Are we saying that we think this was Hume?
Worst case, maybe three months.
- Which is not enough. - Gatwick?
They said you were a person of interest in a murder.
'If you could present yourself at Bishop Street.'
Help! Help!
Armed police!
I'm not Joseph Bell. I'm Joe's half-brother.
- I need a break. - I'm sorry, my love.
Steve, are you in there?
The first company that Hume worked for was the same company
that Ebele Falade walked into with an air pistol.
She was shouting,
"I wanna speak to my dad, Tony bloody Hume."
Did the caller say who the body was?
A young man named Joseph Bell.
*CREDITS*
And it is male?
Looking at the brow ridge, the mastoid process, I'd say yes.
- And young. - Anything else jumping out?
Aside from the two bullet-shaped holes in his skull?
Apart from them.
- Not yet. - This level of decomposition,
might that suggest how long he's been here for, roughly?
If you mean could it have been around the same time
as Precious Falade was killed, then, yes, it's not inconsistent.
OK. Thanks, Leanne.
DNA sample as soon as soon as, please.
So, we need to speak to the letting agency,
- get a list of everyone who's lived here over the last ten years. - Boss.
And Anthony Hume...
what have we not yet done to place him
at the scene of Precious's murder?
- If he was there. - He was there.
All suggestions gratefully received.
I'll message the team.
Anthony Hume?
Yes?
So...
Wojski takes 2K out of his savings
on the 27th, in cash,
puts them right back in on the 28th.
So, what did he do to get his laptop back,
without handing any money over?
Exactly.
We have nothing to say to you.
So whichever tawdry rag your working for,
you're wasting your time.
I'm his daughter.
What kind of messed up power game is this, Steve?
It's no power game. I just want to talk.
So we do it on the phone. You don't just turn up here.
- You left this house, remember? - I'm sorry.
And FYI, any phone call's going to be relatively brief,
on account of the fact you screwed my sister.
- Except I didn't. - What?
I did kiss her, once.
Which itself is unforgivable, I know, but...
we never slept together. It was more of an emotional thing.
So, my sister is telling me a lie that makes her look worse?
Your sister has a lot of issues. I think we know this.
Look, Jess, I messed up, massively, and I'm incredibly sorry for that.
But I felt that you'd abandoned me, and I wanted you to hurt like I did,
which is why I said I wanted to leave.
But now I've calmed down a bit, and...
I know I don't.
I don't think I believe a word you just said.
Jess, please, I swear it's the truth.
Jess! Can we at least talk tonight?
I found out on my 18th birthday and contacted him when I was 23.
I'm now 59.
And what sort of a relationship have you had with him in that time?
In the multiple decades he's lied to you, you mean?
- Yes. - Almost entirely financial.
- He's given you money? - Reparation.
Yes.
So can I ask what it is you came here for?
Well, obviously to see him.
There were things that I wanted to say
before it became impossible.
But I can see that I am already too late,
so maybe you can pass on a message.
Can you tell him, please...
that I loathe him?
That I have always loathed him.
- And I always will. - Right.
But for all your loathing, you still obviously took his money.
And there we are.
You screwed multiple generations of my family over,
and then think it's OK because I got some money?
I didn't screw any one over.
Maybe not... as directly as him.
But your privilege, your comfort, your happiness,
this house, in fact,
were all built on the bones of people like me.
- Weren't they? - I'd like you to leave now, please.
You knew what he did, didn't you?
You knew the policies that he espoused for decades.
You knew the millions of lives that it ruined.
Mine included.
And you did nothing.
You just looked the other way.
So I didn't really come to speak to you.
But now I'm here...
fuck you, too.
I loathe the pair of you.
So, what I really need is a list of all of the ground-floor tenants
from the past ten years.
Now, I realise that might take a while,
so can you start by telling me
who the tenant was in July 2016, please?
And that was from when to when?
OK. A list of other tenants would be very useful.
You've been very helpful.
- Thank you very much. - Yes! Thank you, God.
So, the tenant of the garden flat from May 2015 to August 2016
was Ebele Falade.
The body, discovered buried in the garden
of a flat in Greenford,
is believed to be connected to the recent discovery of remains
found in a house in Hammersmith.
Police investigators on the scene...
Local authorities were dealing with huge cuts,
and we were all basically doing the jobs of two people.
So you were perma exhausted.
Multiple 12-hour days,
and from dealing, day in, day out, with people who had been...
abandoned.
People who were angry and in constant crisis.
People who blamed you.
And over a sustained period, that really began to take its toll.
I was living on my own at this point,
and I'd started to feel very isolated, very low.
And I-I just started to fixate on some...
on some really bad thoughts.
About women and...
taking certain sorts of photos...
of them...
in public.
And then in late 2015, I was attacked on the street.
And then in February 2016, outside my synagogue.
And it was about a week after the second attack
that I took my first photo.
- On the tube. - You think the two are connected?
No.
Well, maybe. I don't know.
I'm certainly not trying to offer it up as an excuse.
I'm just saying, you grow up being made to feel different.
When we first moved to UK, all through school
then actually being physically attacked for being different.
And it can affect you.
Make you do bad shit.
And these photos, they...
made you feel, what, better or...?
In the moment, maybe, but...
in the long term, they made me feel much worse.
But you carried on taking them, Karol.
Eventually even taking them at work.
- Yeah. - Why?
Why do any of us do things we know are wrong?
Because that momentary relief is better than nothing.
I'd like, if I may, to take you back to the 26th of June 2016.
Er, which was the day that you visited Precious Falade
in a house in Hammersmith.
And it was also the last time you ever saw her,
according to your statement when we spoke in Paris.
Yeah.
And was this also the day that you accidentally left your laptop there?
You should assume we know everything, Karol.
- Yeah. - And on that laptop,
she found a number of your upskirting photos
and tried to blackmail you for them.
- Yeah. - For £2,000?
Yeah.
Showing the suspect exhibit KW01,
a bank statement belonging to him.
And if you have a look at the highlighted entries there, Karol,
you can see that you did in fact
withdraw 2,000, in cash, on the 27th.
But then, just below that entry,
you deposited the exact same amount again in cash
into the same account on the 28th.
Which suggests to me that you never paid her the money.
I didn't.
So, could you tell us, then, please,
how you did manage to get your laptop back?
Can I, erm... drop these off for a patient, please?
What ward? Erm...
I dunno, but her name's Sophie Coulson.
She hit her head and...
Just tell her I'm sorry, yeah?
The first thing I noticed as I walked up the drive way
was that there was a car parked up outside.
OK, and this was the day after you say you last saw her?
- Yeah. - So, you went in?
- Yeah. - And what happened then?
Well, I couldn't see anyone, so I called out her name.
No-one answered, so I walked straight ahead
into the sitting room, where we'd met the day before.
The floor was wet.
Like, all over.
Like someone had just mopped it. But no Precious.
And then in the corner, I saw my laptop on the table.
This was my property, you know?
So I walked over and took it and then left.
It was as I was heading for the front door that I saw him.
An old man at the end of the corridor,
with a mop and bucket.
Did you speak to him?
I called out, "Hello," and he turned, clearly surprised.
I introduced myself and told him that I'd come to see Precious.
He quickly said that she was out
- and that he'd tell her that I'd come over. - Anything else?
He'd asked if I'd been into the main room to look for her.
I said no and then left.
Could you describe him?
Late 60s, early 70s.
- Well-spoken. - OK.
Erm... So, the day after this, you resigned.
And then three weeks later, you left the country for good.
I assumed that she'd have downloaded the images elsewhere
and would continue to extort me.
I felt my life in England was over.
Listen...
you'd be hard-pressed to find a man who hated himself
more than me for what I did do.
All the women I abused by taking those photos.
I hope I've become a better person,
but I'm also fully aware that I may well be kidding myself
that I only did it because I was depressed or lonely.
I mean, maybe I actually did it because I'm a fucked-up human being.
I genuinely don't know the answer to that.
But one thing I am sure of...
I never saw Precious Falade after the 26th,
and I never hurt her.
DNA tests confirm that Jay Royce
is indeed the child of Precious Falade and Eric Royce,
and the body in the garden
is the child of Precious Falade and David Bell.
- Joseph Bell. - Mm-hm.
Ebele never mentioned she had a second grandchild.
Do we think it's possible she didn't know?
I think it's perfectly possible. The boy was invisible.
Off the radar of social services, the education system.
The real question is, what does he know?
- Indeed. - OK.
Murray, what have you got for us?
Forensics have confirmed that a bullet
found in the wall at Waterman Road
was fired from the same gun as the one that killed Precious.
Yeah. Not a surprise. Excellent.
- Anything else? - Yeah.
You wanted to try and place Hume at the murder scene on the 26th.
I mean, my name was on the contract, but he paid the actual rent,
so he absolutely knew where the flat was.
- He probably had keys. - Who did?
And the day after it all happened,
he paid for me to go away for a few days.
- He sent me away to bloody Cornwall, Dave! - Calm down, Bele. Who did?
My father! He put Joe there.
I thought you never knew your father.
Bele?
Bele?!
Did you kill your granddaughter, Mr Hume?
I don't have a granddaughter. I have three grandsons.
I'm talking about Precious Falade.
What evidence do you have that Precious Falade
is Mr Hume's granddaughter?
We can do DNA checks in time, but, for now,
I think his daughter Ebele Falade will confirm this.
And if he denies Ebele is his daughter,
well, then I'd simply ask why he's been paying her money
via standing order for the past 30-something years.
No, I didn't kill her.
Did you kill your great-grandson, Joseph Bell?
No, of course not.
Were you with either of them the night they died?
No.
Or at or near 64 Waterman Road, on the 26th and 27th of June, 2016?
- No. - And when was the last time you saw either of them?
I've never even met either of them.
I'm showing the suspect exhibit TH01...
a copy of a credit card statement belonging to Mr Hume.
Mr Hume, could you read out the fifth credit down, please?
It's a payment to an Esso filling station for £60.
26th of June, 2016.
Thank you. And the address of the petrol station?
- Inverdale Road. - Postcode?
W67 CX.
Which is, in case you don't know, Hammersmith,
and Inverdale Road is the road at the bottom of Waterman Road.
And, er, do you see a time for the payment there?
19:23.
So just before half seven, on the night that Precious died,
we now have you no more than 100 yards
from the house in which she died.
- Is there anything you'd like to add? - No comment.
So, erm, the day after this, the 27th of June,
we also have a witness who says they saw you
with a bucket and mop
near a room shown by forensics to have been spattered with blood,
which we have since identified as Precious Falade's.
What witness?
Her social worker.
You refused consent for a video ID earlier,
so we took a covert ID in custody,
and our witness identified you very easily, Mr Hume.
What's your response to that?
Lord Hume, I think the best course is to...
- No comment. - Really?!
Because maybe there's a perfectly innocent explanation as to why,
the day after a murder was committed in that room,
you were seen in that house,
clearly having just mopped blood off the floor.
And if there is, then this is your chance now
to tell us your side of the story.
Or Corfu.
Mike and Liz went there last year and absolutely loved it.
Said it was the prettiest village. Water's crystal clear.
They said they'd go back in a heartbeat.
Hello. You all right, love?
There's something I need to tell you about.
I'm gonna go and stay with Jordan for a bit.
He's found a new squat with hot water.
You need to sort your life out, J, man.
I only found out about Bele...
when she was in her early 20s.
The result of a very...
brief relationship I'd had with her mother in 1963.
