My God!
The man in CCTV may have murdered everyone you worked with.
Don't you want to help? I don't know any cripples.
Doors and windows were all locked. No forced entry.
This was not a raid or a robbery.
Everyone's saying the killer isn't human.
He was cheated out of a lot of money by his brother.
Salter has motive, he's made threats to kill and we
can place him in the area at the time of the murders.
How's Judy? She thinks it's cancer.
He was there at ten and when I went to check
him just now, he was gone. From a locked cell?
Nobody disappears into thin air.
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We'll search the whole of London if we have to, but we'll find him.
Marcus Salter, 39, six foot, slim build,
dark clothing, runs with a limp.
This man is believed to be highly dangerous.
Do not approach him.
Murder!
Bloody hell. Murder!
Call Llewellyn. Get SOCO here now.
It's DS Miles. We have an incident.
In 1811, the coroner said that 'The late and present murders
are a disgrace to the country
and almost a reproach on civilisation.'
'While the exertions of the police, with the
ordinary power of the parochial officers,
are found insufficient to protect men's persons from the hand of violence.'
'And the coroner has to record the most atrocious crimes,
without the possibility of delivering the
perpetrators to justice and punishment.'
'Our houses are no longer our castles.'
'And we are unsafe in our beds.'
My name is Tom Knight.
I'm a student and I rent a room at the Emerys' house.
Just after midnight, last night,
the lights went out.
And I heard Jan...
and Abby screaming.
Lying at the bottom of the stairs.
There was a man standing over him.
With a hammer in his hand.
The man turned around, so I ran back into my room.
I didn't want to see his face, because then he'd see me.
I shut my door, I pushed my wardrobe in front of it
and I used my sheets to climb out of the window.
But then I just ran. I didn't even notice
I was naked until the police found me.
Did you hear the killer come into the house?
Did anyone knock at the door?
No-one knocked at the door
and everything was locked up tight.
One minute they were laughing at the TV,
the next they were being murdered.
The killer just appeared out of thin air.
'Widen the search for Marcus Salter.'
I want every available uniform and PCSO out looking for him.
Yeah.
Thank you.
So, the two women, Jan and Abby Emery, were
watching television when they were killed.
A massive blow to the head.
No struggle. No contact.
Once again, it was quick and impersonal.
Don't expect a forensic breakthrough here.
Just like the Salter murders.
And, again, we have one survivor.
Lola, a teenage girl. She was out for the night.
Bill Emery was upstairs.
Hearing the screams, he ran to help.
He fell down the stairs, breaking his right leg.
The killer caved his skull in.
The killer has left us his footprints in Jan and Abby's blood.
He killed them first, then ambushed Bill at the bottom of the stairs.
But he didn't go upstairs? No.
No trace of him on the treads nor anywhere upstairs.
So Tom Knight is upstairs, sees him and the killer doesn't go up?
Yeah. Scared him off?
The prints stop here. They don't go anywhere.
Where did he go? It's like he just vanished.
Look at the prints.
Look at how the left foot leaves a clear print,
but the right is smeared as he runs.
He has a pronounced limp.
Like Marcus Salter.
That's very useful. Thank you, Miss Pepper.
Lizzie.
Sorry.
Excuse me.
Still no sign of him? If he can escape
from a locked cell, he could be anywhere.
I don't believe in magic, Sean, and I don't believe in monsters, either.
What are you talking about, sir?
There is only one way Marcus Salter could have escaped from his cell.
You turned out the lights and unlocked the door for him.
It's too dark for the CCTV, so no-one sees you.
We didn't have to see you to know it had to be you ... you've got the keys.
So?
Why would you let him go?
He... spoke to me.
He spoke about my family. Wouldn't stop, he just
kept talking and talking, getting inside my brain.
And what did he say?
At Hendon, they train you to cope with threats and violence,
but nothing prepared me for last night.
I had to let him out. What do you mean, you had to let him out?
Three more people are dead! Why? Why would you do that?
I knew I shouldn't have done it.
I didn't want to do it, but I didn't have a choice.
You can't argue with the devil.
Go home. You're suspended.
See you in a bit.
The doctor said she'd given you something
to make you feel a bit better. OK, Lola?
Nothing's going to make me feel better.
My mum's dead, my gran and grandad.
I know, darling, and I'm so sorry.
Who's going to look after me now?
You've got lots of family. Don't worry. You'll be taken care of.
But not like before. They're not gonna
make me chocolate when I wake up at night.
