This is just another story about Jamaica.
It won't add up.
It won't make sense.
But like every story about this country,
this is a ghost story.
A ghost is a chill you can't trace.
A memory you can't shake.
Some spirits are not even dead.
Call the girl, Millie Black.
She is me.
Call the boy Orville Black,
my brother.
Ghosts move into a space that somebody's left for good
like our house when Daddy took off.
The girl and the boy fill their empty space
with songs, with magic,
and with secrets.
The Mama?
She filled her emptiness with rage.
Dirty little faggot.
How many times? The girl stopped count.
But this one time something kicked inside her like a horse.
Mama made one phone call to England.
One taxi ride
and she never saw her brother again.
It didn't matter if she tried to write or call,
Mama made sure the brother slipped away.
Welcome to the UK.
Are you staying with relatives?
Yes.
I knew bad news was coming when Mama finally called.
Yeah.
It's your mother.
Is Orville there with you?
Mama please, you have to let me talk to him.
No way to say it but to say it.
Your brother...
He ran away to the Gully. They had one of those riots there.
Millie, he's gone. He's dead.
I wish he was in Heaven,
but that's not where God's sending him.
She was wrong. Orville wasn't in hell.
Hell was living with her.
But Orville's spirit wasn't at peace.
Neither was mine.
I could feel him, on my back,
chasing after me when I chased after men doing children wrong.
Metropolitan Police. Open up.
He looks like my brother.
If you didn't know me you'd say I was just doing my job.
Nobody knew I was paying an unpayable debt
to a ghost.
But on the day Mama dropped dead,
who should raise up like Lazarus?
One flight later, I left freezing rain for scorching heat.
Lookin' for my once dead brother.
You know how it feels,
when it's the living that haunts you?
But this ghost story needs a beginning.
So let's start here.
Right here.
General.
Empress.
One special, coming right up.
We should get married.
Next week look good.
Well, are you working?
Because, I want to be a housewife.
I work for my Daddy and my piggy bank is half full.
Boy, get your raas to school.
Blessings.
Curtis.
What, you sleep late?
Breakfast.
That a man smell?
Hey Millie,
my boyfriend playing detective in your sex life again?
No, I'm just asking about her date with the bartender.
I mean... I saw his dick, but I don't know his star sign.
Is that a date?
Come on, you're driving.
Take his half-Trini ass to the office.
I'll see you guys there later.
This estate agent
has been bugging me with unsolicited offers.
What? Good offer?
It's not for sale.
The house is done with you, my girl. Flip it and sell it.
Get yourself a fresh start.
Hibiscus hasn't seen it yet.
You mean she doesn't want to.
You've been back from London a year.
And the house is finally ready for her to move in.
I just need her to see it.
Look, you offer her a roof, she's going to choose the Gully every time.
No way you two going to share -
Yeah ok maybe, but she's my sister.
I owe her even if she wishes I stayed in London.
Not the only one.
Boss.
Superintendent Barracat.
Black. You running on Jamaica time now?
I want updates on this one.
Busy morning. And that nun's getting on my nerves.
Sorry, Sister...?
Agatha. Convent of Grace High School.
Sixth form plotting a coup by now.
Oh, on Pechon Street.
Oh you know us. Past student?
No, I went to Our Lady the Immaculate.
Where she learnt her uptown ways.
Janet Fenton. Two weeks now since anybody's seen her.
- Pickney bum school all the time. - No. Janet is a straight-A student.
She'd never miss a day from school.
She even volunteer on our literacy program for underprivileged kids.
How come nothing from her parents?
Father's gone and mother's barely a mother.
Some kids have to raise themselves, Detective.
Mother's name?
Ruth Fenton.
Blond weave and tight clothes.
I telephoned and all she has to say is 'I ain't seen Janet neither.'
What, two weeks and still you're the one here?
Was anything off when you last saw her?
Janet usually catch the number 33 bus.
But one day I see a car come and pick her up.
You know, most of these boys, they borrow their mothers' cars.
But this one was something else.
Come from a world that I know Janet don't come from.
You didn't catch a plate?
Well, that would make me the detective and you the nun.
But she was chatting up the driver like she knew him.
Ah, have you ever seen her with a boyfriend?
Boyfriend?
No.
Remember what I said.
Sometimes it's the living that haunt you.
Not dead, but gone.
This crime story is old.
But people make it new every day.
Ruth? Ruth Fenton?
Hey.
Hey stop.
Help!
Just relax, just relax.
We are the help, Mrs. Fenton.
Didn't realize you were police.
Yeah, right.
Is there any reason why you haven't reported your daughter missing?
Janet? She comes and goes as she please.
It's a long time since I fussed over that.
