Kavanagh QC (1995) s03e04 Episode Script
Diplomatic Baggage
1 Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce the man who is to be my opposite number in Vienna.
Returning to the city where his diplomatic career began, ladies and gentlemen, Her Majesty's Ambassador-Designate to Austria, Sir Alan Jackson.
(Applause) Your Excellency, ladies and gentlemen, first let me apologise for my wife's absence today.
Alas, she has fallen victim to Norwegian flu, demonstrating that after more than 1,000 years, the Vikings can still lay us low.
(Laughter) However, I am I am happy to say, indeed, I am proud to say, that her place has been taken by my daughter Natasha.
I'm sorry to disturb you, Lady Jackson.
Is your husband at home? He's out.
You'll have to phone the office on Monday.
No, I will talk to you instead.
Not that you will like what I have to say.
You all right, darling? Those two were hysterical.
Yeah, I was rather jealous of them when they started chatting you up.
- Coffee? - Mm.
LADY JACKSON: I've had a visitor.
Oh? Who was that? Lise Auerbach.
Austrian.
MATT: This'll do, Dad.
Drop us off here.
KAVANAGH: But Hatchley Street's round the back somewhere.
I said I'd meet the other two here.
- So, where are they, then? - Don't worry, they'll turn up.
Thanks for the lift.
- I was looking forward to meeting them.
- You will, later.
I'll phone you.
Bye.
I smell a rat.
Do you smell a rat? Ah.
a small one.
maybe.
Anxious to get rid of us.
certainly.
GIRL: Matt said it's here.
We haven't seen the flat, met his landlord, or the people he's sharing with.
I think we're about to.
Excuse me? Are you looking for Matt Kavanagh? - Yeah.
- Who are you? We're his parents.
Tell him we met, would you? - Bye.
- Bye.
It's hardly the end of the world.
He is 18.
(Sighs) But why wouldn't he let us see the place? I don't know.
Rites of passage, maybe.
Anyway, why should he tell us everything? Either that, or he thought I'd be envious.
What of? Him sharing a flat with two beautiful young women.
But you're right, I couldn't stand it.
(Muffled voices) JACKSON: Look.
we'll talk about this later.
LADY JACKSON".
Just when things were going so well.
the ghosts begin to walk.
Where are you going? I need a change of scenery.
I'm meeting some friends.
- Are you OK? - We're fine.
Drive carefully.
TV COMMENTATOR: Cross comes in.
Oh that was a poor effort.
For all their possession.
Arsenal have really yet to press home the advantage.
- And here they come again' - Come on, get it moving, get it moving.
- Still going through.
This is more like it.
- (Gasps) (Knocks on door) (Knocks) Now Arsenal are stretched.
A lovely ball to Gillespie.
That's it, my son.
Stop that ball.
Oh.
yeah.
great save.
Asprilla! Oh, no! God.
I must say that was always on the cards.
And there is the half-time whistle.
Newcastle have equalised with the last kick of the half.
(Thud, and clattering) 'Ere Wha (Knocks on door) (Horses' hooves) JEREMY: Morning.
KAVANAGH: Morning.
I hear you've taken the Jackson brief.
I have, indeed.
It's right up your street, Jeremy.
Wealth, privilege, influence.
Enough to bail the daughter.
Lady J's people own half of Devonshire, I'm told.
She'll love the spit and sawdust approach.
She can like it or lump it.
It's Natasha I'm defending.
The Jackson Three are here, with solicitor.
I've put them in your room.
Any advice on protocol, don't hesitate.
James, can I borrow Charlie for a moment? Spot of bother.
I said I'd give a talk on Tuesday lunch time for my charity.
Problem is, I'll be in Manchester, they'll be in a room over a pub in south London.
Yes, I see your problem.
I really don't want to let them down, so I thought you could stand in for me.
Stand? Oh, 'fraid not.
- The old war wound.
- Oh.
James, I don't suppose you could Why don't you try Peter? I happen to know his case has just settled.
Excellent.
Peter! Ah, Kavanagh.
Sir Alan Jackson, Lady Margaret, and this is Natasha.
I always see my clients alone, Sir Alan.
But surely it's possible for me to Daddy, please.
I can handle it.
There is also a legal reason.
I may decide to call you or your wife as a witness.
You'd agree to that would you? Of course.
In that case, I am not permitted to discuss your daughter's defence with you.
Chin up, Tash.
Remember what we agreed? JACKSON".
We'll be just outside.
What did you agree? That if I tell the truth, nothing awful will happen to me.
Good.
Our judge is very impressed by people who tell the truth.
There are those who aren't? Miss Jackson.
you've been charged with a very serious crime.
The circumstantial evidence against you is impressive.
What about the man in Room 4? Marko Vic.
He said he saw a male figure leave the hotel by a fire escape.
Unfortunately.
the police found his statement rather vague.
You, on the other hand.
Were clearly identified by another witness.
Mr erm.
.
.
Pike.
Now, the prosecution will try to establish a motive for you to have killed Lise Auerbach.
Is there one? Of course not.
So, you had never met before the night of the murder? I didn't meet her then.
Not to speak to, anyway.
She was dead She told your mother she was a journalist wanting to interview you.
- What about? - I'm not really sure.
Daughter of new British Ambassador moving to Austria? How does it feel, that kind of thing.
So Lise and your mother agreed a time for you to go round to the hotel? Half past eight.
And you went up to the room, you knocked on the door.
Twice, I think.
No answer.
So you tried the handle.
Why? I don't know.
Oh, I had a weird feeling.
I can't really explain it.
Like I knew something was wrong.
Why did you pick up the table lamp? It was over her head.
And I wanted to see if she was still alive.
It was a mess.
Absolutely horrible.
So you dropped the table lamp.
Fumed and ran? Why didn't you call the police there and then? There was a phone in the room.
- I was afraid.
- But why? You hadn't done anything.
No, um my father.
I didn't want to involve him.
New Ambassador, just knighted.
Surely you can understand that? Come on, Miss Jackson.
There's a dead body in front of you.
First one you've ever seen.
Brains all over the carpet.
- The first thing you think of is your father? - What's wrong with that? I didn't kill her, Mr Kavanagh.
If you don't believe that what chance have I got? Good-looking woman, our Natasha.
- Always helps.
- She needs something, Charlie.
All she's got at the moment is a witness who thinks he saw a man leaving the hotel by a fire escape.
And heard voices in the room next door, don't forget.
It's not enough.
but we'll have to play it for all it's worth.
Let's just hope her father doesn't try and coach her through it.
You heard what he said on the way out.
"Remember what we agreed.
" CHARLIE: Keep your pecker up.
Think positive - it'll be all right on the night.
There you go, sir.
A journalist comes all the way from Austria, turns up on the doorstep, no introduction, no phone call first.
No letter.
- Bad manners, that's all.
- And wants to interview the daughter? Who's not even going to Vienna.
She's going to Keele University.
Well, why not the mother? Why not the father? You did notice, James, that Natasha has certain charms that her parents do not possess? - Well, they certainly worked on you.
- They even work on her father.
BARMAN: Number 18 They're close.
Too close.
Always touching.
- What do we know about the victim? - Lise Auerbach? Very little, I'm afraid.
29 years old.
Austrian.
parents dead.
Worked on a German paper called - Erm, Der Sonntagsermittler.
- Yeah.
I want to know why someone might have a reason to kill her.
See what you can dig up.
BARMAN: Number five anybody? When Helen found herself so suddenly unavailable.
She persuaded me - not that I needed a great deal of persuading - to talk to you for a few minutes on a subject of great relevance to your foundation.
Epilepsy.
however.
seems to me to present a particular problem.
Namely.
the law as it applies to discrimination in the workplace.
Erm I can't promise you a barrel of laughs, I'm afraid.
Quite the opposite for.
sadly.
there is still much prejudice against epilepsy.
As there is against a whole range of medical conditions.
WOMAN: To be honest, I nearly didn't show up today.
We're gearing up for next season.
The buyers are over.
Well, I'm glad you did, Teresa.
And may they buy everything you wish to sell them.
Which is what? I'm sorry.
I'm talking as if you know.
I run a small company now - ski wear.
Ah, ski wear.
Skiing became quite an obsession with Donald.
didn't it? He liked it because it took him away from courts and villains.
He could stop being a judge for a while.
I hope I never let it show, but do you know, I rather envied Donald? Brilliant in court, charming and witty outside it.
If you ever caught him outside it.
Do you remember that jazz concert the four us were meant to go to? Mm! - How is Eleanor? - Oh, she's well, yes.
Busy, happy- Same as ever, I suppose.
The Reuben MacAvoy Quintet.
And you and Donald didn't show up.
Why was that? Unavoidably detained at a chambers party.
Oh, you know what he was like with an audience.
Oh, I do indeed.
He's greatly missed.
Ah Isn't it marvellous when you meet someone again after so many years, and carry on as though it were yesterday? That's how it was with Donald, and that's how it is with you.
I'll be all right, Dad.
Point is, will you? I'll do my best.
Remember, just answer the questions briefly.
OK.
Don't worry.
Only that's how they trip you up.
Getting you to talk.
You'd better go.
I'll be with you, Tash, every step of the way.
PROSECUTOR: Sergeant Cobbold.
We 'we heard Doctor Graham say that Lise Auerbach was killed by a single blow to the back of the skull some time during the evening of May 3rd.
Exhibit 4 for Sergeant Cobbold, please.
A series of DNA tests were also conducted on blood found on the table lamp, and it's accepted that it matched that of Lise Auerbach.
Did you examine the lamp for fingerprints? - Yes, sir, I did.
- Tell the court what you found.
Two clear sets.
One was Lise Auerbach's.
Another belonged to the defendant Natasha Jackson.
In your view, had other people, apart from the victim and the defendant.
Handled the table lamp recently? Probably.
BARRISTER: Detective Inspector Benyon.
At one stage of your investigation you asked Miss Jackson to provide you with the denim jacket she wore the night of the murder.
What did she say? She told me she couldn't find it.
I said I'd get a WPC to help her go through her wardrobe.
And was the jacket then found? Easily.
And why did you want it? A porter at The Verona, Mr Pike, said he saw blood on the sleeve when Miss Jackson was leaving the scene.
And the jacket you found, what state was that in? Clean.
Worn? Creased? Stained? None of those things.
Inspector wouldn't you have expected my client to have thrown that jacket away if there had been blood on it? People don't always.
Was there any blood found on it? No trace.
Was it a new jacket, as my learned friend appears to be insinuating? Impossible to tell.
You and your colleagues questioned Miss Jackson for some six hours altogether.
Did she tell you why she had gone to The Verona? To be interviewed by, erm Lise Auerbach.
And did she ever depart from that explanation? No, sir.
From the pinstripe up in the gallery.
Said his name was Merridew.
I think I'd have had that changed myself.
(Phone rings) - Teresa? - Speaking.
Teresa, it's Peter Foxcott.
Who .
7' Peter Foxcott.
Oh, Peter, I'm sorry.
Hello.
Guess who's playing at La Chouette? Thursday night? Well, it can only be the dreaded Reuben MacAvoy Quintet.
(Laughs) They were ancient then.
This must be their grandchildren.
Why don't we go and find out? They do an adequate supper there.
I'm told.
Would Eleanor come? No, no.
She's not one for live music these days.
So.
what do you say? I'd love to.
Thank you.
Jolly good.
£4.
60, please.
- Thank you.
- Thank you very much.
- Allow me to take your bag, sir.
- Thank you.
Kavanagh! I'm so pleased you could join me.
I was intrigued.
I love this place, you know.
It's like a desert island without the flies.
Your bolt hole's in Nicholson Sloop, I gather.
You've been looking into me.
No.
Gazing, Mr Kavanagh, crystal ball fashion.
See what the future holds.
You didn't see a gin and tonic there, by any chance? - Gin and tonic for Mr Kavanagh, usual for me.
- Very good, sir.
Desert island, but handy for the office, I imagine.
- Whitehall? - Mm, approximately.
Gentlemen.
- A friend? - Acquaintance.
- MP for somewhere or other.
- Ah, yes.
I seem to recall you defended him a few years back on a somewhat exotic charge.
Got him off, if memory serves.
Unfortunately.
Since when he's gone from strength to strength.
No doubt deluding himself he has a part to play in ruling the world.
You'd think they'd have learned by now, wouldn't you, that somewhere between Parliament and God are the real keepers of the keys.
- Guardian angels? - Mm, it's rather more Greek than that.
It's a pity they didn't do Greek at Bolton Grammar School.
Still, chrei hemas kath'hemeran hodon biou poreusetai.
- Meaning? - One must travel life's path each and everyday.
Whats the Greek for, "When in doubt, state the obvious"? Cheers.
Question for you, Mr Kavanagh.
When did the world ever stop turning because of a war here, a famine there? All those emotive things that get in the way? Precisely.
These crises don't rock the boat because we play out our battles in miniature.
On a chessboard.
With ambassadors as pieces well.
pawns.
really.
Distressing language, German, don't you think? A perpetual state of hawk and spit.
But we both know a man who speaks it like an Austrian.
An ambassador with a daughter in the dock for murder is not good, Mr Kavanagh.
But I like the way you're handling her defence.
Blindingly obvious she didn't do it.
Of course.
Some yob just walked in off the street, smashed the poor girl's skull, and ran away.
Your witness - the man who saw him - I feel sure he won't let you down.
It was like wrestling treacle.
Grab it, and it moves.
Health Service is full of men like that.
And women, too, I have to say.
Jim, should I have brought some flowers or something? What, for Matt? No, for the girls.
Peace offering.
We were never at war, were we? Only in your head.
Well, it's taken such a long time for them to invite us round.
Well.
they have now! "Come and see how we live," they're saying.
No secrets.
Thank you.
You've made a very nice job of this place.
I'm impressed.
Any good at plumbing, Jim? That's the next job.
Well, shouldn't the landlord be doing that? That's the good thing about our landlord - he said if we did it.
Then he'd pay us the going rate.
Quite right, too.
- Is that the soy sauce? - Anyone want sweet-and-sour sauce? - What's in these? - Um, I think pork balls.
(Heavily accented) Do you know how my father would speak of the British? As men come out of the sky on the end of parachutes.
To set people free.
MERRIDEW: Still holds good, I hope.
- At least as a metaphor.
- Oh, no.
I know now, after my time here, those days are gone.
But still you want your wife and son to join you? Of course.
You know this.
It's all in hand.
It takes so long.
This is England, Mr Markovic.
If I give you my word that your wife and son will join you here, they will.
And if I say they won't, they won't.
Anything on Lise Auerbach yet? I've had a private investigator on it for weeks in Vienna.
Well.
couldn't the Austrian Embassy help? They mean well.
But they've not come up with anything.
Listen Sounds daft, but don't ring me at home about anything to do with this case.
The count will now stand.
- Problem? - Precaution.
PROSECUTOR: So.
when you heard this thud from upstairs.
Mr Pike.
what did you do? I thought I'd better investigate.
And just as I put one foot on the stairs, this young woman comes hurtling down them.
What time would this be? 8:45.
sir.
Can you describe her? Dark hair.
blue denim jacket.
jeans.
And do you see her in court? Natasha Jackson.
What happened next.
Mr Pike? We both kind of stopped.
Then I saw blood on her left sleeve.
She saw me see it.
kind of thing.
Then she shoved me in the chest.
And ran out of the building.
And erm did you go after her? Well, best I could, sir, but she was too quick for me.
I got her registration number, though.
The blood on the sleeve, Mr Pike.
You say it was there.
The police couldn't find it.
Are you saying they've got it wrong? Yes.
I know what I saw.
What time did you start work that evening? 8pm, sir.
And you heard the thud upstairs at 8:45.
How can you pinpoint the time so accurately? There was a football match on telly, sir.
Newcastle v Arsenal.
Ref had just blown for half-time.
So you'd been watching this match? Where? In the porters room, just off reception.
When you're in that room, how do you keep an eye on reception? Sounds a bit Heath Robinson, I know, but we have a mirror rigged Lip.
You can see the desk.
Foolproof, is it? Works every time? Yes.
sir.
80, during the match, no-one came to reception, to the best of your knowledge? No-one came full stop, sir.
Except Miss Jackson, of course.
Not even Miss Jackson.
Then how do you account for her presence in the hotel? She must already have been there when I came on duty, sir.
That's quite an assumption, Mr Pike.
This football match - good game, was it? - Very - Who won? We did.
I mean, the Gunners did.
3-1.
It sounds like you're a big fan.
Since I was a kid.
It's like a life sentence.
(Tittering) Wasn't there a a goal just before half-time? - Yes.
- How do you know? What do you mean, how do I know? I was watch M'lud touching though the mutual enthusiasm of my learned friend and the witness for the Gunners maybe.
I fail to see how it helps the jury.
I think my learned friend knows only too well, my lord.
I put it to you, Mr Pike.
That you were so engrossed in that match that anyone from the real murderer of Lise Auerbach to the band of the Coldstream Guards could have walked in past reception without you noticing.
NO Excellent, Mr Kavanagh.
- Thoroughly enjoyed your performance.
- It's not meant to be a cabaret.
Presumably you know Charles Beaufort - parentage, schooling, size of his bank balance, that kind of thing? I also know the Jackson's solicitor, Richard Dynevor.
He's been badgering the Austrian Embassy for information.
He should have come to me.
I'd have been happy to help.
Then tell me about this German newspaper Lise Auerbach worked for - Der Sonntagsermittler.
Oh, absolute rag, no doubt about it.
Scandal sheer.
Anything else I can help you with, Mr Kavanagh? Like what? Information of course.
What did you think I meant? Tell me- how far would you go to keep Sir Alan Jackson squeaky-clean? I mean.
If his daughter is found guilty of murder You speak as if I care about the individuals in this case.
I don't.
My only concern is to keep madmen in their asylums.
Nuclear weapons in their silos, armies in their barracks.
You mean that if she's found guilty, World War III will breakout? I'll attribute your flippancy to youth, Mr Beaufort.
I'm talking about our international standing which, to some, still matters a great deal.
And God forbid that a trivial murder should get in the way.
Before you expand on that, Mr Kavanagh, do remember that you and I are in the same camp.
Except that he's still his own man.
And you're clearly someone else s.
Oh, yes.
I was forgetting his millstone grit principles.
After all.
look who you married.
Look how much money you earn.
A real man of the people if ever I saw one.
Still avgolemono Kai karpoi.
More Greek wisdom? No, it's on the menu.
Rather fancy the look of it.
James? A week ago, I'd never met that man.
Now I can't move without falling over him.
James? A friend of mine in Whitehall has been in touch.
And? Puzzled as to why Charlie's been delving into one of their people.
A Ralph Merridew? AN 1 did was ask a few mates at the MOD if they'd heard of him.
What did you hope to find that isn't blindingly obvious, Charlie? Not to me, I'm afraid.
- Never met the man.
CHARLIE: He looks after Sir Alan Jackson I think he must be M15.
6.
7 One of that lot.
Look.
I'm sorry.
James.
It's just that at times.
He seems to be running the case.
- If you let him get under your skin, he will be.
- He's not under yours? It's a constant presence.
When he speaks, it's in a kind of shorthand, translatable in several ways.
For example? Well, he asks you if he can help.
Fixes you with a stare.
You say.
"What do you mean?" He says.
"What do you think I mean?" And then the moment's gone.
Why would he put pressure on you, though, not on Mike Faraday? Because Faraday's as straight as a die, and it's my job to get her off anyway.
And Merridew's going to be there to see that happens.
Which puts you both on the same side, only playing different games.
Does he have any useful suggestions? Not really.
(He's conjured up some random yet) who walked in off the street.
and killed her.
Isn't that roughly the defence angle anyway? Yes, an intruder was seen.
But you can't help wondering if his strings were being pulled.
Regardless of your qualms, you won't be treading on too many toes, will you? I mean it is a question of their business being none of ours.
And it would help if I remembered that several colleagues here make a very good living out of Government inquiries and Royal Commissions? Well, now you mention it.
Yes, that is a consideration.
But, more to the point, if Merridew's people murdered Lise Auerbach.
Then your client did not, and all you're looking for is a reasonable doubt.
Still, if it were my case, I'd find another yob.
Oh, you really must excuse me.
Good evening, sir.
Erm, have you booked? Yes, I have.
(Jazz band tune up) Well.
erm.
anywhere you like.
sir.
- May I get you a drink? - Uh, I'll wait, if I may.
I'm expecting a friend.
There have been no messages for me, have there? - Erm, your name, sir? - Foxcott.
The message would be from Ashburn.
Mrs Teresa Ashburn.
I'll check for you, sir.
Shouldn't one of us have a few words with Natasha? Humanise her for the sake of the jury? Or even give her some encouragement.
Good idea.
No, no, I'll do it.
You're doing very well, Miss Jackson.
Thank you.
But things could get tougher from HOW oh.
Faraday knows his stuff.