They're not gonna rub my feet when I watch telly.
What if they won't drive me to school? I can't walk, can I? I've got bad knees.
This is a terrible place.
I told them I can't drink plain water and I'll get sick if I get dehydrated.
And the food here is disgusting. I'll get ill if I eat this crap.
Lola? Lola?
Do you know this man?
Marcus? Yeah. Freak.
Why is that?
Marcus Salter knew Bill Emery. Drank together till
they had a falling-out over non-payment of a bet.
A whole family dead, for what, 20 quid?
Money is definitely the motive.
First, with his brother and now with Bill Emery.
Where is he?
Salter hasn't been home, hasn't seen any of his family.
Hasn't been near his work, hasn't been seen by anyone who knows him.
Everyone in Whitechapel is looking for him. Nothing.
He's vanished.
If he's not hidden away, then he's hiding in plain sight.
He can't be, he hates the daylight.
Where do you go to be in the dark in the daytime,
where everyone can see you, but no-one can see you?
The key to this whole thing's the dynamite...
Perv!
Stop! Stop, police!
He tried to run, so they're holding him there. Who are?
Kent.
And the people from the cinema. The bloody public? Fantastic!
Word's got out, then.
Yeah, all right. Calm down, please.
Police officers. Let us in. Thank you.
All right. Thank you very much. We've got him.
Couldn't you do this on your own?
I'm sorry. I forgot my crucifix and holy water.
I'll get Mansell to meet us round the back. Take him to the cinema.
Get away from these people.
Get your car round the back of the cinema sharpish.
There he is!
Hurry, Kent. Get us out of here. Get us out of here.
Die! Die!
Marcus Salter has been charged and is remanded into custody.
With all the lights on.
Good.
Well, now you've got a bit of free time...
What's this?
Remember that SOCO, Lizzie Pepper? That's her number.
Why? What... What? You can't... She likes you and she's single.
You asked her? Well, you weren't going to. No.
Well, just have a drink.
Give her a ring. You might have lots in common.
I know you're trying to be nice, but, really,
this is way beyond your remit as sergeant.
I can manage my own life.
Don't lose that number.
I worked hard for that.
Who has been using my milk?
No-one touches your milk. It's soya and it's blue.
I dye it blue, but it makes no difference,
because someone is still stealing it.
It's just milk, Lara.
You're all thieving bastards!
Next time, I'm putting rat poison in it!
You look happy. Movie night tonight.
Poor woman. Night-night.
Meg, listen, I've booked my Judy a bit of a spa day.
She won't want to go on her own and I know
you enjoyed your weekend away together.
Take That in Dublin. It was fantastic.
Would you mind going with her?
Chocolate body wraps? Bloody hell, yeah, I'd love to.
Thanks. She needs something to take her mind off the scan. What about you?
Have a good evening.
Are you doing anything tonight?
Joe, this is Charlie Cross, author of Jack The Ripper: The Last Word.
Pleased to meet you.
And this is George Collier, author of Jack The Ripper: His True Identity.
Hello.
This is Joe. Joe hasn't written a book, but he is an avid reader.
What's your area of expertise?
Well, I know a bit about cricket.
Sports? Good. We'll bat those your way.
Joe could be a bit of a dark horse.
He might give us a slight advantage over the British Museum.
They cheat with the internet.
Isn't this supposed to be for fun?
It's not fun when you lose.
OK. Now, let's get this quiz on the track.
Have you not put the team name down? No.
Where are you going? Shop. I don't have any bloody milk.
And, no, I won't get you any chocolate.
What is the name given to the parchment paper
used to wrap fish or meat during cooking?
Papillote. Two Ls, one T. Papillote.
You could become a regular team member, if you like.
We could do with another fourth.
What happened to your old fourth? He's over there.
In Coventry. Walter Grundy.
Charming chap.
Absolutely full of himself.
He used to be team captain. Team dictator.
He'd never take an answer from us. Thought he knew everything.
It'd be wrong. He wouldn't listen.
He'd write down his own answers. Cost us the Christmas Quiz.
So we said to him, 'You clearly don't need any of
us, why don't you go and be a team on your own?'
We've beaten him in every game since.
A harsh lesson, but one which must be learned.
Like a punishment?
For his pride? Yes.
Name three people who could have been Jack The Ripper.
Dear. George Chapman...
Ripper questions have always been our undoing.
Georgie Fox said that if anyone deserved to die it was her.
She felt she deserved punishment for her bad behaviour.
