Ripper Street
Closed Casket
Season 5 Episode 1 | 52m 4sVideo has Closed Captions
Reid - on the run from the police - must find a way to bring down Commissioner Dove.
It is just days after the cruel murder of Bennet Drake and his once friends Edmund Reid, Homer Jackson and Long Susan are drawn together to bring his killer - a new serial killer stalking Whitechapel's streets - to justice. They are hampered by one fact: they themselves are now hunted by the police for the extra-judicial killing of Long Susan's father: Theodore Swift. Seeking our heroes with a dog
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Ripper Street is presented by your local public television station.
Ripper Street
Closed Casket
Season 5 Episode 1 | 52m 4sVideo has Closed Captions
It is just days after the cruel murder of Bennet Drake and his once friends Edmund Reid, Homer Jackson and Long Susan are drawn together to bring his killer - a new serial killer stalking Whitechapel's streets - to justice. They are hampered by one fact: they themselves are now hunted by the police for the extra-judicial killing of Long Susan's father: Theodore Swift. Seeking our heroes with a dog
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(SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING) -Undertaker?
-Yes, sir?
A closed casket for this man, if you will.
(CHOIR SINGING THE LORD'S MY SHEPHERD) (EXHALES) (SINGING CONTINUES) (SOBBING) JACKSON: Reid!
Reid!
What do you say?
Three nights we've been down here.
This day, every uniform from the city to the marshes is gonna be at his graveside.
If we're quick about it, we can move freely.
Where?
Some place that ain't a sewer.
Where we can sleep.
Eat.
-Then say.
-JACKSON: If I say, you won't come.
That thing's more conspicuous than you are.
This way now.
Quick!
Come.
The stage door gives out onto the laneway.
(HUMMING) (LOCK CLICKS OPEN) JACKSON: Here it is.
Food!
-(GUNSHOTS) -(ALL GRUNTING) MS. MORTON: You think you'd have the decency to keep your murderous fingers off my lunch.
All the decayed ruins in this town and you bring me to hers?
-I did warn you.
-(SIGHS) It's a real nice place you got here, Hermione.
(THEME MUSIC PLAYING) (DOGS BARKING) (CROWD JEERING) -(DOG GROWLS) -(DOG WHIMPERS) JENKINS: See, listen up, a beast lies dead.
All right.
Let me take your money, sir, and you, pay up.
And you, that's right.
There's skill in such savagery.
That's savage, Chopper!
Who's next?
Eh?
Who dare risk their animal against mine?
-(BELL CLANGS) -(CROWD CHEERING) (DOGS BARKING AND SNARLING) (DOG GROWLING) Would not if I were you, brother.
He ain't the petting kind.
-(DOG WHIMPERS) -NATHANIEL: What kind is he?
JENKINS: The killing kind!
-NATHANIEL: Is that so?
-JENKINS: What do you want?
I want your dog.
Well, you can't have him.
(GROANS) What do you want?
What are you doing with me?
Please!
-(GLASS SHATTERING) -MAN: Hey!
(MAN LAUGHS IN DISTANCE) -(GRUNTS) -(DOG BARKS) (DOG SNARLS) (DOG WHIMPERS) Good boy.
Good boy.
Come on, come on.
You come with me, boy.
You're mine now.
MATHILDA: "Why Inspector Reid resorted to such action "is a question that may only be answered by the man himself.
"But the facts of the ghastly fate suffered by Mr.
Swift cannot be ignored.
"The recorded cause of death was dehydration, "but that eventual end must, one imagines, have come "as mighty relief for a once-eminent man "who had lived for 10 days in conditions which defy imagination.
"Ten days in which his body, in starving desperation, "would have slowly turned to eating itself, "before death came to spare him further suffering.
"Before that blessed hour, however, "dehydration would have brought him to a mad delirium.
"In that state, he had chewed his own tongue to ribbons "and shattered the bones of his fingers and wrists "in repeated attempts to break down the bars of his prison.
"As for Mr. Reid, the only man who might shed light on his own motives, his whereabouts remained unknown."
MS. MORTON: There is more food, and water, too, if you would like to wash. And believe me, you ought to do so because never mind talk of you, I expect the stink carries to Scotland Yard.
How do we know she may be trusted?
I imagine that depends on whether you intend to become charming or not, Mr. Reid.
You.
Might I have a word, please?
(OBJECTS CLATTERING) Where is it you go, Mr. Reid?
To get eyes on my girl if I can.
