[theme music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ [shouting, clamoring] [explosion] [tires screeching] [sirens in distance] [tires screeching] [sirens blaring] [shouting, clamoring] MAN: Yeah.

[hitting, scuffling] [shouting] [clattering] [indistinct shouting] [laughs] [clattering] Are you going somewhere, Pinhead?

ROY GANNON: Liked by one and all, Betty.

Best of his intake.

Did his job braver than any of us.

Great career in front of him.

That's not a great help, is it, telling you all that?

No.

All I can say, all I can say for your satisfaction, Betty, is that we got the little bastard, no bloody trouble.

And he won't get away with it, not in a million years.

Put your trust in Roy, Betty.

You trust the Super.

That's one thing I can do for you, Betty.

I can promise you a conviction.

[crying] GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Morgan, you have been convicted of murder out of your own mouth and by your own words.

Every minute that this trial has lasted has made me surer and surer of your guilt.

You will go to prison for life.

And my recommendation is that you serve a minimum of 25 years.

[cheering] Thanks for that, Mr. Gannon.

Thanks for everything.

Least we could do, Betty.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Take him away.

--justice, stupid old fart.

MAN: Silence!

Evening, Judge.

Ah, Rumpole.

I see you've got the Evening Standard.

Remarkable powers of observation, Your Lordship.

Well, it just helps to have my face plastered all over the front page.

Oh, right.

I'll start on page 2.

[laughter] Morgan was a most anxious case.

And you did it extraordinarily skillfully, if I may say so.

Oh, my dear old Rumpole.

No blood on the accused's clothing, no evidence that the knife was his, no witness that saw him anywhere near where the body was found.

My darling old lordship, anyone can get a conviction on evidence.

It takes a legal genius to obtain one without it.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: But the accused Morgan had made a confession.

Oh, damn, there goes my bus.

Oh, dear.

[tsks] I'm going to be late.

Marigold's having people round this evening.

She'll be absolutely furious.

Taxi!

I shouldn't have stood here chattering to you, Rumpole.

I must be a complete idiot.

Is that a confession we can accept as the truth, My Lord?

Detective Inspector Peplow, you told me that Superintendent Gannon wrote out Morgan's confession, this document-- Yes, sir.

--with this sheet, page 2, flat on the table, nothing underneath it.

I'm sure of that, sir.

So that would seem to be perfectly clear.

Can you confirm that, Sergeant Lane?

No, I think we only had one sheet at a time, sir.

You think?

CHESNEY LANE: Well, no, I'm sure.

He wrote on single sheets, flat on the table, sir.

So what your test shows is that page 2 was written on top of a pile of papers located in Superintendent Gannon's office.

Is that right?

Exactly.

Here you see the indentations on the paper.

Did you know that page 2, the page that describes the murder, was written elsewhere and possibly added later?

Superintendent Gannon took away what he wrote.

We don't know anything after that.

Sir, I don't quite understand.

We saw him write on single sheets.

There is something that stinks to high heaven about this Morgan confession.

From the Chief Super's office to go in the safe, Linda.

[buzzing] All done, Hilda!

Absolutely no trouble at all.

I can't understand why women make such a meal about shopping.

I broke the speed record at Gloucester Road Happy Mart, round on two wheels most of the time.

Now, then, here we are.

Squeeze Me bath cleaner, present.

- Rumpole.

- Hmm?

I distinctly asked for the lime-flower-scented and the jumbo-sized.

Well, it's a recession, Hilda.

We can't afford the jumbo.

This will do very nicely.

Your sugar, Madam.

Sweets to the sweet.

A sugar?

- Hmm.

- For a baked pudding?

Excellent.

I relish the Rumpole roly-poly.

Rumpole, this sugar is in lumps.

Yeah.

What am I supposed to do, jump up and down on it?

Well, do your best.

Oh, I managed to track down that mincemeat you wanted.

Oh, how brilliant of you.

This will be wonderful for making shepherd's pie.

Shepherd's pie?

But you-- I distinctly wrote "meat," underlined, minced, 1 pound.

Mincemeat, meat minced.

How was I to know the difference?

Hilda, listen to this.

Morgan case review.

The bishop of Westfield, the cardinal archbishop of Westminster, and the chairman of the Arts Council have all called for the reopening of the case of Peter Morgan, convicted for the murder of PC Yeomans on the Buttercup Meadows estate.

Oh, well, it's no use, Rumpole.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Morgan, known locally-- I shall just have to do-- HORACE RUMPOLE: --as "Pinhead."

--all the shopping myself in the future.

Well, I'm not the only one to make mistakes.

Just think of poor, darling old Mr. Justice Featherstone.

Sir Simon Parsloe is looking for you, Judge.

Lord Justice Parsloe.

Is he, indeed?

Hello there, Guthrie.

Drowning your sorrows?

Simon.

Why?

Should I have sorrows?

Mm-hmm.

Bit of a hard time for you, I'm afraid.

My heart goes out to you, poor old fellow.

Keeping well, are you?

Yeah, well, apart from the usual ailments of a trial judge.

- Oh, I know.

Piles and sleeping sickness.

But I'm looking forward to joining you lord justices in the peace and comfort of the Court of Appeal.

Well, perhaps someday.

Who knows?

These things do get forgotten in time.

Things, Simon?

What sort of things are you talking about?

Well, let's say things like Pinhead Morgan.

Yes, well, I sent him down with a recommendation of 25 years.

SIMON PARSLOE: I know you did, Guthrie.

How many has he done now?

I suppose the question we have to decide is, has he done enough?

Enough?

For stabbing a copper?

Look, why don't we move our drinks over to the window?

There's fellows here trying to earwig us.

Yes, well, I know there's been a bit of agitation by copper-hating lefties, Simon, professional do-gooders in the Howard League for Penal Reform.

But you're not gonna take any notice of them, are you?

Tim Bunting referred the matter to us, and I'm not sure the home secretary's a copper-hating lefty, as you call it so elegantly.

No, but he's a politician.

I mean, people have been asking questions in the House, appearing on television, all that sort of nonsense.

Poor chap feels he's gotta do something.

Guthrie, I know you'll be very brave about this.

It may not be entirely nonsense.

It may be just one more of these cases where the trial judge is left with egg on his face.

But it was an open-and-shut case, Simon.

Reopened and not yet shut, unfortunately.

Oh, my dear old fellow, if only you hadn't said, every minute this trial has lasted has made me surer and surer of your guilt.

Did I say that?

Oh, yes.

Nailed your colors to the mast, didn't you, Guthrie?

Silence is golden, old fellow, particularly when passing possibly dubious life sentences.

Possibly dubious?

You mean you've already made up your minds?

No, no, not at all, not at all.

No, no, no.

I've no idea what conclusion I and my brother lords justices may come to.

We might find the conviction is still safe.

Ah.

SIMON PARSLOE: I just thought I ought to warn you.

So keep your head down, Guthrie.

The flack may be coming over.

[crowd chanting "free pinhead"] [shouting] Court of Appeal is sitting in judgment this morning, Wilfred.

So I understand, sir, from Lord Justice Parsloe's clerk, Gladys.

It's a troublesome business, Wilfred.

It's an extremely troublesome business.

Pity they got rid of the rope.

Those were my very words to Gladys.

I was perfectly entitled to say, well, we had watertight evidence.

And if that young man had been strung up, he would never have come popping up in the Court of Appeal and causing us all this trouble and anxiety.

The point is, I have to know the result as soon as possible.

Now, you come into my court at what time?

12:30, sir.

It should all be over by then, according to Gladys.

Gladys is very reliable.

[laughs] We've become fast friends over the years.

Do stop going on about Gladys, and try and concentrate on coming in and giving me a signal.

Now, let's say-- [scoffs]-- thumbs up if Pinhead goes back to prison and we're in the clear.

And otherwise, may I make a suggestion, sir?

Thumbs down.

I feel there's going to be a terrible miscarriage of justice, Wilfred.

The officer in charge of the case, Detective Superintendent Roy Gannon, must bear the heavy responsibility of obtaining this worthless confession.

We, as judges of the Court of Appeal, can only apologize to the public and to Mr. Morgan, the unfortunate victim of this miscarriage, for the somewhat unwise remarks of the learned judge, who was reckless enough to say, and I quote, "Every minute this trial has lasted has made me surer and surer of your guilt."

[shouting, clamoring] The judgment of the House of Lords in R. v. Windhammer, My Lord, defines intent as "presence of mind and body acting in concert in a willful murder."

And, at page 209 of the-- I-- no, I'm so sorry.

I've got the wrong page.

213.

No.

So Pinhead never killed my husband, never stabbed Ted, never cut him?

So who did, then?

Would they mind telling me that?

I'm sorry, Betty.

I know-- Or did no one kill Ted?

Did he just pull out a knife and do himself?

Was it all a mistake, like that trial of Pinhead?

Is that what they're telling us?

I don't know, Betty.

They seem to have lost interest in what Pinhead did.

It's what I did, what the judge did, where we went wrong.

It's all their lordships are concerned about.

Someone killed Ted.

That's all I know.

Someone's got to suffer.

Yeah, well, the most likely person to suffer is going to be me.

Oh, not you, Roy.

Not after all you've done for us.

Not you.

I'm not gonna let that happen.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: I've had no justice whatsoever, Denver.

I'm sorry about that, sir, truly sorry.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: No one to represent me, no chance to put my case.

Appearing in another court, as it so happened, while the Court of Appeal rubbished me.

Rubbished me, Denver.

Trial judge was reckless enough to say-- reckless, me?

I mean, tell me quite honestly, Denver, would you say I was reckless?