Georgie Fox and Lola Emery were both spoiled, selfish, young women.
The killer didn't spare them.
He wanted them to be the sole survivors, left on their own to suffer.
So the girls are the key. I knew it.
God, that means the murders weren't about money, at all.
Marcus Salter isn't the killer.
I think we've charged an innocent man.
- Meaning 'elsewhere'? - Alibi.
What's on? Cartoons.
Shit.
Does anyone know where the fusebox is? Yeah. The landlord.
I'll go upstairs and look for the fusebox. This house looks creepy.
They were killed with hammer blows to the back of the head.
Same ambush technique. No struggle.
It's the same killer.
Marcus Salter was in custody all night. We're his alibi.
I'm sorry. We all hoped it was over.
We may have forensic science, CCTV and murder-investigation manuals,
but the truth is we're not doing any
better than the parish constables of 1811.
Who the hell would want to steal a cold falafel?
She's another survivor with a self-righteous, entitled attitude.
Another girl who had to be taught a lesson in humility.
Forget everything about John Williams and the Ratcliffe Highway.
The girls are the key, but they don't have anything
or anyone in common. Their lives never intersected.
I want you to search the archive for a case where the
murderer punished the victim by letting them survive.
I've been doing that, but there are thousands of cases, hundreds...
I have to go and tell everyone what we are going
to do next and I don't know what I'm going to say.
Joe?
I found this.
Richard Farley, California, February 16th, 1988.
He stalked a co-worker for four years.
Then turned up at work one morning and shot seven colleagues dead.
To punish her for ignoring him.
That's interesting.
Our first crime scene was a workplace.
The Emerys' was a family house. The students shared a flat.
No work went on there.
No. No, no, no, no.
This is perfect. This is the connection. They were all workplaces.
The Emerys had recently renovated their house.
The student house had only just been turned into flats and bedsits.
So all the murder scenes were workplaces for a builder.
Find Sly Driscoll. I want another word with him. Now. Yes, yes, yes.
Have a look around, see if you can find anything.
Nothing.
See who that is in the photo with Driscoll. Yes, sir.
There's no food. Must have been a gone a while, then.
No, I mean, there's no food, at all. Nothing.
A single bloke, who can eat and drink what he wants and...
there's not even a crumb here.
Maybe he doesn't cook.
No empty takeaway cartons in the bin.
Not even an empty beer can.
There's no fridge.
I guess he lives on fresh air.
Like a ghost.
Mr Cobbett? DC Kent. I've come to talk to you about Sly Driscoll.
Sly?
A good lad. A great worker.
He's a craftsman. He's very, very reliable. He's of good character?
You don't find many like him, these days.
I need a list of all the properties that he's worked on.
Well, we do everything from loft conversions,
basement excavations
to shop re-fits and putting up shelves for old ladies.
We get the work and then we sub-contract the jobs.
He's been on the books for a few years. All his stuff... should be on here.
If Driscoll gets in touch, let us know.
But be discreet. We don't want to spook him.
Driscoll has worked on nearly 200 properties.
Including all three murder scenes?
The conversion of the Emerys' house, part of
a maintenance contract on the student house
and he was restoring the Salter's tailor shop.
And Driscoll had a limp.
The guy on the CCTV had a limp. And the footprints were smeared.
Driscoll doesn't have a limp.
He can hide it when he walks, but not when he tries to run.
He was in a car crash. His leg got crushed.
His best mate was killed in the accident.
Paul Ingall.
Hi, Mrs Ingall. DC Riley. We spoke on the phone.
Thanks for coming in. Do you want to come this way?
After you.
I really, really do appreciate you coming in
and just answering a few more questions.
So your Paul was best mates with Sly Driscoll?
Yeah, they both sailed with the East End Yacht Trust, those big clipper ships.
Paul was young
and small for his age.
Sly was like a big brother to him. He really looked out for him.
We understand that Sly was in the crash that killed Paul.
That's right.
Can you tell me what happened?
The girl that was driving was called Lauren.
She thought she was the best driver in the world.
She had this hot hatch and...
She wouldn't listen to anyone.
I remember Sly telling them at the inquest how...
they all begged her to slow down.
But she just laughed
and went faster.
Such an arrogant girl.
They were trapped in that car for hours.
Sly said how he kept shouting at Lauren to wake up, to see what she'd done.
She was dead.
They all were.
Thank you so much.
They fixed his leg, but they couldn't fix him up here.