See if she has lit her candle to call for me.
I shan't expose you if I am taken, were that your chief concern.
-(DOOR CLOSES) -When is it you are planning to leave?
-You are running, I imagine?
-We are.
MS. MORTON: Then why are you in my playhouse?
All the ports are watched.
And besides, me and Susan, we're a family now.
(LIGHTER FLICKS) You will not leave your son behind?
No.
And Mr. Reid?
Pour two.
Reid, yeah.
Look, his gruffness...
He's barely spoken two words since.
Since what?
Since they came for him?
No.
Since we watched Drake die.
You were there?
When that man Abel Croker murdered him?
Don't believe everything you read in the newspapers.
Did he not, in fact, murder Inspector Drake?
-Was the man fitted for the crime?
-It's best you don't know.
Then that which Mr. Reid is accused of... What happened to Miss Swift out there's father?
Is that also a questionable version of events?
Is he... Is she in fact blameless?
Blameless?
(SCOFFS GENTLY) Never that.
Yeah, and to think when I read of her supposed passing, I...
I mean, I should be shot, but I...
I sorrowed for you.
Now, look, Mimi, darlin'... Don't call me "darling."
You call me darling one more time and I will walk you to Leman Street myself.
I don't understand how you dare come to me.
Was there no one, nowhere else?
Oh, we had a long list.
(TRAIN CHUGGING IN DISTANCE) No candle?
Hey Reid.
You're in no place to offer her your protection...
But then we must continue to cower, must we?
While the world is poisoned, justice and truth are made Augustus Dove's whores.
What are we to do then, Reid?
We go get our justice.
Or the heavens fall.
(DOOR CLOSES) What will he do?
(SIGHS) What can he do?
He chooses to fix his will to vengeance, he will tear this world down about us.
What, you don't wish for justice?
We do not act, you and I, whether it is Reid's fury, or another's idle tongue.
-We must act, is all I say.
-Oh, and this great action you describe?
Our vases.
I have a sense of where Croker may have hid them.
If that sense is accurate, there is not a soul left to stop me taking them.
You don't think you're gonna be seen on the dockside?
Yes.
And I have thought on how that might be addressed.
JACKSON: I don't like it, Caitlin.
I'll go, you just... -You stay here where it's safe.
-No.
Because you must go to Connor, set eyes on our son if you can.
All that has passed in a house which he must call home.
We must see that he is well, Mathew.
And I will be watched for there.
Darlin', we are watched for everywhere, by everybody.
No.
No, not everywhere.
Not with such fixation anyway.
Besides, what is a theater if not a place in which we might transform ourselves?
Transform myself.
(EXHALES SHARPLY) What?
You be careful.
'Cause I might fall in love with you all over again.
(INDISTINCT CHATTERING) (HAWKER SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY) THATCHER: This new chief of ours who comes here this morning, he's a proper heavyweight from what they say, right?
At the K, when he ran Limehouse, 10 commissioner's recommendations in one year, nigh on 50 knicker won from the Bow Street Fund for bringing down an armed robbery single-handed.
That was over five years past, Frank.
Where's he been since, eh?
And now he comes here to run this division?
From the sound of it, he's entirely the stripe of man required for this sink in which we here currently find ourselves.
And I for one, should be happy to walk alongside such a man.
Aye.
And fall on your arse most like.
Oi!
I've been robbed.
-Name?
-JENKINS: Why do you need that?
So we can come by and cook your dinner for you.
DRUMMOND: It is a legal requirement, sir.
Oh.
It's Jenkins.
-And what is took from you, sir?
-(CLEARS THROAT) My dog.
-THATCHER: Breed?
-English bull terrier.
Oh?
It's a fighting dog, is it?
It is not.
It's my domestic companion.
He's pure breed, understand?
-£25 to replace.
-Some pet.
You see those scars about his hands, Drum?
I'd lay my pension on it that's a pit bull stolen, and he's a pit bull handler.
Now, you just be glad we here are currently exercised by graver matters than a ballock-sack like you.
OFFICER: Mr. Dove comes.
The new chief with him!
(INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING) THATCHER: Get out of here, Mr. Jenkins.
(STEAM WHISTLE BLOWING) DOVE: Men of H-Division, I expect you to show your new leader all the loyalty you showed your last.
(NECK CRICKING) (GROANS) Your men welcome you.
(EXHALES SHARPLY) -(DOOR OPENS) -What is that?
It is a telephone, Inspector Shine.
-You are Desk Sergeant...?
-Drummond, sir.
I know what a telephone is, Drummond.
Of course.
Perhaps Mr.
Shine refers to your micro-reader, Sergeant?
Oh.
Erm, Mr. Reid's files were photographed and their size then shrunk by a ratio of 160-to-1.
Which Reid?
Hmm, this Reid?
His brain made of wood and glass, is it?
Shall we move on?
This was Bennet Drake's seat?
It was.
How soon are great men replaced.
Who was this man Croker?
This Whitechapel Golem?
A wharfinger.
A nobody.
A nobody ended Bennet Drake?
Ate his flesh, four others besides?
That is not a nobody.
The file in front of you, all you need know on Mr. Reid.
These charges?
Justifiable homicide.
Truthful or cooked?
It is all there, Inspector.
(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING) As I understand it, the doctors have passed you fit, Inspector.
Once I had threatened to burn down their homes if they did not.
(CLEARS THROAT) Well, I expect you to be well enough for your duties here.
Chief amongst which the capture of these fugitives.
So I understand it, sir.
For why is it you believe I have accepted your invitation back here?
Bringing this man... (SIGHS) ...to his retribution, well, that will be the highest of high days.
(DOVE CLEARS THROAT) (LIGHT MUSIC PLAYING) MS. MORTON: I have coffee and hot rolls.
Thank you, Miss Morton.
I hope you will forgive me my poor manners.
Oh, come, Mr. Reid.
I've heard worse.
And you are hardly a scaffolder.
You had left this place, had you not?
Why is it you come back here, Miss Morton?
I'm happy here.
Happier than I am anywhere else, at least.
You cannot settle over west?
MS. MORTON: Mmm.
It is...
It's diverting for a while.
And when I'm there I think of here.
(CROWD CHATTERING) (TENSE MUSIC PLAYING) (MUFFLED GASP) You don't think I can deal with that turd up top?
(MUFFLED GROAN) Where's our boy, Rose?
Wouldn't you like to know?
Tell me where you're hid, I'll tell you where he is likewise.
-You're gonna tell me now, God damn it.
-(GUN COCKS) You think I give two hoots to be made dead?
I do not.
There's twice a day it's only weariness stops me doing it myself.
Where do you go?
I see your life's all packed away.
They will have me at Blackpool for a season.
And then?
I do not care.
Somewhere.
Where's my son, Rose?
What is your name?
My name's Mathew Judge.
What is hers?
It's Caitlin.
And despite what you believe, she's your friend, and she loves you.
(SIGHS) As do I, Rose.
And how we understand the time between then and now, I have no clue.
But it's true, Rose, you are loved.
Where's Connor?
I have given him away.
(SIGHS) God damn it!
To who?
-Rose, to who?
-To a life that you will not prise him from.
They are papers.
Connor Judge is now the ward of Augustus Dove.
-Rose, where is he?
I beg you!
-Hackney, he has said.
But I do not know where and I do not wish to know neither.
Will you leave me please, Captain?
(DRAMATIC, SOLEMN MUSIC PLAYING) (EXHALES SHARPLY) I am Chudleigh.
He will be glad for more permanent company, I believe.
He grows restless.
It's not company he needs.
It's order.
Or has the moral discipline I was brought to teach you as a foul-mouthed mud-larking boy been forgot now you are a frock-coated gentleman?
No, of course not, Miss Chudleigh.
Now, see?
He comes to greet you himself.
(DOVE CHUCKLES) Well, Connor.
Do you have a word of greeting for your new governess?
-(HORSE NEIGHING) -OFFICER: Hear me, out the way!
Police coming through.
Move!
Make way!
His name is Nathaniel.
Nudge two yards in height.
He'll be rough and dirty, but if you see him, you treat him kind.
And, Constable, this is not police business.
-This is my own affair, you understand?
-OFFICER: Yes, Mr. Dove.
SUSAN: Mr. Dove thinks he can set the hour of the world by his own pocket watch.
Surveying the docks like the heir Abel Croker might have wished him to be.
REID: And he has your son.
He knows you will not leave without him.
Cannot but try to retake him.
He is correct on both counts.
But he does not have all within his control, however.
He does not take his private guard to the docks for his health.
Nor indeed to seek our vases.
You mean he looks for Nathaniel?
He must hunt him himself.
Because if that man kills again, if he even speaks, Dove himself will fall.
All I have done.
What you and I did to your father.
