- She'll be back. - She'll be back.
- Course she will. - Course she will.
What are you two? Macaws all of a sudden?
Course she will.
- It's family. - Correct.
- Absolutely. - I love her, Rose. Don't get me wrong. Ripped By mstoll
I hate her as well.
I love her and I hate her, cos that's the way it is with families.
Hate and love, and everything in between those two,
cos love on its own, what is it?
- It's not good. - It's not healthy.
I'll tell you what love by itself is.
It's sitting on a chair what floats on Lake Geneva,
wearing underpants that cost too much, eating way too many Mars Bars.
- Not healthy. - Not good.
Love is death. It's gotta be a maelstrom, family life, to be proper.
- Strom? - Maelstrom.
Or storm maybe. Maelstorm, isn't it?
Nah, it's strom.
Right. Strom.
- Strom. - He's under pressure. He's going dyslexic.
That's what passion does. Fucks with your words.
♪ Don't you ever stop long enough to start?
♪ Get your car out of that gear
ALEX:♪ I don't care if it rains or freezes
♪ As long as I got my plastic Jesus
♪ Sitting on the dashboard of my car
- What is black pudding, exactly? - Exactly?
- Dunno. Brain? - Brain?
- Rose is looking elsewhere. She's got to. - Why?
Her position's untenable. She's a barrister. She has to look at other chambers.
You? You, Billy?
I'm going to have to think.
- If she goes. - You're considering leaving me for your wife?
If she goes, then I have to think about it.
I'll have to run a great big razor across my wrists.
♪ I don't care if it's dark or scary
♪ Long as I got the Virgin Mary
♪ Sitting on the dashboard of my car
Guts. It's probably gut.
- Are you all right, Alex? - Fine, thanks.
- It's just... - Yes, Billy?
You've gone a little bit country.
(In Southern US accent) That's right.
(In same accent) What is it? Four hungry children?
- No. - Crop in the field?
- No. - Helen?
Pig blood. Isn't it? Black pudding? Congealed pig blood.
Yeah, that's right.
You're gonna meet someone. I want you to look after him.
Right. Who?
- Your cousin. - My cousin?
My son Rory.
Rory? God.
- Yeah. - Where is he?
- What case? - Art thing. Black pudding art thing.
The con is here. She's in your room.
BOTH: Thanks.
Go.
- Too thin, no veins. - Smackhead. Go on.
Big glasses, crusty scalp. Vague smell of cream cheese.
- Someone's pervy uncle. Go on. - No brain, small willy, fluffy dice.
- Car thief. Go on. - John Major Minor.
- Clean skin. Go on. - That's it.
- Brilliant. So very, very fast. - What's this black pudding art thing?
- Installation crime. - Clean skin? What's clean skin?
The drug dealers of the new century.
- No form. - V-necks on Sundays.
- Polyester. - Wool, single-breasted, Monday to Friday.
- Untouchable. Police can't get near you. - In the old days...
(In Cockney accent) Here's my in-your-face motor. Here's my weigh-me-down gold.
Four million per cent upturn in my bank balance
a day after I'm seen chatting to Chinese men in a service station.
- Flight tickets to Ten-ar... - Ten-ar...
- Ten-ar-fucking-reef.
- Piece of piss for the boys in blue. - Not any more.
Not with dealers posing as former prime ministers.
Shut it.
- Peter... - I don't like this game.
Don't you? Fair enough.
- That was a bit... - It was a bit...
My son Rory.
What?
In there. One of the people in your game.
- Jesus. - Yeah.
God, what's he? Which one?
Clean skin, allegedly.
Bloody hell.
Your con's waiting, Billy. My son's girlfriend.
I love him.
Whatever you hear, you get it straight.
I love my son.
What colour's your duvet?
- White. Why? - Good.
Good?
- Nightie? - What?
Colour.
- It's a nightshirt. - Colour.
White.
- Excellent. Rory? - What?
Pyjamas.
- Yeah. - Good. Pure cotton. Much loved.
- What is this? - Painting a picture for the jury.
Romeo and Juliet under the duvet. You were terrified.
- It was very frightening. - Frightening and terrifying.
You and Rory in your white cotton night gear tucked up under your white cotton duvet.
It's 5:40am, and in come eight coppers
with big feet, yellow teeth, and a variety of moustaches.
