Capsized The Coroner

MOBILE NOTIFICATION

Who's that?

Sorry. Didn't want to wake you.

What's happening?

It's work. They've called me in for the early shift.

They left it a bit late, didn't they?

One of the porters called in sick.

Oh, come on. Why else am I sneaking out at 5am?

Check my phone if you don't believe me.

Sorry. You're right.

I'll see you tonight.

Hey, I thought you had to leave?

Love you.

You too.

Mum, have you seen my tongs? I look like Motley Crue without them.

What's that, love?

I wish you'd put things back after you've finished borrowing them.

Look at this. Some freighter's capsized just off shore.

That's terrible. Is everyone all right?

Look at all that loot.

They say there's containers washed up all along the coast,

-chock full of goodies.

-Your concern for the crew is touching.

Hey, that's Billy Claxton, from down the road.

-I might get down there. Take a look.

-You're not serious?

It's fine. Shipwrecks have been washing up here for centuries.

-The words "vulture" and "carcass" spring to mind.

-Yeah, Gran.

Sounds like something only a real lowlife would think of doing.

Jude! It's time to go shopping. My treat.

Whoo-hoo!

Sarge.

CAR PULLS UP

Jogger found him this morning. Male, 20s.

Looks like he broke into the container, probably looting,

dislodged one of those metal lockboxes there,

knocked himself out cold.

Died when the tide came in, filling up the container.

-Was there anything on him?

-No.

No wallet or ID, we got house and car keys, mobile phone.

But that's damp, so lab guys are working on that as we speak.

And we found this in his pocket.

That's an engagement ring.

Right now it's evidence.

At least we know why he was in there.

So, nothing suspicious?

Nope. Just your average, pointless death.

I don't understand. He died by accident?

You mean thieving?

I'm sorry to say we don't know the exact details of why he was there.

But he was supposed to be in Plymouth.

-He had an early shift.

-Is that what he told you?

-He wasn't like that.

-MOBILE NOTIFICATION

-Abby, is there anything else you'd like to tell us about Ian?

-Yes.

That he was a liar and a fraud,

-and that he didn't deserve my daughter.

-Dad!

She asked! How about the recent stint in prison?

-And the arrests for drugs and theft, and God knows what else?

-MOBILE NOTIFICATION

And he paid for that!

He'd made some mistakes, but he changed in prison. He promised me.

And now look what that's worth.

Out looting the first chance he gets, and the scoundrel

-couldn't even get that right.

-He's just died!

Can I go a minute without you putting the boot in, please?

MOBILE NOTIFICATION

Don't let us keep you from work, Dad.

Sorry. Got to go.

Please... I need to know what happened.

I know what my father thinks of Ian, but he's a good man.

He WAS a good man. He wouldn't have been out there looting.

I'll look into it, I promise.

It's the oldest trick in the book.

She turns on the waterworks

and next thing you know you're running around chasing your tail.

She genuinely believed in him.

Of course she does. She loved him.

Doesn't change anything.

Clint?

Clint! Have you called Ian Igby's workplace yet?

Yeah, it's...next on my list.

Can you ask around?

See if anyone saw Ian before he died.

You're a soft touch, Kennedy.

At least it sounds like real police work.

Boss has got me out catching looters. I don't know why.

-We've always done it.

-Well, we used to jump off Crabclaw Point

when we were kids. Doesn't mean it's smart, or legal.

I bet you'd love to have a rummage through those containers.

No chance. I'll settle for being a soft touch.

They say they've never heard of Ian.

What? You definitely called the number Abby gave me?

Yeah. It's just a restaurant in Plymouth. They've no idea who he is.

Interesting. I think this calls for a little road trip.

Andrea Matteo? Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. I'm Jane Kennedy,

coroner for Lighthaven. This is my assistant, Clint.

-How's it going?

-I hope you don't mind. I called your office.

They said we could find you here.

Not at all. Please excuse my appearance.

You're Ian Igby's probation officer?

Ever since he came out of prison.

I help him adjust to life outside,

to ease his re-entry into the community.

I'm very sorry to have to tell you, but Ian has died.

What? I saw him last week.

Sorry, I just can't believe it.