The mother died when Bele was young.
And so as soon as I found out I had a daughter,
I obviously offered her financial support,
which she accepted.
There was little further contact, which was her choice.
I knew that she had had a daughter herself in the...
in the mid-'80s,
but I had no contact with her until late 2015
when she called me out of the blue...
and also wanted money.
Which, again, willingly, I-I gave her.
A few weeks before she...
she died...
I got a call from Bele telling me that Precious was homeless.
Waterman Road was empty at that time
and, of course, I wanted to help, so...
I met her...
to give her some keys and let her in, and...
The meeting was brief but cordial.
She'd obviously lost her way in life,
and I felt very sorry for her.
The night she died...
a man identifying himself as Precious's son
called me from Waterman Road.
He, er...
He was threatening all sorts of things, and again, wanted money.
I rang Bele, and...
she said she'd drive there immediately.
But, erm...
Well, I-I also decided to drive there myself.
I got there first.
To find that Joseph, Precious's son...
was in a very bad way.
He seemed to be coming down off something
and was clearly very disturbed,
threatening violence to me and his mother.
Unless I took him to a cash machine and got out thousands of pounds.
And then...
quite without warning, he...
he pulled out a gun.
Which he proceeded to point at me.
Precious was horrified, and... and before I could stop her,
she lunged for it, and it...
It went off.
Hitting him in the head.
He fell.
I went to help him, and, er...
as I was trying to get him into the recovery position...
there was another shot.
And I looked around, and Precious had turned the gun on to herself.
Straight into her chest.
She died pretty instantly.
Joseph's heart stopped within seconds.
I never even had a chance to call for help.
And into this...
nightmare walked Bele.
I explained to her what had happened. I'm...
I'm not sure she entirely believed me,
even though it was true.
Obviously, we were both in pieces.
And that was how I...
I ended up saying that I would...
dispose of Joseph's body.
And how I ended up leaving Bele with her daughter.
So, you buried Joseph Bell
in the garden of your daughter's flat in Greenford?
- Yes. - And why there specifically?
I had keys.
- It was private. - Not for deflection?
To incriminate her if anything ever went wrong?
No.
So, why did you anonymously call the front desk of this station
last night and tell us where his body was?
I panicked.
And did you know that Bele had hidden Precious in the fireplace?
No.
She told me she'd buried her in woods somewhere.
So this...
this is the truth now?
Yes.
Because you've lied to us repeatedly, Lord Hume.
Both times we've questioned you.
This is the truth.
I swear.
We need Ebele Falade.
Come on. Firstly, we need to clean our teeth.
We need to do our stories. Time is running out.
Wait. Five, four, three...
His behaviour has been disgraceful, which he realises.
He loves you, Jess.
And needs you.
And the kids need him.
I don't believe him, Mum.
No, I'm sure you don't, and it's shite, but...
nothing's perfect.
- Not even you. - Hm!
- Call you later. - OK.
So, my mum, Yetunde, was a second-generation Nigerian.
Her parents came over here after the war,
and she was born in 1946.
And in August 1963, age 17,
she got a job as a cleaner in the city stockbroker's
where her parents already worked in the canteen.
The son of one of the directors was working there in the months
between Wallingham and Cambridge,
and one night, after drinking with work friends,
he went back to the office late to pick up some papers
and encountered my mum, who was working nights.
And after pressuring her to have a few drinks with him...
raped her.
She went back home that night and, of course, told her parents.
Who blamed her.
And she did consider going to the police, but, er...
in the end, didn't because...
he was the rich, white, son of the boss.
And... she wasn't.
A few weeks later, she realised that she was pregnant
and wrote to the son, who was now at university.
And... he didn't reply,
so she wrote to his father...
Sir Henry Hume...
who asked her to come into his office
and told her that if she pursued this any further,
he'd sack her and her parents.
Morgan Lavelle had originally made their money
from the sugar trade,
so she really shouldn't have been so surprised.
