Male... The bones are in pretty good nick, so young.
Until we know different, we treat this as a crime scene.
- This looks like a car key. - We think so, too.
'MS' stands for 'Morton Spider'. You should be able to get the reg.
- You have it? - We sold it to a Steve Bennett.
- Mr Bennett! - Yeah?
Could those be from the Spider?
- Hang on. What's that? - Just a bag.
A diary, 1976.
OK, go back to the fly-page, please.
Beth.
Father Rob.
Mr Slater.
Frankie C.
Hello, Jimmy. Let's get you home, shall we?
♪ (SONG) OH WONDER: All We Do
♪ All we do is hide away
♪ All we do is, All we do is hide away
♪ All we do is lie in wait
♪ All we do is, All we do is lie in wait
♪ I have been upside down
♪ I don't wanna be the right way round
♪ Can't find paradise on the ground ♪
- She said she found it. - A bottle of vodka?
I said, "Like you found the 20 quid in my wallet last week?"
- What did she say to that? - She said she wished it was me that left instead of Mum.
- Nice (!) - If I tried to ground her she'd make my life hell.
Oh, mate, I'd like to say it gets better but you've got two girls.
- It just gets much, much worse. - Oh, fabulous (!)
- Morning, everyone. - Morning.
Morning.
OK. Listen up, everyone.
So, yesterday evening we ran the name 'James Sullivan'
through missing persons records
and very quickly we found a 17-year-old man of that name,
who was reported missing in November 1976.
Jimmy, as he called himself, was reported missing by his mum,
who I spoke to briefly on the phone last night.
I told her I wanted to come up to Liverpool, where she lives.
To take a DNA swab,
so that we could make a formal identification
of remains that we believe to be of her son.
39 years after she last saw him.
She cried like a child at this news.
As did I, as she told me how she'd missed her boy --
it's her only child --
for every hour of every day of every week since she last saw him.
So I'm gonna find who caused a pain that's very much alive today,
who took his life, who took hers...
and I want to punish them.
39 years later.
Your associates here, did you do your full due diligence on them?
They have the money, Dad. It's all kosher.
Oh, I'm sure they have the money. It's just...
.. I can't do business with them.
Why, because they're Turkish?
No.
- Because they're criminals. - They're not criminals.
They or their associates are mixed in up illegal activity.
There is no way I can do business with them. Ever.
I'm sorry.
It's... It's just your name, Dad.
That's all they want on the letterhead.
Just give me a break here, please.
We all feel the same.
But there's nothing more to say.
Right. So, we're concentrating on five main lines of enquiry.
Firstly, family. As just said,
the boss is driving up to Liverpool to speak to his mum.
Try and get a sense of who Jimmy was,
how he lived his life in the years before his death.
Jake? We wanna know anything and everything about 27 Arlingham Place.
From its incarnation as a hostel in 1972
up to the point it shut in the late '90s.
Kaz? Trace uniform and CID who covered that patch in the '70s.
There should be plenty of 'em still with us.
Was Jimmy Sullivan known to them? Which residents were known to them?
Murray, there are several missing person report files on him,
the first one from 1976. Follow up on those.
Finally, we need to chase up the names and numbers from this diary.
First up, Jo-Jo.
Is it a man? Is it a woman? Friend, girlfriend? We need to know.
I want everyone to take a copy of these names
and run them past whoever -- whoever -- you speak to.
These are our tangible connections to the past and to Jimmy Sullivan.
Let's start making connections.
OK, good stuff. Thanks, guys.
You OK, boss?
He'd only be a few years older than me.
All the life we've lived.
(DOOR OPENS)
Yo, Curtis. All right?
Head down, innit?
Have a choke, man.
Help them old brain cells.
Maybe next time.
What... She your bitch now?
(SNIGGERS)
Don't never trust them mudsharks, fam.
(CAR ENGINE STARTS)
- Morning. - Morning.
OK. 'Fe'.
Iron.
(LIVELY CHATTER)
I have custard creams, rich tea and digestives.
Thank you so much. You didn't have to go to all that trouble.