They're practically Nazis. Juliet and the Nazis.
Members of the jury, can you imagine...
The whole doormat of facial hair from a completely different era...
in your bedroom at 5:40am,
on a week-day morning, full of last night's fish and pickled onions.
Cotton Town becomes Grimsby.
Can you imagine?
Painting pictures, Frances, it's what we do.
And this is a vivid one to paint.
You're very good at it.
Oh, thanks.
- What about the drugs they found? - Bugger the drugs.
Obviously they were planted, but the jury won't even be thinking about drugs
with my picture in their heads.
Did Romeo and Juliet do much smack?
You don't talk much. I understand that.
You prefer to let your art do the talking for you.
I assume that your silence denotes assent.
This is Audrey.
And this is... Audrey.
Hello.
- We were just... - May I?
Absolutely.
Four thousand slices of black pudding.
Must have taken the whole night,
from the first six on the butcher's window to the last four going up the doors of the gallery.
A brilliant trail.
In a night. Amazing.
Calling it a crime is a crime.
It's art for art's sake, for fuck's sake. Can I have a word?
Excuse me.
Rory McLeish, son of Peter, in chambers
charged with possession with intent to supply heroin.
My God. Who's doing it?
Do the rest of the con for me, will you? One Audrey's much the same as another.
It's genetic, clerking.
It's DNA.
I've got it, he's got lots of it, and you... you've got it too.
It's like us being cousins. Clerking's kind of the same thing.
The cousinhood of clerks.
You shouldn't be too hard on him.
I think I can be as hard on him as 18 years of complete neglect allows.
He left when I was three.
I'm sorry. It's not you.
It's him.
He cranks me up every time.
Guy?
Two things. Answer yes or no.
As list officer at Crown Court they pay you bugger all.
Yes.
- And you'd like to earn more? - Yes.
- My son's on trial. - Yes.
You won't know this, being a poof, but it's hard for a father.
As a poof, I can imagine.
- Too hard for me to sit in on him. - I can imagine.
- But I want eyes and ears in there, good ones. - My ones?
Your ones. In return I add to the value of the pink pound by ã1,000 a day.
One word - yes or no?
Yes.
I was just wondering - who's doing Rory? Who's representing?
Peter?
He needs... less noise than you give.
He needs proper care and attention.
- It's not me? - It's not you.
I need you to have a drink with to get through this.
Who is it, then?
(Whispers)
(Whispers) What's this?
What's this?
Hm?
That goes right up above.
And this goes on.
(Music plays)
(Phone rings)
(Whispers) And this goes on.
- I'm glad that er... - I'm here.
Yeah.
Right. Well, it was the obvious thing to do.
- I remember... - Don't.
- Don't? - No remembers.
They're not earned, Dad. You haven't earned the right to exploit memories.
No.
Will she? Not come back?
She'll make a good decision. She's good at making decisions.
Big woman, Rose. Biggest woman I've ever met.
- What about you? - What about me?
Helen's looking pretty massive, I'd say.
Helen is massive. But she's going out with Tom.
- Who in my opinion... - Yes, Alex? Two Export.
Put it this way - there are times when I look at his shirt...
- Yes, Alex? ...and I see...
- What do you see? - Through the shirt.
- And into his soul? - Into his vest.
His vest? God.
And I think about Helen, and I find it hard to imagine her and his vest juxtaposed.
- Into his vest? - Yeah. They've...
They've not? Holes?
- Holes! - Holes?
Hello, Peter.
- How was it? - The con? Fine.
- What else? - She's a nice girl.
What else?
I just wanted to ask... Tomorrow's vote...
Go away.
We should be, Morag and I, away from chambers, I suppose.
Leave.
I've got to shoot.
You just got here.
- It's work. - What work?
Breakfast at Tiffany's, Roman Holiday. Audrey stuff.
You can stop worrying about Rory having got in with a bad influence. She's a nice girl.
With form.
Two-year-old conviction for a tiny amount of cannabis.
What, you want to dump on her?
Your poor boy's been seduced by cannabis-crazed vamp into a life of crime.
The Daily Mail route from a tiny amount of puff to big smack-dealing.
Completely crap notion, Peter. They love each other.
They're very sweet.
It's the best thing in the case from both their points of view. How young they are and how old.