The crash was Lauren's fault.
Driscoll couldn't forgive her for dying.
He felt angry that she'd never have to answer for what she'd done,
never feel guilt about it, never suffer the loss of her best friends.
Then Driscoll met Georgie Fox.
Another arrogant, selfish, entitled girl, just like Lauren.
He wanted to punish her, wanted her to feel what it was like
to be surrounded by your dead friends, covered in their blood.
And then he punished Lola. And then Lara.
Over and over again, he wants them to feel what it's like.
He wants to enjoy their suffering.
Hear their screams.
To do that, he has to be close.
On every occasion, the police were there within minutes. He would have been seen.
If you don't see someone, does that mean they're not there?
Let's get Georgie Fox back in and keep looking for Driscoll.
Do you remember him? Nope.
He was the builder who worked on the shop.
He was there every day for months.
He was working in the shop on the day of the murders.
Yeah, yeah. He was there first thing doing something to the stairs.
Totally in the way. I kept tripping over him. Drove me mad.
When did he leave?
Don't know. Lunchtime? He was there, then he was gone.
Did you see him go?
What? No. He would have shown himself out.
Always?
He knew where the door was.
Thank you very much, Georgie.
Georgie never saw Driscoll leave because he didn't.
You mean, he was there all along?
Driscoll must have hid somewhere.
There's loads of places to hide.
My kids could disappear for days in here.
But the tailors would have been in and out.
He must have hid more out of the way,
somewhere where he wouldn't be discovered,
until he was ready to emerge.
What's this?
Anything? No.
What are you doing?
This cellar should be the same size as the room above, but...
it stops short, here.
A false wall?
Well, that's just an old coal hole.
There'll be nothing behind that but 19th-century coal dust.
If it hasn't been opened for 200 years, we'll know about it.
Not a squeak.
What the hell is this place?
It's a secret synagogue.
Built hundreds of years ago, so people
could worship without fear of persecution.
It's a good place to hide.
Look.
Driscoll must have got rid of the bagels so that Georgie was sent on an errand.
You think that you're safe.
But you've locked yourself in with a monster.
Hey.
Hello, Lizzie.
Hey.
On your own? Yeah.
After I heard about the secret synagogue, I
thought I'd come back here and see what I missed.
I had to find the reason why the footprints stopped, how he vanished.
Come and see.
Come in.
It's like he made the storage space and then...
didn't tell the family it was here.
I suppose he waited here,
until Lola was out.
Waited for the right moment.
Excuse me.
I'm sorry. Are you claustrophobic?
Yeah.
This scan will show us any abnormalities.
My God, Ray, look.
No news on the hammer? Nothing.
We've searched the park, the drains, the bins.
If Driscoll can hide himself, he can easily hide a hammer.
Come on. Don't lose your energy.
We've got him on the run. He'll make a mistake.
This is a waiting game.
Everybody...
I have an announcement to make about Judy.
It turns out that the symptoms for ovarian cancer
can, sometimes,
be confused, in an older woman,
with, those of pregnancy.
I'm going to be a dad again. No!
You dirty bugger.
And it's soon, too. She's six months bloody gone!
Wonderful news! I love babies. You're a lucky sod.
God bless you. Yeah, all right. Ease up. Ease up.
I don't know how I'm going to cope with a baby again.
At my age and a girl, too. What do I know about girls?
The only girl I know is him.
What about me?
You're not a girl. You're one of us.
Hang on a tick.
Have you called Lizzie yet?
Unsurprisingly, I've been busy.
Everything I have,
Judy, the kids, my whole life,
all started with a phone call.
I'm in the middle of a huge manhunt for a mass murderer.
I can't think about starting a relationship.
And I can't think about having a baby, but I have to.
Life goes on.
This job will always give you an excuse not
to make that call, not to have that dinner.
But this job won't keep you warm at night.
Just call her.
Come in. I'll be ready in a minute.
I'm glad you called me. I wasn't going to, but my sergeant made me.
But I'm glad I did. I mean, this isn't a bad thing.
I'm just always too busy to, you know, to get around to...
stuff.
Sit down. Make yourself at home.
Do you want a drink? No.
Where's your bathroom? Downstairs.
Do you have a flatmate?
Yes and no.
He's a porter at the London. Works nights.
So he's here in the day, when I'm at work,
and I'm here at night, when he's at work.
I never see him. I only know he exists because
he eats all the food and leaves the loo seat up.
It's like living with a hungry ghost.
