Episode 2 Undercover

You can't win trying to save people like me. We have to go big.

Do you hear me, Maya?

You don't understand what they're doing there.

He's not dead?

There is a drug in there.

-The doctor says...

-Enough. Call it, Judge.

Hey, Mummy's home!

This programme contains some violent scenes.

-No girlfriend?

-I don't know, Dad, haven't found the right woman.

It's Dr Elliott, I'm afraid I've got bad news.

I had another call from the Attorney General's office,

they want you to interview.

Why d'you think in a million years

I'd want to be Director of Public Prosecutions?

Michael Antwi. There's a new witness.

It's been 20 years.

We have shared history.

-Michael Antwi.

-There is a perfect storm coming.

We just want you to share with us what she's thinking.

You remember Carter?

Welcome back, Detective Sergeant.

Brogues? Brogues or heels?

-BOTH:

-Heels.

Lippy or no lippy?

-BOTH:

-Lippy.

RADIO IS ON

-How do I look?

-Great.

-Ella?

-Great.

-I don't trust you, you always say that.

If you find you look terrible, they'll never give you the job

-in a million years because you look like a hideous old hag.

-Thank you.

Love you.

Mwah! Mwah!

-Oh, thank you.

-Good luck.

-Go, Mum.

-Leave.

THEY LAUGH

-Good luck.

-Good luck.

DOOR SHUTS

I want you to know you can talk about any of part of your life with me.

Which life?

That's the point.

It's all one to me, I know everything.

You can talk about your father, for instance.

It was simple and very moving.

What was?

His funeral.

We thought you should be represented.

You were there?

Here.

Your father's ashes.

Who was at the funeral?

Friends and neighbours.

And lots of nurses.

NICK CHUCKLES

-Was there singing?

-Yes.

He was a fine man.

I'm sorry your children didn't know their grandfather.

We need to talk about Michael Antwi.

She doesn't know who it is.

The witness.

And she'd tell you if she did?

We tell each other everything.

She tells me...everything.

She's not going to stop, you know.

She will never give up trying to get justice for Michael.

-Does anyone know who it is?

-Why Michael Antwi after all these years?

Why the sudden interest?

You're scared, aren't you?

She's frightened you all.

BELL CHIMES

-Walk with me.

-I know what you're going to say.

-She can't get this.

-The AG likes her.

-Likes the idea of her.

-It's more than that.

You're not hearing me properly, she cannot get this job.

-I'm the baby on the panel.

-Pick a fight with her.

-What?

Press her buttons - race, sex, class - she'll have a rant

and then the AG will go off his good idea.

'She'll come home this evening and tell you all about her interview.'

Nothing has changed.

You're the same happy family.

Think about it.

With me, you can be yourself.

-Miss Cobbina.

-Good morning.

-Morning.

-Morning.

10 years ago, we found out an hour before the press

that the Attorney General and the Director of Public Prosecutions

had both been having extramarital affairs.

The two leading lawyers advising everyone else how to behave

had become blackmailable overnight.

We can't allow that to happen again.

The DPP must be uncorrupted and incorruptible.

Which is why, I'm afraid...

this is going to be personal.

-Tell me about your husband.

-What do you want to know?

-Do you love him?

-Yes.

What do you argue about?

-We don't.

-Really? Nothing?

Isn't that a bit unusual?

He had a very ugly childhood. I'm his place of safety.

What happened to him?

What are you doing?

Why don't you ask him yourself?

RINGING TONE

PHONE RINGS

'Hello, it's Nick, I might be writing, but probably not,

'so please leave a message.'

Oh, um...hi, it's me.

Er, they want to know about your unhappy childhood

and how much you love me,

so give me a call back and I'll put you on speakerphone. Bye.

-You've never prosecuted?

-No.

-Why not?

I came to the criminal bar to represent the dispossessed

-and the disadvantaged.

-That doesn't include rape victims.

Or abused children.

Or victims of racial hatred.

I have a client on death row in Louisiana called Rudy Jones.

The last thing he told me before they strapped him

onto a gurney to try and kill him was that I should go big.

That's what this is. And why I'm here.

-That's America.

-And it's not prosecuting, what's the relevance?

Rudy understands what it's like to be a victim and I get it...

-with victimhood.

-How long have you represented him?

-20 years.

-About the same time as you've been representing the family of Michael Antwi.

-Yes, they connect.

-How?

-Michael put me onto Rudy.

The State killed one and is trying to kill the other.

Michael Antwi was killed by Peter Mackie.

The State had nothing to do with it. The case is closed.

-You'd have to give up both.

-I can't do that.

Are you withdrawing your application?

It would be a condition of me accepting the job

that I carry on representing both.

Sorry, so whose side are you on?

There you have it. In one sentence.

Everything that is wrong with public life in the 21st century.

Holding two things in your head at the same time

whilst deciding which is right, or both are right, or neither,

is as good a definition of intelligence as I know.

Holding one thing in your head at the expense of everything else

is a definition of politics.

-Balance, surely.

-No, no!

The opposite.

Balance sacrifices the pursuit of the one thing

we should all be after - the truth.

The journalist who is fearless in his pursuit of balance?

The DPP who wants to keep everybody happy?

-Deadly.

-All politics is compromise, it's just naive to think otherwise.

What, it's just as well the DPP is independent of politics.

You see, I think...

this can be the last great independent public office left.

Isn't that what you want?

Courage, independence?

Or do you want balance,

compromise, moral cowardice?

Hello.

'You're someone who speaks your mind.

'He means you're a dangerous woman.'

-Thank you.

-He means how do we feel about that?

He means that when the tabloids come for you, they take you down.

They take you round the corner and they kill you.

And then they kill you again.

And then they kill your family.

And then they come back and stamp on your dead bodies.

What are you saying?

If you want to make this much noise,

you'd better not have any skeletons in your cupboard.

My bet is that everybody else you see for this job

will give you less of who they are.

You might...flatter yourselves,

thinking you have read between the lines

and that's what is unspoken is somehow more profound

for being unsaid and all that chilly, English, posh bollocks.

I think as hard as I can.

I put all my being into articulating exactly what I think.

Which is always and without exception my best shot at the truth.

Which is all anyone can ever give or be.

Take it or leave it.

# ..Above and afar

# Like answers to questions

# On life

# Love and the longing to survive... #

This is what we agreed, right?

-Oh, Jesus Christ!

-It's the amount we talked about.

-But they upped it, I told you.

-We haven't got it, work it.

Is it you out there, putting your life on the line? What do you think this is?

Are you saying you can't work it?

You can't work it, this whole operation falls apart.

Put it in the bag, genius.

Yeah, just pull it, pull it tighter.

-OK, is that there?

-More.

-There we go.

-That's it, yeah.

-OK.

How much does it cost to make me look this cheap?

No price too high.

-Here, ciggies.

-Thanks.

That's it, just hold still.

Marks & Spencer's. Fresh orange juice, cherry tomatoes, avocados.

Sorry.

-I'm sorry.

-It's the difference between living and dying.

If they frisk you, find that in your pocket,

it doesn't matter how well I hid your wire.

Ow, bloody hell!

I'm running out of space.

You look terrible.

Thanks.

See you on the other side.

What's the go word?

-Hallelujah.

-Hallelujah it is.

Listen, don't be shy, get in fast. Noisy and big, yeah?

-Nervous?

-Yeah.

-Where've you been for the last 24 hours?

-Hospital.

Why?

It's personal.

Shit.

-It's OK, you can do this.

-Shit.

-Right, can we go again?

-Yeah, sure.

Where've you been for the last 24 hours?

-Hospital.

-Why?

-It's personal.

Spill it, bitch!

I ain't your bitch! And I'll cut anyone who says I am!

Nice.

Are you ready?

Where've you been, man? We can't keep these people waiting.

I said do this a week ago.

I'm going to wire your head to this door. Get over there!

Don't feel it. Is it warm, mate?

When I say do something, you do it.

You all right, Ricky?

-Where've you been?

-Hospital.

Look, it was personal, yeah?

What is it, a boy?

I don't know.

Look, they don't tell you.

Get this sorted.

All right, come on. I got you a painkiller.

Huh?

Sort her out.

-It's all right, I shouldn't, not when I'm working.

-It's good stuff.

Hit the pipe.

-Hit it.

-It's clean.

Go on.

-What's the matter with you? Go on, take it.

-Go on.

Go on.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

We need to go.

'Suspect car has arrived. Four occupants, repeat, four occupants.

-'That's what I like to hear.

-You've brought all your friends, have you?

'Well, it's a growing business, isn't it?

-'Undercover officer is with them.

-Why, what are you worried about?'

Another UC? He knows about her, right?

-He knows there are two UCs, right?

-He must do.

-No, not he must do - does he?

-'Where's my gear?