What, even though she's skipped school two weeks?
You know neglect qualifies as child abuse, right?
She's not a child.
Wow, usually it's the neglect part people deny.
She sent rent money just last week. How can she be missing?
But why the raas is your 16-year-old daughter paying your rent?
For all she costs me, that's the least she can do.
Who's the boyfriend?
Mrs. Fenton, who's the boyfriend?
Who's not her boyfriend?
No. You know what we're not gonna do?
Descend into this 'my daughter is a whore' bullshit,
because then I would have to conclude that you are in fact, her pimp.
Inside. Come on, her room. Now.
Hot Pinky.
Sounds like a club. I'm on it.
In this country nothing haunts like history.
Pick something ugly, bigoted, hateful, shameful, violent,
and you see a shadow reaching back 400 years.
I came back to find my brother Orville.
Instead I found Hibiscus.
Batty boy.
Charged with prostitution again.
Bis. Are these bruises from the police or a trick?
Hey, settle up.
Pencil him in for next week, huh?
Fuck off.
Dropping him off at the Gully?
Hold on. What did your batty boy detective friend just say?
Hey do I look like a batty boy to you?
I know this bitch knows my pronouns.
She.
You get the Hot Pinky details?
It's out on Harbour Street. One of those go-go clubs.
Run by a lady named Alicia Bonnet.
List of priors.
You use your digital forensic background for that?
Google. Try it sometime.
Dropping me off?
At the Gully?
Not a chance.
Those boots are sick, my girl.
It's wicked, ain't it?
Would look wickeder on me.
Alicia Bonnet?
Go by Hit Girl.
Detective Millie Black, Kingston Central CIB.
Janet Fenton?
Underage girl working your pole, perhaps?
People come here for the wine. Grape juice sell down the street.
She don't work here.
But you know her.
I'm done talking.
Do you like your license, Hit Girl?
I like the judge who gave it to me even better.
Looks like your friend check out.
Pretty girl.
Watch it. That's my sister.
Hopefully you start to feel chatty before I start to feel nosy.
Shitty fucking day shift.
Hey, you know this girl?
Why are you asking me?
She looks older out of her school uniform.
Always here with the landlord.
He seems to like the barely legal look.
Who is the landlord?
His name is Freddie Somerville.
Freddie fucking Somerville.
What, you know him?
Rich boy, who love fucking ghetto girls,
especially all the underage girls.
Never once seen a jail cell, 'cause the Somerville name is like grease.
Sticky but nothing sticks.
That family has houses all over Kingston.
He could be anywhere.
Let's start with his parents.
And just like that, we took a downtown problem uptown.
Blink too quick
and behind every old, white family is the ghost of a slave.
Detectives Hamilton and Black, Kingston Central.
Plenty other girls would have this job, you know, Marva.
Yes, Mrs. Somerville.
Mrs. Somerville? We're looking for your son.
As are we, officers.
And all of this on his daddy's birthday.
Please excuse me.
Police business and party business don't mix.
Maybe pop back later, hmm?
Later won't cut it.
Freddie is connected to a girl gone missing, Mr. Somerville.
Freddie? You looking for Freddie and you come uptown?
Best bet is him slumming somewhere with some ghetto trash.
Well the 'ghetto trash' he's 'slumming' with has gone missing.
Your superiors know that you're out here harassing good people?
- One call, you know, and I'll - - Get your face in a mugshot?
You're trespassing.
Heywood.
Need security to escort you?
Barracat's not gonna like that phone call from Mr. Somerville.
Yeah, I could have handled that better.
Raasclaat. You think so?
Investigating a crime or demanding reparations?
Hold that thought.
Oh...
You're not supposed to be back here.
I don't work for them, Marva.
Well, that means only one of us in here can get fired.
That doesn't mean she can talk to you like you were born behind a cow.
She damn near spit in your face.
Two can play that game though.
So.
Pretty girl.
Have you ever seen her?
She could be in trouble.
Same thing I thought when I saw them carrying around
a shopping bag from Bonnie's Baby Boutique.
You think she's pregnant?
You're the one who said she's in trouble.
This month, Marva.
Most people would call this place a sewer.
My sister calls it home.
Mama's ghost has kept Hibiscus out here.
Look, Hibiscus is back.
Girl, she ever text you what happened?
Babylon picked her up trickin' last night.
Sister bailed her out again.
This one is a miracle bitch.
Bis.
I thought some man left you in a ditch.
And still I rise.
Cardi B?
Maya Angelou, girl. What the fuck?
I'm glad you're home.
You've seen the new dance?
It got a hundred likes on TikTok.
Proof, baby girl, proof.
Okay, yes. Yes.
Corsica.
They let you outa that London prison?
Hit Girl. You look amazing.
You look like you shit away two thirds of yourself.
Long time.
Drink?
Whisky. Neat.
You do business with Freddie Somerville?
He owns this place, right?
His property.
But this here club is my business.
Mine is finding Freddie.
And the little Black bitch he's fucking.
Wish I could help you.
Everything's kriss.
Freddie'll come around sooner or later.
Leave the bottle and send over some pussy.
Who that?
Used to fuck about Kingston, fixing horse races mostly.
Just came out of a UK prison.
He's in here looking for Freddie
same day Babylon looking for Freddie's girl, Janet.
Sounds like trouble for them.
Trouble for the landlord could be an opportunity for us.
Follow him.
The team is putting together a list of Somerville houses,
and we'll go to Bonnie's first thing in the morning.
I'm just worried about Janet.
Teenage girl, possibly pregnant, mixed up with this Freddie?
She's been missing two weeks now.
One more night's not gonna make a difference.
'Kay.
Bis.
Thanks for the goodbye earlier.
I had to get back to the Gully. My sisters were worried.
I'm your sister. I worry.
What happened this morning?
Occupational hazard.
Bis, I told you to stop tricking.
And I told you to take your head out my panties.
Well, at least you never flaked on dinner like last week.
Oh, so this is a weekly date?
The way I see it, when I'm not around you,
at least someone's sorting out your front.
Bis.
I don't blame you, chile.
This bartender's full of very big dick energy.
The room will soon suffocate.
Oh! Move and g'way.
His name is Richie.
Thank you.
You should come see the house now.
Put it on Instagram.
I've gotten rid of all of Mama's things.
It's our house.
You're the one who moved back.
I've no reason to set foot back in that house.
Plus I have to be somewhere with my sisters tonight.
I'm your sister. And the Gully is not safe.
A transwoman was jumped and raped
just up the way from you two weeks ago.
I survived all these years just fine without you, Millie-Jean.
Take your head out my panties.
Oh no. Oh come on, eat your food.
- I said I don't want any more of this fuckery food. - Oh Jesus
Christ, Orville. Fuck.
You're still calling me that name?
No. Bis, I didn't mean to do that. Bis. No, it was an accident honestly.
Millie.
Home invasion with spice bun.
- You alright? - Mm-mm
See you later.
You getting the royal treatment.
I'll call.
Usually you hook up at their house so you can leave before they're awake.
Just because the honeymoon's over for you and Daniel,
don't mean you can faas in my business.
Look, come, check this hickey
and tell me if the honeymoon's over. Right there.
You know you're confessing to a crime, right?
We started the day thinking Janet had run away
with her rich boyfriend who'd gotten her pregnant.
We didn't know. We just...
didn't know.
Can I help you?
We are looking for a girl.
Shopped here two weeks ago?
I remember her. She wasn't our usual kind of shopper.
We think she might be pregnant.
She didn't buy for baby. She buy older.
For boy, eight to ten.
She buying for kids' outreach?
Underprivileged demand new wardrobe?
Your security camera works as well as your air-con?
That's Freddie Somerville.
That's her. That's Janet.
Stop. Zoom in. Looks like they're fighting.
What the hell are they doing buying kids' clothes?
Scene of crime. CIB to 13 Walsingham Court.
Property belongs to Frederick Somerville.
One male victim found dead on arrival.
Standard response unit on scene.
Shit.
Heckle and Jeckle, what the raas you doing here?
We are working a missing persons case.
Tell you what; if the body disappears, we'll call you.
Who is it?
Freddie Somerville.
Don't touch nothing.
Don't need you bitching up my crime scene.
I think he just called you a bitch.
We've got abrasions on the left side of the body here...
and here... right?
Lacerations on the hand and forearm.
Check to see if anything obvious is missing,
TVs, electronics...
Did he have a safe in here?
Shit.
If so, why she buying eight to ten?
Body has defensive wounds, clear sign of forced entry.
Armed robbery is on the rise in this neighborhood.
And Freddie Somerville's name is on the deed.
I'll make the call to his father.
Get ready for a shit storm.
If he's Somerville,
why is the intruder coming in barefoot?
Look. Everything's pointing to a robbery gone bad.
Feel free to make shit out of nothing.
Pregnancy test says Janet was here.
The question is, before or after this?
Well, let's just hope she's not
the collateral damage in whatever 'this' is.
Would guess all the blood around the room is his
but given that he died instantly he's not the one that spread it.
This can't be Freddie.
- Superintendent Luke Holborn of Scotland Yard. - Hi.
Detective Millie Black.
You come to colonize our case...
Please, you were listing the reasons this is not Freddie Somerville.