No, Sir Guthrie, but you are my last gentleman, sir.

Your last gentleman?

Yes.

Yes, that's probably it.

Too much of a gentleman to answer back.

No, not many of us left nowadays, are there?

I was just about to pack up.

Is that what you're advising me to do, Denver.

Jack it in?

Hang up the scarlet dressing gown, take up golf?

Sure Lady Featherstone wouldn't want you to do that, sir.

[laughs] Lady Featherstone is far, far away, in sunny Coventry with her sister.

With any luck, she was too busy chattering to listen to the 10 o'clock news.

No, I'm all alone, Denver, all alone in London, with only you for company.

A very good night to you, then, Sir Guthrie.

Good night, Denver.

ALL: ♪ I'm tired, and I want to go to bed ♪ Careful, mate.

Where do you think you're going?

[overlapping speech] - Mr. Guthrie?

[shushing] It's Mr. Justice Featherstone.

If it isn't Henry from number 3, Equity Court.

Out on the town, are you, Henry?

Are you all in the law, in which case you have my profound sympathy?

Well, no, not exactly, Sir Guthrie, not at all in the law.

What we have here is the cream of the Bexleyheath thespians.

ALL: Yeah!

Up in town on our annual theater evening.

And piss-up.

Yeah, well, that was not the purpose of the evening, Sir Guthrie.

The purpose of the evening was to witness Ms. Dianna Rigg performing the role of Hedda Gabler.

I'd like to play opposite her.

Not many laughs in it, was there?

MAN: Never any of those, not in that Henry Gibson.

So we was all off to Blokes for a bit of a bop.

Oh, a bit of a bop?

There was a time when I could indulge myself in a bit of a bop, before the pressures of life and the law became too much for me.

Oh.

Where is this Blokes you go to?

Leicester Square, just around the corner.

Feel like shaking a foot, do you?

Speaking for all the assembled thespians here, Sir Guthrie, we should be honored if you'd care to join us-- [cajoling] --just for drinks.

That's very kind of you, but I'm afraid it's quite impossible.

[club music] I mean, tell me, quite honestly, what was I meant to do?

Go down into the cells and keep a fatherly eye on Pinhead Morgan?

Make sure the Old Bill wasn't pinning him up?

Has he had tea and biscuits and a clever solicitor?

No, I can't do that, you know.

I simply don't have the time.

So, if we trial judges are gonna carry on, we've got to trust the police, Debbie.

Dottie!

What did you call me?

No, my name's Dot, Dottie, not Deb, Debbie.

It seems as though I'm always making mistakes.

Don't you worry, Judge.

You're an excellent mover.

Ah.

Morning, Dot.

Who's been giving you flowers?

I didn't forget your birthday, did I?

You can't have.

I never told you when it was.

[laughs] No, perhaps I didn't.

"From a judicial admirer," hmm?

"Thanks for the bop."

I don't read your correspondence, Mr. Erskine-Brown, so I'd be glad if you kept your eyes off mine.

Only taking a friendly interest, Dot.

Is it serious?

When's the engagement?

I've seen enough of married men not to want one of my own, thank you very much.

- Morning, Henry.

Ah, Mr. Rumpole.

We was expecting you half an hour ago, sir.

Blame the common market, Henry.

I fell asleep on the bus reading about it.

Oh, somebody's birthday?

It's Dot.

She's got an admirer.

Yeah, and you've got a police officer, Mr. Rumpole.

What?

Rumpole, they fingered your collar at last.

Nothing to do with my VAT, is it?

I told the superintendent, Mr. Rumpole, he couldn't wish for a better brief.

Oh.

Not one with your talent for acquittals.

You saw my point, didn't you, Roy?

Acquittals-- that's what caused all this mess, the way you lawyers let Pinhead out laughing.

Oh, you blame the lawyers for that, do you?

I gave Betty Yeomans my solemn oath I'd get her a conviction.

Did you mean that any old conviction would do?

Oh, Pinhead was guilty, all right.

There's no mistake about that.

Very well.

Now, let's see exactly what you did.

Pinhead was arrested on the night of the incident.

On the night he killed Ted Yeomans, yes.

You interviewed him three times before he made a statement to you.

ROY GANNON: He used foul language to us, or else he stayed silent, and that's often signs of cracking up.

Now, you were away on the morning of the day he confessed.

I went to see someone in hospital, yes.

When I got back to the station, I was met by DI Peplow, who told me that Pinhead was ready to talk.

Yes, that's right.

They had a short interview with him while you were away.

But all that Pinhead would say was, "When is the governor back?

I would now like to tell him about my involvement."

That's according to DI Peplow's notes.

Something like that, yes.

So why did he change his mind?

They need to talk, Mr. Rumpole.

They need to tell someone about it.

Can't keep it bottled up any longer.

Then the truth comes out.

New lawyers won't believe it.

Did he use all the words in this confession statement?

As far as I'm concerned, he said exactly what I wrote down.

Yes.

Now, you wrote on single sheets of paper, on loose sheets.

Yes, I'm sure I did.

DI Peplow, DS Lane saw that.

Nothing underneath.

Nothing between the sheets you were writing on and the table?

No, I'm sure there wasn't.

HORACE RUMPOLE: You know, the machine thinks differently.

It ran its eye over a pile of blank statement forms from your office and detected indentations of page 2.

That's the page which contains the words, "I came tooled up, I cut the copper, and so on."

You can't rely on a machine.

Superintendent Gannon, do you understand the case against you?

That that page must have been written on top of a pile of blank statement forms, and that it was then substituted for a less incriminating page 2.

I wrote down exactly what Pinhead said.

Are you sure you didn't improve on it later to keep your promise to an unhappy woman?

Yes, I'm sure.

CLAUDE ERSKINE-BROWN: DI, I thought I'd give Rumpole lunch at the club since they made me a member.

Judge, a bit of a treat for the old boy.

A rare opportunity to listen to judges slurping Brown Windsor soup.

I say, I'm so sorry, Judge.

You must be suffering terribly.

[clears throat] Suffering?

No, I'm not suffering.

I'm feeling, well, on top of the world, really.

You're being brave about it.

Of course.

Anyone can make mistakes.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Mistakes?

What are you talking about?

Who's been making mistakes?

Have you heard about anybody making mistakes, Rumpole?

Mistakes?

No, certainly not.

Mistakes simply don't occur in the law.

I summed up in that case perfectly fairly on the evidence before me.

Are you suggesting I made some kind of mistake?

God forbid.

Well, anyway, you look well, Guthrie.

Top of the world.

There's more to life than stuffy courtrooms and summings-up, Claude.

Life has better things to offer, greater pleasures.

And thank God, I'm still young enough to enjoy them.

CLAUDE ERSKINE-BROWN: Of course you are.

A mere child.

[laughs] - Shall we sit down?

Ah, yes.

Here's the temple.

At least I'm young enough to indulge in a bit of a bop occasionally.

- Bit of a what?

A bop, Rumpole.

A rave.

That means a dance-up.

A dance-up?

Well, it's a modern idiom which you may be too square to understand.

He's not square.

He's round.

[laughter] I can see this is going to be an hilarious luncheon.

Anyway, Marigold was away, and I didn't fancy spending the evening here with a lot of dusty old lawyers, so I took a young lady out, bopping.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Claude takes them to Wagner, you know-- A judicial bop?

HORACE RUMPOLE: --I suppose because it lasts longer.

Good heavens, I'd never have imagined.

What I do find interesting, to be absolutely honest with you fellows, is how many young women today-- well, let's say girls.

How many girls today prefer the older man as a partner, in every sense of the word?

Oh, that's in thing now, is it?

Gerontophilia?

Well, not really old, Rumpole, not in your class, but the slightly older.

[laughs] HORACE RUMPOLE: Even judges?

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Well, even judges are human.

Not many people know that.

So you mean you actually struck lucky with your boppy?

Oh, yes, Claude, beyond all reasonable doubt.

Successful in every way, in every possible way.

Let's say it was an evening to look back on with joy when one's bopping days are over.

[laughs] Well, sorry, you chaps.

I'm lunching with a couple of the younger members.

Dot.

It must have been our Dot.

Oh, don't babble, Erskine-Brown.

Dot what?

What Dot?

Which Dot?

Our Clapton.

She was getting red roses from a judicial admirer.

I say, what exotic lives your judges do lead, don't they?

Come along, Rumpole.

Lunchtime.

Yes.

Hanky-panky, Mrs. Rumpole, among the judiciary.

Bed-hopping, apparently, like those dreadful young people that go on package holidays to Menorca.

You wouldn't believe it of judges, would you?

Oh, my.

You should hear them talking about it in the Sheridan Club.

The dear old Sheridan.

Rumpole really must get around to joining.

There was a judge holding forth in the bar the other day.

What do you think he was on about?

Points of law, reform of the jury system?

Not at all.

It was all about how he'd taken some young bopper to the discotheque.

[clears throat] How girls prefer the older man as a partner, in every sense of the word.

Honestly, ladies, it's quite shocking to an old gentleman like me.

[laughs] You probably know the judge I'm talking about-- Right, I think I'll get tea.

HILDA RUMPOLE: Yes, probably.

Rumpole is friends with so many judges.

One card.

Tall chap.

Always looks terribly nervous.

Fotheringhay.

No, Feather-something.

Not Featherstone.

That's it, Mr. Justice Featherstone.

Wouldn't want to be hauled up before him, would you?

Not after he'd spent a hard night of hanky-panky in the discotheque.

[clears throat] Your chance, Mrs. Rumpole.

Guthrie Featherstone.

Oh, dear.