Perhaps I am as black of heart as Augustus Dove would have the world believe.
But Bennet Drake, my friend, was not.
There never was a more dedicated or honest soul.
God knows I used that integrity to my own ends, but before I die, I will see his voice given back to him.
JACKSON: Then we need to trap the beast which killed him.
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) JACKSON: What makes you so certain he hides in the Jewish quarter?
REID: Nathaniel has lost everything, remember.
Whatever kind of father the man Croker was to him, he cannot simply call on his brother to ask for a bed.
He must wait for that brother to find him.
He cannot stray too far, therefore.
-Unlike any human male... -Any mammal, any wolf-cub.
He may seek comfort in where he found it before.
Amongst the people he's preyed on.
(KNOCKING ON DOOR) Last three days.
A man, early 30s.
JACKSON: Don't talk much, but when he does, it's English.
REID: No stranger.
Will know his way about.
MANAGERESS: Yeah.
This man!
-I had him thrown out.
-Why?
No dogs.
REID: Lamb chops.
Costly eating to give away to an animal.
JACKSON: Is he fattening it up?
-What breed?
-Bull terrier.
-A brute of a thing.
-Fight dog?
A way to raise funds, certainly.
But where is he fighting it?
What is this?
Church of the Latter-day Saints.
JACKSON: Do you think it's code?
Well, a street crier would be unwise.
The whereabouts of their match-ups must be communicated somehow.
JACKSON: Last I knew, there were no Mormons setting up church in Whitechapel.
JACKSON: See there, attending to his flock.
Peace be upon you.
And upon you, brother.
-Do you wish to give thanks?
-We do.
Cassock or congregation?
Fight or play?
Play.
(GROWLING) (BARKS) Bless you, brother!
Lovely.
(LAUGHS) All right?
All right, let's get it started!
(BELL CLANGS) (SNARLS) (BARKS) (CROWD CHEERING) Come on!
(BARKING) Fear not, Abel, fear not.
We ain't here to watch them suffer.
(DOG WHIMPERING) (DOG GROWLS) That's it!
Get in there!
(SHOUTING) JENKINS: What are you doing?
What!
Oi!
You!
You have some brass to come here, to my kingdom, with that animal.
A dog I raised!
NATHANIEL: Raised for violence?
Raised for blood?
JENKINS: That dog was born as such.
So you give him up now!
-Give him up!
-NATHANIEL: As you wish.
-(DOG GROWLS) -Go!
(JENKINS SCREAMING) Get him off!
Get him off!
-(JENKINS SCREAMS) -(DOG SHREDDING CLOTHING) -Get him off!
-(DOG SNARLING) (SCREAMS) Abel.
JENKINS: Get off!
(SCREAMS) Get him!
Get him!
(DOG BARKING) MAN: Watch out!
Watch out!
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) REID: You!
Tell what has happened here!
-JACKSON: Reid!
I see him!
-Get after him then!
-We're gonna lose him.
-REID: We must not!
-(GUNSHOT) -(DOG WHIMPERS) NATHANIEL: Come on, boy!
Come on!
Abel!
Come on, boy!
Who is it brews the coffee here?
That'd be Sergeant Drummond, sir.
We leave all matters domestic to him.
-It's good drinking, Sergeant Drummond.
-Thank you, sir.
Is it you, who instead of his own soft bed, warms the stone hearth of Miss Mathilda Reid?
Yeah, it is, Mr.
Shine.
Sleeps like a dog there.
-Well, dogs are loyal, mister...?
-Thatcher.
DS, sir.
(CHUCKLES) Mr. Drummond, would you be so kind as to introduce me to the young lady?
I would feel it an honor to lay my eyes upon her.
Of course, sir.
The smell of this town, Drummond.
I do not think I could mistake it though I lived to be 500.
It is --, bad gin and dead flowers.
DRUMMOND: Miss Reid.
I am to introduce you to Inspector Shine.
I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.
Shine.
Miss Reid.
Will you excuse me, Inspector Shine?
You know your news traveled to Ireland, where I worked at the time?
Forgive me.
Which news?
Your resurrection.
-Sir, ought we not to... -No, we ought not, Drummond.
I share the experience, see?
Of all having thought me gone, only to be restored.
Who else may say that, save yourself and myself?
Man may stop and wonder if perhaps we are kin, you and I.
You should know it is me now that hunts your pappy.
Drum?
I wish you only to know this.
Whatever may pass, you will always have a defender in Jedediah Shine.
