Sunday 16 Dec
So there we have it. The politician looked as though he was going to do the honourable thing. He learnt that his ‘good-for-nothing son’ actually admired him – respected him as a man of integrity and not just another opportunist politician.
The politician grew angry, furious that those around him put Party before principles. It was his son who had become a victim of such chilling ruthlessness.
Then the politician calmed down. He was nothing if not highly professional at his craft.
The Party depended on big business, relied on it for its success. The politician had just been served victory on a platter so there was no need to compromise, to go into coalition with the Opposition. But his son was dead. Harassed, driven to his death by those who were determined to maintain the advantageous relationship between big business and the Party.
Still his son.The politician tried to come to terms with what it meant.
He had photographic evidence, if not actual proof that a prime mover in big business was responsible for the rape and murder of children and vulnerable young people. He would take it to the police thereby justifying his son’s belief in him as a man of honour.
And yet – his son was already dead. Nothing could change that. If he exposed big business what would happen to the Party? Why throw away the huge victory at the polls?
Pragmatism is the code of the politician. Oh, and power. So his son was wrong about him? No – hadn’t he been told his son was proud of him? The voters showed their pride in him. What kind of man would turn his back on his child, his Party and his country? Not him.
As a politician he has to rise above sentimentality.
The black art of reciprocal back-scratching transcends morality.
Big business backed the Party because they had worked out a deal advantageous to both. It believed the Party would deliver, you know the kind of thing – tax breaks, promises of light touch controls from government to ensure they make a killing within a culture of free enterprise – with an assurance that in the event of market failure the state would bail it out.
So one of the big business movers is a ruthless killer – worse things happen. Some people are too important in the greater scheme of things – to big business – and money covers a multitude of sins.
But the big businessman’s daughter nearly died. The whole agonising chain of events transformed him from someone motivated only to protect and expand his business empire to a human being who cared only about protecting his family.
And yet – his daughter was safe. The perpetrator was dead, killed by an armed wing of the state. It was his daughter all along he’d cared about. Now she was out of danger why compromise? Why throw away everything his family had created? – facilitated by the state – by politicians (excuse me that’s my bit, he wouldn’t think like that).
So other children had died, unlike his daughter. What business was that of his? He could have it all.
And then there was Sarah Lund that odd character incapable of personal relationships, inarticulate except when interrogating witnesses and suspects.
We saw cracks appearing in the mask. The face softened. A child was missing. Many children had gone missing and were dead. Her son’s girlfriend was about to give birth.
Lund resisted becoming emotionally involved as far as she was able but life was catching up with her. Borch had found her and she even joked with him – well not a joke, a one-liner about adding a conservatory to her ‘shed’.
She refused to be bought off. She promised to continue investigating beyond the kidnapping of the big businessman’s daughter. Something greater and worse had happened and big business and politicians were covering it up. She was a tool of the state but it was dragging its feet. There was no imperative to provide justice for those other girls and the father, and kidnapper, who had correctly identified the serial killer. If there had been justice then the killer would have been heaved into the water but he wasn’t – he looked Sarah Lund directly in the eye and said he would never be brought to justice. In that moment Lund knew he was speaking the truth – the first true words he’d uttered during the series.
Sarah Lund looked at photos of the little girl in her own life, her granddaughter, and hadn’t she promised the kidnapper she would make sure she caught his daughter’s killer?
Lund got out of the car and shot the killer.
She’d outlawed herself.
There was a hysterical plan hatched by Borch to get her out of the country to prove the killer’s serial record. That wouldn’t make any difference of course to the fact that she had cold bloodedly murdered someone.
This wasn’t Hollywood. There was no golden moment when she returned to pick up her medal for 25 years service. She would not pick up her baby granddaughter or pick up life with her son and mother. She would not build a conservatory at her house and live a dreamy existence with Borch.
It was reminiscent of Stieg Larsson’s heroine forced into exile to create a new identity for herself. This was gritty European drama in which life is a struggle, unless you’re a politician or involved in big business and then it’s a matter of learning the art of back-scratching and shared interests. The trouble with Sarah Lund was she just didn’t have what it takes to form such relationships.
That is her humanity.
PS Brix? Well he stayed on to deliver justice on behalf of the state or what passes for justice in a world dominated by powerful interests but then we knew all that. Didn’t we?
Saturday 15 Dec
The final ever episode of Forbrydelsen – The Killing is coming up.
Saturday nights will never again be so captivating.
Farewell Fair Isle jumpers – will we ever see your likes again?
What will become of Brix?
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick