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This is my home.
My son picked up that parcel.
It's my job to keep this stuff
outside the house,
not let it in the door.
I let 'em down.
- This may be Bousfield's kidney.
- It's half of it.
Half? Jesus!
Get it off my table!
This letter came with the package.
It's handwritten. Addressed to you.
I think it's safe to assume
it's from the killer.
What does it say?
It says, Mr Miles, sir,
I send you half the kidney I took
from one woman. I preserved it for you.
The other piece I fried and ate.
It was very nice.
I may send you the bloody knife
that took it out
if you only wait a while longer.
Catch me when you can.
Exactly the same
as what the Ripper wrote.
What? I've done my research,
as well, you know.
The handwriting's unusual.
The way he's shaped the letters,
it's Eastern European.
I've done a lot of courses.
A woman was murdered
in one of your vans.
We need to find the driver quickly.
With all due respect,
you don't have a filing system.
We'll call the VAT man in.
No. No, VAT man not necessary.
I need secretary but how could I ask someone
to work in a place like this?
I have a filing system.
Please, let me think.
- Mr Maduro...
- It's coming to me.
Night before last, you say.
KFC.
I have many drivers.
All hard workers, you know.
Poles, Albanians.
You know what I'm saying?
- So it's off the books then?
- Everyone wants cash, don't they?
Ha, KFC!
Ha. I told you I have system!
Driver's name will be in there.
- I'm gonna release Buchan today.
- No, no, no! Charge him.
- We have no evidence of collusion.
- I'll think of something.
- The killer relies on him for advice.
- So?
The last victim, Mary Kelly,
is his most complex ***.
He'll have a lot of questions.
Let's give him his mentor back.
Fine. We'll put him on surveillance.
DI Chandler.
I've got a name for the driver
of the van, sir, He works at the hospital.
Have you got a pen?
I'm gonna have to spell it.
- Go ahead.
- Antoni Pricha.
Buchan, out.
- Am I free?
- Yeah.
I failed you all.
I failed poor Mary.
I failed the inquiry.
I failed all those who had faith in me.
Shut up!
Dr Cohen, do you have a minute?
Yes, but if this is about Emma Jones,
you should talk to Dr Phillips.
He was the one who treated her.
John, this is DI Chandler,
the detective I was telling you about.
Emma Jones is still in a coma
but I'd be happy to help if I can.
We're looking for a porter
named Antoni Pricha.
- The morgue man.
- The morgue man?
I'll... show you where to find him.
Hello?
- Great. He's not here.
- Wait a moment.
This is Antoni Pricha.
So you're the morgue man?
You must enjoy
the company of the dead.
The dead, I don't care. I want to sleep.
- You're 23. Is that right, Antoni?
- Yes.
Well, I know I don't look too good for my age
but come on.
23? What the hell
have you been playing at, son?
- I lived through war.
- In Kosovo?
Yes.
I see my family killed.
I see my house burned.
I am shot.
For them, I am dead man.
But I live.
I come to England.
I work. I eat.
But I'm dead man.
You must get flashbacks, nightmares.
I bet sometimes you feel like
you're gonna explode.
So what do you do then?
Do you look for a woman?
For a woman you need time,
you need money.
Yeah, why waste time and money?
You can do what you like once they're dead.
I don't know what you say to me.
How long have you worked
for AC Maduro Health and Safety?
- I no work there.
- Driving vans for Mr Maduro?
- I do not know Mr Maduro.
- Well, he knows you. He hired you.
No. Not me.
All right, then, Antoni,
tell me about the work you do do.
I work in hospital
and I work in kitchen in Brick Lane.
Sometimes I work in factory
but it's not good there, I think.
They do not always pay.
Maduro pays you cash in hand.
I do not know him.
If I know him, I tell you.
Have you heard of Jack the Ripper?
The experts reckon
he was a foreign fella like yourself.
I no work for Maduro, no work for Jack.
As a Russian, he knows where to get jobs
but he's bad man, I think.
You're gonna stop
with this helpless asylum-seeker crap
and start arswering the bloody questions
or you'll regret the day
you ever set foot in this country!
My mother is dead, my father is dead,
my brother, my sisters are dead.
What can you do to me?
I have nothing for you to take!
We need to get Maduro in to ID Pricha.
Then we can get past this pretence of him
not knowing about the van.
I'll fetch him myself.
McCormack, trace the parcel. See if anyone
remembers Pricha sending it to Miles.
- I hate witnesses.
- Necessary evil.
Well, they're all boss-eyed
and memories like goldfish.
Can't make a case without them.
OK.
Take your time.
Look at each man carefully.
When you're satisfied,
you tell me which man you hired
to drive for your company.
You've made a mistake.
This is wrong line-up.
Antoni's not even there.
Yeah, I remember that parcel,
- Really?
- Well, I remember him.
I knew he was up to something.
You can tell, innit?
I didn't like him.
He made me think of the devil.
- What do you mean the devil?
- Like an evil presence. Eugh!
He has this parcel and he wants to know
is first-class post 100% reliable.
He doesn't want his parcel
to go missing.
I say he can have it recorded delivery
but he don't wanna know.
I tell him, why don't you walk it round?
It's round the corner, innit?
I couldn't see why he had to post it.
Can you describe this man?
5'9". Medium-built.
Not fat or nothing.
Staring eyes, like a wolf.
He had a hat on. One of those
blue felt ones with a little peak.
Big moustache.
I thought, like, he wasn't
English but he sounded all right.
- The colour of his hair, his eyes?
- Dark. Very dark. All over.
- You mean black?
- I mean his aura.
So if you saw him again,
would you recognise him?
Yes, I would. Do you wanna see him?
We have CCTV.
I don't believe this.
Thats fantastic, Mrs Buki!
I wish all witnesses were like you.
No, not him.
It's further on, actually.
That's him.
- Are you sure?
- That's the man who gave me the parcel.
You see? That moustache and the hat?
Stop. That's the man I hired.
That's Antoni.
The killer stole Antoni Prichas identity
and used false documents
to obtain a job
at AC Maduro Health and Safety.
The Antoni Pricha we arrested
had no idea his identity had been taken.
He's a genuine refugee
and has no connection to the murders.
Now this is the man that sent half of
Mary Bousfield's kidney to DS Miles.
This is the man Mr Maduro hired.
It's the same man.
This is our killer.
I know him.
I know I've seen him before.
Get the mug books. Find him.
I've seen him. I know it.
- Those eyes gave me the creeps.
- Give him some air.
Take your time.
Look at one face at a time.
I saw his face recently.
It was a picture.
I know it. I just know it.
- Is that him?
- Yeah.
Yeah, that's him.
That's Seweryn Klosowski.
Hanged in 1903 for poisoning his wife.
Abberline, the detective who chased
the Ripper, thought he was the one.
We're not getting any closer
to finding this guy and he knows it.
- Sorry, Skip.
- No, it's all right.
You'll be on Traffic tomorrow.
All right.
Nothing remains
of number 29 Hanbury Street.
And this is as close as we can get
to where the body of Annie Chapman
was found in the back yard.
Now Annie Chapman had three children:
Emily Ruth, Annie Georgina and John.
Poor John was a cripple.
And Emily died of meningitis.
Annie took to drink and her marriage fell...
Oh, get to the ***!
Isn't that enough for you
that the poor woman died?
What about the new Ripper?
He's been killing them round here.
Why don't you take us
to those *** sites?
This is a classic Ripper tour.
Where's your decency?
Your compassion?
- What?
- *** is not entertainment.
Go home!
Show us the *** site!
No... I'm sorry.
I can't do this any more.
- At least give us our money back.
- We paid our money.
Police have today come under fire
for being slow to react to the spate
of Jack the Ripper copycat murders
in London's East End,
Fear has gripped residents...
It has been one week
since the death of Mary Bousfield,
the community support officer
found murdered in Mitre Square,
who is thought to be the third victim
of the Jack the Ripper...
if they are right
about the Ripper theory,
According to leading Ripper experts,
the final *** will take place
on November the 9th.
All the police know
is that the victim will have red hair
and the *** will be acted out
somewhere in London's East End.
"The Ripper destroyed her face.
He cut off her ***, gutted her
and stripped the skin
from her thighs.
Mary's heart was cut out
and never found."
The *** could happen anywhere
and the police are no closer
to pinpointing where that might be.
"All we know is this:
Mary Kelly had long red hair
and her last meal
consisted of fish and potatoes."
Public concern focuses on
the lack of perceived police presence
in the East End area of London.
Police are under enormous pressure
to catch the killer before he strikes again.
Where's McCormack?
Interviewing his third Ripper of the day.
- The loonies are still confessing.
- I know.
Sanders is on the Buchan shift.
Everyone else is out interviewing
Mary Bousfield's friends.
The DI seems to be living here.
Do you think he's all right?
No.
I know what you need.
You've gotta eat.
You've gotta focus, you've gotta eat.
What, you've got no appetite?
We've got two days until he copies
the *** of Mary Kelly.
I've been out all night retracing his steps.
Over and over, trying to work out
how he's gonna do it.
This *** could happen anywhere,
in any flat.
She was torn apart. He comp...
He completely ripped her to pieces.
You were right about me.
I'm all PR and paperwork.
I can't hide it any more.
I'm... I'm not up to it.
I don't think there's one of us
who finds it easy.
When we're at the scene, we get on with it.
There's a process. We're trained.
But once we're on our own, it's different.
McCormack dreams of his perfect pub.
Sanders takes his kids out.
He thinks we don't know
but Kent has a little cry
in the bogs or the car park.
You say you're not up to it
but being up to it has got
nothing to do with the dead.
Being up to it is turning up the next morning
at 9am no matter what.
So eat up, sir.
What about you? What do you do?
When I get home,
I go to my garden, my pond.
I've got a nice bit of seating there,
away from the house, a bit of privacy,
and I feed my fish.
I've got carp. Real beauties.
They come up,
take the food out of my hand.
Them fish save me.
My job, my marriage.
You wanna get yourself some fish.
Better than crying in car parks.
Thank you all for coming.
Glad you could make it, sir.
I thought you should see this.
- What's happening?
- It's not a Ripper tour. It's something else.
Many of you will have read
my bestselling book.
Unlike other authorities on Jack,
I have long believed that Mary Kelly
was the last victim of the Ripper.
Well...
...I was wrong.
I would like it to be known that,
in my expert opinion,
Mary Kelly was not murdered by the Ripper.
Kelly was murdered
in her lodgings on her bed
but Jack always killed in the street.
Mary was torn to pieces in a frenzy
but Jack always had an objective
and he was controlled.
I believe Catherine Eddows
was Jack's last victim here in Mitre Square.
After her,
there were no more Ripper killings.
Do you truly believe that?
I'm prepared to destroy
my life's work and start again.
Such is the force of my conviction.
He's lost the plot.
No... I know what he's doing.
- Are you gonna be OK?
- Mm.
That's all I could think of to stop him.
It's not much but it's all I've got.
- It's still your inquiry, then?
- Nobody else wants my job.
They want to stand back
and watch me go down in flames.
Tell me, Joe.
Who do you think was Jack the Ripper?
- What does it matter?
- I'm serious.
If you can't decide who the Ripper is,
how will you catch your killer?
It's completely irrelevant.
Well, the killer has decided
who the Ripper was.
You've got to see things through his eyes.
This is your last chance.
Who killed Mary Kelly?
I've done all I can, Joe.
It's down to you now.
Oh, lovely! Oh, look at that! Look!
It's a board game.
It's a game and it's helpful to the inquiry.
We'll play that later.
Happy birthday, Skip!
- I'll get it.
- Give him a beer.
Joe! Lovely! Come in!
- Have you come on your own?
- Yeah.
- Happy birthday.
- Thanks.
Well, you could have brought a friend
or a... partner.
- You think I'm gay?
- It wouldn't matter if you were.
I'm not gay.
Well, no one is on the job
but my boys are above all that.
Miles, I appreciate your openness...
Come and have a drink and thanks
for the fish food. Very thoughtful.
It's obvious he's covered his tracks.
Buchan's trying to prevent
the final ***
by convincing the killer
that Mary Kelly never happened.
- You can't change history.
- He's trying to save a life.
You should have seen him
burning his books. He was gutted.
You may have
to change your mind about Buchan.
Irritating, interfering, pompous, short...
I'd expect you to appreciate the importance
of a ma's reputation
and what it costs him when he loses it.
Buchan's destroyed a name
it's taken 20 years to build.
That means something.
Yeah, all right. Maybe he didn't know
who he was talking to on that website.
- He's an unwitting accomplice.
- Yeah, all right!
So if Buchan doesn't lead to the killer...
...where does that leave us?
I mean, the next killing
is tomorrow night.
I'm gonna check on my fish.
- Beer?
- Oh, cheers.
Cheers.
If you'd been a copper back then,
if you were Abberline,
who would you fancy for the Ripper?
- I've thought about that a lot.
- Yeah, me too.
What if the original Jack
was also wearing disguises?
What if Jack was a woman?
A crazed abortionist
stealing uteruses?
Yeah, that's likely!
Nurses make great serial killers.
Jill the Ripper?
Can't have kids herself
so she steals women's wombs.
Stops them from having
what she can't have.
No, women poison or they shoot you.
Their victims are usually
the very young or the very old.
All right then, who done it?
Well, I think Jack
would have been in his 30s.
He was local. Lived alone.
Probably lived where the murders took place.
He was a labourer. Shabbily dressed.
Well known to the prostitutes
who trusted him.
He knew Catherine Eddows and Mary Kelly well
because he mutilated their faces.
OK, you've given me a profile,
so now give me a name.
George Hutchinson.
A witness saw him with Mary Kelly
before she died
and after that witness gave her statement,
Hutchinson appeared
and gave another statement
saying he'd seen her going off
with another man.
Hutchinson's statement
was... incredibly detailed,
even down to the man's
horseshoe-shaped tiepin.
And we know what witnesses are like.
No memories and boss-eyed.
He talked about
the colour of the man's spats,
the fact that he was carrying
a parcel covered in American cloth.
He remembered the brown gloves.
All this at two in the morning
by an unlit passageway? Please!
He invented that man so he wouldn't be
the last person to see Mary Kelly alive.
- Was Hutchinson ever a suspect?
- No.
The police believed his story about
a posh man in an astrakhan coat.
They went looking for somebody
quite unlike Hutchinson.
I still prefer my mad bird theory.
Fire investigation have identified the accelerants
used in the Wilkes Street fire.
They took their bloody time.
Benzene, phenol, collodion.
Do they mean anything to you?
Maduro had 'em in his vans. Come on.
Where to? Maduros?
No, Wilkes Street.
I think the killer
set fire to this building
on the night of the first ***
to set the right historical atmosphere.
But he had no blueprints
to work from, no coroner's report.
He was improvising, which means
he might have made a mistake.
It says here
there were three seats of fire.
There.
There.
And over there.
He knew what he was doing, then?
No, just the opposite.
A professional arsonist would have set
one blaze and gutted the building.
This guy didn't trust his tools.
He went belt and braces.
Set too many fires. They ate up
all the oxygen in the room...
and stopped the fire from spreading.
The killer stopped emailing Buchan
at the time of the first ***, didn't he?