I understand. It's always a shock.

I presume you didn't come all this way just to tell me that?

We've hit a snag trying to find out where Ian worked.

As I recall, Ian had problems finding work, which is

common for recent convicts.

We found him a job as a clerk in a local shipping firm.

Prion Freight, I think.

I can get you the address.

Perfect. Thank you.

He was one of the good ones.

People that come out, you just know they're going straight back in.

But...he was different.

Davey! Delivered straight to my door!

Hey...

-Give us a hand with this.

-I can't do that, Judith.

-You've got to take this stuff back.

-Giss on! We've got salvage rights.

Had 'em since Good Queen Bess sent them ruddy Dagos to the rocks

back in 1588, and had us search the shipwrecks.

Look, I don't think quoting

the Spanish Armada as an excuse is going to stand up in court.

Sea's our livelihood. This is a gift, this is.

Yeah, I understand that and if it were up to me,

-I'd say, what's the harm? But it's not....

-Got you, Davey. Cheers.

-We understand what you're saying.

-Great. Thanks, Mick.

No. Thank you.

A nod's as good as a wink, as they say.

No, no! Judith, there's no nods. No winks.

From a child's lips to God's ears. Thank you, Davey.

What do you want?

Mr Brubaker. You're expanding.

Free microwave with every bucket and spade?

That's salvage, that is.

Apparently, it's theft.

I didn't nick 'em. I got them off old Mick.

And where'd you think he got them from?

Mick suddenly becomes flush with kitchen appliances?

Didn't ask, did I?

Just get them out of my sight, will you?

I don't mind people taking a piece for themselves,

but I can't have any serious profiteering.

Thanks, Davey. Here, have a pasty, on the arm.

You got beef and onion?

Did you hear anything about

that body that turned up on Sherford Sands?

Aye.

Quickest way down there is just down from your shop, innit?

You didn't see anyone go down there?

Probably the early hours of the morning?

I was in bed, like all decent people.

And you didn't hear anything? Anyone shouting for help?

I'm too old to jump up at the sound of every young 'eller making a fuss.

I didn't say they were young.

Haven't you got better things to do than harass an old man?

MICROWAVE PINGS

Oh, hello, Davey.

-Ah, Davey boy, nice to see you. Usual?

-No.

It's official business today, Mick.

I should've known you'd be in the middle of all this.

I don't know what you're talking about. I just pull the pints, mate.

Well, you want to have a little break, then. In a prison cell.

I mean, this is too much, mate.

I can't have you turning a shipwreck into your own personal marketplace.

Really? Well, maybe you ain't read this.

What's that? Latest Dan Brown?

That's the Merchant Shipping Act 1995, which states,

"Any person taking possession of any wreck in UK waters shall give

"notice that he has taken possession and hold it for the receiver."

But, of course, you know all that, don't you?

The finer details escape me.

Well, for the layman, it means that my customers have got a month

to hang on to what they've found before you can even touch them.

Only if they've filled out a declaration form.

I've got a stack of 'em here

It's not my problem if they forget to take it, is it?

-Just make sure everyone fills out a form, will you?

-Yeah, course I will.

Good luck, mate.

Oi! What do you think you're up to?

Salvage.

Er...

Surfing? We're there to deliver bad news, and you wittering on

-about catching a wave?

-Well, when you say it like that...

-Ms Kennedy?

Mr Naseby? What're you doing here?

Well, I could ask you the same question.

Ian Igby. He lied to your daughter about where he worked.

Sorry, I thought you people just signed the death certificate?

-It's all part of the service.

-You'd better come with me.

Well, no, because we need to speak to someone in charge.

I am in charge. I'm the owner of Prion Freight.

And, for my sins, I hired Ian.

It was my ship that sank out there.

Millions in cargo lost at sea.

And the only people angrier than the clients are my shareholders.

We are close to ruin.

Why didn't you tell me earlier that Ian worked for you?

Why hire him?

I did it for love.

Not Ian's, I take it?

No. For my daughter. Look, she met him a year ago.

He was a bad boy, he was fresh out of prison.

He was every father's nightmare.

I had just hoped it was just a rebellious stage.

So, you gave him a job?

Wow. I must remember that when my daughter brings home a boy.

If Abby's going to fall for an idiot, at least he can be

an employed idiot. Anyway, I thought I could teach him

some responsibility. More fool me.

I don't get why you didn't just tell Abby.

You would've scored some major parent points for that.

Ian didn't want Abby knowing he'd taken a hand-out from Daddy.

-MOBILE RINGS

-The man had some pride.

It was the one reason I respected him.

It sounds like she wasn't the only one who got hurt.

I opened my home to that boy. I gave him a job.

And this is how he repays me!

-By dying?

-By betraying me! And Abby.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have got a company to save.

It's Davey. Your phone was off.

OK. Thanks. Hey.

I thought I heard shouting. Are you causing trouble again?

Just helping a man grieve. What's up?

We've got Ian's call logs.

There's a lot of calls from one number sent the morning

that he died, from a Brent Hess.

He's also sent a strange text,

'sent about an hour before. So I've sent that over.

'Now, it's a container number, from a capsized ship.

'The ship's manifest lists its contents as perishables,

'but that could mean anything.

'I presume you'd want to speak to Hess?'

-You know me so well.

-'All right, you want me to send his address?'

No need. I won't have to go far.

Excuse me, Mr Hess?

-Did you not hear me calling?

-I'm working.

I'm here about Ian Igby.

And?

You know he's dead?

You made a dozen calls to his phone the night he died. Why?

-It's none of your business.

-You can tell me now or the police later.

It's your choice.

We were mates. All right? He had my back.

What? Here?

-Prison. You were together in prison.

-So what?

-If it's no big deal,

-you can tell me what the phone calls were about.

-I was just saying hello.

At four in the morning?

I said stay out of my business!

Excuse me, mate! Mate! I'm recording this, just so you know.

So if you touch my boss, this goes straight to the police.

-Thanks.

-Any time.

This field work is pretty dangerous.

Do we get hazard pay?

No?

So, Ian and Brent are both ex-cons,

both working on the docks.

-Smells like a smuggling operation to me.

-I thought Ian

was more your "pinch-a-purse" type.

Prison's like college for these blokes, innit?

You graduate to bigger things.

And Brent's record reads like a...

-Eh!

-What? Sorry, I haven't eaten.

I'm just going to order two portions from now on.

-Brent's record?

-It's like a Hows To of hurting people.

In and out of prison his whole life.

Definitely the muscle, making Ian the brains.

-Hate to say I told you so.

-You haven't proven anything yet.

You and your lost causes.

Sometimes it does exactly what it says on the tin.

-We'll see.

-I thought you might say that, which is why I checked out

our friendly shopkeeper Brubaker, who was a little bit shifty.

Turns out he was the victim of a robbery about three years back.

And guess who got himself arrested for it?

Your lost cause.

Hello, my beauty.

What are you hiding?

You've always been trouble.

Ever since you were knee-high, racing around my shop.

Davey thought I was lying then, did he?

Well, just holding something back. Call it gut instinct.

Tell him to take some Rennies instead of harassing old men.

What happened on the night of that break-in?

It was just idiots messing about.

I came down to catch them dipping in the till, swiping my cigarettes.

They pushed me over and scarpered.

That's awful.

I remember 'em laughing and hollering when they went.

I wanted to beat them half to buggery,

but I couldn't get up off the floor.

I cried for help, but...

I stayed on that floor till morning.

Five hours, just waiting.

Thinking...

..will they come back?

So...if Davey's sixth sense picked up that

I wasn't too teary-eyed over Ian Igby, then now you know why.

Ian drowned in one of those containers.

Water slowly rising.

Probably took a couple of hours.

Would have been dark.

And?

He was alone, too.

-Hiya.

-Hello, darling.

Erm...what's this?

Oh, that's my new hotrod. I got it off the beach.

You can't even ride a bike!

So I'll learn.

I'm not some old fogey.

Careful! Mind my Adonis.

-What the hell is this doing here?

-Oh, he's lovely, isn't he?

Really adds some culture.

It takes up half the living room!

Nonsense.

Maybe we could push it into the corner a bit more,

but he adds a certain "raisin dextrous."

