-Detective Inspector Arnold.

You did know I was back today, right?

-Victim is Andrew Knightley, 62 years old.

-[ Screams ] -Oi!

Can you stop filming?

-Connor.

Jess.

-Morning, Boss.

-Morning, Boss.

-There's our man.

Does that look like a push?

-Is that an arm?

-Pushed... -Oh, definitely.

-A spy camera?

-Yeah, but what's it doing in the bin?

-Someone was drugging him.

-Someone was doing more than that.

Contact burns.

Probably less than a week old.

-"He that hath mercy on the poor lendeth to the Lord, and he will repay him."

-"An evil in my home."

I had no idea what he meant.

-You and Mr.

Knightley look close.

-We were, I suppose.

-Mr.

Clarke?

-This is D.I.

Arnold.

Any units near Brompton Cemetery?

-Boss, there's a new one.

It was the morning he died.

The site is owned by a Darren Goldfinch.

-I want to know how he got these pictures.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Was it just these photos or were there others?

-Just these.

-How did you come by them?

-Anonymous source, arrived in the post this morning, an envelope with a USB stick inside.

-Do you still have the envelope?

-No, I recycled it.

-What about the USB stick?

-It's somewhere.

-Was he addressed handwritten or printed?

-I don't remember.

-As of this morning, 5,000 hits and counting.

You normally get less than 1,000 a week?

If I was you, I'd stretch this out a bit longer, too.

-That's not what I'm doing.

-I'll write you a receipt for this.

-No, no, I need that for work.

Look, good journalists need to protect their sources.

Fine, fine.

It wasn't on a USB stick.

It was a WeTransfer link from... 1990supernh@protonmail.com.

ProtonMail is -- -Yeah, we know what ProtonMail is.

Could NH be initials, and 1990 a date of birth?

-Didn't think to ask.

-A good journalist would ask.

-You said at the start I haven't been arrested.

-That's correct.

-So, I'm free to terminate this interview and leave at any time?

-Thank you, Mr.

Goldfinch.

ProtonMail is an end-to-end encrypted email service.

-Hello, Poppy.

-Say hello.

Say hello.

-Am I on mute?

-Oh, she's smiling now, look.

-Oh, let me see.

-Okay.

Hold on, hold on.

[ Poppy babbles ] -It was a lot easier to lie before FaceTime, Nitin.

-You missed it by microseconds.

Look, she's...she's cold, she's tired.

Let me just sort her out and I'll call you back.

-That's okay.

I'll just see you later.

I better go.

Bye -Bye.

-The spy cam from the Knightley residence was purchased on the internet from a firm in Hong Kong, posted to a PO box in the name of Snapdragon 2000.

No listings for it on Companies House.

-But the camera was networked.

Do we know which way it was pointing?

-Untraceable.

-[ Exhales deeply ] -The IP address is used by Surfshark, a VPN service.

-Okay.

-What are you doing?

-What you're not -- paperwork.

-Is everything okay?

With Lupin?

-Poppy?

-I know.

-She's fine.

-I used to sit in my dad's bookshop and listen to him chatting to customers about getting lost in a book.

And for years, I thought everyone had the same problem as me.

Permanently lost.

It's frustrating not to understand something so fundamental.

And I've found ways that work for me -- visual clues, pictures make more sense than words.

-Are you okay?

Sorry.

Go on.

-Well... my dad realized there was another reason why I was struggling with schoolwork.

I mean, it was hardly ever talked about then, dyslexia.

So, his solution was to do all my reading for me, which was really annoying.

Textbooks, homework, a chapter of a book every night.

And half the time when he was reading, I'd get impatient, struggling to follow the story, the words whizzing by too fast to picture it right.

But my old man, he persevered.

The thing is... words didn't matter.

What mattered was his voice in my ear.

Knowing that he hadn't given up on me.

♪♪ ♪♪ [ Sighs ] Anyway... -Max, don't ever change.

-I've never been any good at that.

Bloody hell.

Priya!

Keep your eye on our busker friend.

♪♪ ♪♪ What was his email address?

Super NH.

-Um...um... -H, NH, NH... -Nicholas.

