Interrogation

A jeweller's shop is robbed, a shot is fired at a bystander, and two men are arrested who both say the same thing: it had nothing to do with them. "Interrogation" is the story of what happens next, and it happens mostly in rooms. There are no car chases here, and the only violence is the slow kind, applied to alibis. The room itself is the star of the hour, bare and grey, and patient with it.

The two suspects are given faces and names, John Duttine's Thomas Ross and Leslie Schofield's William Meecham, and the episode does the honest thing of showing how resistance is worn down. Statement against statement, small contradictions noticed and saved up, until one of the men breaks and the confession comes out carrying the other man's name. But it is a process with no heroes, which is what makes it believable.

Robert Barr and Elwyn Jones wrote it, David Maloney directed, and there is a pleasingly unshowy quality to the whole hour. Stirling, played by Warren Clarke, leads much of the questioning, and his patience suits him better than shouting ever would. Watt and Hawkins watch from the edges, Snow and Knowles fetch and carry, and Guy Siner, David Selwyn and Simon Joseph supply the small roles that keep the shop and its neighbourhood real. Every actor in the small parts earns his place, and the room they occupy feels like a real police station, which is harder to achieve than it sounds.

An interrogation is a conversation with a purpose, and the best episodes of this series understand that the aim is to let a man talk himself into a corner. This one does exactly that, quietly, and the result is an hour that earns its title. It is a reminder that most police work is listening.