It's raison d'etre, and I don't want Beth facing his...

well, every time she walks past.

Come on, she's a big girl. She's seen it all before.

When I said I wanted her to be an art lover, this isn't what I meant.

Oh, nonsense. It's only a bit of marble.

There.

-Can I help you?

-Aye.

A mate of mine got into a bit of trouble here a few nights back.

Did you see him around?

I'm not the bloomin' missing persons bureau.

-If you're not buying, then...

-How much for just the bat?

I was asleep. I didn't see anyone.

He was looking for something. Something I need to find.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Who would?

Try the Black Dog.

The landlord there knows everything that goes on. Please.

On second thoughts, I don't play cricket.

You're trying to keep me from him. I know my rights.

You will spend the night in the cells!

I got salvage rights!

What the hell's going on?!

I just caught this old woman pilfering whisky from my containers.

Oi! Who are you calling old?

Half the town are down there, looting from my cargo.

Profiting from my hard work.

Profiteering? You're just shipping coffee beans that some poor

farmer from somewhere's paid three pence a day to grow.

Can I handle this, please?

Well, I don't think that you can!

This lot are too lazy to make their own lives, so they just go round

-nicking from what's mine.

-You're like all those bankers and fat cats,

keeping the poor working man down. Like Russell Booky Wooky says,

-I reckon we deserve some of the good stuff.

-That's enough, Judith.

-Oi!

-Judith!

-CROWD CHANT:

-Judith! Judith!

CHANTING CONTINUES

-Mr Brubaker? What's wrong?

-There's a...brute snooping around.

-Who is he? Are you hurt?

-If I were ten years younger...

If you've been threatened, we need to talk to Davey.

Then I would've gone to see Davey! Stop fussing.

Do you want to sit down?

Here.

I saw him the other night.

I don't sleep. Any noise gets me up.

I saw him on the coastal path about 5:30, arguing with a woman.

-Did you recognise her?

-She had her back to me.

But she was wearing a brightly coloured jacket. Like a jogger.

There was a logo on the back.

Do you know what sort of logo?

A bird, I think. My eyes aren't what they were.

They were shouting something fierce. They tussled.

That's when he dropped the wallet.

He ran off down the coastal path, and she went after him.

Why did you take the wallet?

I don't know.

Guess I wanted to take something of his. Felt like justice.

Thank you for this.

Now let's get someone to take a look at you.

There you go. Two ales, two shandy halves.

I'll be with you in a sec, love.

There you are! It's pandemonium in there.

-You wouldn't believe the things I've found washed up.

-Yeah?

You better find some glass and start doing some work,

or you can find yourself another barmaid, and all.

Anything you say, my lovely.

There's nothing of use in there, but Brubaker's story begs the question -

who was the mystery woman?

If there was one. Oh, wait, I've got something for you.

Oh, yeah? Sorry.

Yes. A thousand times, yes.

Bloody ha, ha, ha. No, it's Ian's ring from lock-up.

If Abby is holding something back,

I thought you could use it for leverage?

But you think Ian's guilty.

I have been wrong before.

Thanks.

Of course, I need time to pick out a dress.

-And then there's the catering...

-As long as Mick don't do it.

-RADIO:

-'Control to all units,

'reported disturbance at Black Dog pub.

-'Able to respond?'

-Speak of the devil. 239 to control,

received that, I'm on my way, over.

I need to find this container.

Mick! Hey! I'm DS Higgins. What's going on?

-I ain't got a clue, Davey.

-Don't make me ask you again.

I'd love to help you, but I don't speak gorilla.

Oh, right, Mick, that's not helping.

-Can you take a step back for me, please?

-I reckon

he's just a bit overtired. Why don't you take your nap now, boy?

-Tell me where it is!

-All right, now that's not helping.

Oh, sh...

I knew he was going to ask.

He kept dropping nervous hints, checking I'd say yes.

Abby, did you fight with Ian that morning?

Maybe follow him down here?

No. No, he left when I was in bed.

That was the last time I saw him.

An eyewitness saw Ian arguing with a woman,

shortly before he died.

A woman?

It's a vague description, but you match it.