I wonder, does Marigold know?

[tires screech] [tires screech] Mr. Rumpole, I'm Betty Yeomans.

Oh, yes?

BETTY YEOMANS: You going anywhere?

Well, I have to see somebody at Acton Crown Court.

That's all.

- Jump in.

I'll give you a free ride.

Oh!

[exclaims] That's very kind of you.

I've been meaning to have a word with you.

Oh, really?

Friend of Roy Gannon's got this minicab business.

Job suits me.

I do the hours, and I look after the kids as well.

And don't forget your seat belt.

Oh, yeah, seatbelt.

There we are.

Now, then, what was it you wanted to tell me, Mrs. Yeomans?

[honking] World's full of wankers.

Oh, is that what you wanted to tell me?

BETTY YEOMANS: Why can't they make their minds up?

Roy's been wonderful to me and the kids, Mr. Rumpole, since we lost Ted.

Yes.

Come on, Madam, it's gone green.

You colorblind or something?

[chuckles] I don't think she can hear you.

I know, but it makes me feel better, just like Roy made me feel better when he got our conviction.

Ah, yes, but was it the correct one?

Isn't that the point?

You don't think he lied, Mr. Rumpole, just to give me the satisfaction?

He's not like that.

Roy isn't.

A straight copper.

Roy's not the one Ted used to talk about.

Oh, Ted used to go on about someone, did he?

Oh, I know he was only a uniform man.

Ted was never that ambitious.

But his friend, the one he was at school with-- he's the high flier.

He went straight in the CID and got detective sergeant.

We used to see a lot of them, though, him and Doreen.

Our kids was the same age.

Mrs. Yeomans, what is it, exactly, you wanted to tell me?

Why don't you go home and take-- [honking] --driving lessons?

Sorry, Mr. Rumpole.

No, that's all right.

I'm getting used to it.

It's after Mr. Pertwee got convicted.

There was someone else Ted's friend was worried about, but it wasn't Roy.

Superintendent Gannon's as clean as a whistle, not like some others I could mention, he used to say.

Who used to say?

Well, didn't I tell you?

HORACE RUMPOLE: No.

It was Chesney, of course.

Chesney?

[honking] BETTY YEOMANS: Get a move on.

What do you think this is, a funeral procession?

Chesney?

Yes!

We all got on so well together.

I haven't seen much of them, though, neither him nor Doreen Lane, not since Ted went.

Oh, Detective Sergeant Chesney Lane, one of those present when Pinhead Morgan signed his confession.

Tell me more, Mrs. Yeomans.

Guthrie, a word with you.

Oh, Simon.

Is there something else?

Is what something else?

Your ears should be burning.

I've been having a little chat with the Lord Chief about you.

Not about dancing, was it?

What did you say?

Were you talking about dancing?

Well, hardly.

I mean, I don't suppose the Lord Chief dances much nowadays.

Do you dance, Guthrie?

Dance?

No, of course not.

Why are we talking about it, then?

Talking about what?

Dancing.

I really don't know.

It's probably quite irrelevant.

Yes, it is, totally irrelevant.

What we were discussing, Guthrie, is whether we shouldn't let you try Detective Superintendent Gannon, the fellow charged with faking a confession.

But I tried Morgan, the chap who was supposed to have confessed.

So you did, Guthrie.

Clever of you to remember.

And you made an absolute pig's breakfast of it, didn't you, old chap?

Well, we're thinking of giving you a chance to redeem yourself.

Gannon, the copper who deceived the court-- deceived me, in fact.

That's right, Guthrie.

It might not have been very hard to do, but it seems he did it.

Rotten apples in the police must be turfed out of the barrel-- if the evidence exists, of course.

The public expects a conviction.

So, for the sake of the administration of justice, will you take it on?

Oh, yes, Simon.

Yes, yes, yes.

You can tell the Lord Chief, yes.

Oh, well, that's settled then.

Oh, and Guthrie?

Yes, sir?

I should give up dancing if I were you.

You're probably too old for it.

Now, Mr. Bernard, you associate pretty closely with the boys in blue, don't you?

Attend their annual dinner dance, bump into them in the Rotary Club, that sort of thing?

Well, you get to know how their minds work.

Then you can tell me, what was the Pertwee case?

Oh.

[clears throat] Oh, dear.

We-- we never got instructed on that one.

Otherwise, you'd have had the brief, quite definitely.

Yeah, I believe it.

A Superintendent Pertwee.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Yeah.

Some people wanted to get rid of him.

Oh?

I never discovered who or why, exactly.

It all started with a series of minor persecutions.

I mean, they actually did him for speeding when he was out with his family.

[laughs] And then he was supposed to be friends with a big local villain.

And they finally got Jim Pertwee on a charge of perverting the course of justice, planting dope on a suspect, although I never found out who did the planting, exactly.

He got a couple of years.

Still at it.

You interest me, strangely.

