Are we done?
Bar what I suspect will be a lengthy debriefing.
- But tomorrow, yeah? - Tomorrow.
You all right?
I think he's pushed some bone into my brain.
Excellent.
[ ♪ Paradise Circus ♪ by Massive Attack ]
♪ Love is like a sin, my love
♪ For the ones that feel it the most
♪ Look at her with her eyes like a flame
♪ She will love you like a fly will never love you
♪ Again. ♪
Resync & corrections by lost0ne www.addicted.com
Victim's Emily Hammond. Edits technical manuals.
Divorced. No kids.
Comes home round 11. No sign of forced entry,
so it looks like she might have known her killer. Let him in.
Comes home from where?
Speed-dating.
What, she's brought him home and...? That doesn't sound right, does it?
No?
Women don't go speed-dating for sex, they go for a relationship.
But check them all out. Um, ex-husband?
Lives in Bristol.
- On it? - Being done as we speak.
There's nothing to suggest she was into S&M.
No fetish gear in the wardrobe, nothing on her browsing history.
No, no. Our boy's brought this stuff with him.
You reckon?
Mmm, look, it's a very specific look. The wig, the make-up.
It's a bit of a Siouxsie And The Banshees thing going on here.
Who and the what? '80s. Post-punk.
Oh. Goths.
Post-punk.
Oh, it's definitely not her wig.
Dirty old thing.
She's not wearing shoes.
You can see the strap marks.
She was wearing the shoes when she was strangled.
So where are the shoes?
I've seen something like this before.
Yeah, where?
Photograph. Something.
So he's what? Re-enacting an old murder?
Maybe he's a fan.
Paying homage.
Back door was point of exit. Front door was deadbolted.
Right, well...
Check that back door again.
Chances are it's probably the way he let himself in.
DCI Luther?
Do you have a moment?
How was it?
Fetish killing.
Whatever he's doing,
it looks like he's been planning it for a long time.
So now that he's started...
Be hard for him to stop, even if he wanted to.
I, um...
I've been ordered to move you to another case.
What other case?
Jared Cass.
Sickness beneficiary, "cyber activist", whatever that might be.
Found dead in his flat this morning.
This was filmed on Cass's smartphone,
distributed to his contacts list.
- 'I'm sorry!' - This was how it ended.
What a day. OK. But why us?
Not us.
You. Me?
- Personally? Why? - Murder's murder, John.
No. Come on, boss. You see, this is a revenge killing.
Meat and potatoes.
The man who killed Emily Hammond is organised, but not sane.
He's going to kill again, and very soon.
It's out of my hands.
You know this smells funny. Right?
Can you handle both?
I can handle both.
Don't make me regret it.
What's that?
I've got another thing.
You're kidding. What other thing?
Animal cruelty. Listen, I need you to brief Benny.
Tell him to go over cold cases.
Anything pertaining to Emily's death.
I'm talking strangulation, burglary, shoe theft...
- Masks and wigs? - Yeah, don't rule out anything.
You know what? The mask, the wigs...
I think it's part of something else, you know,
trying to recreate something.
Staging something. It's not part of the fetish.
Right, how far back are we looking?
1979 or something. Oi, meet me at the Jared Cass crime scene
on Hawksmoor estate.
Hello?
Why? What's it about?
Do I have any choice?
I'll be there.
Detective Sergeant Ripley.
Detective Chief Inspector Gray.
Just "Ma'am" will do.
How's life in the Judas Division, Ma'am?
Rooting out dirty coppers? Satisfying.
The way you stitched me up to save your boss, I owe you a favour.
You've given me a vocation.
So what am I doing here? Are you going to waterboard me?
Get in.
DS Ripley?
George Stark.
Out of what division?
Retired.
They un-retired me.
For a special project.
Come with me.
Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding me.
Have a seat.
Zoe Luther, dead.
Ian Reed, dead.
Henry Madsen, dead.
Toby Kent, dead.
Alice Morgan. Missing, presumed... Well, who knows?
Common denominator?
So?
There was a Park Ranger.
In America, that is.
He was struck seven times by lightning. Seven times!
Actually made the Guinness Book Of Records
for being the unluckiest guy in the world.
Or maybe the luckiest guy in the world.
Depends on how you look at it.
And?
Do you really think he's innocent, your boss?
Of this murder?
Of this?
Of this one?
Think he's just some kind of lighting rod?
Someone who just gets struck again
and again, and again, and again?
Carpet underlay, from one of the holes
that your boss used to live in.