I came all the way to Jamaica for him.
Would love to know I still have a case.
The scratch marks, here and here. Bruises. Fingertip pressure.
If you come in to shoot someone,
you don't try and strangle them first.
I mean, in the - in the picture down there,
Freddie had an earring in his left ear.
There are no piercings on the deceased.
Freddie may have been the target, but he turned the tables on this guy.
Killed his assailant.
Panicked, tracked blood all over, and fled.
Scotland Yard pissing all over the case.
I hear it rains a lot over there.
Why do I feel like I'm playing catch up?
You suggesting I explain myself to you, officer?
This isn't even your crime scene.
No, but you gave me a missing girl case and it led me here.
There is no APB on Freddie
so I am guessing he's a witness, not a suspect.
And whatever he witnessed nearly got him killed.
There is a hit out on the only son
of one of the richest families in Kingston.
Janet Fenton's life is in danger,
and your order is really just to fall in line
for the white boy investigation?
Yours is not to try any fuckery with me you'd never try with a male boss.
You have a case, I believe.
Find the girl.
You're not even sweating.
Should I be?
For this heat? Sure.
You know what I think?
Whatever you're bringing is hotter than this.
So, Janet Fenton. Freddie's girlfriend?
All depends. Does that make you care more or less?
Picking up a witness is a job for a subordinate, not a super.
But the case he's helping us with is... important.
Couldn't risk corruption in the local police force.
My memory of the British police
is you've never been short on corrupt coppers.
So that's why you left Scotland Yard?
Too clean for us?
Only so much shitty weather
and institutionalized racism I could take.
Should we stick to the subject?
Look, this case is a major target
and Somerville is about to deliver us a bullseye.
So to hell with the girl.
Why's Freddie testifying?
What have you got on him that his daddy can't get him out of?
I really can't say.
A crime on UK soil? Or Jamaican? Or...?
Is this a Pavlovian thing? The questions?
You'll let me know if you get a lead on Freddie?
Say jump?
Jump.
How high, Scotland Yard?
Our girl's in the firing line and the Yard won't give a shit
as long as they get their boy safe back to the UK.
So we in a race against a hit squad and Scotland Yard?
Yeah, let's check those other addresses.
Corsica.
- Yo, Boss, we found him. - What's going on?
Freddie's at his house in the hills.
What the bloodclaat you doing here? Eh?
Go, go.
Waa gwaan, mi linky?
I have my eyes on Corsica. The crew's going after Freddie.
They're heading up some hill.
Try follow?
No. Too risky.
Leave it to me.
I'm gonna find you a nice preacher's son to grind on you, Shortie.
You have to sin to get saved.
Excuse you. Shortie is a lady.
Excuse yourself. We are all ladies.
Yes, Deltreece but you're also a ho.
Hole is hole, my girl.
Mi tired. Can't do this with you again.
Fuck.
To much of...
Fucking faggots.
Run.
- Go. - Yo.
Yo.
Judgment come, cocksucker.
Please.
Deltreece?
Does the name from the envelope, Carson Wray, give us anything?
I keep drawing a blank.
Bis?
No, Hit Girl. You find her?
Janet?
Not yet.
Well if she's with Freddie, I hear he's up in the hills.
Yeah, go on.
Hit Girl. She says Freddie's in the hills.
That's all I know.
There are no Somerville properties in the hills.
Wray. Well, that's Mrs. Somerville's maiden name. Henrietta Wray.
What's Freddie's middle name?
Frederick Carson Wray Somerville.
How about that?
Five properties registered to Frederick Carson Wray.
Frederick hates his daddy. Any in the hills?
Luke Crescent.
Confirming 128 Luke Crescent is registered to Frederick Carson Wray.
Will you be requiring back up?
Yes.
Alright, dispatching officers.
We need to wait for back up.
You think whatever is coming for Janet
is going to stop and wait for back up?
She is sixteen, Curtis.
I should have worked this case better. Solved it quicker.
Opened my eyes wider.
Because Jamaicans see shit nobody else sees.
Janet Fenton?
We need to get you out of here now.
No. I'm waiting for my boyfriend.
Freddie'll soon come.
There's already been an attempt on his life.
"I'm gonna grab a few things, then I'll come get you,"
that's what he told me.
So you're talking to him.
Where is he, Janet?
We need to know what's going on.
He said we was going on a trip to England.
A quick trip, he said.
He says I look like Meghan Markle.
Curtis.
We see breathing down our back
how this new story
will turn out to be the oldest one we tell.
Officer down. 128 Luke Crescent. Repeat, officer down.
And how the spirits behind this shit wanted a hell of a lot more
than a dead Janet Fenton.