Bonny Bernard, I have work for you.

You usually have, Mr. Rumpole.

Detective Sergeant Chesney Lane-- cultivate his friendship.

I think there's something he'd like to tell us.

Betty Yeomans came to see our brief, Chesney.

She doesn't want Roy to go down for this, not after all he's done for her.

Ted wouldn't have wanted it, would he?

He knew Ted.

Ted was an honest policeman.

Perhaps that's why he stayed in uniform.

Ted would have liked to have seen justice done.

What's justice?

Well, I mean, has Pinhead got justice?

Has Betty?

No one nicked after all this time?

Roy's the only one left to take the blame.

I know that.

I've lost sleep over it.

You might sleep better after you've told someone.

Doreen doesn't think so.

Doreen thinks I ought to keep my head down.

What do you think?

I think it's time I took the boys back for tea.

Frank, Danny, pack it in, lads.

Tea time.

BOY: Oh, do we have to?

CHESNEY LANE: Yes, you do.

Come on.

Look, do you want to come with us?

I might have something for you.

HILDA RUMPOLE: I told Marigold.

HORACE RUMPOLE: What?

HILDA RUMPOLE: I told Marigold about Guthrie.

You did what?

I took her to lunch at Harrods.

How very generous of you.

You must have ruined her appetite.

I told her all I'd heard about Guthrie from that little man in the bridge club.

But Hilda, why?

Well, because it was only fair, Rumpole.

I couldn't let Marigold be deceived.

I had to do her justice.

HORACE RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): Oh, the terrible harm people do when they start talking about justice.

[clears throat] I-- Telling everybody, spilling it all out in the bar of the Sheridan Club as soon as my back is turned.

Marigold, we've been through all that.

Yes, well, we're going through it all again, several times.

What do you think it felt like, having Hilda Rumpole feeling sorry for me in the Silver Grill?

I've told you, I don't know what came over me.

Probably the same thing that came over you when you made a complete bosh of that murder trial.

Temporary insanity?

I suppose that's the kindest way of looking at it.

I told you it was completely innocent.

Oh, yes.

Is that why you confessed?

But I didn't confess.

Of course you did.

Look, you're not the greatest catch in the world, Guthrie.

Little Miss Whatsit's perfectly welcome to you, as far as I'm concerned.

But why couldn't you keep your mouth shut about it?

But I've tried to explain.

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: You've got absolutely no judgment, Guthrie.

It must come as something of a drawback in your profession.

Marigold, I have a particularly difficult case starting today, a bent copper.

How can I concentrate on it until I know your decision?

You're not going to leave me?

Of course not.

That would make things far too easy for you.

Does that mean you're going to forgive me?

Oh, no, Guthrie, I'm not going to do that, either.

I'm going to stay here and not forgive you.

Now, run along to work.

Oh, and Guthrie, do try not to make another cock-up, won't you?

[breaks egg] MILES CRUDGINGTON: Thinking back to that time, are you absolutely sure he said, I'm sorry I cut the copper.

Are you sure he said that?

No, I'm not sure he said that at all.

But it appears on the confession statement.

So it would seem that Detective Superintendent Gannon was writing down words that Morgan didn't say, completely ignoring that young man's human rights.

Perhaps-- MILES CRUDGINGTON: Is that the situation?

Perhaps I could remind my learned friend-- Yes, Mr. Rumpole.

--that Detective Superintendent slash my client, Mr. Gannon, have human rights also, and one of them is that prosecution witnesses should not be asked leading questions.

Mr. Crudgington was just making the obvious deduction.

Ignoring all other possibilities, My Lord, as is the way with those who talk about human rights for a carefully selected minority.

My Lord, I am quite prepared to play the game by Mr. Rumpole's somewhat outdated rules.

They're not my rules.

They're the rules of evidence.

Have they gone out of favor with radical barristers?

Perhaps it would be better if you rephrased your question, Mr. Crudgington.

HORACE RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): Oh, the poor old darling's forgotten what his question was.

[laughs] No, My Lord, I'm prepared to leave it there.

Now, Detective Inspector Peplow, you gave evidence at the trial of Pinhead Morgan?

I did, yes.

And at that time, you had no doubt that the words Morgan said were written in the confession document.

I couldn't recall exactly what he said.

But then, I had no reason to doubt what Mr. Gannon had written.

Oh, and you have now?

Since Chief Superintendent Belmont showed us the test.

He proved that page 2 had been written later.

Tell me, was Superintendent Gannon present when Mr. Belmont showed you the machine?

No.

Well, was he not asked to attend?

Not as far as I know.

Oh, why was that?

I can't tell you.

Were you and your sergeant being asked to gang up on your superior officer, Mr. Gannon?

My Lord, that's an outrageous suggestion.

Chief Superintendent Belmont hasn't had a chance to answer that very serious accusation.

Oh, you mean Mr. Belmont has human rights also, even though he's a policeman?