It's got this man's blood on it. Toby Kent.
Never heard of him.
Our witness says that Luther killed him.
Put a knife through the back of the skull.
That place was disgusting. You could find anything on that carpet.
Are you homosexual?
Like that's any of your business.
It is my business if your romantic yearnings are clouding
your judgment as a police officer.
If you're trying to touch a nerve,
then you're touching me in the wrong place.
Then you're either a donkey, or you're an accomplice.
And I don't think you're a donkey.
I won't answer any more questions without my union rep.
Well, then, your career ends here.
Because you'll be charged as an accessory after the fact.
What fact? If you had any proof of wrongdoings, then you'd show it.
- What, I'd show you my hand? - Yeah.
Yeah, right, fine.
You think I don't know a liar when I see one, son?
You're lying to me. Now, talk to me!
Tell me!
It's not very nice, is it?
Somebody who's supposed to be representing the law,
and yet operates in his own sense of justice?
Just read it.
- Benny, what you got? - Do you remember the Shoreditch Creeper?
Er, yeah. Dim, distant memory. Go on.
OK, '78 to '81. He assaults eight women in an escalating pattern.
Breaks in, ties them up.
Masturbates while sucking their toes. Then steals their shoes.
Graduates to killing three times.
Theresa Johnson in '81, and Vivian Leavie. Plus Cheryl Moody, in '82.
Then he just stops. Drops off the grid.
Not of his own accord, he doesn't. Not if he's escalating like that.
- How old is he? - Mid-thirties when the offending began.
Well, that puts him in his... seventies now?
Doesn't sound right, does it? Benny, do me a favour.
Sign off on the cold cases, and have them sent to me.
Right. On their way...
Sir?
Come on. Come on.
Are you all right?
Think so. Er, yeah.
- Oh, whoa, whoa. - Sorry.
You need to sit down. Just for a second.
You just need to sit down there.
- You all right? - Yeah.
Oh, your poor car.
No, don't worry about that. It always looks like that.
Is it, like, a classic?
Yeah, probably.
Do you mind if I just take a look?
Er, just look left.
Right.
Up. Down.
Any dizziness? Did you bang your head, did you?
No, no. Are you a doctor?
No, I'm a copper. DCI Luther.
Luther? That's a good name.
I can't take the credit for it.
It's an unusual name.
Not in MY house.
Look, don't worry about any of this.
Um, it really was my fault.
I'm not totally sure it was. I was...
Honestly. It was my fault.
So I'm going to get your information for the insurance.
- Cos I've got to... - Be somewhere. Of course. Yeah.
Rushing to the scene of the crime?
I am, actually.
Right. Sorry. Um...
I haven't got my um, thingy...
It's all right. I'll just write my... My name's John.
All right.
So I'll call you.
Go! All right.
I'm fine.
If you had any real evidence, you'd be talking to John, not me.
If you really believe he's so spotless, then prevent an injustice.
Help him. Prove it.
And how do you suggest I do that?
DCI Luther will be taking on a case
of a waste of semen called Jared Cass.
Squalid little business.
Small cheese for big, bad John.
It was you?
You had him assigned to the Jared Cass murder?
I want to know exactly how he handles that investigation.
And I mean every move by move, breath by breath.
If he breaks the law, I want his head on a stick.
He doesn't know it,
but his good fortune ran out the day that I heard his name.
Stand clear of the doors.
Sir.
All yours.
You'll read anything, you.
Wotcher.
- What's it say? - Gang tags mainly. Territorial pissing.
The killer's signed the body? That's handy.
Nah. Post-mortem, apparently.
They've walked in here...
..nicked the stuff,
tagged the walls. Tagged him. Spat on him. Pissed on him.
Still. I suppose it's what he would've have wanted.
You know, we're under the cosh to clear this up quickly.
Yeah, but we're going to do it right, though, yeah?
What is wrong with everyone today? Of course we're going to do it right.
We're just going to do it quickly, that's all.
So where do we start?
Well, enemies.
Apparently he had quite a few.
Guess he liked to sit in a room, and slag people off on the internet.
Aye. He was a troll?
See, here's what I don't understand...
..is why did they loot the place?
Because it's here?
Yeah, but you loot somewhere and it's got stuff worth looting, don't you?
Iraqi National Museum. JD Sports.
Yeah, but not Jared Cass. He was on sickness benefit.
Never left the place.
So what did he have that was so expensive?
Where'd you get the money, Jared?
OK, John, listen.
The Shoreditch Creeper case was a massive investigation.