- Yes. Same night as the fire.
- Well, I think I know why, then.
It could be the killer's computer.
Get this examined straightaway.
Miles, we think we've found
the killer's computer at Wilkes Street.
- That's great, boss. So are you coming in?
- There's something I need to do first.
George Hutchinson lived
in the Victoria Working Men's home.
It was the epicentre
of where the murders took place.
There's flats here now. I'll knock on a few doors.
Call it my eureka moment.
He's had a eureka moment.
Well, don't go in without backup.
That's a rough estate.
I'll be fine.
We better go and hold his hand.
Yeah, man, who that?
It's me, mate, innit?
Excuse me. Hello?
Hello? Could I...? I was wondering...
Excuse me. Oh, thanks for stopping.
I just wondered if I could ask you
some questions about your neighbours.
I am down on *** and I shan't quit
rippin' 'em till I do get buckled.
What did you say?
Oh, my God!
Sir, you've got a head injury.
You need to go to hospital.
- I'm not going anywhere.
- You're about as pretty as me now.
Not quite. I didn't hit every step
on the way down!
- Are you ready, sir?
- Do it.
Bloody hell.
Miles... in here!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
Bloody hell! Sir.
There's more.
I can't believe this.
Oh, my God.
Bloody hell!
It's the leather apron.
Eugh!
I want SOCOs here. We need to go through
every inch of this place.
It's all here.
Look. Every last detail.
Yeah, but is there anything about Mary Kelly?
Nothing that we don't know already.
She lived in Millers Court with a Joe Barnett.
Her last meal
corsisted of fish and potatoes.
Well, that's really gonna help!
- Millers Court is over the road.
- Not any more. It's a car park now.
What do you want me to say?
He's gonna rip her apart.
He's gonna kill her in her flat and recreate
what happened to Mary Kelly.
- The next victim will have long red hair?
- Yeah.
I think I've found her.
I've seen her before.
She's a nurse from the hospital.
Get her IDd and under protection. Go!
McCormack, go with him.
There must be something
that tells us who this guy is.
Excuse me, love...
Excuse me. Do you know this woman?
I need to find her.
Asclepius, who enraged the gods
by bringing a dead man back to life.
As punishment
for this man-made miracle,
Zeus killed Asclepius
but out of respect for his ability,
placed the dead physician's soul
amongst the stars...
Oh, this is a nightmare!
There are dozens of birth certificates!
- One of them must be his.
- I don't recognise the names.
- Yeah, Kent?
- Her name is Frances Coles.
- She's a midwife.
- They've IDd her.
- She's Frances Coles, a midwife.
- Have they made contact?
- Have you made contact?
- She's not answering her phone,
They can't get her on the phone.
- Her address is Clerkenwell Road...
- They've got her address.
- Send a tactical unit.
- Get Tactical there. We'll meet you.
No! The answer must be here somewhere!
There must be something here
that points to who he is.
These are obviously false identities.
I think the real man disappeared years ago
and we're left with is this.
As far as were concerned,
he's an unidentified person.
- A John Doe.
- A John Doe?
Oh, my God!
You know what the police called
a John Doe of Jewish origin in 1888?
- What?
- David Cohen.
- Who's David Cohen?
- Dr David Cohen.
We can postpone, if you like.
I don't wan't to be a bother.
Oh, no. Don't be silly. Come in.
Sit down. Make yourself at home.
I don't want
to be alone tonight, anyway.
- Where's John?
- Couldn't get away from A&E.
- Oh, typical!
- Said to say sorry.
Wanted me to... really look after you.
I really hope you like fish pie.
I love it.
Yeah.
- We're just about to go in now, sir.
- They're going in.
Well, that was wonderful. Thank you.
Great. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Where's your bathroom?
It's through into the bedroom
and on the left.
I hope you like ice cream.
Any thoughts on music?
Clear!
- Clear?
- Yep.
- All clear, boss.
- ***!
- She's not here.