-Hewitt.

Nicholas Hewitt.

-TFL issue licenses for buskers.

They'll have an address.

When Andrew Knightley bumped into you at South Kent Tube, you helped yourself to his phone.

-Picked his pocket.

-No, I didn't.

-Station CCTV caught you.

And half an hour ago, our officers found that phone at your girlfriend's flat.

-No comment.

-How much did Darren Goldfinch pay you for the photos?

-No comment.

-Did you push Andrew Knightley onto the tracks?

After all, you were angry with him.

-Oh, for spilling my coffee?

Come on!

-You took his phone, but that wasn't enough.

And when the red mist came down, you decided to really punish him.

-I didn't, I swear!

I went to get a refill!

I was only gone a minute!

And anyway, why would I stick around to talk to you lot?

This is nuts.

Look... That reporter bloke, Goldfinch, you talked to him?

-Of course.

-He gave me his card.

So, when I found the photos on the phone, I contacted him.

He offered me £100, but he hadn't paid.

-Process him.

Theft and obstruction.

-There's more.

A video, too.

I was gonna charge Goldfinch extra for it.

-When we caught you filming on the platform, our officers insist there was no way you could have got past them, so how did you do it?

And don't say invisibility cloak.

-The fire door at the station has a dodgy lock.

You can jiggle it open and let yourself in.

When I was sleeping rough, I'd use it to get into the tunnels at night.

♪♪ -The video was recorded by Andrew Knightley in his flat the night before he died.

♪♪ -I need to know.

Is it you?

I need to know.

Is it you?!

-He's really struggling.

-Am I going mad?

Is it you?

-What are you thinking?

♪♪ -We need to find out who that girl in the photo is.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [ Lock beeps ] [ Poppy fusses ] -Hey.

[ Whispering ] I've left you some dinner in the fridge.

You alright?

-You know, at work... I know what I'm doing.

I'm good at it.

But with her, I can't shake this feeling that I'm just gonna screw it up.

-Well, if you want to blame your mum, I'm 100% behind that.

-Maybe some of it's her fault, but... not all of it.

If I do start to mess this up... if I am just... If I'm just crap at being a mum... [ Voice breaking ] ...you'll tell me, right?

-God, no.

Are you kidding?

-[ Chuckles ] Good.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Morning.

-Morning.

Not so fast.

Andrew Knightley's daughter just touched down at Heathrow.

We're going to meet her at his flat.

-Finally, someone who can shed some light on Andrew.

-Yeah.

-No one seems to know him.

-Apart from Hayley.

I got Jess looking into her movements.

-When the hotel said police from London had called, I thought I'd been burgled.

I never expected this.

-Was your dad in any trouble?

-We hardly spoke.

Unless hastily-written birthday and Christmas cards count.

-So, he didn't buy you jewelry for your birthday?

-No.

Last time we talked was 6 months ago at Mum's funeral.

But even then, only about practicalities.

Sorting out Mum's will.

Dad had no interest in mending bridges.

Me, neither, after he told me my mother's death was God's punishment for his sins.

-Was he due a payout?

-Mum's life insurance.

It's due any day now.

-We found this photograph on the mantelpiece.

Who is it?

-I don't know, but I've seen her before.

[ Sighs ] Dad used to do anything for you, and then one day, he couldn't care less.

Mum blamed it on his accident.

-What accident?

-He wrote off Mum's car.

-Broke his arm?

-Yeah.

-When was this?

-End of my second year at uni.

So, June, July 2012.

-Did he go to the hospital?

-Yeah, of course.

-Only there's no mention in his medical records about a broken arm.

-There must be.

-What was your mother's occupation?

-She was a nurse.

-So, then, it's possible... -No, that's absurd.

W-why wouldn't he go to the hospital?

-Can you tell us anything else about the accident?

-I was away when it happened.

Next time I came home... Christmas, Dad's arm had healed, but he wasn't himself.

He just wanted to be left on his own.

And then, one day, I found him in his workshop, staring at this picture.

I asked him if he was okay, and he shouted and pushed me out.

As soon as I graduated, I moved out.