There's nothing you'd like to tell me, is there, before I call you? Nothing in your story you'd like to change? I've told you the truth, Mr Kavanagh.
KAVANAGH: Would you tell the court how you come to be in London? I came here to be safe.
Safe from what, Mr Markovic? I came here for asylum after the Bosnian war.
I was an informer to the United Nations.
Many Serbs will never forgive me.
And where were you staying on the night of May 3rd? Verona Hotel.
Queensway.
Tell the court what you heard at around eight o'clock.
From the room next door, I heard two voices.
A man and a woman arguing.
Very quickly they went from peace to anger.
And then a gasp, and nothing.
Did you hear what was said? Not clearly.
I didn't understand, and it was not my business anyway.
Go on.
Um, then I heard a door slam, and footsteps down the landing.
The fire escape.
And from my window I saw a man run down the erm iron stairs.
He was in a hurry? Oh, yes, yes, yes.
Yes, he moved to bottom.
And erm ran across the yard, opened the gate.
And disappeared.
And from your window you had a clear view of this, in daylight? His back, yes, yes.
Yes.
Were you disturbed again that evening, Mr Markovic? Yes.
A little later I heard someone at Miss Auerbach's door.
Um.
there was a sound of something being dropped perhaps.
And then silent.
FARADAY: This man you saw how old was he? I couldn't say.
An old man? A teenager? In between.
Well, a young man, would you say? A middle-aged man? Young.
How was he dressed? Dark clothes.
Smart, casual, working clothes? Leather jacket.
anorak? I do not remember.
You don't recall his clothes, and yet you feel perfectly able to guess at his age? He must be young.
He moved quickly.
Well, that's quite an assumption.
You're sure this was a man? Sorry? You're sure this was a man? Of course.
I can tell man from a woman.
Yes.
Yeah.
The argument you heard.
A man's voice and a woman's voice - perhaps you can distinguish just one or two words? I couldn't hear clearly.
It wasn't clear.
Clear enough to distinguish a man and woman? Even so, my English is not good.
I think your English is perfectly splendid.
Maybe now.
But then it was not.
You ask me what I saw? I saw a man run from the hotel.
From the room next door where the girl was murdered! Thank you.
KAVANAGH: Miss Jackson.
What time did you arrive at the Verona Hotel? I'm not sure exactly.
Well, was it light outside or dark? Getting dark.
I remember turning my headlights off when I parked.
Er lighting up time, my lord, on May 3rd was 8:32pm.
What was the first thing you saw in the victim's room? Her body.
Beside the bed.
The lamp shade covering her face Exhibit 5, my lord.
Would you show Miss Jackson, please? Yes.
That's the one.
I moved it to look at her face.
To see if she was still alive.
She wasn't.
But there was no light on in the room.
How could you see her? Well, it was still dusk.
And there was a street light shining in.
So.
the curtains were open? Yes, half open.
When you left the room, and you ran down the stairs, what was in your mind? I must get away from here.
How will this look to the police? Sir Alan Jackson's daughter found in hotel with murdered girl.
Then you saw Mr Pike blocking your way.
And you shoved him.
Why? I'd just seen a dead woman with her head smashed in.
For all I know, he might have done it.
FARADAY.
Miss Jackson.
My learned friend has been suggesting that Miss Auerbach was murdered in the hours of daylight.
- What time did you leave home that night? - Half past seven.
You say in your statement that your appointment with Miss Auerbach was at 8:30.
Ten-minute drive to the hotel.
That leaves three-quarters of an hour unaccounted for.
Can you help us with that? I've told the police this.
My mother had just bought me a new car, and I wanted to drive around in it.
- What sort of car? - An Alfa Spider.
I'm not sure that the make of car has any relevance, Mr Faraday, in which case you needn't trouble the jury with it.
Quite so, m'lud.
No matter for the make of car, Miss Jackson.
You either drove around west London for three-quarters of an hour, unwitnessed, or you murdered Miss Auerbach.
- Which was it? - I drove.
But you did go to The Verona? Eventually, yes.
And why did you go into Miss Auerbach's room uninvited? I just knew something was wrong.
Ah, yes.
A premonition, is that it? If you like, yes.
Have you ever seen Der Sonntagsermittler, the German tabloid Miss Auerbach worked for? No.
I've had one or two articles from a typical edition translated, m'lud.
Appropriately enough.
The blue folder in Your Lordship's bundle.
Would you help the jury find them? Its staple diet is lurid speculation about the private lives of the great and the good throughout Europe.
The paper's been sued countless times.
But circulation continues to rise.
Inevitably, Mr Faraday.
I put it to you, Miss Jackson, that Miss Auerbach wanted such a story about your parents.
There isn't one.
These journalists can be very inventive.
What if they'd threatened to concoct such a story about your family? Your father.
even? You'd try to prevent that wouldn't you? - I've told you, there is no story.
- Maybe nor But isn't this the truth of it, Miss Jackson? For some reason.
You confronted Lise Auerbach.
In the course of that confrontation.
you picked up the nearest object.
and struck her with it.
A fatal blow.
NO (Lively discussion) James.
the Austrian private eye has come up trumps.
I've had a phone call from a Viennese lawyer.
Been looking for Lise Auerbach himself.
Holding money from her mother's estate.
Get a statement.
Early night.
Goodnight, darling Night-night, Tash.
You can't do any more to help her.
No.
James.
I'm sorry.
But you said don't phone.
I should have said don't come round either.
Not in the middle of the night.
- What time is it? - 5:30.
It's the Austrian lawyers statement.
Doctor Weit Wyler.
If you're calling Jackson today, you need to read it.
It seems that Lise Auerbach was rather more than a journalist.
JACKSON: You wanted to talk to us.
- Not you, Natasha.
- I need to know what you intend to do.
- I intend to discuss the defence with my client.
I have no intention of covering up your indiscretions in a court of law.
I see.
You anticipate problems? I have been forced to defend your daughter with half the truth.
I understand your feelings, Mr Kavanagh, but the point is, where do we go from here? When, exactly, did you discover that Lise Auerbach was your illegitimate daughter? How did you get on to this? A Viennese lawyer who not only represented Lise's mother - he became a trusted friend.
Lise came to see my wife the day of the murder.
That's the first I knew of her.
I swear it.
Why keep her a secret since then? I advised it, Mr Kavanagh.
Until we'd talked it over with someone at the Foreign Office.
They put us on to Ralph Merridew.
I see.
Miss Jackson, follow me.
I want my father to come.
What for? So far he's done you nothing but harm.
That is Doctor Weit Wyler's statement.
Well, what difference will it make? I don't understand all this.
It means that Lise was your half-sister.
It also means that three other people, besides yourself.
Had reason to wish she hadn't turned up - your father, your mother, and Ralph Merridew.
He was the one who told us to keep quiet about her.
He took over - things like the denim jacket.
He made me give it to him.
And bought you a new one? - Yes - So you lied about that? Juries don't like people changing their stories.
They tend to disbelieve both versions.
Then stick with the first.
Miss Jackson this isn't some sort of guessing game.
This is a serious attempt to reach the truth.
and use it in your favour.
Now, if you're not happy with that, I suggest you find yourself another counsel.
She wants you.
Then she'd better tell me what really happened.
and make me believe it.
The one person who could clear this whole thing up for us is Merridew.
- Why don't you call him, James? - And have him deny everything? In Greek? Oh, come on, you could have him for breakfast.
He's sat there in court, day in, day out, watching you, me, Mike Faraday.
His people play out his scenario.
Put him on the stand, James, and have his guts.
Get this into your head once and for all, Charlie! Merridew lies for a living! Look, much as I appreciate your faith in me, it is not our job to put Merridew behind bars.
It is our job to get Natasha Jackson off.
All we can do is explain to the jury why she lied.
We may even make them understand why she left the scene.
- But we - And that's it! If I even mention Merridew's name, we don't just risk losing - we risk being laughed out of court.
All we can do is rely on what Markovic saw.
- Can I help you? - Thank you, no.
It's Peter Foxcott I'm after.
You don't remember me, do you, Mr Kavanagh? I'm Donald Ashburn's wife.
Teresa.
But of course you are.
Charlie, just give us a second, will you? Would you like to wait inside? No, no, no, I can't stop.
I'd be grateful if you'd give Peter this.
Charlie tells me you've been burning the midnight oil, James.
How was the live jazz? Splendid.
Pity Teresa Ashburn missed it.
How in God's name did She called here earlier.
She left a note.
Some sort of family crisis, she said.
She'll phone you.
Do you remember him, James? Donald Ashbum? Yeah.
I didn't find him an easy man.
Eleanor didn't take to him, either.
Said there was an unpleasant streak there somewhere.
I thought he was the life and soul.
24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
Made me wonder what he was trying to hide.
I liked her, though.
James, it's not how it looks, you know.
How does it look, Peter? Well broadly speaking, that she and I You know? Peter, if there was any of the you know to it.
She'd hardly turn up on our doorstep, would she? I suppose not.
It's a mistake to relight old fires, isn't it? Isn't it? Perhaps.
(Rings) Hello? Hello? Hello? Lady Margaret.
Lise was 29 years old.
A bit late in the day to go searching for your natural father.
Did she say why she'd left it so long? Yes.
Her mother only told her about Alan a week before she died.
So.
she came to your house to meet your husband.
Bur he was our Why didn't you ask her to wait? I thought it best if I broke the news to him and Natasha.
I wasn't sure how they'd take it.
And how did they take it? Shock, which turned to curiosity.
They wanted to see her.
- Both of them? - Yes.
So, why did you advise them to get in touch with the Foreign Office? I didn't want my husbands career wrecked by a sudden scandal.
Besides.
I thought someone should check Lise's story.
So, you received advice from the Foreign Office.
Which was? They told us to keep calm.
It would be dealt with.
But then Natasha came back in a terrible state.
She'd been to the hotel to see Lise.
Just to see her.
With your permission my lord, I now recall Natasha Jackson.
You are still under oath, Miss Jackson.
Do you understand that? I do, my lord.
Miss Jackson.
Why didn't you tell the court earlier who Lise Auerbach really was? I was protecting my father.
From what exactly? If the press had found out he'd had an illegitimate daughter.
They'd have made life hell for him.
Probably wrecked his career.
So, you made a conscious decision not so much to lie about.
As to keep quiet about the family connection.
Is that right? That was the advice we were given.
At the Verona Hotel, Mr Pike says he saw you coming down the stairs with blood on the sleeve of your denim jacket.
Was there blood on it? Yes.
And did you later buy a new one? I didn't.
A new one was bought for me.