Old?
Mature. They've done really well with no parents.
- All right. - It has to be said.
Now you've said it, you can shut it.
Remember when we saw Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday?
Yeah, I remember.
You wanted to discuss the case.
That's a bit pompous, Thomas. (Mockingly) Discuss the case.
- What do you want to discuss? - Wondered if you'd fill me in on the con.
- What was said. - Nothing.
They don't speak, the Audreys.
Right.
- What's the charge? - Criminal damage.
The black pudding slices were superglued.
- The bill is massive. - Tens of thousands.
- They could go inside. - Is there a defence?
Not guilty because they haven't said they are. Innocent until and all that. So it's up to us.
So, which one of you has the better Audrey?
BOTH: Me.
(Knocking)
Cooking.
Yeah.
- For Morag? - Yeah.
You two are...
Yeah, we are. You're supporting Hussein.
He'll bring in business.
Yeah, business.
Right.
Are you staying, Rose, in chambers?
Half-fill an empty beer can with white wine.
Probably not.
I want you to do one last thing for me.
Then garlic and butter.
He matters more to me than anything.
Under the skin with the hands.
I love rural cooking.
A bit of right-up-to-the-elbow cooking.
Please think about it.
And finally the parting of the buttocks, and...
on she goes.
Baby, I Love You.
What?
The Ronettes or the Ramones - what's the best version?
I dunno.
It's In His Kiss - Betty Everett or Cher?
Uh, Cher...
Look, I don't know.
With A Little Help From My Friends.
It's not that easy, Alex.
What?
Charm isn't enough.
No.
I was on a train the other day.
- Really, Thomas? - And it stopped at a station.
And the man opposite me looked out the window, and so did I,
and on the platform was a man with his pencil, his pad, and yes, his anorak.
Trainspotter.
And the man opposite looked at me, and I looked at him,
and he sneered, and I wanted to punch him hard in the face.
Why, Tom?
Because trainspotters are all of us.
They're nothing to laugh about.
- What? - Cricket scores.
Football teams. Share prices.
Favourite moments in favourite films. It's all the same. It's all trainspotting.
- It's completely different, the song thing. - How?
Cos my tongue's firmly in my cheek. Trainspotters are deadly serious.
It's list-making. It's being a boy forever.
Tongue in cheek or thumb in mouth - same thing.
There's nothing touching about it because you whisk up a bit of irony with your tongue.
The song thing is trainspotting for better-Iooking boys. Good night, Alex.
I get business in, Rose. It's what I do.
And I keep the family... chambers happy.
I've got two heads - my business head, and my family head.
My business head is simple. It's an instinct head.
I have to admit...
...there are times the business head can get a bit big.
And when that happens, the family head shrinks.
I really am gonna try, Rose.
Bugger business.
Gonna get the business head to shut up a bit. Family counts.
You could start a business selling tea towels with your homely homilies.
Bugger business. Family counts.
If you do this case, if you do Rory,
I will be very, very grateful.
Do the case. Then decide whether or not you can live with me.
I think you should think about it.
- What? - Doing Rory.
- Why? - Sins of the father, and all that.
And he's the sort of boy who deserves someone like you representing him.
- He's probably innocent. - Peter asked you to do this.
"Billy, have a word with her."
No, he hasn't. This is me.
Alone.
It's what I think, Rose.
- Is he here? - He's in your room.
Thanks, Rose.
I'm seeing him, that's all.
And if I do do it, doesn't mean I'm staying.
Yeah, I know.
What would make you not want to do it? About him.
What do you think, Peter?
He's nothing like me.
Theft, definition of.
Right.
The appropriation of property belonging to another
with the intention of permanently depriving them of it.
Dishonesty.
- The appropriation has to be dishonest. - Yeah.
- Why? - Law.
- Ah, you want to... - Yeah.
- Your father's footsteps. - No, no.
I wanna be you. I'm a law student.
- Did you think that I... - Yeah, I did.
I'm sorry. That's unforgiveable.
The son of a clerk can't possibly aspire to...
Well, I think I meant...
this clerk.
(Sighs)
I'm not his son.
Not really.
A few years of twice-a-year big treat days, and then basically nothing.
And a fat cheque every Christmas.
You're here.
He was the best person to come to.
Things he knows?