Couldn't wait to get away.

-But you don't know who she is?

-Or what your father's sin was?

-No.

There's so much I wish I knew.

-According to Andrew Knightley's financial records, he purchased a silver chain necklace and a pair of diamond earrings on the 18th and 25th of this month.

-You told us he bought those for his daughter.

-That's what he told me.

-The maps data for your mobile shows you at Andrew Knightley's address on two occasions, the 5th and the 12th of this month.

-Andrew sometimes asked me to drop things off on my way home.

He had a habit of leaving his keys behind.

-When we asked before if he'd been to his flat, you said no.

-I've never been inside.

-The morning before he died, he withdrew £500.

Do you know anything about that?

-No.

-Were you romantically involved with Andrew Knightley?

-What?

That's absurd.

Of course not.

-Can you identify this girl?

-It's just someone off the internet.

It's Andrew's reference photo for the carving of the angel.

-Some food items we found in his kitchen have been laced with opioids.

Do you know anything about that?

-No.

-If we searched your flat, would we find similar substances?

-No.

-We believe someone was trying to gaslight Andrew.

Con him out of money and expensive gifts.

-Was that the plan?

To exploit him?

-No.

-Did he tell you about the payout he was due to receive from his wife's life insurance?

-No.

-Where were you the morning Andrew Knightley died?

-I was at home.

If you have my GPS data, you should know that.

-Unless you left your phone there.

-Did you speak to my flatmate?

She'll confirm I was at home.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Max.

You don't want it?

-Thanks, but no.

-I felt guilty for breaking your old one, so I...I replaced it.

Am I missing something?

Do you want to come in?

-No, I don't want to come in.

-Fine.

-Okay, I'll come in.

-I'm jealous.

There.

Is that what you want to hear?

I'm jealous because you seem to be doing alright without me... on a houseboat.

-You're not jealous.

-And angry.

-You want me to think you're jealous and angry.

-You're infuriating.

-It eats you up!

You can't control what I do anymore.

-Nonsense.

Take the bloody machine.

I want you to have it.

Take it!

It's a top model, much better than your old one.

-There it is.

-What?

-I'm going to repair my coffee machine.

That's what you do when something's broken, Asty, you fix it!

-I'm going to give it to someone else, then.

-Oh, you have to make everything so complicated.

-I loathe complications.

-Well, you thrive on them!

I bet you broke my machine on purpose.

-Please.

-You create these dramas so you can be in control... -That's not fair.

Drink your wine.

-I'm driving.

-You're bicycling.

We outgrew each other.

Well... I outgrew you.

-You miss me.

-I most definitely do not.

-Good.

-Good.

I don't want it!

Please, please take the bloody thing.

-Keep it for your guests.

-I don't have any guests.

-Asty, you asked me to leave and now you're upset.

Or are you scared I might have outgrown you?

And I like my houseboat!

-Whoop-dee-bloody-doo!

[ Exhales sharply ] -[ Sighs ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Simon!

I'm doing some washing!

Do you want me to -- [ Door opens ] -Livvy!

Well, what do you think?

Livvy?

Have you forgotten?

-Forgotten what?

-You asked me to sell those.

You don't remember?

It was a couple of nights back.

You asked me to get the ball rolling.

[ Chuckles ] God, you know what?

This is my fault.

It was after we had two spliffs and a bottle of red.

I'm sorry, I should've checked with you first.

Are you alright?

I mean... Looking through my things like this, that is not the Livvy I know.

What's wrong?

-I'd like it if you packed your things and left.

And it's Olivia, not Livvy.

-Is everything alright?

£350 is not a bad price, considering.

What's the problem?

-Your police antennae was right, Max.

I didn't sell this.

I found it in Simon's room.

He's been helping himself to your dad's books.

-Little bastard.

Conning old people?

Oh -- people, conning people.

-I looked at his eBay account.

This is the sixth one he sold.

-Snapdragon!

♪♪ He's not bloody dyslexic, either.

Is he still at yours?

-Well, yes, but I told him to pack his things.

-Leave it with me.

♪♪ [ Knocks on door ] ♪♪ -Can I have a word?