- You were happy with that? - Yes.
It was only an accident that I was there.
I see.
Miss Jackson who would you say was more anxious to keep Miss Auerbachs identity a secret? You, or your father's advisers? Them.
I was worried about Lise being dead.
They were more worried about who she was.
In your view.
Would these advisers have preferred Lise never to have had the chance to speak? I'm certain of it.
M'lud So, having been charged with murder.
You kept quiet about the true identity of Lise Auerbach for the sake of your father's career.
- Am I right? - Yes I was told I'd get bail and, on the evidence, the court would never find me guilty.
And you believed this? Well, my father did.
My mother did.
Why shouldn't I? I hadn't done it.
On the night of the murder.
you told your parents you were meeting friends.
Was that the truth, or a lie? - It wasn't the truth.
- Why the evasiveness, Miss Jackson? Do you suppose it makes a lie more palatable? Very well, then - yes, it was a lie.
You said there'd been no blood on the sleeve of the denim jacket.
- Truth or a lie? - A lie.
You said you hadn't replaced the denim jacket.
Truth or a lie? I didn't.
Mr Merridew did.
Who? One of my father's advisers.
Mr Kavanagh, are we going to hear from this Mr Merridew in the fullness of time? I have no plans to call him, my lord.
It's just that he and his shadowy colleagues have been alluded to so often, I'm beginning to think of them as old friends.
How would you describe the relationship between you and your father? - What do you mean? - Close? Distant? Easy-going? Intense? Close.
And how do you address him? What? Father? Dad? Daddy? All those.
Sometimes by his Christian name.
How often do you stand in for your mother at official engagements? Whenever I'm asked.
Have you ever been mistaken for her at one of these engagements? For your father's wife, I mean? - Once or twice, yes.
- Does that bother you? - Not at all.
- What about at home? Do you stand in for your mother there sometimes? Doesn't every daughter? That may or may not be the case.
It's you I want to know about.
You're making too much of it.
My father and I get on very well.
- Is mar a crime? - Just answer the question, Miss Jackson.
Yes, I take my mother's place at home sometimes.
When she's ill, which she often seems to be.
He confides in me.
We talk over problems.
And you give him advice, comfort, encouragement.
whatever's needed? Yes.
It's a rather special relationship, then.
My father's a special man.
And a rival for his attentions might not be welcome? What are you trying to say? That I've been having an incestuous relationship with my father? I merely suggested that you enjoyed having your father all to yourself.
And then a half-sister turns up.
- Are you saying I was jealous of her? - Were you? No.
You're saying I killed her.
I've had enough.
You all do it.
You, Kavanagh, my parents.
Perhaps, like me, all they want is to hear the truth.
I just wanted to see her.
Everything I did, all the lies I told, wasn't for me, it was for other people.
All I wanted was to see her.
Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed? We have.
Do you find the defendant Natasha Elizabeth Jackson guilty or not guilty on the charge of murder? Guilty.
(Astonished gasps) I'm so sorry.
Don't be.
How long will I get? It's very hard to say.
The sentence has to be life.
You could serve 15 years.
You said it couldn't happen.
Kavanagh wasted too much time pointing the finger at me.
He was after the truth, and he damn nearly got there.
Part of me wishes he had.
Don't tell me all of a sudden you're devoted to the truth.
That's a luxury you can't afford.
And if you jump ship now, I shall personally see to it that you drown.
- What about Natasha? - It's too late.
No, it bloody isn't.
There'll be an appeal.
And this time.
Mr Markovic can tell the whole story.
Thank you for the note.
And, yes, I did phone.
- Yesterday afternoon.
- At the flat? A man answered.
His name is John.
He's 22.
Ah.
How long have you known him? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm being a lawyer.
It's none of my business.
I've known him 22 years it must be.
He's my son.
And he was the family crisis.
I see.
What happened? John's an epileptic.
Hence my involvement with the Foundation.
He had a bad fit, and fell.
We thought he'd broken his wrist.
Went to Casualty.
Only a sprain.
What's the cause of his epilepsy, do they know? A blow to the head.
Unlike your Helen.
who inherited it from her father, I believe.
Helen? Helen Ames? I had no idea.
You all thought Donald was such an impressive man, didn't you? He was.
The lawyers lawyer.
Yes, well, he also had a rather frightening side.
A violent temper.
The most trivial thing could spark it.
He was working at home one day.
John was five.
He came up to him, asking for some silly thing.
You know whining, moaning, as kids do.
Donald slapped him hard across the back of his head.
Three months later, the fits began.
You're the first person I've ever told.
Helen, come in.
I never thanked you properly for standing in for me the other day, so thank you.
Helen, about the epilepsy thing.
Yes, Peter? I understand that you yourself suffer from it.
- Peter, I never suffer from or about anything.
- Er, no, of course not.
No, I mean that you have turns.
Fits.
Yes.
I do, occasionally.
Might have been wise to tell us.
Safety and all that.
I really think of it as no-one else's business but my own.
Teresa Ashburn wondered if you'd mind speaking to her son about coping with it.
Well, I can only tell him what my father told me.
Julius Caesar had it, Alexander the Great had it, Dostoevsky had it.
And now you've got it.
Yes, I see.
- That would explain your - Arrogance? No, no.
Confidence, Helen.
Confidence.
(Knocking at door) I have an odd question, James.
Can't it wait? It's not been the best of days.
No, I'm afraid it can't.
How well do you know your son, James? I don't know.
As well as he wants me to.
Well, you know I'm defending a man who owes the Inland Revenue £2 million? The deal I'm trying to arrange involves the sale of several London properties, and many of them.
Unfortunately.
Are occupied by squatters.
I think you should look at the names of those squatting in number 27 Hatchley Street.
- Out! - No way.
You heard me! This is someone else's property.
He wants it back! He's been happy letting us live here until now.
- Under licence - I gather from that that you know your rights.
Do you also know his? What will you do when the bailiffs arrive? Barricade yourselves in? Sit on the roof? If necessary, yes.
This whole row has been empty for two years.
Do you know Why? He thought they were going to widen the road.
He stood to make a fortune.
Are there squatters in the other houses? - They're the reason we can't just go.
- What do you owe them? We're the ones who set them up here.
Advertised in the Big Issue, interviewed them.
My God, they're running an estate agency- for squatters! That's right.
And we're staying.
Come on, Jim.
You know you secretly admire him for it.
So what? But they're right.
It's immoral.
A whole row of empty houses.
Not empty now, are they? Thanks to your son.
Thank God the kids are doing something about it.
I mean who else gives a damn? I have a daughter who's heading for a first at Cambridge.
And a son who hasn't the faintest idea what to do with the rest of his life.
Except live in a squat.
(Knocks at door) Sir Alan Jackson is here with Dynevor about the appeal.
Wheel 'em in.
Your reservations are understandable, Mr Kavanagh.
You see it as another Merridew ploy, no doubt.
Well, isn't it? We've had two versions of the truth so far.
You maybe pleased to hear I've parted company with Mr Merridew.
Markovic's statement.
Take another look.
Markovic was at the hotel all right.
And he did see a man.
Not a young man, though.
Merridew told him to say that.
An older man, then? - You? - Yes.
Why? When I knew Lise had arrived, I had to confront her.
Confront her? She was your daughter.
She was.
But she Her birth was.
.
.
Inauspicious? "Lise Auerbach.
Born Vienna, 1967.
Mother.
Frieda.
Bornâ Ah.
So that's it.
Frieda was only 14 when I And Lise threatened to reveal it.
That night I had to see her.
After Natasha left, I went to the hotel.
The first thing she said to me was.
"You owe me a lot.
Let's start with £30,000.
" I refused.
She called me a child molester.
A rapist.
That I was not.
I-I-I'm not absolutely sure what happened next.
L-I took the nearest thing to hand.
and I killed her.
Who knows this? Just you, me, and Merridew.
But I want you to use it.
I want Natasha out of there.
You said that after the trial my wife and son would join me here.
I think that's gained a little in the translation Mr Markovic.
I'm sorry.
What what do you mean? Bad news, I'm afraid.
Problems with Immigration.
Even I have my limitations.
Speak plainly! Your wife and son are not the issue.
The difficulty stems from your own status here.
Sir Alan.
You ask us to believe that you went to Lise's hotel with every chance that.
As a public figure.
you'd be recognised? Yes.
And then you let your other daughter stand trial for the crime she did not commit, but you did? Yes.
But you can't give us one piece of evidence that you were ever there.
Did Mr Pike see you? No.
Did you leave fingerprints on the lamp? No.
Perhaps you can show us the clothes you were that evening.
Or have they been replaced? No.
So, we have to take your word for it, do we, that you killed a young woman who merely said she was your daughter? Yes.
Nothing further, m'lud.
I think we'll leave it there, Mr Kavanagh.
- This afternoon.
we shall hear from? - Mr Markovic, my lord.
Count rise.
Mr Kavanagh, did I hear correctly? Mr Markovic takes the stand this afternoon? Yes.
We think, after all, that he may have recognised the man on the fire escape.
Bad luck seems to dog you in this case.
Doesn't it? Markovic went back to Sarajevo this morning.
Anxious to rejoin his wife and son.
Whilst we sympathise with the desire of any father to spare his daughter the agony of a life sentence.
We find the fresh evidence wholly incredible.
and beyond belief.
Accordingly, this appeal is dismissed.
You bastard! Why won't you believe me? I murdered Lise Auerbach! Out of my way! I'm guilty! I killed her? I murdered Lise Auerbach.
And nobody wants to know! - My own daughter! - What drives a man to do that, I wonder? I killed her! - Tell the truth.
you mean? - You sound as if you believed him.
Their Lordships didn't.
We both know he's guilty.
What price truth, eh? Fascinating commodity.
You see it as an end in itself.
I see it as a tool of the trade.
If you hadn't been so curious about Lise Auerbach, you and I might have got Natasha off.
If you hadn't dispatched my witness, I could have got her off here.
Forgive me, but you're missing the implications.
Impregnating a child prostitute is one thing.
- Killing the bastard offspring is quite another.
- Not British, you mean? Ah, well, spilt milk and all that.
Spilt milk? The man's lost both his daughters, for God's sake! He let the side down.
He was selected to bat for Britain.
Not to drag us into the gutter.
If people like you are running the show, were there.
Up to your neck in it.
You can't even smell it any more.
- Nice working with you, Mr Kavanagh.
- Get out of my sight.
Hi, Dad.
(Clears throat) What's wrong? They've been kicked out.
Bailiffs, boarding up.
Belongings all over the street.
The works.