So, you live with him, but you... don't know he's there.
Exactly.
I have to go. Really?
Why?
I thought you had a date. It didn't work out.
You made your mind up bloody quick.
We've been thinking that Driscoll was hiding in those houses
on the day of the murders, waiting for a few hours.
What if it's bigger than that?
What if he's living in those houses for days,
maybe weeks,
biding his time,
waiting for the right moment?
How could he live in the house without anyone noticing?
They noticed that food was going missing and blamed each other.
That's why there wasn't any food in his bedsit.
He's been stealing it from his victims.
He hides in the walls and comes out when no-one is looking.
He's there when you're not.
Like a ghost.
And that's how he vanished off our radar.
I think he has already chosen his next victim
and is living in that house,
right now,
watching their every move,
waiting for the moment when the woman goes out.
So that he can kill everyone close to her.
Either we put a lock on the fridge or we get a new nanny.
She eats as much as a grown man.
And I think she's been at the cellar.
We are definitely missing a few bottles.
Don't you think she's put on weight?
If you don't want to do anything about it, fine,
but don't moan at me when we have to pay for two food deliveries a week.
I thought John Williams was innocent of the
Ratcliffe Highway Murders, but I was wrong.
I told you to forget about John Williams. But I can't.
After he hanged himself in prison, someone searched his lodgings.
They found a jacket with a pocket encrusted with blood,
as if Williams had thrust a bloodied hand
into it and a knife hidden in the wall.
He kept his weapons close? Come on.
It might be helpful. I hope so. Thank you.
We need to go through every job Driscoll worked on.
A process of elimination.
Major renovations. Where there's a chance to build a hiding place.
I'll, take out all the contract stuff
and the gutters and the broken-window jobs.
Take out any property where the client lived on their own, as well.
That leaves about 25 properties.
That's too many. Take out any places being developed but unoccupied.
OK. Ten.
Take out any properties where all the occupants were men. Or the elderly.
I can't. The database isn't like that.
Complaints.
Yeah. There's a file, but, to be fair, we don't get many.
No, not from customers, from the builders.
Any rude or... or difficult clients?
Out of the last ten properties were there any
overly-entitled women? Self-righteous? Superior?
Mrs Vermillion.
She's all of them. A lot of my boys walked
off that job and refused to go back.
Driscoll said he wasn't bothered. He stayed till the end.
He was good like that. He never let anyone get to him.
What was the job?
A complete remodelling of the house. Loft conversion.
New bathroom. Walk-in dressing room. New nursery.
How many children do they have?
Two, I think. And a baby.
Madam, get back in the house. Police.
We're police officers, madam. Get back inside.
Your children are in danger. Open the bloody door!
Have you noticed food going missing, things being moved around?
How do you know? Where are the children? Upstairs. In the playroom with Sofia.
Sofia, we've got to go. Now.
Miles, it's OK. I've got them. We're bringing them down now.
Round the back. Don't let anybody out.
Quickly, please.
Go with this WPC and you'll be safe.
Check that all the doors and windows are secured.
Are we locking ourselves in with him?
I don't want Driscoll to escape.
He's somewhere in this house.
In the walls. Under the floorboards.
Watching us.
Get him.
Downstairs. Kent, you're with us. Yes, sir.
Well?
He's not downstairs.
Let's go.
Anything? Nothing.
Right. Go downstairs and work your way back up to the top.
OK.
Miles.
I think he's here.
No. I'm all right. Get him!
They're going to bring the house down.
Driscoll, wait. We know about Paul.
We know you've suffered. I understand.
You can't get out. You can't escape.
Please. It's over.
I know.
No!
200 years ago, this would have felt like justice.
You feel cheated? He doesn't have to own up to what he did.
He had a lucky escape. That's his, right?
The prosthetic? Yeah.
I presume he lost his leg below the knee in the car crash.
It's quite unusual.
It's not something you'd get on the NHS.
Looks wooden.
I suppose he made it himself. It's very heavy.
Yeah.
He liked to keep his weapons close.
We're having a bit of a do, to celebrate the new baby coming.
Just family, but you're very welcome to come, if you'd like to.
That's very kind of you, Miles, but I have plans. Really?
Good for you, sir. I hope you have a good time.
I will.
I'd heard you'd found an arm. We found a torso.
How did she die? She was poisoned.
She'd have felt like she was burning to death.
What's in that house is none of your business.
The Thames Torso Mysteries. The women were never identified.
I'm afraid they never found their heads.
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