Good day, Miss Reid.
It is a great risk you take for a man who let you down so.
Who betrayed me, with you.
Then you see my argument.
-Why not turn us out to the streets?
-Hmm.
He's very charming, your man.
He is.
-He's also an idiot.
-Mmm.
But if in this life, we do not trust our instinct as to who is a good person, then I think we might be ruined.
It's Hackney, is it not, where, according to Rose Drake, this Mr. Dove now resides?
It is.
Now that it lives again, I must re-register my theater here for its purpose.
I do so via a young man called Eric at the Land Registry on Lincoln's Inn Fields.
Mr. Dove, good man of the law that he is, must also register his new domicile for gas, waterworks, the like.
(SIGHS) Dear Eric is a little bit in love with me, I think.
(SIGHS) He makes a household there.
And will be advertising for staff, I imagine.
Do you know, Miss Morton, we have far too much in common not to be friends.
-(DOGS BARKING) -MAN: Come here, you mutts!
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) Pit fight up the old wool works.
Word is the dogs were released.
They're now scattered throughout Whitechapel.
(SCOFFS) Think you're immune to arrest, Jenkins?
JENKINS: Perhaps I am.
The ruckus which saw these dogs set loose, your men here in attendance, in a pursuit all their own.
A pursuit of the wretch who thieved my dog Chopper.
You're not so spry now!
Hello, Mr. Jenkins.
That is valuable intelligence, and no mistake.
Don't I know it.
Then perhaps you will allow us to show you our gratitude.
-By all means, Inspector.
-Here.
Have this.
(GROANS) Ow!
(SPITS) (BREATHING HEAVILY) -Higher.
-(ROPES TIGHTEN) Higher.
JENKINS: (GROANING) What you doing?
Higher.
-(ROPES TIGHTEN) -(JENKINS GROANS) (PANTING) Now, Mr. Jenkins.
You dance there on your tippy-toes for an hour or four, while we here establish the truth of your snitching on Edmund Reid.
With me, Sergeant Thatcher.
Yes, sir, Mr.
Shine.
(CELL DOOR LOCKS) THATCHER: Inspector Shine, sir.
I think you might want to come and see this.
Right, come on.
SHINE: Mr. Thatcher, can you bring to mind any man of these parts who might have need for a .45 cartridge?
Yeah, I can, Inspector.
That'll be Captain Jackson.
(SHINE CLEARS THROAT) Lunch, I think.
Right.
Mr. Drake not allow you your lunch, then?
Not such a lunch as this.
No, he, erm...
He felt, well, he and Mr. Dove felt, that we here who police these streets must be seen to work as hard as them who must live on them, and not place ourselves above them in any way.
But we are above them, son.
They must follow the law.
And we... We are the law.
There is no equality in that fact.
Neither ought there to be.
Yeah.
Yes... Er, yes, Inspector.
Now we must ask ourselves why Mr. Reid would tell himself so.
He and his American associate do not go around letting off firecrackers without good reason.
These pit fights, they have significance for them.
Well, that being the case, this one today might not be the only such fight they might attend.
My, you are a quick fellow, Detective.
What else does that quick wit of yours ponder?
Our new friend, Jenkins.
-He who you've now got strung up in our cells.
-Indeed.
He might be set to the organizing of another such fight.
The coordinates of which to be described a little bit differently to Mr. Reid and Captain Jackson.
And there, where there was in fact no pit fight...
There might instead be ourselves, lying in wait.
JENKINS: (GROANS) Please, sirs.
-(ROPES TIGHTEN) -(JENKINS SCREAMS) Ought I to release you?
I don't know, sir.
That's for you to say.
If I were to, would you do my bidding?
Forever.
Forever more, forever more.
Forever more.
Then do what you do best, and by way of example, see another pit fight arranged and broadcast.
(JENKINS BREATHING HEAVILY) (WHIMPERS IN AGREEMENT) Take him down.
(JENKINS GASPS) (JENKINS PANTING) DRUMMOND: Sign here.
And you, Frank.
-SHINE: He is meticulous, our desk sergeant.
-THATCHER: Oh, he is that.
And more besides.
Right!
Be on your way now, Mr. Jenkins.
Don't be forgetting our love for you, Mr. Jenkins.
What, Drum?
What would you prefer, Tilda?
That he were caught and returned?
To make his case, I mean.
Claim his innocence.
Or that he were never caught.
And never returned.