-'We'll bring it in when we're happy.

-What, you don't trust me?'

How about I don't trust you? Search these people, man.

Wait, hold on, bruv.

-'I'm not your bruv.'

-Who told him?

Jesus Christ, what's the matter with you people? Does he know her?

Does he know her?

Does he know about who?

This is business and I am frisking you.

You wouldn't want to do business with me

unless I was a professional, would you?

Oh, God.

-What are we doing?

-Right, get him out, abort now.

-It's too late. It's in play, he's in, she's in.

-Our man can handle it.

She's wearing a wire.

Sounds like it's about your ego.

-Whatever.

-Right, do it.

She's dead, he just killed her.

Don't touch me!

That's my girl, she's cool.

-Your girl?

-Mm.

I'll do it myself.

I know you.

I've seen you somewhere before.

-I don't think so.

-Kentish Town police station.

I don't get nicked.

'I do know you.'

I've got it, Beaver Club. The Beaver Club.

Oh, yeah.

I remember.

'I remember.'

She's safe.

I know her.

You know her or you KNOW her?

She hit me on the dancefloor, innit? I had to fight her off.

-HE LAUGHS

-Come on.

All right.

What you selling? What you selling?

It's high-quality gear.

Round the corner, you and me.

Why we round here?

-Didn't want you losing face in front of your people.

-What is this?

The product is a little disappointing.

When coke first arrived and it was pure, I was there.

That shit, man, it would make your gums go numb in five seconds,

the feeling wouldn't come back for an hour, you get me?

I'm going to have to go back to the first price on this shit.

-'The number we talked about.

-We'll go somewhere else.

'All right, well, go for it. But if you are smart right now,'

you are one step away from an easy life.

Cos all you need is one buyer you trust absolutely,

someone who will take all the risks of distribution away from you.

Come to me, and only me, you can rest easy for ever.

You know what this is?

This is the biggest moment of your professional career.

You feeling lonely, innit?

All right, call it in, man. Go ahead, Mark's your number one.

It's me, listen...

'Yeah, I know, it's your call, bruv.'

-All right, I'm bored, man, I'm out.

-All right!

-All right.

-Are we good?

I've got this thing, it's about sealing trust.

My man with the money, you call him in.

You've got style, brother.

PHONE RINGS

Yo.

'Bring me the money.'

Here.

We're good.

-Hallelujah.

-Go, go, go!

Police! Police! Armed police!

SHOUTING

HELICOPTER WHIRRS

Try to set me up?

Bastard!

All right, mate, another one of these.

And a port.

We haven't been introduced.

I hit on you?

-Well, you're doing it again.

-Would you do me a favour?

-Are you asking?

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

-KEYS JANGLE

-Come on, out.

So, Ricky, to charge or not to charge.

Well, the evidence isn't strong.

In interview, he said he was just passing and we jumped him.

He's not on the drugs, the drugs are not on him.

-They can't get us, son!

-Calm down.

Oi, that's enough!

Calm down. Take him away.

It'll be over quick enough. These guys don't hang around.

We've tails on them. We'll be there, only just not quite in time.

I'm going to the pub if you fancy a pint.

Must've been somebody putting us in the frame.

It looks that way.

Why did they let you go, Ricky?

Agh!

LAUGHTER

Down.

I get it, I get it.

SIRENS WAIL

Two for the price of one.

One dead, one in Belmarsh for ever.

Here's to good, clean justice.

I'll drink to that. Cheers.

You are all charged with conspiracy to supply controlled drugs

of class A, contrary to section 1 of the Criminal Law Act 1977.

-Are you Mr Trevor Eastman?

-Yes.

-Are you Mr Simon Morton?

-Yes.

Are you Mr...?

-Are you all right?

-Yeah, yeah, good.

-Yeah?

So, a screen?

-And the judge is friendly?

-Hm.

Oh, good.

There's some legal argument.

-What?

-Tail-end Charlie, trying it on, she's almost done.

Who's for tail-end Charlie?

Basically, the police were doing a drug deal with themselves.

One of the arrested gang members was released without charge

and then murdered.

I can't see a reason for not charging him on the evidence.

Which leads me to think he must have been an informant, my Lord,

there was no other explanation.

But that hasn't been disclosed to us.

I think he was a grass and the police knew that he'd been blown,

and rather than spend money on a new identity and a new life,

they let him walk out the nick to his death.

But that's all conjecture on my part because it has to be.