-What about?

-About a video.

[ Groans ] ♪♪ [ Both grunting ] ♪♪ [ Breathing heavily ] [ Indistinct police radio chatter ] -These were in Mr.

Clarke's pocket.

-Yes, sir.

-Thank you.

♪♪ You've knocked him out cold.

The paramedics have taken him to hospital for a scan.

Five days ago, Simon Turnbull saw you receiving money from Andrew Knightley.

The day before, Knightley withdrew £500 from his account.

Is this what's left of it?

-You'll have to ask Knightley.

-Well, we can't, can we?

-Why not?

-He was murdered four days ago.

Pushed onto the tracks at South Kent tube.

You didn't know?

Did Andrew ask you to pay Simon a visit?

-Start of the week, I saw Simon argue with Knightley about a video.

Simon wanted him to pay £5,000 or he'd put it up on YouTube.

-So, you offered to help?

-£500's cheaper than £5,000.

-You're all heart.

-[ Sighs ] ♪♪ -Simon Turnbull takes a lot of selfies.

-I found this Bible in Simon's room.

The passages marked are the same as the ones on Andrew Knightley's mirror.

Is that Hayley from the stonemasons?

♪♪ Do you think they're more than just friends?

-Maybe.

Hello.

Looks like it was Simon gaslighting Knightley.

-I bet he was drugging him, too.

There's an unmarked folder here.

It's video files.

♪♪ This is spy camera footage.

Andrew waking up... Opening the curtains... Andrew laying out clothes, Andrew leaving, coming back with a mug of tea.

Andrew... -Ohh... Oh, dear.

-[ Groans ] -And there's Hayley -- again.

-Oh, please, God.

Forgive me.

-Candle wax.

-Please...forgive me.

[ Groaning ] -Whose idea was it to target Andrew?

Yours or Simon's?

-Did you know he was drugging Andrew Knightley?

-No.

-Did you give Simon Andrew's keys?

-This is Simon's laptop.

-[ Groaning, sobbing ] Please.

Oh, please, God.

Forgive me.

Forgive me for my sins.

Forgive me.

♪♪ -Last month, Andrew and I were working late.

He was acting strangely, like he was scared to go home.

So, I asked him what was wrong.

He said a ghost was leaving him these messages.

To punish him.

-For what?

-For his sins.

-But you knew it was Simon leaving them?

-Not until much later.

At first, I thought Andrew was writing them to himself.

Then... Simon told me it was him.

He said it was a prank.

But Andrew was convinced the only way to stop the messages was for him... for him to punish himself.

I tried to talk him out of it.

Then, he asked if I would help.

I didn't know what to say.

I felt sorry for him, so I said sure, I'd help.

I didn't know what he had in mind 'til I turned up.

The jewelry was a thank-you gift, or payment, I suppose.

It only happened a couple of times.

-Did you confide in Simon that this was going on?

-That's when he told me it was him writing the messages.

I told him to stop.

It wasn't funny.

I had no idea he planned on filming it.

He assured me I was doing the right thing by helping Andrew.

[ Sighs ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -You sill haven't unpacked, Max.

-Been a bit busy.

-[ Chuckles dryly ] This actually makes sense to you?

-Yeah.

That's how I see things.

Right.

Let's separate the murder from the mirror writing.

We can't place Simon, Hayley, or Davinson Clarke at South Kent Tube.

What if... Andrew Knightley genuinely thought a ghost was writing to him?

If so... Was that his ghost?

Who is she?

-Hmm... Hayley said he hated working on that.

The angel Gabriel.

-Gabriel... Gabriel...Gab-- Gabrielle... Gabriella... Andrew's search history.

Two weeks before he died, he searched for Gabriella Tottenham.

-Gabriella Tottenham.

♪♪ When did his daughter say his accident was?

-Um... Uh, June, July 2012.

-Here it is.

Tottenham Record.

20th of June 2012, Gabriella Hadlow.

19 years old, charity worker, died following a hit and run.

There's a photo.

Yeah.

It's her.

She worked for Crisis.

-Gabriella Hadlow.

-That barbecue that Andrew dragged Hayley to... it was for a charity.