He has a right to answer these charges.

So I shall be calling him as a witness, My Lord.

Unless Mr. Rumpole has any objections?

No, not really, My Lord.

Colloquially, Mr. Bernard, the old radical darling has walked straight into it.

Now I can question Belmont.

Just one more matter, Detective Inspector.

A Pinhead Morgan refused to talk during the first three days of his custody?

Yes.

And then you saw him without Superintendent Gannon being there?

Detective Sergeant Lane was present on that occasion.

Did you tell Morgan that, if he did not confess, you would hand him over to Ted Yeomans' mates, who would do him over in a way he would never be likely to forget?

Well, Mr. Peplow?

No, I did not tell him that.

But by a remarkable coincidence, Mr. Morgan spoke at length to Superintendent Gannon that very afternoon, and did so the moment Mr. Gannon arrived back at the station.

Yes, but I don't think it was exactly the statement that's been produced in court.

Produced in court?

Yes.

Do you have any more questions, Mr. Rumpole?

No, not at the moment, My Lord.

In that case, I will rise for a few minutes.

USHER: Court, rise.

A public business, My Lord?

No, Mr. Rumpole, it is an entirely private matter.

Marigold, darling, I appeal to you.

I'm sorry, Guthrie.

You've lost your appeal.

[hangs up] Chief Superintendent Belmont, what led you to make the test on the confession statement with the electrodetective, or whatever the little device is called?

There was a lot of protest about Morgan's conviction, his subnormal intellect.

So you took a pile of blank statement forms from Superintendent Gannon's office?

Did you do that surreptitiously?

I don't think he knew about it.

No, he was on holiday.

But you did not tell him what you were doing behind his back?

No, I didn't.

At that stage, I didn't altogether trust Superintendent Gannon.

You had another officer convicted for perverting the course of justice, didn't you, a Superintendent Pertwee?

You do get the occasional rotten apple, Mr. Rumpole.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Yes, your particular barrel seems to be unusually full of rotten apples, doesn't it?

Can I suggest where all this corruption starts?

By all means.

At the top, with you, sir.

My Lord-- GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Mr. Rumpole, Mr. Rumpole, I'm sure you understand the risk you are taking in attacking a senior officer in this way.

A risk, My Lord?

Well, we-- we all like to dance on thin ice from time to time, don't we, My Lord?

I don't know what you were up to exactly, and I doubt if many of the CID officers know, either.

But Superintendent Pertwee found out, whatever it was, and Pertwee had to be persecuted, accused of consorting with criminals.

Pertwee was convicted after a trial by jury.

So was Pinhead Morgan.

Did my client, Mr. Gannon, come to you and say that Pertwee may have been framed?

I don't remember him saying that.

HORACE RUMPOLE: And is that why you had to get rid of Gannon as well, by making it appear that he had forged a confession?

Usher?

CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT BELMONT: So far as I'm concerned, he did forge a confession.

As far as you are concerned.

Just take a look at that document, will you?

What is it?

It appears to be a photostat copy of page 2 of Morgan's alleged confession.

The handwriting is Superintendent Gannon's?

Yes.

Well, run your fingers over it.

Look at it closely.

Hasn't someone gone over every letter with a pointed object pressing down hard?

I can't tell.

Oh, come, sir, of course you can.

Someone did that so that the writing would be impressed on the blank pages underneath it, and it would look to the machine as though that page had been written later.

And surely you're not suggesting that Superintendent Gannon manufactured that evidence against himself, are you?

Mr. Rumpole, where exactly did this come from?

It came from Chief Superintendent Belmont's office, My Lord.

[murmuring] ROY GANNON: What the hell are you doing, Mr. Rumpole?

Defending you, and rather well, even though I say it myself.

All that you put to the Chief Superintendent-- what's the public going to think?

What is the jury going to think?

That's what interests me.

Look, if that's going on at Chief Superintendent level, who are we going to trust?

Listen to me, Mr. Gannon.

You voiced your suspicion about Pertwee's conviction to Chief Super Belmont, didn't you?

And that is why he is out to get you.

You can't prove that.

We've got a witness, Roy.

Who?

Chesney Lane.

You didn't tell me.

MR. BERNARD: We weren't sure he'd come up with it in the witness box.

Somebody's been trying to shut him up, apparently.

And I don't blame them.

You don't what?

Let young Chesney blow the whole division.

I imagine he's going to tell the truth.

Yeah, is that going to make it any better?

Better for you, perhaps.

We might even get you off.

I mean, better for the police.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Listen to me, Mr. Gannon.

The police, the judges, the public interest, the interest of justice, all those big words, those big ideas-- they're altogether too much for me.

I am here to see that nobody gets banged up for a crime they probably did not do, and that is very likely to happen to you unless you help me.

I don't want young Chesney saying all that out in public.

Oh.

Think about it, Roy.