The goods news is they'll be staying with us for a little while, just till they get back on their feet.
Good.
Good.
Returning to the city where his diplomatic career began, ladies and gentlemen, Her Majesty's Ambassador-Designate to Austria, Sir Alan Jackson.
(Applause) Your Excellency, ladies and gentlemen, first let me apologise for my wife's absence today.
Alas, she has fallen victim to Norwegian flu, demonstrating that after more than 1,000 years, the Vikings can still lay us low.
(Laughter) However, I am I am happy to say, indeed, I am proud to say, that her place has been taken by my daughter Natasha.
I'm sorry to disturb you, Lady Jackson.
Is your husband at home? He's out.
You'll have to phone the office on Monday.
No, I will talk to you instead.
Not that you will like what I have to say.
You all right, darling? Those two were hysterical.
Yeah, I was rather jealous of them when they started chatting you up.
- Coffee? - Mm.
LADY JACKSON: I've had a visitor.
Oh? Who was that? Lise Auerbach.
Austrian.
MATT: This'll do, Dad.
Drop us off here.
KAVANAGH: But Hatchley Street's round the back somewhere.
I said I'd meet the other two here.
- So, where are they, then? - Don't worry, they'll turn up.
Thanks for the lift.
- I was looking forward to meeting them.
- You will, later.
I'll phone you.
Bye.
I smell a rat.
Do you smell a rat? Ah.
a small one.
maybe.
Anxious to get rid of us.
certainly.
GIRL: Matt said it's here.
We haven't seen the flat, met his landlord, or the people he's sharing with.
I think we're about to.
Excuse me? Are you looking for Matt Kavanagh? - Yeah.
- Who are you? We're his parents.
Tell him we met, would you? - Bye.
- Bye.
It's hardly the end of the world.
He is 18.
(Sighs) But why wouldn't he let us see the place? I don't know.
Rites of passage, maybe.
Anyway, why should he tell us everything? Either that, or he thought I'd be envious.
What of? Him sharing a flat with two beautiful young women.
But you're right, I couldn't stand it.
(Muffled voices) JACKSON: Look.
we'll talk about this later.
LADY JACKSON".
Just when things were going so well.
the ghosts begin to walk.
Where are you going? I need a change of scenery.
I'm meeting some friends.
- Are you OK? - We're fine.
Drive carefully.
TV COMMENTATOR: Cross comes in.
Oh that was a poor effort.
For all their possession.
Arsenal have really yet to press home the advantage.
- And here they come again' - Come on, get it moving, get it moving.
- Still going through.
This is more like it.
- (Gasps) (Knocks on door) (Knocks) Now Arsenal are stretched.
A lovely ball to Gillespie.
That's it, my son.
Stop that ball.
Oh.
yeah.
great save.
Asprilla! Oh, no! God.
I must say that was always on the cards.
And there is the half-time whistle.
Newcastle have equalised with the last kick of the half.
(Thud, and clattering) 'Ere Wha (Knocks on door) (Horses' hooves) JEREMY: Morning.
KAVANAGH: Morning.
I hear you've taken the Jackson brief.
I have, indeed.
It's right up your street, Jeremy.
Wealth, privilege, influence.
Enough to bail the daughter.
Lady J's people own half of Devonshire, I'm told.
She'll love the spit and sawdust approach.
She can like it or lump it.
It's Natasha I'm defending.
The Jackson Three are here, with solicitor.
I've put them in your room.
Any advice on protocol, don't hesitate.
James, can I borrow Charlie for a moment? Spot of bother.
I said I'd give a talk on Tuesday lunch time for my charity.
Problem is, I'll be in Manchester, they'll be in a room over a pub in south London.
Yes, I see your problem.
I really don't want to let them down, so I thought you could stand in for me.
Stand? Oh, 'fraid not.
- The old war wound.
- Oh.
James, I don't suppose you could Why don't you try Peter? I happen to know his case has just settled.
Excellent.
Peter! Ah, Kavanagh.
Sir Alan Jackson, Lady Margaret, and this is Natasha.
I always see my clients alone, Sir Alan.
But surely it's possible for me to Daddy, please.
I can handle it.
There is also a legal reason.
I may decide to call you or your wife as a witness.
You'd agree to that would you? Of course.
In that case, I am not permitted to discuss your daughter's defence with you.
Chin up, Tash.
Remember what we agreed? JACKSON".
We'll be just outside.
What did you agree? That if I tell the truth, nothing awful will happen to me.
Good.
Our judge is very impressed by people who tell the truth.
There are those who aren't? Miss Jackson.
you've been charged with a very serious crime.
The circumstantial evidence against you is impressive.
What about the man in Room 4? Marko Vic.
He said he saw a male figure leave the hotel by a fire escape.
Unfortunately.
the police found his statement rather vague.
You, on the other hand.
Were clearly identified by another witness.
Mr erm.
.
.
Pike.
Now, the prosecution will try to establish a motive for you to have killed Lise Auerbach.
Is there one? Of course not.
So, you had never met before the night of the murder? I didn't meet her then.
Not to speak to, anyway.
She was dead She told your mother she was a journalist wanting to interview you.
- What about? - I'm not really sure.
Daughter of new British Ambassador moving to Austria? How does it feel, that kind of thing.
So Lise and your mother agreed a time for you to go round to the hotel? Half past eight.
And you went up to the room, you knocked on the door.
Twice, I think.
No answer.
So you tried the handle.
Why? I don't know.
Oh, I had a weird feeling.
I can't really explain it.
Like I knew something was wrong.
Why did you pick up the table lamp? It was over her head.
And I wanted to see if she was still alive.
It was a mess.
Absolutely horrible.
So you dropped the table lamp.
Fumed and ran? Why didn't you call the police there and then? There was a phone in the room.
- I was afraid.
- But why? You hadn't done anything.
No, um my father.
I didn't want to involve him.
New Ambassador, just knighted.
Surely you can understand that? Come on, Miss Jackson.
There's a dead body in front of you.
First one you've ever seen.
Brains all over the carpet.
- The first thing you think of is your father? - What's wrong with that? I didn't kill her, Mr Kavanagh.
If you don't believe that what chance have I got? Good-looking woman, our Natasha.
- Always helps.
- She needs something, Charlie.
All she's got at the moment is a witness who thinks he saw a man leaving the hotel by a fire escape.
And heard voices in the room next door, don't forget.
It's not enough.
but we'll have to play it for all it's worth.
Let's just hope her father doesn't try and coach her through it.
You heard what he said on the way out.
"Remember what we agreed.
" CHARLIE: Keep your pecker up.
Think positive - it'll be all right on the night.
There you go, sir.
A journalist comes all the way from Austria, turns up on the doorstep, no introduction, no phone call first.
No letter.
- Bad manners, that's all.
- And wants to interview the daughter? Who's not even going to Vienna.
She's going to Keele University.
Well, why not the mother? Why not the father? You did notice, James, that Natasha has certain charms that her parents do not possess? - Well, they certainly worked on you.
- They even work on her father.
BARMAN: Number 18 They're close.
Too close.
Always touching.
- What do we know about the victim? - Lise Auerbach? Very little, I'm afraid.
29 years old.
Austrian.
parents dead.
Worked on a German paper called - Erm, Der Sonntagsermittler.
- Yeah.
I want to know why someone might have a reason to kill her.
See what you can dig up.
BARMAN: Number five anybody? When Helen found herself so suddenly unavailable.
She persuaded me - not that I needed a great deal of persuading - to talk to you for a few minutes on a subject of great relevance to your foundation.
Epilepsy.
however.
seems to me to present a particular problem.
Namely.
the law as it applies to discrimination in the workplace.
Erm I can't promise you a barrel of laughs, I'm afraid.
Quite the opposite for.
sadly.
there is still much prejudice against epilepsy.
As there is against a whole range of medical conditions.
WOMAN: To be honest, I nearly didn't show up today.
We're gearing up for next season.
The buyers are over.
Well, I'm glad you did, Teresa.
And may they buy everything you wish to sell them.
Which is what? I'm sorry.
I'm talking as if you know.
I run a small company now - ski wear.
Ah, ski wear.
Skiing became quite an obsession with Donald.
didn't it? He liked it because it took him away from courts and villains.
He could stop being a judge for a while.
I hope I never let it show, but do you know, I rather envied Donald? Brilliant in court, charming and witty outside it.
If you ever caught him outside it.
Do you remember that jazz concert the four us were meant to go to? Mm! - How is Eleanor? - Oh, she's well, yes.
Busy, happy- Same as ever, I suppose.
The Reuben MacAvoy Quintet.
And you and Donald didn't show up.
Why was that? Unavoidably detained at a chambers party.
Oh, you know what he was like with an audience.
Oh, I do indeed.
He's greatly missed.
Ah Isn't it marvellous when you meet someone again after so many years, and carry on as though it were yesterday? That's how it was with Donald, and that's how it is with you.
I'll be all right, Dad.
Point is, will you? I'll do my best.
Remember, just answer the questions briefly.
OK.
Don't worry.
Only that's how they trip you up.
Getting you to talk.
You'd better go.
I'll be with you, Tash, every step of the way.
PROSECUTOR: Sergeant Cobbold.
We 'we heard Doctor Graham say that Lise Auerbach was killed by a single blow to the back of the skull some time during the evening of May 3rd.
Exhibit 4 for Sergeant Cobbold, please.
A series of DNA tests were also conducted on blood found on the table lamp, and it's accepted that it matched that of Lise Auerbach.
Did you examine the lamp for fingerprints? - Yes, sir, I did.
- Tell the court what you found.
Two clear sets.
One was Lise Auerbach's.
Another belonged to the defendant Natasha Jackson.
In your view, had other people, apart from the victim and the defendant.
Handled the table lamp recently? Probably.
BARRISTER: Detective Inspector Benyon.
At one stage of your investigation you asked Miss Jackson to provide you with the denim jacket she wore the night of the murder.
What did she say? She told me she couldn't find it.
I said I'd get a WPC to help her go through her wardrobe.
And was the jacket then found? Easily.
And why did you want it? A porter at The Verona, Mr Pike, said he saw blood on the sleeve when Miss Jackson was leaving the scene.
And the jacket you found, what state was that in? Clean.
Worn? Creased? Stained? None of those things.
Inspector wouldn't you have expected my client to have thrown that jacket away if there had been blood on it? People don't always.
Was there any blood found on it? No trace.
Was it a new jacket, as my learned friend appears to be insinuating? Impossible to tell.
You and your colleagues questioned Miss Jackson for some six hours altogether.