And that's the problem with this prosecution, there is

no way of me getting any clearer as to what was going on here.

So far, we've got two police officers working undercover

and a grass.

I'm beginning to wonder if those responsible for the entrapment

outnumber those being entrapped.

Is there anyone left who isn't not what they say they are?

It's a miscarriage of justice waiting to happen.

It's me trying to defend my client with both hands

tied behind my back and a gag in my mouth, my Lord.

And the criminal justice system I work in is so much better than that.

That's very compelling, Miss Cobbina.

Shit!

This is shit! And you know it.

-All right.

-Nick.

This is shit! So they're just going to walk?

Do they know the risks we take when we go out there?

Look at this woman, right? Look at this.

-Don't, don't...

-No, no, look at it.

Look at it. She does this for you and you just...

Who the hell is she?

This lawyer, who is she?

Her name is Maya Cobbina.

Does she sleep at night?

Yes!

One question. Are they guilty? Answer - yes.

Yes, everybody knows that, their own briefs know that.

Sorry, sir.

Look, I'm a police officer. I want it to be better than this.

Am I out?

Is that why I'm here?

Yes.

You're smart.

Yeah...

So I'll bounce back in my new desk job.

Drugs will always be with us. Drug gangs will always be there.

I'm sorry, sir, what are you saying?

Go and build yourself a new life.

We want you to take a step up.

Right.

-Primary school?

-Wycombe Street.

-First teacher?

-Miss Hazel.

-Age?

-162.

Well, that's what she told us.

-Siblings?

-No siblings, got none.

Any distinguishing features?

Charm, charisma.

HE LAUGHS

-And...a-a birthmark.

-Where?

Here.

There it is.

Ooh! How did you do that?

I tattooed it. It stung and all.

-Your first bike?

-I didn't have a bike.

An early memory?

I remember the social worker gave me an Action Man

when they came to take me away.

My mum was standing at the front door.

I got in the back of the car.

The social workers smelt nice.

His boot came off, the Action Man.

I bent down to pick it up.

By the time I looked up again,

my mum had already gone back inside.

Full name?

Nicholas...Johnson.

I am Nick Johnson.

Born on 3 November, 1971.

A Wednesday.

Nice.

Job - you need something flexible, unusual hours,

and something you can do on your own.

I'm a writer.

Well, of course you are.

So, Michael Antwi, 35, political activist - dangerous.

Get close, make friends, win trust.

NICK EXHALES

CHATTER

OVERLAPPING CONVERSATIONS

All right, people, round of applause for the speaker.

I've been in Louisiana, USA.

I met a man called Rudy Jones.

He is in prison,

facing a trial for a murder which he did not commit.

Is that something which happens in Hackney or Tottenham or Brixton?

MURMURS OF AGREEMENT

Why Rudy?

He is black...

he is poor...

and he likes a drink.

He also has an alibi. But, guess what?

The alibi witness is black.

He is poor...and he likes a drink.

The white cops have been to see him.

They told him, "We like Rudy for this, and if you help him,

"we may have to do sweep you up too and charge as an accomplice."

Nothing like that happens in Hackney or Tottenham or Brixton.

APPLAUSE

Should we march again?

Should we walk down the same streets and sing We Shall Overcome...

and hand in a list of our names to men who will not read it...

..men who will never hear our songs of protest...

who cannot feel our pain?

Because after decades of singing and polite protest,

I'm starting to think it might be the time to judge those

we seek to change - not by the colour of their skin

but by the content of their character.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

I ask you this now because I hear a rumbling.

I hear a long, low note of deep anger.

Do you hear it?

-MURMURS OF AGREEMENT

-Do you hear it?

MURMURS OF AGREEMENT

It is the sound of a black nation rising.

It has been a long time coming, but it is coming.

When I look around at you, my sisters and brothers,

I feel that pain.

But I also feel the power inside that pain.

Now...

now is the moment in our history where we must say,

as clear as clear can be,

"If you hurt me, I will hurt you too."

CHEERING

If you...

if you hurt my brother, all of my brothers are coming for you.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

-No more!

-ALL: No more!

-No more!

-No more!

-No more!

-No more!

-No more!

-No more!

No more, I say.

No more dreams, no more nightmares,

for we are no longer asleep.

In Louisiana, we are wide awake.

In Hackney and Tottenham and Brixton,

our consciousness is awoken,

and in this new dawn, there will be action.

And the consequence of that action is power for our people.

And in that power is true freedom.