She was wearing a colourful running jacket.

That wasn't me.

I'm such an idiot.

He lied about his job, about the looting.

Now he's secretly meeting other women?

-My dad was right.

-We don't know that for sure.

It's my own stupid fault.

He kept promising he'd change, I kept believing him.

This is just another lie.

Thank you.

I wanted answers, and now I've got them.

I don't want to waste a second more on him.

Eh!

Where you going with all that food?

Well, it's lunch.

Michael Sturrock, what are you hiding?

Right. It's been a long day, so I'll cut to the chase.

I know you want to talk.

You know how I know this?

Because you haven't asked for a solicitor or a phone call.

And whilst you're giving me your hard-man stare,

your foot's tapping like you're Gene Kelly.

Whatever you're fishing for, you ain't going to get it.

So there is something.

Just lock me up or let me go.

No.

I think I'll take option three, which is where I call your probation

officer and have you put back behind bars before my tea gets cold.

Two years. That's not bad.

I've been married a lot longer.

Of course, you did assault Mick.

Can't really blame you for that,

but that should add a couple more years.

I didn't want to hurt anyone.

And then there's assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest.

You know what?

I think the judge will round it up to a nice even ten.

Wait!

Don't call the parole officer. I can't go back, all right?

I'm looking for a cargo container.

The one you texted Ian?

Was he in on the smuggling operation?

We had to find it before it was too late.

Too late for what?

I... I can't say!

OK. I'm going to make that call.

-Don't do it!

-Then tell me the truth!

The cargo. In the container.

They're people. Refugees.

You mean to tell me there are people trapped in one of those containers?

If you let me go, I can find them, I know it.

Stop... Wait!

I can't go back! Please!

Get on the horn to the coastguard, the navy - anyone with a boat.

I want people out scouring those coves.

Derek, call Search and Rescue, will you?

-I want that chopper up in the air.

-OK.

-I can't believe this.

They've been missing two days. Why didn't he say anything?

Later. Right now we've got 60 miles of coastline to search.

Tam, can you get onto our friends at Dartmouth, please?

I want all hands on deck on this one.

-Do you think there's a chance they're still alive?

-I hope so.

Mum? Mick? Are you in there?

Mum? Open up, it's important.

-Yes, dear?

-Don't...

-Shh! You're in enough trouble already!

-What's wrong?

-There's some people missing,

trapped, in one of the containers.

Mick knows the coast better than most. I thought he might help.

Do you hear that, Mick? People missing, Jane says.

-They need your help.

-Oh, for goodness' sake...

I think Mick has something to tell you.

I didn't know this was here.

Yep. Use it for storage.

You know, keep bits and bobs I don't want cluttering up the pub.

Bits and bobs, eh? I'll remember that.

Now...try to resist the urge to arrest me, all right?

Don't panic, don't panic. It's OK. Don't panic.

They're friends...

PEOPLE MURMUR

..sort of.

-Mick?!

-I know. It was a bit of a shock when I found them.

But I got them blankets, food, drink.

Have you contacted the authorities?

Hey? I've never dobbed anyone in my life!

I ain't going to start now with this lot.

Have you talked to them? Do any of them speak English?

Better than I speak Arabic, that's for sure.

That chap there's a doctor, I think,

and the rest of them are farmers, mainly.

Mick, why didn't you tell me?

I've got this massive search and rescue operation going on!

Yeah, and what would you have done? Hand them straight to Border Force,

-I expect. Then they'd've been sent back home.

-And you're planning on

keeping them here for ever, are you? Mick's tree-house

-in Never Never Land?

-No, I got a plan!

I called a charity that asks for asylum for people.

-They'll be here in a couple of hours.

-Oh, no. These are illegal immigrants. I have to report this.

Right, and then they just get sent back to the country they've just escaped from.

And I'm sorry about that, but my bosses take this seriously. This is well above my pay-grade.

Yeah, we got rules here and all.

This is a safe harbour for ships in distress.

Always has been. These people are under my roof now.

Davey, they nearly died trying to get here.

Yeah, I know that.

This charity only needs a few hours to get their ducks in a row,

then this sorry lot has a chance.