And on the 3rd of March, 1964, I was born.
Three weeks later, she wrote me a letter
which, erm, was meant to be given to me on my 18th birthday.
And deposited it with a local solicitor...
and...
jumped in the Thames.
I was raised by my grandparents, who...
saw me as a child of evil
and filled me with shame and self-hatred.
And after I read that, I realised why.
So if he told you that he was decent about it
when I finally approached him, then, again, he lied.
He was much more interested in protecting his reputation
and made a number of threats of violence against me.
I ignored them, and I got his DNA from a glass
at a lecture that he did,
and had a test done and told him that I would go to
the News Of The World with the result.
That was 1988. Yeah.
After that, he was a pussy cat.
So nothing about him is what it seems.
And whatever he told you about that night,
whatever he told me, won't be what actually happened.
So, why don't you tell us what you witnessed there?
He called me and said that...
Joseph had called him, threatening him.
Did Joseph know that this was his great grandfather?
I had told Precious about Hume a few months before.
I guess she had then told Joseph.
And why hadn't you told her about him before then?
Because I knew that she would mess up the financial arrangement.
Which I needed.
- So? - So, erm...
After my father called me, we both headed to Waterman Road.
And when I arrived, I walked in...
to a vision from hell.
My daughter was already dead, and my grandson was dying.
And my father told me that my daughter had shot her son...
accidentally, and then shot herself.
Did he tell you how that happened?
He said that Joseph had taken drugs,
and that there'd been some sort of row about money,
and that he'd pointed a gun at Hume,
and that Precious had tried to get it off him,
and it had gone off, hitting Joe.
And she'd then turned it on herself.
OK. And did you ever question this version of events?
Oh... No, not in the moment, no.
You know, I was in shock, obviously.
And also, I'd only met Joseph three or four times,
and I knew that he'd already been in
a young offenders institute for assault using a gun.
And in that moment, in the panic and horror,
being told that by Lord Anthony Hume,
I'm embarrassed to say that I... I... I believed him.
- Do you believe it now? - No. No.
So, what do you think happened?
I don't know.
I just know that he is an evil, lying bastard,
and he could have done absolutely anything.
He... Maybe he shot them both.
I don't know.
And the disposal of the bodies?
He told me that if we called the police...
they might not believe it was an accident,
because of... my criminal record.
He-He wanted to take them both...
but I said I wanted to look after Precious.
And I spent the...
whole night with her, just holding her,
and rocking her, and singing to her.
Saying sorry to her.
And then...
And then it was morning.
And...
I walked out to the car,
and there were workmen in the street.
I have regretted what I did.
Every single day since.
Because it was a dreadful way to treat my daughter.
But...
that was me.
A few weeks later, I took Precious's keys to get back in
and had some friend put a plasterboard.
OK, erm...
Just... Just one last question.
Does the name Jay Royce mean anything to you?
Who's Jay Royce?
- Jay? - What d'you want?
Can we talk about that night, please?
Why? Nothing ever changes.
People like me don't win against people like him.
I'm so sorry that was yours and Joseph's experience.
But we're here to tell you...
that if you trust us, we will change that.
We will listen to you, and we will act on what you tell us.
But if you stay silent, then all I can say is, yeah...
he probably will win again.
I was one floor up.
My mum didn't want me to meet my nan or him, so...
I was playing on my Game Boy.
I saw Hume arrive in his car out of a bedroom window.
So... he arrived first?
Good ten minutes before my nan.
I weren't interested in meeting either of them,
so I was just waiting for them to leave.
Except then I started to hear shouting.
Joe mainly, but Mum as well.
Both screaming at Hume, really.
So I walked out onto the landing.
My brother was obviously off his face,
pointing and jabbing at Hume.
Telling him he was a dirty bastard,
and that he should fuck him up proper
for what he had done to our family...
to our nan's mum.