Did she tell you why she had gone to The Verona? To be interviewed by, erm Lise Auerbach.
And did she ever depart from that explanation? No, sir.
From the pinstripe up in the gallery.
Said his name was Merridew.
I think I'd have had that changed myself.
(Phone rings) - Teresa? - Speaking.
Teresa, it's Peter Foxcott.
Who .
7' Peter Foxcott.
Oh, Peter, I'm sorry.
Hello.
Guess who's playing at La Chouette? Thursday night? Well, it can only be the dreaded Reuben MacAvoy Quintet.
(Laughs) They were ancient then.
This must be their grandchildren.
Why don't we go and find out? They do an adequate supper there.
I'm told.
Would Eleanor come? No, no.
She's not one for live music these days.
So.
what do you say? I'd love to.
Thank you.
Jolly good.
£4.
60, please.
- Thank you.
- Thank you very much.
- Allow me to take your bag, sir.
- Thank you.
Kavanagh! I'm so pleased you could join me.
I was intrigued.
I love this place, you know.
It's like a desert island without the flies.
Your bolt hole's in Nicholson Sloop, I gather.
You've been looking into me.
No.
Gazing, Mr Kavanagh, crystal ball fashion.
See what the future holds.
You didn't see a gin and tonic there, by any chance? - Gin and tonic for Mr Kavanagh, usual for me.
- Very good, sir.
Desert island, but handy for the office, I imagine.
- Whitehall? - Mm, approximately.
Gentlemen.
- A friend? - Acquaintance.
- MP for somewhere or other.
- Ah, yes.
I seem to recall you defended him a few years back on a somewhat exotic charge.
Got him off, if memory serves.
Unfortunately.
Since when he's gone from strength to strength.
No doubt deluding himself he has a part to play in ruling the world.
You'd think they'd have learned by now, wouldn't you, that somewhere between Parliament and God are the real keepers of the keys.
- Guardian angels? - Mm, it's rather more Greek than that.
It's a pity they didn't do Greek at Bolton Grammar School.
Still, chrei hemas kath'hemeran hodon biou poreusetai.
- Meaning? - One must travel life's path each and everyday.
Whats the Greek for, "When in doubt, state the obvious"? Cheers.
Question for you, Mr Kavanagh.
When did the world ever stop turning because of a war here, a famine there? All those emotive things that get in the way? Precisely.
These crises don't rock the boat because we play out our battles in miniature.
On a chessboard.
With ambassadors as pieces well.
pawns.
really.
Distressing language, German, don't you think? A perpetual state of hawk and spit.
But we both know a man who speaks it like an Austrian.
An ambassador with a daughter in the dock for murder is not good, Mr Kavanagh.
But I like the way you're handling her defence.
Blindingly obvious she didn't do it.
Of course.
Some yob just walked in off the street, smashed the poor girl's skull, and ran away.
Your witness - the man who saw him - I feel sure he won't let you down.
It was like wrestling treacle.
Grab it, and it moves.
Health Service is full of men like that.
And women, too, I have to say.
Jim, should I have brought some flowers or something? What, for Matt? No, for the girls.
Peace offering.
We were never at war, were we? Only in your head.
Well, it's taken such a long time for them to invite us round.
Well.
they have now! "Come and see how we live," they're saying.
No secrets.
Thank you.
You've made a very nice job of this place.
I'm impressed.
Any good at plumbing, Jim? That's the next job.
Well, shouldn't the landlord be doing that? That's the good thing about our landlord - he said if we did it.
Then he'd pay us the going rate.
Quite right, too.
- Is that the soy sauce? - Anyone want sweet-and-sour sauce? - What's in these? - Um, I think pork balls.
(Heavily accented) Do you know how my father would speak of the British? As men come out of the sky on the end of parachutes.
To set people free.
MERRIDEW: Still holds good, I hope.
- At least as a metaphor.
- Oh, no.
I know now, after my time here, those days are gone.
But still you want your wife and son to join you? Of course.
You know this.
It's all in hand.
It takes so long.
This is England, Mr Markovic.
If I give you my word that your wife and son will join you here, they will.
And if I say they won't, they won't.
Anything on Lise Auerbach yet? I've had a private investigator on it for weeks in Vienna.
Well.
couldn't the Austrian Embassy help? They mean well.
But they've not come up with anything.
Listen Sounds daft, but don't ring me at home about anything to do with this case.
The count will now stand.
- Problem? - Precaution.
PROSECUTOR: So.
when you heard this thud from upstairs.
Mr Pike.
what did you do? I thought I'd better investigate.
And just as I put one foot on the stairs, this young woman comes hurtling down them.
What time would this be? 8:45.
sir.
Can you describe her? Dark hair.
blue denim jacket.
jeans.
And do you see her in court? Natasha Jackson.
What happened next.
Mr Pike? We both kind of stopped.
Then I saw blood on her left sleeve.
She saw me see it.
kind of thing.
Then she shoved me in the chest.
And ran out of the building.
And erm did you go after her? Well, best I could, sir, but she was too quick for me.
I got her registration number, though.
The blood on the sleeve, Mr Pike.
You say it was there.
The police couldn't find it.
Are you saying they've got it wrong? Yes.
I know what I saw.
What time did you start work that evening? 8pm, sir.
And you heard the thud upstairs at 8:45.
How can you pinpoint the time so accurately? There was a football match on telly, sir.
Newcastle v Arsenal.
Ref had just blown for half-time.
So you'd been watching this match? Where? In the porters room, just off reception.
When you're in that room, how do you keep an eye on reception? Sounds a bit Heath Robinson, I know, but we have a mirror rigged Lip.
You can see the desk.
Foolproof, is it? Works every time? Yes.
sir.
80, during the match, no-one came to reception, to the best of your knowledge? No-one came full stop, sir.
Except Miss Jackson, of course.
Not even Miss Jackson.
Then how do you account for her presence in the hotel? She must already have been there when I came on duty, sir.
That's quite an assumption, Mr Pike.
This football match - good game, was it? - Very - Who won? We did.
I mean, the Gunners did.
3-1.
It sounds like you're a big fan.
Since I was a kid.
It's like a life sentence.
(Tittering) Wasn't there a a goal just before half-time? - Yes.
- How do you know? What do you mean, how do I know? I was watch M'lud touching though the mutual enthusiasm of my learned friend and the witness for the Gunners maybe.
I fail to see how it helps the jury.
I think my learned friend knows only too well, my lord.
I put it to you, Mr Pike.
That you were so engrossed in that match that anyone from the real murderer of Lise Auerbach to the band of the Coldstream Guards could have walked in past reception without you noticing.
NO Excellent, Mr Kavanagh.
- Thoroughly enjoyed your performance.
- It's not meant to be a cabaret.
Presumably you know Charles Beaufort - parentage, schooling, size of his bank balance, that kind of thing? I also know the Jackson's solicitor, Richard Dynevor.
He's been badgering the Austrian Embassy for information.
He should have come to me.
I'd have been happy to help.
Then tell me about this German newspaper Lise Auerbach worked for - Der Sonntagsermittler.
Oh, absolute rag, no doubt about it.
Scandal sheer.
Anything else I can help you with, Mr Kavanagh? Like what? Information of course.
What did you think I meant? Tell me- how far would you go to keep Sir Alan Jackson squeaky-clean? I mean.
If his daughter is found guilty of murder You speak as if I care about the individuals in this case.
I don't.
My only concern is to keep madmen in their asylums.
Nuclear weapons in their silos, armies in their barracks.
You mean that if she's found guilty, World War III will breakout? I'll attribute your flippancy to youth, Mr Beaufort.
I'm talking about our international standing which, to some, still matters a great deal.
And God forbid that a trivial murder should get in the way.
Before you expand on that, Mr Kavanagh, do remember that you and I are in the same camp.
Except that he's still his own man.
And you're clearly someone else s.
Oh, yes.
I was forgetting his millstone grit principles.
After all.
look who you married.
Look how much money you earn.
A real man of the people if ever I saw one.
Still avgolemono Kai karpoi.
More Greek wisdom? No, it's on the menu.
Rather fancy the look of it.
James? A week ago, I'd never met that man.
Now I can't move without falling over him.
James? A friend of mine in Whitehall has been in touch.
And? Puzzled as to why Charlie's been delving into one of their people.
A Ralph Merridew? AN 1 did was ask a few mates at the MOD if they'd heard of him.
What did you hope to find that isn't blindingly obvious, Charlie? Not to me, I'm afraid.
- Never met the man.
CHARLIE: He looks after Sir Alan Jackson I think he must be M15.
6.
7 One of that lot.
Look.
I'm sorry.
James.
It's just that at times.
He seems to be running the case.
- If you let him get under your skin, he will be.
- He's not under yours? It's a constant presence.
When he speaks, it's in a kind of shorthand, translatable in several ways.
For example? Well, he asks you if he can help.
Fixes you with a stare.
You say.
"What do you mean?" He says.
"What do you think I mean?" And then the moment's gone.
Why would he put pressure on you, though, not on Mike Faraday? Because Faraday's as straight as a die, and it's my job to get her off anyway.
And Merridew's going to be there to see that happens.
Which puts you both on the same side, only playing different games.
Does he have any useful suggestions? Not really.
(He's conjured up some random yet) who walked in off the street.
and killed her.
Isn't that roughly the defence angle anyway? Yes, an intruder was seen.
But you can't help wondering if his strings were being pulled.
Regardless of your qualms, you won't be treading on too many toes, will you? I mean it is a question of their business being none of ours.
And it would help if I remembered that several colleagues here make a very good living out of Government inquiries and Royal Commissions? Well, now you mention it.
Yes, that is a consideration.
But, more to the point, if Merridew's people murdered Lise Auerbach.
Then your client did not, and all you're looking for is a reasonable doubt.
Still, if it were my case, I'd find another yob.
Oh, you really must excuse me.
Good evening, sir.
Erm, have you booked? Yes, I have.
(Jazz band tune up) Well.
erm.
anywhere you like.
sir.
- May I get you a drink? - Uh, I'll wait, if I may.
I'm expecting a friend.
There have been no messages for me, have there? - Erm, your name, sir? - Foxcott.
The message would be from Ashburn.
Mrs Teresa Ashburn.
I'll check for you, sir.
Shouldn't one of us have a few words with Natasha? Humanise her for the sake of the jury? Or even give her some encouragement.
Good idea.
No, no, I'll do it.
You're doing very well, Miss Jackson.
Thank you.
But things could get tougher from HOW oh.
Faraday knows his stuff.
There's nothing you'd like to tell me, is there, before I call you? Nothing in your story you'd like to change? I've told you the truth, Mr Kavanagh.