Well, I thought I'd better get a choice
because the cornershop has gone now,
and it is a ten-minute walk to Tesco's.
Oh, you had me at custard creams.
- Have you kids yourself? - Er, yeah, two.
Oh, they're grown-up now. Both at college.
(CLEARS THROAT) I only erm, see them when they want,
you know, money or their erm, their clothes washed.
There's no word for it, you know?
Single mother who's lost her only child.
It's like...
no word would be enough.
Cos I mean, what are you, you know? What's the point of you?
It is him, isn't it?
We'll know for sure when we've done the DNA match but...
.. I think it's pretty likely it is.
Yes.
I'm so sorry.
No, no, no. I want it to be him.
I want it so much to be him.
I got us a plot at St Matthews.
I just want us to be able to be together again.
How much was in there?
'All the money from the disco last night.'
Drinks, ticket money, about £1,200.
Ooh, Sheila.
'I normally take it home but my car's still in the bloody garage!'
And I never use the bus if I've got takings.
And anyway, I thought, you know... (SIGHS)
But this is their money, the estate's.
Why would anyone want to steal their own money?
- Have you phoned the police? - 'Been and gone.'
'But really, what are they going to do?'
I don't think there's CCTV footage and it's not exactly Brink's-MAT,
- so... - 'Oh, Lord, Sheila! I'm really very sorry.'
'Yes, well, I'll call you later.'
I met his father in 1959.
He'd come over from Barbados after the war.
I was just 15.
When I fell pregnant, my parents disowned me.
But Thomas....
.. he agreed to marry me.
Turns out it was the last nice thing he ever did.
Pretty soon, the only thing that gave him
any more pleasure than drinking was...
beating me.
When Jimmy got older, beating him.
And so I drank -- too much.
To blot it all out.
And one day I came home from work...
.. Jimmy was gone.
He left a note.
He'd gone to London to find work
and he would send money to help me escape.
Which, bless his beautiful heart, he did.
And then one day the letters just stopped.
And I waited.
I waited, even though I knew...
I had this instinct, I had this dread
that something very, very bad had happened.
And after about four months, I think it was,
I went down to London,
and I told the police.
They asked me had we had a row, and I said no.
They asked me about his father, and I told them about that,
and they said maybe that's what it was, and I said...
no.
No matter what his father was like...
Jimmy always loved me.
So they told me not to worry, that he'd turn up,
"like a bad penny," one of them said.
And I said...
he wasn't bad.
Ever.
So I kept waiting and waiting.
But because he'd sort of run away once,
they decided that's what he'd done again.
Even though I told them...
.. Jimmy wouldn't have done that to me.
Because he loved me.
And I was right.
Wasn't I?
Yes. You were.
Well, we moved in here in '72.
- Right? - 'There's no-one in our family by that name.'
Right, and no post ever arrive for a similar name,
Elizabeth, Betty, Liz?
Nah, but I mean, I could ask my mum.
She did take in a few lodgers when I went to poly.
- Yeah, when was that? - 'That would've been '75 to '78.'
- Well, that would sort of fit. - I mean, I can't promise anything.
She's in a home now, not in the best of health,
- but I could try. - I would really appreciate that, Mr Leeming.
- 'All right, I'll get back to you.' - Thanks. Yeah, speak to you soon.
Cheers. Bye.
Ah. Good afternoon. DCI Kendrick?
I haven't been called that in a while. Who's askin'?
DC Karen Willets. Bishop Street nick.
I wondered if you could spare five minutes?
Need to pick your brains about a case we're working on.
Well, I was gonna slit my wrists in front of Cook Me The Money but...
- seeing as you're so pretty... - (CHUCKLES)
.. come in and pick away, love.
Some of these lads, you know,
not much older than Jimmy was before he died.
And I've seen them over the years on the telly.
And I think of the things they've done and...
.. and the life.
It's not just the obvious things, you know, the...
birthdays, the christenings, the weddings.
It's the little things your friends tell you about their kids.
The cheap holiday Malky got online and...
the funny video Jason's little girl made for the YouTube.
So much life one person can create, Mrs Stuart.
And I'm gonna do everything I can
to find whoever stole that from you, Maureen.