And he's screaming right in front of him,
and all this spit's getting in Hume's face.
Then suddenly, Hume's got his hand round Joe's neck,
and he slammed him up against a wall.
Said he could have him disappeared in an instant if he wanted.
Cos he was that fucking powerful.
And he's squeezing Joe's neck.
And squeezing and squeezing,
and I'm thinking he's gonna choke him.
He's gonna kill him.
Which is when Joe pulls out this gun from the back of his trousers.
And Hume goes very fucking quiet very quick.
Starts to back away with his hands up.
My mum's shitting herself
and telling Joe to put it down, but he won't.
And he's still shouting back at both of them.
And then my mum just makes a grab for it,
and it all goes quiet as she wrestles with him.
Then there's a bang.
And she goes down.
And Joe's in shock, man, and not really taking it all in.
My mum's eyes are rolling up into her fucking head.
And Hume's asking for the gun.
Joe just gives it to him.
Meek as a lamb now.
Then Joe kneels by Mum to take her hand...
which is when Hume shoots him.
In the back of the head.
And there was obviously nothing I could do.
You know, I was 14.
I was also terrified he'd hear me and he'd kill me.
So I sort of just...
I sort of just froze.
And then I heard my nan's car arriving,
and she walked in and just started wailing.
So I used the noise to go upstairs.
To the very top floor and hide in a cupboard under the eaves.
I stayed there for two whole days.
When I finally came down...
the bodies had gone.
Hume had gone.
The blood had gone.
Some of my mum's things were still there, like...
Like, her laptop was... was in the drawer,
and, erm... a few of her clothes, which I took.
And then I just ran.
We wonder how kids like him turn out like they do.
Right, let's see what Hume has to say now.
The lies that we tell ourselves.
That that wasn't rape.
That she liked me.
That I was a good man, who'd led a good life,
who'd leave good behind.
Best part of my life...
I truly believed that.
Then in one instant...
one look...
it all fell away.
I saw myself honestly.
I couldn't bear it.
To see who I really was.
The awful truth.
So I...
I snuffed it out.
So you shot Joseph Bell?
Yes. I did.
And I have tried so hard for the last six years
to make some amends.
But, of course, it was never even close to being enough.
For that...
for what I did...
I am so, so...
so sorry.
I mean, I wouldn't give up the day job,
but, er, there's definitely something there.
You weren't trying to make amends, Mr Hume.
You just saw the catastrophic effect of your life's work
and realised that that's how you'd be remembered.
You were just trying to improve your Wiki page.
Yeah. We see you.
Well, consider this, Lord Anthony Hume,
you will only ever be remembered as a rapist
who murdered his own great-grandson.
That's your fucking legacy, fella.
I hope they throw away the key.
We'll get someone to take you to your cell.
- Are you Jay? - Yes.
Do you know who I am?
I think so.
I'm your nan, Jay.
I'm Bele.
Hello, Nan.
I am so sorry, little one.
I am so, so sorry.
I told them, Nan.
I told them he did it.
I know, sweetheart.
They rang.
- So now we know the truth. - Except you don't.
- Sorry? - I lied.
Mum killed Joe.
Accidentally, trying to get the gun off him.
Then shot herself.
But it was all his fault, what happened to our family.
'From him raping your mum to everything that come after,
'it was all down to him.
'So I just thought, "Fuck him," y'know?'
What's good for the goose, man, innit?
Just... fuck him.
There you are.
Sorry about earlier.
That was, er... that was a bit unprofessional.
No apology needed.
You took the words right out of my mouth.
CPS call yet?
Said we can charge him with the murder and the rape.
Nice!
Wasn't expecting both.
That's a 57-year-old crime, DCI James.
A Bishop Street record.
Well, for now.
And it's Jessie, please.
Jessie James.
- So, you ever held up a stagecoach? - Held up a bar!
- Well, now you're talking. - I'll get my horse.
*CREDITS*