He said you. He said you were the best.
- For you? - Just the best, actually.
I want her back.
Helen.
I know. So does Tom, I think.
- How? - It shows.
You're right to want her back. Have you?
- Made a move yet? Kind of. - And what did she say?
She said charm isn't enough.
- Good. - Why?
She's being serious. She wants the best. If you've got it and show her it, you're back in.
- No charm, though. I mean, Jesus. - Charm's fine, but you've got to have more...
- More what? - Gravitas.
Gravitas?
And bottom. Real bottom. Show her your gravitas.
- Show her my... - Yes, Alex?
Childish remark. I've put away childish things.
♪ Jesus, Mary and St Patrick, now I've got the holy hat trick
♪ Sitting on the dashboard of my car
Any motives you can think of for the police planting drugs on you and Frances?
None.
One more witness of any significance left. The tip-off. John Ridge.
I don't know him.
I'm sorry. I'm not being very...
Oh, no, no, it's not your fault.
I wanted to ask you...
I only have one memory of him from before he left. I was three.
What memory?
Him singing.
- What was he singing? - I don't know. I've been trying to remember.
18 years.
- What's the listing? - Two o'clock.
What were you going to do if I'd said no?
Who was the back-up? Who'd be free to start a two o'clock trial?
I knew you'd get along, the two of you.
How would you know who your son would get along with?
It seems to me that the two of you stand together.
- Yes, Your Honour. - As one.
That's right, Your Honour.
You do not disagree about the approach to this case in any way.
Absolutely not.
Then perhaps you can tell me why the Legal Aid fund should pay you both to do the job of one?
The vital thing here is to do what's best for the Audreys.
- Which is? - At the end of the day, this case needs flair.
- That's you. - More than that, it needs gravitas.
It needs depth.
- Which is me. - Which is you.
- I'm very deep. - Yes, you are.
Deep with a lot of e's between the d and the p.
- Who's prosecuting? - Leo Wilson QC.
- The judge? - Glove.
Great.
You enter the flat at 5:40am.
That's correct.
The drugs are found at 6:20am.
That's correct.
And after 40 minutes of searching around this very small flat,
"Oh, look, oh, my goodness, we found a full bag of heroin in the bread bin
cuddling up to the white slice - blow me down."
They don't like her bullying him.
Did you pull up the floorboards before looking under the bed?
No.
Did you break into the wall before looking in the cupboards?
No.
So why did it take eight grown men 40 minutes to get round to looking in the bread bin?
Can I say something?
Is it that you didn't find anything, Officer?
And what with everyone having had an early start and all,
you were damned if you were going home empty-handed,
so you popped a little something in with the Mother's Pride
for the other seven dwarves to stumble across.
Is that the truth?
I think, Miss Fitzgerald, the witness wants to speak.
- I know where this is leading. - Genius.
And I've got one question.
- You'd better ask it. - (Mutters) Why not let you do the questions?
Much fairer way of trying people.
Mr Guthrie?
You were saying?
Why not, Officer? You do the questions. A much fairer way of trying people. Your Honour.
Rattled, Billy, rattled.
- Why? - Why what, Officer?
Why would we want to plant drugs on two people like them?
You usually plant drugs in the bins of those you have proper grievance against?
- The Police Service doesn't... - It used to be Force, Officer.
Police Force.
There are those of us who aren't taken in by a softer word.
Was it sliced white?
No, sir, I believe it was brown bread.
Granary?
- I believe so, sir. - Much in the cupboard?
I remember some honey.
Honey and granary. What kind of drug dealer is that?
In you lot tromp. How do they look, the suspects?
- Surprised. - Shocked?
You could say that.
- Did they have... attitude? - No.
- They were compliant? - Yes.
- Helpful, not obstructive? - All that.
Not your average arrestee, not your usual drug dealer way?
Clean skins.
What was that, Officer?
That's the whole point.
These are the new dealers - nice, clean.
Brown bread, healthy living.
And invisible.
Could you confirm for the jury, Officer, that my client Rory McLeish
has no previous convictions of any type?
That is correct, ma'am.
Bloody hell, Rose.
What? Rory has no form. I wanted the jury to know.
And by implication they know Frances does have.
They'll be tucked up right now having a good old natter.
He's got no form, but we haven't heard that she hasn't. Therefore she obviously has.