Everything I can.
What?
Frankie C.
- Rings a bell? - Well, it might if it's the same one.
- Who? - I think the 'C' stands for 'Cross'.
When he started making a bit of money,
started using his middle name 'Phillip'.
The 'Sir' was still a few years off.
That's Sir Phillip Cross?
He certainly called himself 'Frank' or 'Frankie C'.
- And how did you know him? - He was just a face on the street.
Ran a stall down Chapel Market.
Cocky little runt.
I think he might've briefly been a driver for the Fenwicks.
- Who are the Fenwicks? - North London firm.
Protection, prostitution, loan-sharking.
- So he might have form? - Not sure having form is a requirement
for being a government business tsar, is it?
- So I doubt very much if he ever got pulled for anything. - Right.
But listen, the Fenwicks were nasty bastards.
Not many people worked for them for any length of time...
.. without having to do some pretty horrible stuff themselves so...
.. he might not have got pulled...
.. but doesn't mean he didn't do stuff, does it?
- SUNNY: 'What d'you reckon?' - I'm watching him on the box now.
Yeah, worth a chat, definitely.
And I emailed you some stuff on the Fenwick family, as well.
Yeah, great. Thanks.
'So how was Liverpool?'
Good. You know...
Sad but I think I've got some really useful stuff.
I just need to go through it properly.
But listen, long day.
Thanks for all this, Sunny. Really, really good work.
- 'Night, guv.' - I'll see you tomorrow.
- Hi, Dad. - Hi, I made some risotto. Do you want some?
Love some. Starving.
Hard day?
Can you imagine anything worse
than going to your grave never knowing where your baby was?
You wonder how people go on.
(SIGHS)
The mother said to me today, "What's the point of me?"
I guess you look for meaning in other things.
Like?
After our kids, the rest is just... It's filling, isn't it?
(TV CHATTER)
(CHUCKLES LIGHTLY)
'.. strangled. From behind...'
You evil fucking pig!
- W-What? - I know what you are. I know what you did!
Wh... Claire? Sweetheart, where you going?
I'm going to my sister's.
(CLAIRE SOBS) Do you think I'd stay here another second with you?
- What? - (DOOR SLAMS)
Wh... L-Les?
(STUTTERING) Yeah, it's Dad. Look, I'm sorry.
It's happened again.
I'm so sorry about this, Tim.
I did invite her in but she wanted to wait outside.
I don't know where Carol is, Les.
I don't know why this man is in her house.
Carol doesn't live here any more, Mum. Shall we get you home?
Yes, I... I want to see Eric.
- I want Eric. - Yeah, let's go and see Dad.
Thanks again.
Yeah, well, that all chimes with the original MISPER reports,
a grand total of 17 sheets of A4 over eight years.
Did you manage to trace any of the officers she spoke to?
Yeah, I got three main ones,
one of whom's dead, the other two retired,
- and only one of them remembered anything about the case. - Yeah?
Which was?
Well, he... felt it was open and shut.
Jimmy was a runaway and ditched his violent, alcoholic parents.
She said she told them he loved his mum and they were very close.
Yeah, he said that she said that.
So?
Well, the copper I spoke to...
he kept refering to her er, "coloured husband",
"interracial marriage" and erm...
"coffee-coloured kid".
Er, I'm not sure how much credence he gave Mrs Sullivan's opinions.
'70s, eh? Good times (!)
Ta.
(TV CHATTER)
You said on the phone you remembered her, Mum.
'Beth Laws' you said her name was.
I'd have never have rented her the room
if I'd seen her head properly.
She wore a hat.
Why did you need to see her head, Mum?
She were a skinhead.
And her boyfriend.
Well, you wouldn't have known it from when she knocked on the door.
(SCOFFS) Butter wouldn't have melted.
I had to get my brother and his mates round in the end
to chuck 'em out.
Only there a few weeks but...
the way they was...
The things I could hear them saying
about the Pakistanis and the West Indians.
I got the carpets cleaned after they went.
Whole house felt filthy.
- MAN: Mum? - Out in a sec, babes.
JIMMY: 'All going well, Mam.