The time has come for us to stop asking for our freedom

and to take it.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Take it!

-QUIETLY:

-Thank you.

Incredibly impressive.

-Yeah. Fantastic. Do you agree with him?

-100%.

So you are a danger to society?

HE CHUCKLES Well...

So...what do you do?

Are you chatting me up?

No, I was...

-Hey...

-No, I'm a lawyer. It's OK, I'm a lawyer.

Is it all right? All right.

-Well, what kind?

-Crime.

-All right.

-You?

-A writer.

-Oh.

-I'm a writer.

-What kind of crime?

-Legal aid.

Oh, should I have heard of you something?

Oh, no. No, sorry. Nick.

-Nick Johnson.

-What kind of writing?

Crime. SHE LAUGHS

Yeah, I know.

-Maya Cobbina.

-Miss Cobbina.

So what is the answer to my question?

-What, am I chatting you up?

-Mm.

Do you want to see my birthmark?

This as my boyfriend.

Ray, this is Nick.

I'm going to go and talk to Michael.

What do you want?

I want to stop waking up every morning and thinking to myself,

-"Oh, I'm black".

-Weren't you listening?

That's what they want us for do.

We should be waking up every morning saying the exact opposite.

-"I'm black. I'm fighting back."

-I hear you. Hear you.

You are a lucky man.

What?

So...is she good in court?

'I think he is angry.'

'Who?'

-Nick.

-About what?

-The police.

It's good, what you're doing.

What?

I know it is not easy being a black UC.

-I have been working on a good route in.

-Who is he?

She. She is a lawyer.

-Do you like her?

-No.

-Does she like you?

Hmm...

Then she will want to trust you.

Yes.

It is a good route in.

-GROANING OK, thank you.

-Thank you.

Any other questions?

Sir?

What kind of car have you got?

BMW.

How many times have you been stopped and searched?

I'm a police officer.

Yeah, but what is the answer to my question?

Seven times this year.

GASPING

Excuse me, Officer, what about you?

I haven't been stopped.

What, this year?

Ever.

EXASPERATED MURMURS

Have there ever been reasonable grounds for stopping you?

-No.

-Have you ever been arrested as a result of being stopped?

-No.

-So, are you a drug dealer? Did you steal your BMW?

Very funny.

How the hell can you afford to pay for a car like that, nigger?

-LAUGHTER

-OK! OK, OK.

-OK, good joke.

-Oh, what, so it's funny?!

There is something funny about this?

-What-what kind of a joke is it?

-Look...

Listen, listen, I don't know how you can live with yourself, mate.

I want to hear you admit it, right here, right now.

Tell us that the Metropolitan Police Force is racist.

MURMURS OF AGREEMENT Go on, can you do that?

Because if you can do that, then maybe we can all start something.

Go on.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

GROANING

-Drink?

-Yeah, man, yeah.

You had him in there.

You had him bending down on the table

with your face right up his arse.

LAUGHTER

-Where you learn to talk like that to police?

-I write crime novels.

Is the hero black?

Sometimes.

-Black police?

-Yeah, sometimes.

I hate that.

-What?

-When a brother puts the uniform on.

It's a betrayal.

It's unforgivable.

So, Nick, who are you?

What do you mean?

Where did you go to school?

-Tufnell Park.

-Oh, yeah?

I know Tufnell Park. My mum was a TA in a primary school there.

Yeah, well, not in my school, not in my time.

Drink up, you are getting behind.

You lot...

'Somebody is running a data check on the Nick Johnson.'

It's not a problem, we don't need to panic.

An organisation that monitors police action

is bound to be paranoid about police infiltration.

Well, they've got that right.

Did you know, right, that every prisoner in Stokie nick is black?

What do you think about that?

We could pull you out if you think you have made a mistake.

I have made no mistakes.

In Louisiana today, now,

you can still see black men in chains working in sugar plantations,

-Guarded by white horsemen with guns.

-Jesus.

Do you know what they do for jury selection?

They ask you if you are against the death sentence.

If the answer is yes - you're out.

They won't let you serve as a juror.

-That's terrible.

-Rudy Jones.

He had a drunk idiot who had never worked a captive case before

defending him.

He's on death row?

He has no-one to make his appeal,

so what are you going to do about it?

I don't know... What were you trying to say to me?

I hear you are a very good lawyer.

It's time.

OK. See you.

Michael.

You are going to need a bodyguard at the march tomorrow.

-You think?

-Yeah.