- Just doing my job. - No, you're not.
That's the whole point. We live together.
If they think I've got form, then the next thought is, "Bet it's drugs."
And if they do that thought, then I'm in trouble, and so's the boy we live with.
You're sinking us both.
It's a big mistake you've made, and I think you know why.
Why?
You're so far up your own arse, trying to prove yourself nicer, cleaner than Peter,
you desperately go in for Rory, and prove how bloody high your rising above gets.
In fighting for him for moral high ground
you forgot Leo Wilson and Her bloody Majesty the Queen are the real enemy.
That's what I think, Rose.
You can't stay away from fighting him. It's an obsession. Other people get hurt.
Got one more witness - John Ridge, the tip-off.
- We have nothing for him. - An old conviction for armed robbery.
Spent and irrelevant, and this judge won't let the jury hear it. He'd be right.
We're going down, Rose.
Breaking his heart.
The jury are pro-police. It's one of those things.
Sure you don't know anything about John Ridge?
- Nothing. - Nothing?
He moved in opposite, and went to the police with all this. He's made a mistake, that's all.
- Did you ever talk to him? - No.
I'm sorry, Rose.
He has got previous, 20-odd years ago.
What would I know about that? I was being born.
Bet you weren't a home birth.
No. Very hospital.
Dad pacing, and smoking in the corridor?
No, drinking and strutting up and down the Old Kent Road.
Where do we go from here?
Test his evidence, try and suggest the comings and goings from your flat
were friends, not punters, and hope something comes up.
A steady procession of young people at all hours of day and night. Is that fair?
Absolutely definitely. I thought to myself, "This could only be one thing."
Yes, Mr Ridge?
Drugs. So I phoned the Old Bill.
- Where's your accent from? - I'm from Camberwell.
For the more parochial Yorkshire men and women of the jury,
could you tell us where Camberwell is?
South London. Innit?
This is all very interesting, the geographicals. I'm struggling to grasp the relevance.
Struggle no more, Mr Wilson. We'll call it a day there.
Ten o'clock tomorrow morning.
Could actually be me, in theory. Frances might be dealing.
No.
I know she's not. You know how you know?
The police plant's a complete no-no.
Even John Ridge.
- I've been thinking. - You'd better not be late for your meeting.
What were you thinking?
I don't want you to feel I bounced you into living with me.
- Tom, look... - No, wait.
If you do feel that, I want you to feel fine about... leaving.
Going.
That would be fine.
The meeting, Tom.
Is it Alex?
Come on, Tom.
What are you thinking about?
- Nothing. You? - Nothing.
Really?
Really.
Actually, I was thinking about you.
I was thinking about you.
What were you thinking?
You'd get the place in chambers, and I'll be surplus to requirements.
Me too.
You too?
I mean me too that you'd get the place.
John Ridge.
- What about him? - What do you think?
In the box? How would I know?
Guy Beethoven's your eyes and ears. What's he said about Ridge's performance?
Ridge has got form.
It's spent, but I could put it in if I could make it relevant.
How can you do that?
Rory was just a baby when Ridge started his stretch in the Scrubs.
Scrubs?
Yeah.
- Wormwood Scrubs. - Yeah. What's the matter with you?
Just struck by how much you know.
That's your forte, isn't it, Peter?
The things you know.
One shouldn't read anything into you knowing
which prison an old lag like Ridge served his time in.
Rose isn't here.
It's unfair on Morag to make a vote on her future without Rose being here to speak for her.
We don't know if she's even in chambers any more.
It's not fair on Hussein to keep him hanging on indefinitely
while Rose makes up her mind about her future.
She has the luxury of taking her time. Hussein needs to know.
- Tom's right. - You'll be voting for Hussein, then?
That's irrelevant. My voting intentions don't come into it.
It'll be about now.
Yeah. About now.
- The rest of our lives. - Yeah.
- I'll um... - No.
- No? - Let's... stay together while they're...
- Until they've... - Yeah.
So...
Coffee.
(Door opens)
Hussein.
She's supposed to be coming round.
She called?
- No. - Where are you going?
- To her flat. - I'll do it.
Let me do it, Rose.
Sit down, Morag.
Sorry.
- Sorry? - I said I'd...
It's not me, is it?