I'm staying in Kentish Town with some lads I met from Kirby.
One of them knows Uncle Robbo's got me work hauling bricks...'
'Went to see a punk band last night.
The latest thing, apparently. They were shite...'
'Mam, have you ever eaten a Bendy Burger?
It was brilliant...'
'You'll be pleased to hear I went to church last week.
Got chatting to the priest, Father Greaves.
Turned out to be an all right bloke,
even if he is a QPR supporter...'
'I watched an NF rally last week from my bedroom window.
It was horrible. The stuff they were screaming.
And the police weren't even that bothered...'
'I hope you got the cash OK.
Would've sent more but I've just bought myself a car...'
'Your little Jimmy has a girlfriend now,
and she's beautiful and I really like her...'
'Lots of love, your Jimmy.'
(PHONE BUZZES)
Lab just texted. Confirmed it's Jimmy.
BT have identified the number next to Frankie C.
From 1973 to 1987, that number was registered to...
.. Mr Gordon Fenwick.
I've counted three murder cases against the Fenwicks.
No convictions.
OK. That's interesting.
- Let's have a catch-up with everyone first thing tomorrow morning. - Sure.
DISTANT WOMAN: Hello?
Hi, love.
And these I didn't pinch from a grave.
- Thank you. - (CHUCKLES)
- I might moan at you more often. - Huh.
OK, er...
Tuesday's bolognese or Wednesday's fish?
Er, Tuesday's bolognese will be fine.
- Late tonight? - Mm. I was at the food bank meeting.
Of course you were. So are we all ready to go?
Starting next Thursday.
And we got Morrisons on board today, as well, which is great.
That's fantastic. Aw, well done, you.
I spoke to Caroline today.
She said that you went with her to her scan yesterday?
Mm. (CHUCKLES) Just a bit of hand-holding.
You know? Ten minutes or so.
She was really touched.
Well, just trying to be around a bit more.
Good. We like having you around a bit more.
Beth or Elizabeth Laws approximately matches the age
of the tenant described by Mrs Leeming,
has eight convictions between 1975 and 1978.
Drugs, shop-lifting, D-and-D and an ABH.
- She serve time? - Six months suspended for the ABH.
- Which was? - An assault on a West Indian shopkeeper.
Alongside this man, Vincent Erskine,
who nine years later was convicted
of the murder of a Pakistani postal worker.
Get him up.
And we think this could've been the same man
- that she rented this room with? - Yeah.
His name appears as the boyfriend on several of her arrest sheets.
Anyway, the ABH gave me
a probation officer and a social worker.
Which in turn chucks up a file
detailing a name change in 1988 to Wilton.
She got married.
And even better, an address that matches current council tax records.
- And Erskine? - Died 14 years ago in prison of hepatitis C.
Excellent work, Murray. We have our first living link
to someone who we can assume knew Jimmy. Well done.
Jake... no pressure, mate (!)
- (CHUCKLING) - Two key names so far.
Arlingham Place records confirm that Jimmy Sullivan
stayed sporadic nights over a six-month period in early '76.
That's confirmed stays of June that year.
And the name Mr Slater in the diary probably refers to an Eric Slater,
who was a bookkeeper for the hostel for most of its incarnation,
- but he was certainly working there when Jimmy was a resident. - OK.
Also now we have Elizabeth Laws' name.
Can you also check if either she or Erskine ever stayed there?
And there's erm, a mention of er... a Father Robert Greaves
in some of Jimmy's postcards home.
He seems to be associated with the hostel in some way.
The records I have obviously only detail paid employees.
See if you can finding anything relating to him.
And Karen, see if you can track him down through the church as well.
And lastly, Murray,
can you see what the Fenwick family is up to these days?
OK? I think that's it. Well done, everyone.
That is really good work.
Maybe I'm just old fashioned. To me, it's a common courtesy to call ahead.
Yeah, do accept our apologies, Mr Cross.
Please, call me 'Sir Phillip'.
So... what was his name again?
James Sullivan.
Er, but you would have almost certainly known him as 'Jimmy'.
And why might I have known him?