All right, I'll hold off reporting this until

they've had a chance to do their thing, all right?

But, for heaven's sake, get a decent meal inside 'em, will you?

Mick's burgers are enough to make anyone want to throw

-themselves back in the sea.

-Oh, very nice.

Everything's going to be all right, promise. All right?

All right. Keep quiet.

I'm not stopping.

Have you seen what number seven's doing? Strutting around like that.

It's shameless.

Gran, this one's mine. Why's it in your wardrobe?

No, no, that one, that's for me. I gave you that lovely dress.

Which one's more me? Black leather or girlie flowers?

It's nice to come home and relax after a hard day.

Mum, she took my jacket!

Look, I'm sure there's plenty for both of you. Make-up,

designer clothes, Greek statues. It's like the duty-free lounge of Olympus.

Exactly. There's plenty of clothes for you, young lady.

-Respect your elders.

-Then act your age, Madonna.

-Oi!

How was your day, Jane? Well, I just got back from rescuing

a dozen refugees who travelled halfway across the world in a 20x8-foot steel box.

I helped with that. A bit.

Washed up, just the clothes on their back.

I don't really need this.

Brubaker said there was a logo on the jacket.

Who said what now?

The griffin - eagle's head. I should've thought of it sooner.

Thanks!

Thanks for coming out here.

-You row, don't you?

-Yes.

Is that your team jacket?

The Plymouth Griffins.

I ask because a witness saw Ian arguing with a woman,

right here, just before he died.

The description has your jacket down to a T.

What? You think it was me? That's ridiculous.

Not if it's true.

Look...I can't talk about it.

Andrea, you look like you haven't slept in days.

You can talk to me.

Ian and I, we were...

In my line of work, you don't meet very many good men.

Just exciting ones. My marriage is...

You were having an affair?

The whole cliche. Hotel rooms, dirty phone calls.

All that rubbish.

Then I found out about the human trafficking.

I wish I hadn't.

So I followed him here, tried to talk some sense into him.

You could've told me this earlier.

I didn't want to lose my job.

Rule number one - don't date the ex-cons.

Rule number two being what? Keep quiet while innocent people

are trapped in a giant, steel coffin somewhere?

Ian might not have had a choice, you know. Those trafficking gangs -

they're a different breed. What if he was scared?

Scared of what they'd do to him if he messed up.

Maybe he should've thought about that before jumping into bed with them.

Andrea was a dead-end. We need to talk to Hess again.

No chance. He's surrounded by his defence barristers.

300 quid for a pair of shoes' types, courtesy of Mr Naseby.

I'm just protecting my employee.

Mr Hess is in a vulnerable state.

I don't want him manipulated into bringing my company into disrepute.

You do realise this makes you look like you're trying to cover up your involvement in smuggling?

That's exactly the sort of misguided accusation that I'm here to avoid.

He's got a point, though, hasn't he?

Trafficking gangs are pretty dangerous.

I don't think I'd want any links to them being made public.

Can you imagine what happens to those who fail them?

What? Like losing a cargo of people, you mean?

Another slur like that, sergeant,

-and you'll need a lawyer of your own.

-He has one.

My people are expediting the bail process as we speak.

Mr Hess will be out by the end of the day.

Afternoon.

So, what happened on the beach?

Did you go down there to steal for Abby? Or to cheat on her?

Or to find your missing cargo?

See, I want to like you.

Send you off with some dignity.

But you're not giving me much to go on, are you?

OK. One more chance.

More like it, isn't it?

I suspect you'll get in a lot of trouble with your bosses

if they find out you've been helping shelter illegal refugees.

I'll just blame you. Say you're a bad influence.

Speaking of which, I want to see Brent.

No can do, I'm afraid.

I've got Naseby's shysters camped out at the station,

running the clock down until Brent's released.

He seemed genuinely concerned about these people.

-You think you can get him to talk?

-Will you let me try?

Come on, then. Like I said. Bad influence.

I'll just be a minute.

-What the...?!

-Fancy running into you here. Listen, we found them.

All the refugees, they're safe and sound. Thank God.

We don't have much time. I don't want to bury Ian as a villain.

I think he's worth more than that, and I think you are, too.