I cannot say, but I do not think it only the law which motivates Mr.
Shine's pursuit of him.
-No.
-He was right, however.
What he said about resurrection.
Father said it, too.
That I was born to him twice.
And now I am perhaps lost to him twice.
(SIGHS) They set a trap for him.
Shine and Frank Thatcher.
Drum?
What is it?
Please, will you say?
He is my father.
SUSAN: There.
Your Mormons again.
Captain, find the coordinates of this next pit fight.
-JACKSON: And where is it you go?
-To see my girl.
Have you lost your mind?
-If you're taken... -Then I'm taken.
But she lit a candle for me last night, so I must go to her.
You go, Mr. Reid.
(DOOR CLOSES) Do not sling your accusations at me.
I know how he feels is all.
So you go to Hackney, do you?
I know where our son is.
I must go.
-Mathilda, my girl.
-You were watching.
I have been.
Every night I could.
You are well, my darling?
Is there any trouble?
Are you threatened?
No, Father.
I am well.
Samuel Drummond keeps a weather eye.
He stops the night at our home?
He does.
-Well, Mathilda.
You lit your candle?
-I did.
Father, Mr.
Swift...
Yes, I... Mathilda, please, we need space and freedom and time for such talk.
No.
It is not so much Mr.
Swift I wish to speak of, but the cellar, Father.
Why would you put him there?
Why?
The cellar that was once my home.
Mathilda, please.
It had the force of logic at the time.
We will in due course talk on it and I will explain all, but for now, please, is there anything you need to tell me?
They plan for your capture.
This is Mr. Dove?
It is he who plans it?
-No, it is not.
-Then who?
There is a new man sits in Uncle Bennet's office.
He came to talk to me.
-What is his name?
-He is named Shine.
You're certain?
Jedediah Shine?
Has he threatened you?
No, Father.
Quite the reverse, in fact.
Never, ever let yourself be alone with him.
Do you understand?
-(VOICE RISES) Do you understand?
-Yes.
I understand.
Now, what is his strategy?
Mathilda, please.
His strategy?
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) (KNOCKS) Peace be with you, brother.
And you.
OFFICER: Gather round!
Gather round!
All those seeking employment, the household is need for a footman, a cook and two maids.
All applicants are to form a line and hand their credentials in here.
-Bookman, is it?
-Aye, sir.
(MELANCHOLY MUSIC PLAYING) (SIGHS) He has a governess.
JACKSON: Well, governesses can be dissuaded with firearms.
REID: I suspect it may come to that.
JACKSON: Well, you took your sweet time.
Any longer, we'd have missed our window.
There's another pit fight scheduled... REID: I know.
It is upon the waste-ground beyond the charcoal works.
What?
How... -I only just came from the man who was... -Never mind.
But I have found opportunity also.
They construct this animal fight to draw us out, -but we shall see their claws pulled from them first.
-(WHISTLING) (SNIFFS) (CONTINUES WHISTLING) REID: DS Thatcher.
My heart has sorely missed you, son.
Sergeant Thatcher the unreliable stripe of copper, is he?
Where the hell is he, Drummond?
You men, with me.
We must move now or the chance to trap Reid is... -(LAUGHTER IN DISTANCE) -What's that noise?
(LAUGHING CONTINUES) (INDISTINCT SHOUTING) (LAUGHTER) MAN: Oh, is it chafing?
(LAUGHS) (CROWD JEERING) MAN: Lovely bunch of flowers.
(ALL LAUGHING) Are you out there, Ed Reid?
I know you too vain a man not to now be watching your own acts.
I'm fierce glad to be here.
Fierce glad to know you yet a worthy antagonist!
I have thirsted long and hard for this fight!
I'm in your house, my feet under your table, and I will not be leaving till I have looked you in the eye... And then I'm gonna paint these streets with your blood!
All men, every address within a hundred yards.
Tear 'em apart.
Do it now!
Tear 'em apart!
Tear 'em apart!
I want him found, now!
We best run, I imagine.
(WHISTLE BLOWING) -(WHIMPERS) -Shh, it's gonna be all right.
-Hey... -(DOG WHIMPERS) Shh.
-(WHIMPERS) -Forgive me, Abel.
-(DOG WHIMPERS) -(DOG'S NECK SNAPS) (SHUSHING) (DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING) -(WHISTLE BLOWS) -(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) (CROWD CHEERING) (DRAMATIC MUSIC CONTINUES) (MUSIC FADES OUT)
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