If we could come on to that.
Sorry. No, I don't remember anybody by that name.
Can you tell me anything more about him?
Oh, I... I can do better than that.
Here we go. That was taken about six months before he died.
17 years old in that.
Sorry. I wish I could help you.
OK, er... no problem.
Er, could I just ask, then,
if you recognise this phone number, Sir Phillip?
01 946 09 27.
Well, 01 is obviously an old London number.
Aside from that, no, I don't. Should I?
It was written next to your name in the addresses section
of a 1976 diary belonging to Mr Sullivan.
Er, sorry, when I say "your name", I mean...
Well, it's when you used your first name.
Erm...'Frank'.
'F-Frankie'.
Do I need a lawyer?
Oh, well, that's entirely up to you.
As I think my colleague explained to you,
this really is just a fact-finding mission but...
if you think you need a lawyer, we're very happy to come back.
All that says is 'Frankie C'. It could be anyone.
OK, and do you recognise any of the other names?
No, I don't recognise any of the other names.
OK. No problem.
- We done? - Er, there's one more thing. Erm...
- The Fenwick brothers -- - You know what? I think we are done.
I don't know his lad or anything about what happened to him
but I do know how much you lot love a celebrity fish wriggling on your hooks.
Doesn't matter if they've done nothing,
- just makes you look like you're doing your job a bit better than you frequently are. - (BLEEP)
You wanna talk more, fine,
but I want my lawyers present if we're dragging up ancient history like the Fenwicks.
Cara.
Can you show DI Khan, DCI Stuart to the lifts, please?
Thank you so much for your time, Sir Phillip.
No problem. Nice to meet you.
We'll be in touch.
Thanks.
- Shorter than he looks on the telly. - And fatter.
(SHOUTING AND CHEERING)
Good afternoon. Elizabeth Wilton?
- Yes. - Come on. Come on, lads.
[.. and DCI Stuart, Bishop Street police station...]
Curtis? You're in charge.
Two minutes.
You OK, love?
They're police officers, Ray.
They just wanna ask some questions about er...?
An historical case.
- What historical case? - She'll be fine, Mr...?
Wilton. I'm her husband.
Shouldn't be long. Just going to the changing block to find somewhere private.
- Want me to come with, love? - She'll be fine, Mr Wilton.
- How did he die? - His skull was smashed in.
A hammer, baseball bat, we're not sure,
but er, blunt instrument trauma. They call it.
Sorry, no, I don't know him.
- No? - No, or if I ever did, I don't remember him now, I'm afraid.
Any ideas why your name might've been in his diary?
No.
OK, no worries.
So where were you living in 1976, Mrs Wilton?
Various squats and flats around London.
I was a... little bit lost back then.
How d'you mean? "Lost".
It took me a little while to find my feet
when I moved up from Crawley and er...
I ended up having some problems with alcohol, other stuff.
Do you remember ever staying at a hostel in Willesden
called Arlingham House?
- No, I don't think so. - How about a rented room in Lisson Grove,
in the house of a Mrs Leeming?
- No, sorry. - Well, let me help you out.
Because she remembers a girl called Beth staying with her.
Beth Laws -- that is your maiden name, isn't it?
- Yes. - She remembers a Beth Laws staying for a couple of weeks,
and then throwing her out because she wouldn't pay her rent.
Neither her nor erm...
her boyfriend.
Was this your boyfriend, Mrs Wilton? Vincent Erskine.
I went out with him for a few months 38 years ago.
We have a number of co-convictions spanning nearly two years.
I didn't know this boy Jimmy. I would never have hurt anyone.
OK. Maybe just say you just... you just can't remember.
I'd remember that.
Well, tell me if you remember this.
- August of 1977... - Please.
.. you were convicted of a violent assault on a West Indian shopkeeper.
That was Erskine, not me. I tried to stop him.
Both sentenced to six months imprisonment,
suspended for two years.
Erskine, a man who, only a few years later,
robbed an Asian post office worker before stabbing him to death.
Did Erskine ever mention staying at a hostel?
- I don't remember. - Do you have any recollection
of him ever mentioning a Jimmy Sullivan?