It's not you.
It's um... him.
The Asian ticket'll bring us in plenty.
He'll be a good earner for us, Hussein.
I'm gonna buy a place in the country.
Get a dog.
- Maybe a Ilama. - Llama?
Llamas are it. Pure chic.
- I fancy doing a bit of hunting. - On your Ilama?
I know him.
Who?
One of the witnesses.
What witness?
Ridge.
John. The tip-off.
- Know him? - Know him.
From then.
Then? What then?
Before.
Before you were this?
It's taken a lot to get here, Alex.
Yeah.
And it's a long way to fall.
Mañana,
lovely boy.
(Door closes)
- What was the vote? - Nine-eight.
She lost by one vote.
- Me. - Yeah.
(Phone rings)
Hello?
Alex for you.
All right, mate?
Peter knows him. John Ridge.
- Alex told you. - Peter told Alex.
Alex tells you, you tell me. Dominoes.
- What? - He's trying to put the dominoes back up.
- What? - Can't you see?
He's pulling everyone back in. It's politics.
Playing politics with his own son. He doesn't have a real family.
- Chambers is his only family. - I think you're wrong.
Do you, Billy, really?
Find out, Rose. Cut out me, cut out Alex.
Cut out everything in-between, and go straight to McLeish. Go to the heart of this.
- But why should I? - To get it done with.
- Why should I go on playing? - Because Rory's your client, Rose.
I've never seen you do anything less than the best for any client, whoever they are.
Congratulations, sir.
But before you get too excited, this is for chambers' first anniversary party tonight.
Your party's a sort of sub-party within the party party.
Ten o'clock, dangerous driving in your pigeon hole. Let's go.
Peter tells Alex, Alex tells Billy, Billy tells me. It's the same old shit.
I was talking to Alex.
I was making a choice.
- It helps me, talking to him. - The son you never had?
If you weren't who you are, I'd punch your lights out.
Sentiment, Peter. Fighting and crying over the boy you never see.
It's not proper life, it's not proper family.
What choice?
I'm choosing you.
Me?
You lot, this.
My fucking home, Rose.
I don't understand. How well do you know Ridge?
I'm not going in. I'm not going in the witness box.
Well, what are you scared of, Peter?
The past?
Do you have a past, Peter?
Is that it?
You wanted me to know about this.
You knew it would get to me.
There has to be a purpose, a design. There always is.
I was thinking out loud. Alex was there.
He blabbed about it.
I don't believe you.
We need him. We need him to give evidence.
You can't be a witness if you've sat in on the whole trial first.
He hasn't been in court.
- Beethoven's been giving him it word for word. - We don't know that.
- We don't know know, but we know. - Which is fine.
I think you think it's fine because you want to get to him.
What?
You're stretching the rules to put McLeish on the spot.
In your headlights where you want him. This is about you and him, not about Rory.
You were right, Billy. I never do less than my best for my client.
That's always been true. Still is.
Most people spend most of their lives keeping their feelings to themselves.
Most people have their significant moments in private.
Public gestures are not the English way.
Lace curtains, the noise of television...
these are the things that hide our moments of action.
We are silent, and we are private.
This is not true of this case.
These are people who are accused of offending against silence,
of having the courage of their convictions.
You've heard the evidence.
The issue is simple - is it them, or is it not?
But I want you to do something I've never asked a jury to do before.
I want you to ask yourself
whether a genuine, considered, effective gesture ought to be called a crime at all.
Some things can be said in public,
and we shouldn't condemn them for running against the English grain.
Quite the opposite.
Silence is the enemy.
Public courage is infinitely better.
No silence.
Truth.
I'm going to do something that's a big risk.
I'm going to go in for Ridge very heavy, and it's all in one question.
- Do you trust me? - Yes.
Good.
One question.
Is it right that on the 15th of June, 1982,
you were convicted at Crown Court of armed robbery?
Jury out, please. And the witness.
What do you think you're doing? What does she think she's doing?
A very old and spent conviction, Miss Fitzgerald, and completely irrelevant.
Now, should you fail to prove to me that this witness's previous conviction
is relevant to a drug case 20 years on,
I should expect Mr Wilson to be asking to discharge the jury,
and I will be ordering a re-trial.
And you should be considering your future.
Now, relevance, Miss Fitzgerald!