It's not so much police work as archaeology.
- Who was senior? - Er, DCI Ronnie Holland.
Good copper, Ronnie. Long since had his clock.
Let's find DCI Holland, see what he remembers.
In a case like this, he must've known who he liked for it,
even if he couldn't prove it.
So let's find out who, yeah?
Yup. I'm going straight there now.
There's a Sean Beamish at 67.
And that gentleman thinks he might go by the name of "Beanie".
Sean Beamish.
Sean "Beanie" Beamish? It's the police. Open up.
What?
Jared Cass.
What about him?
Well, he's dead, isn't he?
What, still? Lazy sod, ain't he?
Well, it took us all of two minutes to find out he borrowed
money from you, to buy all that stuff he really couldn't afford.
60-inch LCD, Blu-ray library, laptop.
I mean, what's a loan shark supposed to do?
Can't pay his bill so you threatened him
and you threatened him again and then...
Oops. He's dead.
Funny, that.
Oi! Oi, oi, oi! Come here!
- John, wh... - Argh, help! Help!
- Boss! Boss. - Shush!
- You're making me very nervous. - Boss. Stop!
Not now, Mr Ripley, I don't want to drop him.
Erin! Whatever's happening, I want eyes on it. Now.
On my way. Let me up!
I've got a very nasty man doing very nasty things to people.
And I want to get off this grubby case as fast as I can.
- Please! Let me up! - Boss! Boss!
- Come on! Let me up! - Can you see him?
- Do you want to help me or what? - Yeah! Please!
Can you see him? Go on.
Oh, dear.
Nothing.
How many convictions have you had?
I don't... I don't know. A few.
Yeah.
Bit of this, bit of that.
Ever been done on a murder charge?
No! No? Why not?
Because I never killed no-one.
Except for Jared Cass.
Except no, I didn't do him, so you got no evidence.
Evidence!
Come on, a man of your experience, you're talking about evidence!
This is how it actually works.
A murder investigation has three pillars,
'means, motive, opportunity. I've got means and motive down.'
Yeah, but you haven't got the other one.
Oh, oh, opportunity? Yeah, well, that's seasoning.
And when it comes to seasoning, I'm like Jamie Oliver.
I just rummage around the cupboards and see what I can find.
Are you saying you'd fit me up?
Come on, you dirty bastard. Say it.
What is this? Nazi Russia?
Oh, yeah, yeah. It's Nazi Russia.
Stand up!
You put yourself at the crime scene, didn't you?
You made yourself prime suspect number one,
so I don't need to fit you up, do I?
Bollocks.
'I heard he was dead, all right?'
Everyone did.
So I went to get back what he owed me while I had the chance.
He was dead when I got there.
He was a funny colour and everything. I totally swear.
Completely and totally. On my sack, blood.
I'm not your blood.
So who did it, then?
Anyone, really. Throw a brick.
Is that supposed to help me?
Because it really don't help me.
Look. The bloke never went out. All he did was sit in that flat.
He slagged off loads of people online.
Any one of them would have killed him.
We want his laptop. And his phone.
Just give me the laptop. How it got there, I don't really care.
My lock-up. Downstairs.
You shouldn't joke around like that, you know.
Like what?
About fitting people up. One day the wrong people could be listening.
- Who said I was joking? - Seriously. You shouldn't joke.
What are you, my dad?
Right. I'll get it to the lab.
- How long's that going to take? - Dunno. Week?
- Can't you fast-track it? - That is fast-track.
Well, you do it, then.
Come on! Do you want this cleared up quickly or not?
All right.
I'm going as fast as I can.
Did I say anything?
You were thinking it.
Well, I...
Yeah?
I've been looking up your name. Do you know what it means?
Tired and grumpy?
No.
Erm, well, it's derived from the German, liut, meaning "people",
and heri, meaning "army". So it means "people's army."
Oh. Ok.
I felt bad about earlier.
So you call me and tell me what my name means?
I thought you might like to know.
OK.
So...
It was my fault.
I was retuning the radio.
And I let you think it was your fault.
And I feel bad.
There.
Said it.
No, listen. Honestly. Don't worry about it.
The AA have got my number on speed dial.
So, what? You're happy to just take the blame?
Happy's a strong word.
Seriously?
No, honestly. Don't worry about it. Really.
Well, can I buy you a drink or something? Make it up to you?
Yeah. Sure. Why not?
OK. When?
Listen. I've got to go. Can I call you later?
OK.
Motive maybe?
- Ken Barnaby? - Yes.