- What do you mean?
Well, the flat's empty.
Search the flat. Look for anything
that might tell me where she is.
A mum, dad, sisters, brothers,
boyfriends, whatever.
I want every address within
a five-minute walk of where I am now.
She'll be right around the corner.
Just like Mary Kelly.
We need to look for an address
of where she might be. Go!
Yes, yes, yes! Kent!
- Got an address book.
- They've found an address book.
- Summerford Street.
- No, nearer than that.
- How about Leonard Street?
- Leonard Street?
- That's miles away.
- No, it's nearer than that.
George Hutchinson lived literally
a stone's throw from Mary Kelly.
The address we're looking for
is a street away from here.
- Somewhere like Wentworth Street...
- Wentworth Street or Thrawl Street.
We're running out of time here!
If we get this wrong, she's dead.
- Got one! Got one!
- Hang on a sec.
It's Bethnal Green. Sorry.
Come on, you ***!
I've found one.
Could be her boyfriend. He's close.
A man called John Phillips.
237, Chapel Wharf Buildings.
Flower and Dean Street,
Tower Hamlets.
- Flower and Dean Street. Spot on!
- Got it!
- How do you know she's gonna be there?
- I know. This is what he wants.
- I can feel it, Miles. Trust me.
- Yeah, all right.
- Dr Phillips's flat.
- Er... 237.
Fifth floor!
Who are you?
Check the girl.
I'm all right. Check the girl.
Are you all right?
Are you sure? Miles, she's fine.
Miles?
Miles? She's fine.
Miles? Miles.
Emergency assistance required.
DS Miles is down.
Suspect on the run.
He's wearing scrubs.
It's OK. Just hang on. Please.
Just hang on.
You're gonna be OK.
You're gonna be OK.
- You've failed.
- With due respect, sir, I saved two lives.
That lunatic
is still out on the streets.
How long before he kills again?
- He won't kill again.
- Why should he stop?
We don't even know who he is.
We know nothing
about his real identity.
The 9th of November is over. He doesn't get
another chance to kill a Mary Kelly.
He's failed. Nothing left to live for.
He'll want to die
and preserve his anonymity.
He wants to be a myth like the first Jack.
If we monitor suicides in the capital
over the next two weeks, he'll turn up.
Well, it's not your call any more.
You could have been great.
We had such ambition for you.
But now...
I'm going to have to cut you loose.
Nothing but a DI.
Thank you.
Your mother said I'd find you here.
Hello, Joe.
How are you, Ed?
I have to know.
You looked into his eyes.
What was he like?
He was just a man.
I am always amazed at the evil men do.
Will you drink to her?
Yes, of course.
To you, Mary.
What will you do now?
Oh, my investigating days are not over.
Wherever there's a mystery,
the unexplained, the whiff of conspiracy,
I'll be there.
I'm sure you're the right man for the job.
Join me... We'd make a great team.
Boss, we gotta go!
Would you like a lift?
No, no, no.
Very kind but I prefer the bus.
You see all of human life that way.
It's not all serial killers and car chases
and saving the girl at the end, you know.
I know that.
There's gang-land ***,
drug-related ***, domestics,
aggravated burglary, knock-on-the-head-
for-no-reason-on-a-Friday-night ***.
- You up for that?
- I'm here, aren't I?
Two teabags and milk, Skip. Green tea, sir.
Want a biscuit? They're wholemeal.
They help you think.
All right, what we got?
Stab wound to the chest.
Looks like a mugging gone bad.
Well, it might be.
Perhaps the killer wants us
to dismiss this as a random attack
so that we don't dig any deeper.
Oh, don't start.
Don't you have a nice desk to go to?
No, I don't. Let's go.
Nine times out of ten, when it looks
like a mugging, it's a mugging.
I suppose when it looks like a domestic, it's
a domestic, but it wasn't last time, was it?
No, well, fair enough, but that's the exception
that proves the rule...