Has Your Honour finished?
For the time being.
I call Peter McLeish.
Peter McLeish?
No answer, Your Honour.
Would Your Honour give me five minutes?
I'll give you two.
To save my career, and my entire future?
Three.
Thank you.
- Where is he? Where is he? - Roof.
I can't.
If you don't give evidence, he goes down. If you do, who knows?
You don't know, Rose. You just don't know.
I don't know if you're prepared to say stuff
which might make you less than the completely invulnerable man you want us all to see.
I don't even know if what you could say will save Rory, but you do.
You know.
You make the choice, Peter.
In 60 seconds,
I'll be standing there, the judge will be in.
Rory will be waiting.
All of chambers is waiting to see what kind of a man you are.
I'll say the words again.
I call Peter McLeish.
Miss Fitzgerald?
It looks to me as if Mr McLeish isn't going to be here.
Rose?
Rose!
I swear by Almighty God the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth.
I want to ask you about the past.
Yeah.
The buried past.
21 years ago.
He was a baby.
I was...
...something different to what I am now.
Not a clerk?
Me and three others did a big blag.
Blag?
Armed robbery.
I was the driver.
Two of the others got nicked, and banged up.
Two of us didn't.
And then they got to me.
Old Bill.
And what happened?
They told me I was just a kid.
They told me I wasn't what they really wanted.
They wanted Mr Big.
The other robber?
They said they'd leave me and my family alone...
...if I gave him up.
Who?
Gave who up?
It was the hardest thing I've ever done.
Up till now.
John Ridge.
Him.
I grassed him up.
He got a lot of prison. I got a new life up here as a tea boy in Marlowe's chambers.
But he knew.
Couldn't have been anyone else.
He knew it was me, and one day he was coming out.
Of Wormwood Scrubs?
And that day came, and this is it.
And this is him, and this is my son, and that's his motive.
It's me.
He wants me.
Well, he can have me.
Here I am, 21 years older.
All yours, John.
But you can't have him.
You can't have my son.
- How long have the jury been out? - One hour, 46 minutes.
- Do you think? - Don't think, Bob. Drink. Just drink.
Would all parties in the case of McLeish and Ford please return to Court 4.
Have you reached a verdict in respect of both defendants about which you are all agreed?
Yes.
Do you find the defendant Rory McLeish guilty or not guilty?
Not guilty.
Do you find the defendant Frances Ford guilty or not guilty?
Not guilty.
Thank you.
(Mouths)
I love you.
You're my cousin, and I fucking love you.
And I love you, miss.
You are my head of chambers, and I love you.
- Morag. She's a big woman. - She gets it off Rose.
- I had a good result today. - Did you?
Yeah. Did a good job. Turned a loser into a winner. Good result.
Hi.
Do you know what squatting is?
It means taking as long as you want to go. I've known people squat in chambers for years.
We could get you in here.
Couldn't we, Johnny Boy?
Your first pupillage with your cousin clerking the pants off you, imagine.
And your dad. You'd be made.
Cos do you know what this is here?
This is bosom. This is bosom of the family, this is.
Bosom of the family.
Planned?
The whole thing. Design, purpose?
- What do you think? - We're all here.
And it feels that's got something to do with you. Here's my flaws, here's the past.
- Except Rose. - Except Rose.
If she thinks I'm right about you - design, purpose,
and being in control all along - she won't come back.
Then I wouldn't have designed it right, would I? If I'd designed it at all.
Mr Beethoven.
- Hello, Guy. - I enjoyed being your eyes and ears.
Because if you were in the court yourself, you wouldn't be able to go in the witness box.
Design, purpose.
Sorry. Excuse me. Thanks.
Hi.
Can I just say on behalf of all of chambers...
...what a good job you did in court today, riding along on the coat tails of your wife.
(AII cheer)
What did you sing?
What did you sing when I was little?
Opera. Bits of opera, and hymns.
Sing it.
What, now? No way.
Sing it. Please.
♪ And if those feet in ancient time
♪ Walked upon England's mountains green
♪ And was the Holy Lamb of God
♪ On England's pleasant pastures seen
♪ And if the countenance divine
♪ Shined forth upon those clouded hills
♪ And was Jerusalem builded here
♪ Among those dark, satanic mills Ripped By mstoll