KAVANAGH: Would you tell the court how you come to be in London? I came here to be safe.
Safe from what, Mr Markovic? I came here for asylum after the Bosnian war.
I was an informer to the United Nations.
Many Serbs will never forgive me.
And where were you staying on the night of May 3rd? Verona Hotel.
Queensway.
Tell the court what you heard at around eight o'clock.
From the room next door, I heard two voices.
A man and a woman arguing.
Very quickly they went from peace to anger.
And then a gasp, and nothing.
Did you hear what was said? Not clearly.
I didn't understand, and it was not my business anyway.
Go on.
Um, then I heard a door slam, and footsteps down the landing.
The fire escape.
And from my window I saw a man run down the erm iron stairs.
He was in a hurry? Oh, yes, yes, yes.
Yes, he moved to bottom.
And erm ran across the yard, opened the gate.
And disappeared.
And from your window you had a clear view of this, in daylight? His back, yes, yes.
Yes.
Were you disturbed again that evening, Mr Markovic? Yes.
A little later I heard someone at Miss Auerbach's door.
Um.
there was a sound of something being dropped perhaps.
And then silent.
FARADAY: This man you saw how old was he? I couldn't say.
An old man? A teenager? In between.
Well, a young man, would you say? A middle-aged man? Young.
How was he dressed? Dark clothes.
Smart, casual, working clothes? Leather jacket.
anorak? I do not remember.
You don't recall his clothes, and yet you feel perfectly able to guess at his age? He must be young.
He moved quickly.
Well, that's quite an assumption.
You're sure this was a man? Sorry? You're sure this was a man? Of course.
I can tell man from a woman.
Yes.
Yeah.
The argument you heard.
A man's voice and a woman's voice - perhaps you can distinguish just one or two words? I couldn't hear clearly.
It wasn't clear.
Clear enough to distinguish a man and woman? Even so, my English is not good.
I think your English is perfectly splendid.
Maybe now.
But then it was not.
You ask me what I saw? I saw a man run from the hotel.
From the room next door where the girl was murdered! Thank you.
KAVANAGH: Miss Jackson.
What time did you arrive at the Verona Hotel? I'm not sure exactly.
Well, was it light outside or dark? Getting dark.
I remember turning my headlights off when I parked.
Er lighting up time, my lord, on May 3rd was 8:32pm.
What was the first thing you saw in the victim's room? Her body.
Beside the bed.
The lamp shade covering her face Exhibit 5, my lord.
Would you show Miss Jackson, please? Yes.
That's the one.
I moved it to look at her face.
To see if she was still alive.
She wasn't.
But there was no light on in the room.
How could you see her? Well, it was still dusk.
And there was a street light shining in.
So.
the curtains were open? Yes, half open.
When you left the room, and you ran down the stairs, what was in your mind? I must get away from here.
How will this look to the police? Sir Alan Jackson's daughter found in hotel with murdered girl.
Then you saw Mr Pike blocking your way.
And you shoved him.
Why? I'd just seen a dead woman with her head smashed in.
For all I know, he might have done it.
FARADAY.
Miss Jackson.
My learned friend has been suggesting that Miss Auerbach was murdered in the hours of daylight.
- What time did you leave home that night? - Half past seven.
You say in your statement that your appointment with Miss Auerbach was at 8:30.
Ten-minute drive to the hotel.
That leaves three-quarters of an hour unaccounted for.
Can you help us with that? I've told the police this.
My mother had just bought me a new car, and I wanted to drive around in it.
- What sort of car? - An Alfa Spider.
I'm not sure that the make of car has any relevance, Mr Faraday, in which case you needn't trouble the jury with it.
Quite so, m'lud.
No matter for the make of car, Miss Jackson.
You either drove around west London for three-quarters of an hour, unwitnessed, or you murdered Miss Auerbach.
- Which was it? - I drove.
But you did go to The Verona? Eventually, yes.
And why did you go into Miss Auerbach's room uninvited? I just knew something was wrong.
Ah, yes.
A premonition, is that it? If you like, yes.
Have you ever seen Der Sonntagsermittler, the German tabloid Miss Auerbach worked for? No.
I've had one or two articles from a typical edition translated, m'lud.
Appropriately enough.
The blue folder in Your Lordship's bundle.
Would you help the jury find them? Its staple diet is lurid speculation about the private lives of the great and the good throughout Europe.
The paper's been sued countless times.
But circulation continues to rise.
Inevitably, Mr Faraday.
I put it to you, Miss Jackson, that Miss Auerbach wanted such a story about your parents.
There isn't one.
These journalists can be very inventive.
What if they'd threatened to concoct such a story about your family? Your father.
even? You'd try to prevent that wouldn't you? - I've told you, there is no story.
- Maybe nor But isn't this the truth of it, Miss Jackson? For some reason.
You confronted Lise Auerbach.
In the course of that confrontation.
you picked up the nearest object.
and struck her with it.
A fatal blow.
NO (Lively discussion) James.
the Austrian private eye has come up trumps.
I've had a phone call from a Viennese lawyer.
Been looking for Lise Auerbach himself.
Holding money from her mother's estate.
Get a statement.
Early night.
Goodnight, darling Night-night, Tash.
You can't do any more to help her.
No.
James.
I'm sorry.
But you said don't phone.
I should have said don't come round either.
Not in the middle of the night.
- What time is it? - 5:30.
It's the Austrian lawyers statement.
Doctor Weit Wyler.
If you're calling Jackson today, you need to read it.
It seems that Lise Auerbach was rather more than a journalist.
JACKSON: You wanted to talk to us.
- Not you, Natasha.
- I need to know what you intend to do.
- I intend to discuss the defence with my client.
I have no intention of covering up your indiscretions in a court of law.
I see.
You anticipate problems? I have been forced to defend your daughter with half the truth.
I understand your feelings, Mr Kavanagh, but the point is, where do we go from here? When, exactly, did you discover that Lise Auerbach was your illegitimate daughter? How did you get on to this? A Viennese lawyer who not only represented Lise's mother - he became a trusted friend.
Lise came to see my wife the day of the murder.
That's the first I knew of her.
I swear it.
Why keep her a secret since then? I advised it, Mr Kavanagh.
Until we'd talked it over with someone at the Foreign Office.
They put us on to Ralph Merridew.
I see.
Miss Jackson, follow me.
I want my father to come.
What for? So far he's done you nothing but harm.
That is Doctor Weit Wyler's statement.
Well, what difference will it make? I don't understand all this.
It means that Lise was your half-sister.
It also means that three other people, besides yourself.
Had reason to wish she hadn't turned up - your father, your mother, and Ralph Merridew.
He was the one who told us to keep quiet about her.
He took over - things like the denim jacket.
He made me give it to him.
And bought you a new one? - Yes - So you lied about that? Juries don't like people changing their stories.
They tend to disbelieve both versions.
Then stick with the first.
Miss Jackson this isn't some sort of guessing game.
This is a serious attempt to reach the truth.
and use it in your favour.
Now, if you're not happy with that, I suggest you find yourself another counsel.
She wants you.
Then she'd better tell me what really happened.
and make me believe it.
The one person who could clear this whole thing up for us is Merridew.
- Why don't you call him, James? - And have him deny everything? In Greek? Oh, come on, you could have him for breakfast.
He's sat there in court, day in, day out, watching you, me, Mike Faraday.
His people play out his scenario.
Put him on the stand, James, and have his guts.
Get this into your head once and for all, Charlie! Merridew lies for a living! Look, much as I appreciate your faith in me, it is not our job to put Merridew behind bars.
It is our job to get Natasha Jackson off.
All we can do is explain to the jury why she lied.
We may even make them understand why she left the scene.
- But we - And that's it! If I even mention Merridew's name, we don't just risk losing - we risk being laughed out of court.
All we can do is rely on what Markovic saw.
- Can I help you? - Thank you, no.
It's Peter Foxcott I'm after.
You don't remember me, do you, Mr Kavanagh? I'm Donald Ashburn's wife.
Teresa.
But of course you are.
Charlie, just give us a second, will you? Would you like to wait inside? No, no, no, I can't stop.
I'd be grateful if you'd give Peter this.
Charlie tells me you've been burning the midnight oil, James.
How was the live jazz? Splendid.
Pity Teresa Ashburn missed it.
How in God's name did She called here earlier.
She left a note.
Some sort of family crisis, she said.
She'll phone you.
Do you remember him, James? Donald Ashbum? Yeah.
I didn't find him an easy man.
Eleanor didn't take to him, either.
Said there was an unpleasant streak there somewhere.
I thought he was the life and soul.
24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
Made me wonder what he was trying to hide.
I liked her, though.
James, it's not how it looks, you know.
How does it look, Peter? Well broadly speaking, that she and I You know? Peter, if there was any of the you know to it.
She'd hardly turn up on our doorstep, would she? I suppose not.
It's a mistake to relight old fires, isn't it? Isn't it? Perhaps.
(Rings) Hello? Hello? Hello? Lady Margaret.
Lise was 29 years old.
A bit late in the day to go searching for your natural father.
Did she say why she'd left it so long? Yes.
Her mother only told her about Alan a week before she died.
So.
she came to your house to meet your husband.
Bur he was our Why didn't you ask her to wait? I thought it best if I broke the news to him and Natasha.
I wasn't sure how they'd take it.
And how did they take it? Shock, which turned to curiosity.
They wanted to see her.
- Both of them? - Yes.
So, why did you advise them to get in touch with the Foreign Office? I didn't want my husbands career wrecked by a sudden scandal.
Besides.
I thought someone should check Lise's story.
So, you received advice from the Foreign Office.
Which was? They told us to keep calm.
It would be dealt with.
But then Natasha came back in a terrible state.
She'd been to the hotel to see Lise.
Just to see her.
With your permission my lord, I now recall Natasha Jackson.
You are still under oath, Miss Jackson.
Do you understand that? I do, my lord.
Miss Jackson.
Why didn't you tell the court earlier who Lise Auerbach really was? I was protecting my father.
From what exactly? If the press had found out he'd had an illegitimate daughter.
They'd have made life hell for him.
Probably wrecked his career.
So, you made a conscious decision not so much to lie about.
As to keep quiet about the family connection.
Is that right? That was the advice we were given.
At the Verona Hotel, Mr Pike says he saw you coming down the stairs with blood on the sleeve of your denim jacket.
Was there blood on it? Yes.
And did you later buy a new one? I didn't.
A new one was bought for me.
- You were happy with that? - Yes.
It was only an accident that I was there.
I see.