-Hadlow.

Hadlow...Hadlow House?

Hadlow...Was it Hadlow House?

Yeah, here it is.

Hadlow House.

"Taking action to end homelessness.

Founded in May 2013 by family and friends of Gabriella Hadlow in her memory."

-Where have I seen that logo before?

-An eye witness, Toby Spencer, supplied Haringey with a description of the driver.

White male, 50s, red saloon.

But they never found him.

-Did you?

-Oh, yes.

According to the DVLA, a 2008 red Mondeo registered to Katherine Knightley, Andrew's wife, was updated SORN on the 2nd of August 2012.

-He took it off the road.

-I've checked his insurance records and there's no sign of a claim.

-He scrapped it.

Destroyed the evidence.

-There was a survivor.

Suffered minor injuries.

-In the vehicle?

-No, friend of the deceased.

With her when the collision occurred... Listed in the report as Jane Reese.

Wait.

Middle name, Erin.

-Thanks, Jess.

♪♪ Erin told us that she volunteered for a charity.

That's where I've seen that logo before.

Busker's coffee cup.

-But on CCTV, there was no sign of her.

♪♪ -White with a blue ripple.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Afternoon, Mrs.

Murphy.

May we have a word?

-Please.

How can I help?

-We wanted to ask you about an accident in 2012.

A hit and run... which resulted in the death of a young lady called Gabriella Hadlow.

♪♪ We believe Andrew Knightley was the driver of the vehicle responsible.

What can you tell us about that?

♪♪ Gabriella's family speak very fondly of you.

-We know you volunteer for a charity called Hadlow House, and according to their schedule, the morning Andrew Knightley died, you were doing the breakfast run, serving food and hot drinks from the back of their van a short distance from South Kensington station.

-That schedule's wrong, I was... -You knew Andrew Knightley would be at the station at that time of day.

-No.

-Working for the homeless, you knew about the broken fire door at the back of the station.

That's how you gained access, isn't it... Erin?

-Mrs.

Murphy, is this your coat?

-Yes.

-White with a blue ripple.

We found this on the tracks near Andrew Knightley's body.

You must have lost it when you pushed him.

-June 2012.

What happened that night?

-We were walking back from the college bar like we did a few times each week.

And then, this... car... It was like it appeared from nowhere.

-Andrew Knightley was driving.

-I wasn't sure 'til I saw him again.

-When was that?

-Uh, when I started working here, about 3 years ago.

I recognized him, but he didn't know me from Eve.

-Did you confront him?

-[ Sighs ] What would he have said, that he was sorry?

I know why he didn't wait around, why he didn't... go to the police.

It's the way he was driving.

He was clearly drunk.

I did what Gabby would've done, I decided to... understand him.

To forgive him.

-So, what changed?

-When we organized the barbecue and Andrew offered to pay for it all, I thought it was a kind gesture.

I thought he was a good man after all, that he had...remorse for what he'd done.

I could have lived with that.

But then, he told me about his ghost.

Sent me that text.

"An evil in my home."

How dare he?

"An evil in my home," that's how he described her!

"An evil in my home," how dare he?!

-So, you decided to punish him?

-Yes.

-You went onto the platform to wait for him.

-He should have stopped.

He shouldn't have driven off.

A good man would have... taken Gabriella to hospital.

A good man would have saved her.

Andrew Knightley... was not a good man.

Yes.

I pushed him.

I'm so, so sorry.

[ Sobs ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Paperwork, then.

-Can you wait until tomorrow?

And I'd like to go home, if that's okay.

-Is everything alright?

-Yeah.

Yeah.

At least, I'm getting there.

I'll see you tomorrow, Max.

Enjoy your smelly boat.

♪♪ [ Thunder rumbles ] ♪♪ ♪♪ -I've been avoiding it.

-Oh, I realize that.

I've been tending it until you were ready.

Fighting a losing battle, mind.

-[ Chuckles ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Your dad would have loved that.

♪♪ Ready?

♪♪ -Bye, Dad.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [ Pleasant piano music plays ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [ Volume increases ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [ Music fades out ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