The police are a little slow to provide protection

for mouthy black folk.

MICHAEL CHUCKLES

Are you offering?

-It would be a privilege.

-Thank you.

Stay in...

PHONE RINGS

Hello.

Hey, are you all right?

Yeah... All... Yeah, I know where it is, I know where it is.

OK.

I can't stop.

I don't know how to stop.

I don't want to stop. It's everything to me.

-I'm terrified the top floor is going to find out.

-Yeah.

It's so hard.

I'm pretending that I'm three people all at once.

Who am I?

You're OK, you're all right.

All right.

I'm going to help you.

-All right?

-Yeah.

-I'm going to help you.

-Yeah.

All right.

SHE SOBS

-Who is it?

-No. No, I'm not doing this.

But you've come to me, so you know you have to.

You have to tell us for everyone's safety.

All right, but just...

..don't tell her it was me.

CHANTING: Our rights! Black rights! Our rights! Black rights!

-CHANTING:

-Coons go home! Coons go home! Coons go home!

-Our rights!

-Black rights!

-Our rights!

-Black rights!

-Our rights!

-Black rights!

OVERLAPPING CHANTING

Kill the coons! Kill the coons! Kill the coons!

Excuse me, excuse me.

Why aren't you making arrests? You're just standing there.

Why aren't you making arrests?

Threats to kill, or section four or five of the Public Order Act.

Our rights!

OVERLAPPING CHANTING

Are you even listening to me?

INDISTINCT SHOUTING

Michael? Michael! Michael!

SIRENS WAIL

Listen, I'm undercover. I'm an undercover officer.

Of course you are, mate.

Hey, hey, hey, hit me and then let me go.

Do it.

Racist pigs!

-Excuse me. I'm looking for a Michael Antwi.

-Sorry, who are you?

-I'm looking for a Michael Antwi...

-I've no idea who he is.

Are you a solicitor or what?

No, I'm a legal observer for the march.

-Look, you've got no status here.

-Has he been brought in?

Look, if you don't leave, I'll have you removed. Out!

-Michael! Are you all right?

-Yeah.

-Are you sure?

-I'm fine.

-Out!

-Ring me at home!

CLAMOURING

SIREN WAILS

Oi, you! Back!

You OK?

-This should be cold.

-Oh, thanks. Cheers.

Who's this?

Oh, that's my dad. He was a teacher.

-He looks like a wise soul.

-Hmm.

When I was 12 I bunked off school to march against apartheid.

The whole of the sixth form and me, this year seven kid,

like a regimental goat. I didn't feel like a goat, I felt brilliant.

More importantly, I felt grown-up.

The police, they held us down this cul-de-sac for six hours -

no water, no peeing, freezing cold.

-Oh, God, that's outrageous.

-I loved it!

I was so pleased with my martyrdom I think it warmed me up.

Ten minutes later when I wet myself, I really wasn't that cold any more.

SHE CHUCKLES

Sorry, was that too much information?

Never.

You're a good listener.

I'm sorry, what has this got to do with your dad?

Oh! Yeah.

When I came back, he was waiting for me,

and he said, "You know, I'll support you not going to school,

"I'll even argue with your head teacher about your right to bunk off

"on one condition - you tell me what apartheid is."

I said, "Well, it's, um...

"it's being horrible to black people."

"No, it isn't", he said.

In the silence that followed, I made a vow.

Don't jerk your knee, know what you're talking about.

What do your parents do?

Cocaine.

Sometimes hash.

-No...

-Yeah, they did.

Did lots of drugs. They're both long gone now.

I'm sorry.

Would you like a bath?

Em...yeah.

WATER SLOSHES

-Maya?

-Yes?

Can I ask you something?

Yes.

Can I have a towel?

MAYA CHUCKLES

Yeah.

-There you go.

-Thanks.

Maya?

Maya?

I got into bed.

HE GROANS

-Sorry.

-That's all right.

INAUDIBLE

-ALARM BLARES

-Jesus Christ!

ALARM CONTINUES

Hold it! Hold it.

Not safe in there. We wait for shields and helmets.

Go, go. Just get in there. Get him out.

CLAMOURING

CLAMOURING CONTINUES

Stop struggling. Lay still. Stop struggling!

MUSIC: Visionary Mountains by Joan Armatrading

# Tonight

# Tonight... #

MUSIC FADES

PHONE RINGS

Hello.

Yes. Yes.

Sure.

Thank you.

Thank you, bye.

I'm going big.