Miss Jackson who would you say was more anxious to keep Miss Auerbachs identity a secret? You, or your father's advisers? Them.
I was worried about Lise being dead.
They were more worried about who she was.
In your view.
Would these advisers have preferred Lise never to have had the chance to speak? I'm certain of it.
M'lud So, having been charged with murder.
You kept quiet about the true identity of Lise Auerbach for the sake of your father's career.
- Am I right? - Yes I was told I'd get bail and, on the evidence, the court would never find me guilty.
And you believed this? Well, my father did.
My mother did.
Why shouldn't I? I hadn't done it.
On the night of the murder.
you told your parents you were meeting friends.
Was that the truth, or a lie? - It wasn't the truth.
- Why the evasiveness, Miss Jackson? Do you suppose it makes a lie more palatable? Very well, then - yes, it was a lie.
You said there'd been no blood on the sleeve of the denim jacket.
- Truth or a lie? - A lie.
You said you hadn't replaced the denim jacket.
Truth or a lie? I didn't.
Mr Merridew did.
Who? One of my father's advisers.
Mr Kavanagh, are we going to hear from this Mr Merridew in the fullness of time? I have no plans to call him, my lord.
It's just that he and his shadowy colleagues have been alluded to so often, I'm beginning to think of them as old friends.
How would you describe the relationship between you and your father? - What do you mean? - Close? Distant? Easy-going? Intense? Close.
And how do you address him? What? Father? Dad? Daddy? All those.
Sometimes by his Christian name.
How often do you stand in for your mother at official engagements? Whenever I'm asked.
Have you ever been mistaken for her at one of these engagements? For your father's wife, I mean? - Once or twice, yes.
- Does that bother you? - Not at all.
- What about at home? Do you stand in for your mother there sometimes? Doesn't every daughter? That may or may not be the case.
It's you I want to know about.
You're making too much of it.
My father and I get on very well.
- Is mar a crime? - Just answer the question, Miss Jackson.
Yes, I take my mother's place at home sometimes.
When she's ill, which she often seems to be.
He confides in me.
We talk over problems.
And you give him advice, comfort, encouragement.
whatever's needed? Yes.
It's a rather special relationship, then.
My father's a special man.
And a rival for his attentions might not be welcome? What are you trying to say? That I've been having an incestuous relationship with my father? I merely suggested that you enjoyed having your father all to yourself.
And then a half-sister turns up.
- Are you saying I was jealous of her? - Were you? No.
You're saying I killed her.
I've had enough.
You all do it.
You, Kavanagh, my parents.
Perhaps, like me, all they want is to hear the truth.
I just wanted to see her.
Everything I did, all the lies I told, wasn't for me, it was for other people.
All I wanted was to see her.
Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed? We have.
Do you find the defendant Natasha Elizabeth Jackson guilty or not guilty on the charge of murder? Guilty.
(Astonished gasps) I'm so sorry.
Don't be.
How long will I get? It's very hard to say.
The sentence has to be life.
You could serve 15 years.
You said it couldn't happen.
Kavanagh wasted too much time pointing the finger at me.
He was after the truth, and he damn nearly got there.
Part of me wishes he had.
Don't tell me all of a sudden you're devoted to the truth.
That's a luxury you can't afford.
And if you jump ship now, I shall personally see to it that you drown.
- What about Natasha? - It's too late.
No, it bloody isn't.
There'll be an appeal.
And this time.
Mr Markovic can tell the whole story.
Thank you for the note.
And, yes, I did phone.
- Yesterday afternoon.
- At the flat? A man answered.
His name is John.
He's 22.
Ah.
How long have you known him? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm being a lawyer.
It's none of my business.
I've known him 22 years it must be.
He's my son.
And he was the family crisis.
I see.
What happened? John's an epileptic.
Hence my involvement with the Foundation.
He had a bad fit, and fell.
We thought he'd broken his wrist.
Went to Casualty.
Only a sprain.
What's the cause of his epilepsy, do they know? A blow to the head.
Unlike your Helen.
who inherited it from her father, I believe.
Helen? Helen Ames? I had no idea.
You all thought Donald was such an impressive man, didn't you? He was.
The lawyers lawyer.
Yes, well, he also had a rather frightening side.
A violent temper.
The most trivial thing could spark it.
He was working at home one day.
John was five.
He came up to him, asking for some silly thing.
You know whining, moaning, as kids do.
Donald slapped him hard across the back of his head.
Three months later, the fits began.
You're the first person I've ever told.
Helen, come in.
I never thanked you properly for standing in for me the other day, so thank you.
Helen, about the epilepsy thing.
Yes, Peter? I understand that you yourself suffer from it.
- Peter, I never suffer from or about anything.
- Er, no, of course not.
No, I mean that you have turns.
Fits.
Yes.
I do, occasionally.
Might have been wise to tell us.
Safety and all that.
I really think of it as no-one else's business but my own.
Teresa Ashburn wondered if you'd mind speaking to her son about coping with it.
Well, I can only tell him what my father told me.
Julius Caesar had it, Alexander the Great had it, Dostoevsky had it.
And now you've got it.
Yes, I see.
- That would explain your - Arrogance? No, no.
Confidence, Helen.
Confidence.
(Knocking at door) I have an odd question, James.
Can't it wait? It's not been the best of days.
No, I'm afraid it can't.
How well do you know your son, James? I don't know.
As well as he wants me to.
Well, you know I'm defending a man who owes the Inland Revenue £2 million? The deal I'm trying to arrange involves the sale of several London properties, and many of them.
Unfortunately.
Are occupied by squatters.
I think you should look at the names of those squatting in number 27 Hatchley Street.
- Out! - No way.
You heard me! This is someone else's property.
He wants it back! He's been happy letting us live here until now.
- Under licence - I gather from that that you know your rights.
Do you also know his? What will you do when the bailiffs arrive? Barricade yourselves in? Sit on the roof? If necessary, yes.
This whole row has been empty for two years.
Do you know Why? He thought they were going to widen the road.
He stood to make a fortune.
Are there squatters in the other houses? - They're the reason we can't just go.
- What do you owe them? We're the ones who set them up here.
Advertised in the Big Issue, interviewed them.
My God, they're running an estate agency- for squatters! That's right.
And we're staying.
Come on, Jim.
You know you secretly admire him for it.
So what? But they're right.
It's immoral.
A whole row of empty houses.
Not empty now, are they? Thanks to your son.
Thank God the kids are doing something about it.
I mean who else gives a damn? I have a daughter who's heading for a first at Cambridge.
And a son who hasn't the faintest idea what to do with the rest of his life.
Except live in a squat.
(Knocks at door) Sir Alan Jackson is here with Dynevor about the appeal.
Wheel 'em in.
Your reservations are understandable, Mr Kavanagh.
You see it as another Merridew ploy, no doubt.
Well, isn't it? We've had two versions of the truth so far.
You maybe pleased to hear I've parted company with Mr Merridew.
Markovic's statement.
Take another look.
Markovic was at the hotel all right.
And he did see a man.
Not a young man, though.
Merridew told him to say that.
An older man, then? - You? - Yes.
Why? When I knew Lise had arrived, I had to confront her.
Confront her? She was your daughter.
She was.
But she Her birth was.
.
.
Inauspicious? "Lise Auerbach.
Born Vienna, 1967.
Mother.
Frieda.
Bornâ Ah.
So that's it.
Frieda was only 14 when I And Lise threatened to reveal it.
That night I had to see her.
After Natasha left, I went to the hotel.
The first thing she said to me was.
"You owe me a lot.
Let's start with £30,000.
" I refused.
She called me a child molester.
A rapist.
That I was not.
I-I-I'm not absolutely sure what happened next.
L-I took the nearest thing to hand.
and I killed her.
Who knows this? Just you, me, and Merridew.
But I want you to use it.
I want Natasha out of there.
You said that after the trial my wife and son would join me here.
I think that's gained a little in the translation Mr Markovic.
I'm sorry.
What what do you mean? Bad news, I'm afraid.
Problems with Immigration.
Even I have my limitations.
Speak plainly! Your wife and son are not the issue.
The difficulty stems from your own status here.
Sir Alan.
You ask us to believe that you went to Lise's hotel with every chance that.
As a public figure.
you'd be recognised? Yes.
And then you let your other daughter stand trial for the crime she did not commit, but you did? Yes.
But you can't give us one piece of evidence that you were ever there.
Did Mr Pike see you? No.
Did you leave fingerprints on the lamp? No.
Perhaps you can show us the clothes you were that evening.
Or have they been replaced? No.
So, we have to take your word for it, do we, that you killed a young woman who merely said she was your daughter? Yes.
Nothing further, m'lud.
I think we'll leave it there, Mr Kavanagh.
- This afternoon.
we shall hear from? - Mr Markovic, my lord.
Count rise.
Mr Kavanagh, did I hear correctly? Mr Markovic takes the stand this afternoon? Yes.
We think, after all, that he may have recognised the man on the fire escape.
Bad luck seems to dog you in this case.
Doesn't it? Markovic went back to Sarajevo this morning.
Anxious to rejoin his wife and son.
Whilst we sympathise with the desire of any father to spare his daughter the agony of a life sentence.
We find the fresh evidence wholly incredible.
and beyond belief.
Accordingly, this appeal is dismissed.
You bastard! Why won't you believe me? I murdered Lise Auerbach! Out of my way! I'm guilty! I killed her? I murdered Lise Auerbach.
And nobody wants to know! - My own daughter! - What drives a man to do that, I wonder? I killed her! - Tell the truth.
you mean? - You sound as if you believed him.
Their Lordships didn't.
We both know he's guilty.
What price truth, eh? Fascinating commodity.
You see it as an end in itself.
I see it as a tool of the trade.
If you hadn't been so curious about Lise Auerbach, you and I might have got Natasha off.
If you hadn't dispatched my witness, I could have got her off here.
Forgive me, but you're missing the implications.
Impregnating a child prostitute is one thing.
- Killing the bastard offspring is quite another.
- Not British, you mean? Ah, well, spilt milk and all that.
Spilt milk? The man's lost both his daughters, for God's sake! He let the side down.
He was selected to bat for Britain.
Not to drag us into the gutter.
If people like you are running the show, were there.
Up to your neck in it.
You can't even smell it any more.
- Nice working with you, Mr Kavanagh.
- Get out of my sight.
Hi, Dad.
(Clears throat) What's wrong? They've been kicked out.
Bailiffs, boarding up.
Belongings all over the street.
The works.
The goods news is they'll be staying with us for a little while, just till they get back on their feet.
Good.
Good.