DCI John Luther. DS Ripley. Can we come in?
- Yes. - Thank you.
It's just downstairs. Yup.
Her name was Cathy.
She was in the sixth form. Four A-levels.
She wanted to go to Oxford.
She was a very, very clever girl.
Brilliant, really.
Very beautiful. Very kind.
She'd been managing the epilepsy since she was seven.
And she never let it frighten her, never let it stop her.
She was amazing. She was my little girl.
And then, well...
I'm very sorry.
Um, I hate to keep dragging this up. But, um...
Her memorial site.
It was defaced.
It started with someone impersonating her online.
Sending messages.
"Help me, Daddy. It's so hot in hell."
Pictures of...
corpses...
..with her name written on them.
Messages on Father's Day.
Photos of a graveyard.
"Wish you were here."
And then...
..he started sending pictures.
Cathy's face...
..Photoshopped onto obscene images.
My little girl.
Images where men were...
Did you know who was doing it?
No. No.
We'd complain.
The site would get taken down, but another would spring up.
It... it just... It didn't stop.
Er, the taunts, the emails, the pictures.
Horrible things.
Who could do it to us?
I hadn't been very well and, er...
Well, since Cathy died it was very tough.
It was very hard for Ken and me.
Could I offer you a glass of water?
- No, thank you, we're fine... - Yes.
We'd love some water, Ken. Thank you.
I'm sorry to be so...
Don't worry. You've got a job to do.
I wonder...
Could I ask you where Ken was, three nights ago?
You Ok, boss?
No.
You Ok?
Not really. That was horrible.
Do you like him for it? Barnaby?
No.
Boss...
What? His wife alibied him.
What, he was home all night and he has some texts to prove it? Come on.
Got any evidence?
No. But we've got motive.
I don't know what you want me to say.
What? Look I've got a fetish killer on the loose, all right?
This is important, but it's not my priority.
Ronnie? Ronnie Holland?
I think we'd better take the door down. Sir.
I'll follow you in.
All right.
What the hell are you doing? Do you think he's stupid?!
No. But I think he's already noticed something's not right.
You're not a very good liar, Justin.
And that makes you think coming here's a good idea?
No. But this does.
If he thinks you're acting weird and sneaking around
because we're seeing each other, he'll be in his element.
Think he's got one over on you.
You do know Ken Barnaby killed Jared Cass?
I know, yeah.
And so does Luther. But he's going to let Barnaby walk.
His mind's on this other thing. Emily Hammond. That's all it is.
So push him. Force him to make a decision.
If he comes down on the right side, orders Ken Barnaby arrested,
you've proved your point. And if he doesn't...
Well, I don't know what's going to open your eyes.
You don't have to enjoy this so much, Erin.
You're better than this.
No. What I am is better than him.
And so are you.
The clothes and the wig date to the early '80s.
But whoever's face is on that mask, she's not in the cold case files.
It all fits the MO, but she's just not in there.
OK, so if she's not a known victim, then what is the killer recreating?
What am I not seeing?
Boss, I've had an idea about the other thing. Jared Cass.
Mind if I shoot off, and look into it?
Yeah. You go.
How'd it go with Ronnie Holland?
I found him dead in his hallway.
He'd been there for months.
The neighbours thought the stink came from the communal bins.
Cause of death?
Blunt-force trauma to the skull. No sign of struggle.
John, where's all this going?
I don't know. It's all mixed up. Past, present.
I can't get my head around it.
OK. Back to Emily Hammond.
Emily, because...
Emily, because Emily has some particular quality
which reminds the killer of...
- ..this woman. - Right, but what connects her
to a series of murders that happened 30 years ago?
What ties them together?
What do they have in common?
Everything. They've got everything in common.
We've been looking at this the wrong way round.
Emily was the fantasy. Specifically her.
It's always been about her.
Yeah, then, why cover her face? Why the mask and the clothes?
That's not another woman.
Cos that's Emily.
He's making her look the way she used to,
back in 1982.
- These bins have definitely been emptied and searched? - Yes, Guv.
But upstairs, by the garbage chute, there's loads of piles of bin bags.
- They weren't there this morning. - Give me the torch.
It's blocked.
I want this chute emptied and searched.
- That was nice. - Yeah.
That was really, really lovely.
Did you hear a...?
OK.
Smokey!
Benny was right.
Emily is absolutely not in the cold case file.
However, I know how Ronnie's mind worked.
He would have kept a subset of "possibly related" files.
Is she in there?