You've got till tomorrow to think about it.

[knocks] My Lord, Your Lordship will know from the statements that this witness corroborates Detective Inspector Peplow's evidence.

I tend to him in the remote possibility that Mr. Rumpole may want to cross-examine.

Do you have any questions, Mr. Rumpole?

Yes, My Lord.

Thank you.

Detective Sergeant Lane, since making your original statement, have you thought further about the matter?

Yes, I have.

HORACE RUMPOLE: And now?

Now I want to tell the truth.

When you and Detective Inspector Peplow were alone with Morgan, did Peplow say something to him?

He said he'd get Ted Yeomans' mates to do him over.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Did Superintendent Gannon know anything at all about that threat?

Not that I know of.

But that afternoon, Morgan made a full confession to the superintendent.

Yes, he did.

He said he was sorry he cut the copper.

He was excited, what with the car racing about.

You heard him say that, "I am sorry I cut the copper"?

Yes, I did.

Do you think Morgan confessed because of Peplow's threat, or because it was the truth?

How can he possibly answer that?

Quite so.

Of course he can't.

Thank you, Mr. Crudgington.

Usher, I'm very grateful to my learned friend for supplying the answer to that question, My Lord.

Now, then, Sergeant Lane, is that a photostat of page 2 of the confession that Superintendent Gannon wrote out while you were there?

Yes, it is.

What can you tell us about it?

Someone's gone over every letter, pressing hard down on the paper.

I imagine that was done to show indentations on the sheets under it.

Well, don't let's have what he imagines.

I agree.

Let's have what you know to be the truth.

How did you obtain that document?

It was in a file I brought from Chief Superintendent Belmont's office.

Well, it looked as though someone was trying to frame Mr. Gannon.

So I decided to keep hold of it.

Thank you, Detective Sergeant Lane.

Just wait there a moment, will you, in case my learned friend can think of something to ask you?

[clock ticking] [knocking] Marigold?

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: Do be quiet, Guthrie.

I'm trying to get to sleep.

[traffic whirring] HORACE RUMPOLE: Well, goodbye, Mr. Gannon, and congratulations.

It's a funny thing, isn't it?

What?

When Pinhead got off, there was cameras and crowds and cheering supporters.

Very quiet now, isn't it?

Well, isn't that how you want it?

Oh, Dot!

Mr. Rumpole!

Dot, a word with you, if you'd be so good.

Oh, have been buying your sandwiches, have you?

Is that what you wanted to ask me?

No, not exactly.

Been dancing with any more judges lately, have you?

You heard about that?

Poor old chap.

He was that miserable.

And he danced so funny, just like my dad used to.

Well, so you dance.

That's understandable.

I mean, I suppose even judges feel the need to dance occasionally.

But, oh, look, Dot, you'll have to help me.

After the ball was over, was there anything that-- [car honks] Well, was there any-- DOT CLAPTON: Did we do it?

Is that what you mean?

Yes.

[squeals] You have to be joking, Mr. Rumpole.

[laughs] Suppose I do, really.

Oh, enjoy your sandwiches.

Rumpole, we're 6 points down.

Oh, that's very true.

You move a bit ridiculously.

We only had 2 points.

I was boasting.

Are you all for tea?

Oh, thank you.

Oh, yes, thank you very much.

Yes, just boasting.

Not a shred of truth.

Just like old Guthrie, really?

Guthrie?

Yes, poor old Guthrie had no points at all.

All he did was go for a drink with our clerk and some of his actor friends, but he boasted of some great amorous conquest.

But, of course, nobody in their right mind would believe him for a moment, would they?

You mean, nothing happened?

No, absolutely nothing at all.

No, no, no.

When I inquired of the young lady in question, she burst into laughter at the mere idea of it.

Laughter?

Well, I don't really see that Guthrie's as funny as all that.

I think what upset Marigold, Rumpole, was that he discussed it in the Sheridan Club.

Yes.

Yes, why on earth should he do that?

Good Lord, don't you know?

Because he was so desperately unhappy.

Unhappy?

What on earth's Guthrie got to be unhappy about?

Well, he'd been piddled on from a great height.

Rumpole!

[exclaims] I mean, he'd had a considerable amount of dirty water thrown over him by the Court of Appeal, hadn't he?

And then, of course, the only woman he ever really and truly loved was far away, and he was missing her dreadfully.

He just tried to cheer himself up.

Well, he may have danced to step out of time with the music.

Nothing-- But he confessed.

There is no evidence more unreliable than a confession.

Don't imagine people ever tell the truth about themselves.

They say all sorts of things because they're afraid or they're vain.

They want to boast about something they never really did just to impress a few fellows at the club.

Guthrie's confession wouldn't have got past the Court of Appeal.

Really?

Is that what you think, quite honestly?

Absolutely sure of it.

Guthrie, you may come in.

For heaven's sake, don't boast about it in the Sheridan Club.

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