in?

No, I will not.

For why?

Because it is a fancy.

It's a dark daydream in the mind of a retired police officer,

who would do better to return to his roses and his wife.

It is a case, Edmund.

No, it is a ghost...

..and a dead one at that.

HE BREATHES HARD

Do not think you've heard the last of this.

Out of my way, you men! Move!

HE GASPS

LETTERBOX CLICKS

CHATTER

Good evening, Inspector.

And a very good evening to you, Miss Mimi.

-Ah!

-The dramatic life, Mr Reid.

Ah, it's... it's wonderful.

Remarkable.

Although it is not quite the place you once knew as home.

CHEERING

APPLAUSE

My friends, my friends.

If I could only tell you what stories...

SHOUTING

Mr Reid, sir.

Mr Reid.

Mr Reid, sir.

Bennet?

Come, let's get you out of here.

How did you find me?

I followed you, didn't I?

Come on, sir.

-JACKSON:

-Hey, slob!

Are you going to pay for that?

Oh, that's right, Gladys. Come on, take another step.

Jesus. You ain't winning any beauty pageants any time soon, are you?

Americans.

All bull, no dog.

I had 'em right where I wanted 'em.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

"Sir. I write as regards my execution of the will of the late Matthew Judge,

"in which you are mentioned as beneficiary.

"His assets were limited, but the enclosed was to be forwarded to you

"at the police station in Whitechapel, London.

"It may be of some comfort for you to know that,

"whatever the circumstances of Mr Judge's past,

"his son, Connor Judge, has now become the ward of this office here.

"We are also the executors, under grant of probate,

"which has recently seen Master Judge named sole heir

"to those assets held by us

"of his grandfather, Mr Theodore Patrick Swift."

-REID:

-He and the boy had been fishing and were on their way home,

when the girls' mother came calling for help.

Her two daughters dragged into the current and downstream.

The Captain swam out,

brought one child to shore before returning to the other.

She too was saved.

But in so doing,

the cold, so they say, the river icy with the new spring's thaw...

..his heart gave up.

SHE SOBS

Thank you.

KNOCK AT DOOR

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

Help you?

Pale ale.

Do you know an Elizabeth Taylor?

Who asks?

Police.

H Division.

HE RETCHES

How long before it begins?

-The inquest?

-Yes.

Two hours, sir.

REID GRUNTS

Good day to you, Mr Reid. GAVEL BANGS

OFFICIAL: The Coroner's enquiry into the death of Mary Jane Kelly

will now come to order.

I live at number 5, Miller's Court.

It's the last house on the left-hand side of the court.

I'm a widow, and I get my living on the streets.

# Scenes of my childhood arise before my gaze

# Bringing recollection of bygone happy days

# While life does remain in memoriam, I'll retain... #

SHE SOBS

# ..This small violet I plucked from Mother's grave. #

-Mr Reid?

-What am I to say to them, Bennet?

Say?

I am expected to stand there and explain a thing,

and yet I cannot find the explanation.

Because this man's acts are beyond such?

Sir, I do not say they are not dreadful.

They are that and more besides.

But, yourself, Mr Abberline,

these newspapermen and councillors screaming their horror to the skies,

it is as though they imagine some fantastical creature about his work.

My feeling, Mr Reid, if you will allow it?

You speak, Bennet.

This here, Miss Kelly, what was done to her.

It is down to you to name it

so this killer's acts are not dreamt of as the stuff of fancy,

but known

as the cruelty of men.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Hm. That is you, sir.

The whole of the surface of the abdomen and thighs was removed

and the abdominal cavity emptied of its viscera.

PEOPLE MURMUR

This was found in various parts.

The uterus and kidneys under the head...

..the liver between the feet,

the intestines by the right side,

and the spleen by the left side of the body.

The pericardium was open below and the heart was absent.

PEOPLE GASP AND MURMUR

It is concluded that the mutilation was inflicted

by a person favouring their left hand.

The bed clothing at the right corner was saturated with blood

and on the floor beneath was another pool of blood covering...

Police.

H Division.

My wife is unwell.

Has asked not to be disturbed.

Are you much troubled in this house, Mr Chapman?

We none of us can be too careful, Inspector Reid.

What did you say you wished to ask her?

I hadn't yet.

Well caught. Right hand.

Lost property.

Umbrella. She registered it with us.

And?

I'm sad to say it hasn't been found.

You'll pass the message on, I'm sure.

NEWSPAPER BOY: Get your final edition here!

Last day of the century!

I left word.

I was unsure whether we...

Well, it is a special occasion

and I wanted to ask if, after the performances,

we might dine together perhaps? Er...see in the New Year?

Mr Reid, stop.

I shan't be here tonight.

I have to go to a ball in Richmond.

There is a man who wishes to marry me.

It's his ball.

He's quite old, and, um...

..I am minded to encourage his attentions,

because I'm frightened

that if I'm still in Whitechapel at midnight,

I will be here for another 100 years...

..and though I'm very fond of you,

dear, dear Edmund...

..I'd forever be seeing the Captain's smile,

smelling his disgusting whisky breath,

and I refuse

to be haunted by him.

Do you see?

There shall be no-one left but myself.

I think perhaps...

..that is your gift to us.

It's very noble of you.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

WHISTLING

# Scenes of my childhood arise before my gaze

# Bringing recollections of bygone happy days

-# When down in the meadow...

-# When down in the meadow...

# In childhood I would roam

# No-one's left to cheer me now within that good old home... #

-No. No, no! No.

-PEOPLE: Shh, shh, shh!

You cannot! This is her song! That is her song! Stop this! Stop!

-# ..Sister and brother now lay...

-Stop this! This is her song!

-# ..Beneath the clay... #

-Mr Reid! Come.

-# ..But while life does remain...

-You cannot. You cannot.

It cannot be allowed! Stop this, damn it! Stop!

AUDIENCE SINGS ALONG Quiet, sir!

-# ..This small violet I plucked from Mother's grave... #

-Do you not know any respect?

Or is that you do not know at all? It is her song!

It is the song that Mary Jane Kelly was heard to sing

the night the Ripper killed her!

Mr Reid.

Is that not the reason why it is sung?

# ..This flower has brought me joy

# So while life does remain... #

Please, sir. Perhaps it is time you went home.

# ..This small violet I plucked from Mother's grave... #

Yes, of course.

I'm, erm...

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry.

CHATTER AND LAUGHTER

FRAME CLICKS SHUT

DRAWER CLOSES

CLOCKS CHIME

CHEERING

PEOPLE OUTSIDE: Happy New Year!