1982, Emily Hammond's 14 years of age,
she's living with her mother at 148 Crosswood Street, Shoreditch.
On the evening of March 12th, Emily's alone at home, asleep,
when the lodger comes home from a CND rally.
The lodger discovers a man in Emily's bedroom.
However the lodger isn't alone. She's got six other people with her,
who are all fired-up from this rally.
So the men get stuck into the intruder,
who makes a break for it and gets away. It's him.
Ronnie seemed to think so, but his bosses didn't agree.
MO was different.
The other victims were older, in their twenties, lived alone.
How many people lived at that address?
Oh, Emily and her mother, a Claire Hammond, since died.
Oh, and the lodger, Dani Shahi.
Dani Shahi, we need to speak to her,
and the other six people that were at that house that day.
See if there's anything in their memories that we can use.
Justin?
'I'm back at the Hawksmoor Estate.'
'The killer filmed Jared Cass begging for his life,
'then threw the phone away.'
But first, he removed the SIM card.
And you can't do that with gloves on.
We've got a clean print.
Good. Great work.
So, do we bring Barnaby in?
No, come on. It's late.
And we ain't even got his fingerprints on file.
- No, but he did it. - What do you want me to do? Call in the SAS?
I've got a dead copper here and a woman strangled in her bed.
Barnaby's a vigilante killer.
All right. I'll take care of it.
Jeez, who beat HIM with the grumpy stick?
I have no idea.
Get me Ken Barnaby's number, please.
Can you sign this, boss?
- Come on, Benny. - All right.
Cheers.
Hello?
Mr Barnaby? It's DCI John Luther from Serious and Serial.
We spoke earlier?
Yes. Hi. How can I can help?
Nothing to worry about at all.
Just your fingerprints are not on file and I'd like to,
well, take a record of them just to eliminate you from the enquiry.
Absolutely. No problem. What time shall I come?
Just after nine. Any time after nine.
And give your name to the desk sergeant.
- Excellent. OK, then. I'll see you in the morning. - All right.
Where are you going?
Nowhere. I'm staying here with you.
How is he?
He's going to lose his hand.
And that fingerprint's no good
without a finger to compare it to, is it?
His fingerprints are all over the house.
So go and find them. Dust everything he ever touched.
You've still got to prove that print belongs to a finger
- that doesn't exist any more. - We can do that.
Maybe. But if I was on the defence team, I'd argue it into the ground.
And if I was on the jury, looking at poor Ken Barnaby,
I'd look for any excuse not to convict.
The fingerprint on the SIM card?
That's got Barnaby bang to rights.
All this...
looks like someone trying to give himself a chance
at reasonable doubt.
Dani Shahi, the lodger. Married, divorced, remarried again,
is now Dani Lane.
Think it's too late to call?
Smokey!
Smokey! Smokey!
- Did you warn him? - Warn who about what?
Who's that calling so late?
- Hello - Did you warn him?
- Sorry, who are we talking about? - Ken Barnaby!
- Hello? - Yeah, I told him to come in and get his prints done.
And did you know what he'd do?
Because you know people, don't you? You know how they think.
Mate, I'm lost.
- Whatever's happened, I promise you, I had nothing to do with it. - Again.
- Sorry? - No matter what it is, it's never you, is it?
- Justin, I don't know what you're talking... - There was blood on the ceiling!
What are you doing?!
Right, whatever this is, it ends, here and now.
- Do you understand me? - What is wrong with you, Justin?!
I want you both out of my sight.
Back here tomorrow morning with this resolved,
or you're both suspended. John?
- Yes. Boss. - Justin?
Oh!
Cold, cold, cold! Your feet are freezing!
How's the headache?
I haven't got a headache.
Excellent.
It's too cold for any of that malarkey.
It'll warm you up. I'm reading!
What was that?
I don't know.
I thought I heard it before. I thought maybe it was...
What?
Sounds like a cat.
What the hell is that?
What are you doing?
Calling the police.
And tell them what? Our cat's stuck in the attic?
It's weird.
The cat.
How did it get up there?
There must be a loose tile and he's climbed in,
and can't get out.
Oh!
Craig?
Oh!
The name, Luther, comes from my grandad.
He chose it.
'Why?'
For love.
That's got to be just about the best reason
to do anything, doesn't it?
So, er, is it too late for that drink?
Aaaah! Help!
You're right. Somebody needs to stop him.
Resync & corrections by lost0ne www.addicted.com
Stop!
You're such a gentle man.
I don't know about that.
I'm going to take you down twice as hard and twice as fast.