I don't remember.
Well, have a think about erm,
what we've discussed today. Mrs Wilton.
Erm, if you think you can help us, in any way erm, just...
.. call me.
How could I be a racist? You've seen my husband.
Maybe not now. But then?
No. Not now, not then, not ever.
Yeah, OK. Give us a shout.
Yeah, do that. Bye.
(SIGHS) That was Jake.
According to the records, she stayed at the house eight times
between January and November 1976...
five of them nights when Jimmy was there.
- And Erskine? - Still checking.
She's a good little liar.
I think we'd all have to give her that.
'Erm, yes, Father Greaves is very much still practising.'
One of our more dynamic priests, in fact.
Great. Can you give me his contact details?
(CLEARS THROAT) So erm, how'd they get your name?
It was in this boy's diary, apparently.
Oh.
But you er... definitely didn't know him, right?
I said I didn't remember him, Ray.
If someone mentioned the names of people you'd met once or twice 40 years ago,
would you remember them all?
Nah. Probably not. (CHUCKLES)
No. Exactly.
(DOOR SLAMS)
Erm... Hmm...
- Hi, love. - Hey.
There's a shoebox on the kitchen table with some letters in it.
They were written to your mum.
20 years ago.
I found them.
Hidden away after she died.
I'd like you to read them.
- S-Sorry, what did you say? - I'm off out for the evening.
W-What letters?
Just read them, love, please. Don't wait up!
(PHONE)
- 'Hello?' - Hi. It's erm, it's Robert Greaves.
- Oh, Rob. Hi. - 'Erm, listen, Geoff.'
I-I just wanted to put your mind at rest about the bookkeeping thing.
Er, it turns out that Grace er...
'.. accidentally put a cheque into a personal account,
couple of years ago. Erm...
She was a bit overworked at the time, I think.
Anyway, I've transferred the right amount
into the diocesan account so...
well, it's all sorted.
Oh. Oh, OK, well, that sounds simple enough.
'And er... I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to Grace.'
She's at a bit of a low ebb at the moment, so...
- 'Oh, sorry to hear that, Rob.' - No, no, it's all right. Just er...
She just probably needs a good holiday, really.
(CHUCKLES) We both do.
No problem. Mum's the word.
Good. Thanks. All right, thanks, Geoff.
Sorry, one quick thing, Robert. Did the police get hold of you?
- The police? - 'Yeah, I got a call from a police officer earlier today
asking for your contact details.'
- Oh, no, no. - Oh. Right, well...
they're investigating some historic case, apparently...
'.. and they thought you might have some information.'
Historic?
Er, what did they mean, historic?
No idea. They wouldn't tell me.
Very old case, I guess, but er...
hey, I put in a good word for you so you should be all right.
(CHUCKLES) Yeah, thanks.
'Anyway, they wanted it pronto...'
.. so I'm sure they'll be in touch soon.
Yeah. OK. Thanks, Geoff.
- Er, yeah. - 'Well, night then, Robert.'
Yes, night.
But we asked you, both myself and the Press Office, Sir Phillip,
we asked you repeatedly if there was anything you needed to tell us.
And there wasn't. There's absolutely nothing in it.
How many times? It doesn't matter if there's nothing in it.
What matters is that by the time
the police work out there's nothing in it,
we will have lost five points in the polls.
That's why we vet.
That's why we ask for full disclosure.
Because perception is as important as reality.
So when we ask you if there's anything you need to tell us,
it's not up to you to decide what is and isn't fucking important.
It's for --
I've had a very bad day, Liam.
Don't make me make it worse.
(BREATHES SIGH OF RELIEF)
ERIC: There. Sleep well, love.
I love you, Eric. I'm sorry I keep getting confused.
Don't be silly. W-We're all allowed to be a bit confused now and again.
- Are we going to be all right? - Of course we are.
We've got the party to look forward to.
There. Night-night.
'Hi. This is Joanna. I can't take your call right now.
- Please leave a message.' - (BLEEP)
Hi, Jo-Jo, it's me.
Er... I need to talk to you as soon as possible.
Erm...
I'll call you first thing.