-He was.

-OK, so tell me.

When he got out, he was dead set on going straight.

-For his girl.

-So he wasn't a smuggler?

No. He stayed legit.

I was the one that ballsed it all up.

So what happened on the beach? What was he doing there?

-I... I can't.

-Come on!

Do you want his girlfriend thinking he was a slave trader?

BANG ON DOOR

If I talk, my boss puts me away.

You haven't a clue what it's like in there!

I promise you I will do everything I can to help you.

What can you do? You're just a coroner.

It means I get the last word on Ian.

What do you want that to be?

I'm out.

I kept quiet!

I know where the cargo is.

You can still have your goods, but we don't have long.

-Were you followed?

-I don't think so.

Where are they?

Over there.

They're in the village pub?

I thought you meant they were still locked up. How the hell are we supposed to get to them?

You haven't got a clue, do you?

The people I work for - we work for - are killers.

And the minute there's a problem, they'll close the loop.

And now we are the problem because of you!

Who's that? You were followed, you fool!

Miss Matteo.

Just when I think I've seen the worst of human nature,

someone like you comes along and proves me wrong.

I thought... Oh, thank goodness.

Don't thank me.

You're going to spend a long time in a small box.

But don't worry. It'll be a darn site more comfortable than

the one you locked those people in.

The coroner will be sitting in on this, as this relates to her case.

If you want protection from the gangs,

I suggest you tell us everything.

I didn't mean to kill him.

You mean your lover?

I'm sorry I lied about that. I was scared.

I still am.

Scared of who?

The traffickers.

I'm just a middleman.

They have the money. I have access to ex-cons

that I can manipulate, like Hess,

and jobs in the port I can put them in.

The night the boat capsized, Brent called me.

Said he was worried about the refugees drowning,

wanted to go save them. I told him no, but he went anyway.

'I had to stop the idiot before he got us locked up, or worse.'

So you left those refugees there to die?

I left it to fate.

When I got to Lighthaven, I found Ian.

Brent had called him, told him everything,

and he'd run out at five in the morning to help his friend.

He hadn't called your lot straightaway, so I guess he didn't

believe what he was hearing, until he saw me standing there.

Ian, wait! Wait!

'We had a row. He wouldn't listen to me.

'He wanted to wake everyone up, and start a search.

'I kept telling him that these traffickers want their privacy.

'And it's better that the refugees don't turn up,

'or it'll be us that disappears.'

'What happened on the beach?'

He went looking for Brent.

'I followed him, pleading. He wouldn't listen.'

Started dialling on his phone. I...

I panicked.

There were these hard-case boxes spilling out of a container.

'I picked one up and...

'I didn't mean to...

'I made it look like a box had fallen and hit him.

'And the tide was coming in fast.

'I thought it would wash away the evidence.

'And of course no-one would look closely at a lifelong criminal

'falling back on old habits, right?'

And if the refugees were discovered, Ian was the perfect person

to take the blame - someone who could never answer back.

DOORBELL RINGS

Oh. Hello, Davey. Looking for Jane?

Mrs Kennedy, this is Mrs Slithe,

she is the legal representative from the Maritime Authority.

And she is here to collect all items recently salvaged.

Oh. Hello.

As mentioned, any salvage not reported shall be considered theft.

And the perpetrators will be prosecuted

to the full extent of the law.

Theft, you say? My goodness. The thing is...

But as I was saying to Mrs Slithe here,

you were just merely holding on to these things for safe-keeping.

What?

-Oh, yeah, that's right. Anything to help.

-See, Judith isn't the type

of person that would take something that doesn't belong to her.

-Are you Judith?

-Oh, heavens, no.

-No.

I mean, only a complete idiot would think you'd get away with

something like that.

Yes, they would.

All right, then.

Me and Jim here will help you carry the stuff out.

All right?

Davey.

Jim.

Mrs Slithe.

After all that...

he never lied to me.

This belongs to you.

All those terrible things people said he'd done.

I almost believed them.

I had my doubts, too, but I found this in his wallet.

It's a receipt for the ring, bought and paid for.

He never lied to you.

Oh, Ian.

All rise for Her Majesty's Coroner.