Fifty Dead Men Walking

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His name is Martin McGartland...

and when I met him, he was an unemployed

Catholic hood selling stolen goods.

Now, these are a guarantee for action,

all for a couple of quid, like?

-Take yourself off.

-Well, would you have a dollar?

See, now, I had you down for

something a wee bit silky...

-Oh, not again.

-Oh, come on, it's sexy...

Martin helped support his family.

I liked that about him.

-We don't want any!

-Wait, don't go!

Have any Hugo Boss?

-Only the entire line at my fingertips.

-All right.

No, there's no way, man. No way.

Please?

Okay, I'll do you 9 if you take

the Hugo Boss for 10.

Done. Do you want to have a look, Lara?

You know I'm not.

Oh, thank God there's you and

the Pope looking after our souls.

You seem to be under the wrong impression.

These goods are not stolen.

They're... manufacturer overruns.

How about some shoes, Mrs. Flaherty?

Like, I've got loads of shoes.

I can get you any shoes you like.

Anything from this catalogue here.

There's no point in me looking, love.

Not that I care where it comes from.

Well, maybe next month.

Okay, well...

-Here, Mummy, can I have another tenner?

-No, you cannot.

Oh, please?

What did you do with that 20

I last gave you? What did you do?

I don't know.

It just adds up.

So if there's anything you need...

Jobs were generally controlled by

the Protestants, which meant...

most of the young Catholic men were

unemployed, and angry about it.

Martin and Sean have lived

on the edge for so long...

they didn't know any other way.

No way, man.

Who'd you kill for this, you wanker?

and up to 60 in 7 seconds.

Outrun any peeler in the city.

The boot's a wee bit small, but it'll do.

I can get you a deal anytime.

It's no use.

I can't afford the petrol.

And that's where I come in.

I was a peeler. That's what

they call the police in Belfast.

I was a Handler with the Special Branch.

My codename was Fergus.

You see, by 1988, Belfast had been

a battleground for 20 years.

The Irish Republican Army against

Unionist Ulster Defense Force.

Both were illegal armies.

It was about freedom.

Police barricaded all

roads leading to...

Unionists want Northern Ireland

to stay as part of the United Kingdom.

Catholic Republicans want

free of British rule.

Both sides were willing to kill

for their cause.

By 1969, violence was so bad British

troops were sent to keep the peace.

They've been there ever since.

To the IRA, they were also

an occupying army.

B-20. We have a report

of sniper fire.

-Thanks, love.

- 2 officers down.

Send available blue lights

to Falls Road area.

This is B-20, out.

Is everybody all right?

-Outcome?

-Result.

Go on, you mad bastard.

T ell the boys to pull out.

I repeat, 2 officers down.

Send blue lights. Over.

K-9 response to Falls Road.

Trying to locate gunman.

Looks IRA.

We had real respect

for the IRA as a military force.

We sealed the communities.

Protestants one side of the wall,

Catholics on the other.

The reality was we couldn't stop

what was happening...

because we didn't have the minds

of the people.

In war, truth is the first casualty, and

information is as powerful as bullets.

Growing up an Irish Catholic lad in

a Republican community...

where police and security forces were

not trusted, Martin had few choices.

What are you talking about? You've

never done a day's work in your life...

But he was his own man, and that meant

he had real potential to work with us.

I really don't think stealing cars

is what you would call employment.

-You know what I mean?

-lt depends on how you look at it.

If the peelers catch you this time,

that's it, man. You're f***ed.

Sean, tell me you didn't

steal that car.

I didn't steal that car.

I knew someone like him could make

a real difference.

All I had to do was convince him.

Where you off to, lads?

Aye, we're just going to the shops,

you know.

-All right. Name?

-Mickey Mouse.

-Mickey, what street are you from?

-Sesame Street.

No, it's Disneyland. Mickey Mouse

is Disneyland.

Aye, right, Disneyland, eh?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, where are you going?

Didn't you hear him, man? We're, like

we're just going to the shops a second.

Me sister's birthday's coming up. We're

getting her a present. Is that okay?

-Just a wee bike, aye?

-Name!

You f***ing hard of hearing?

Mickey Mouse.

What are you doing? What, are you

going to shoot him, is that it?

Oh, now you're going to shoot me?

First you, and now it's me?

Go ahead, man.

Shoot.

Go on, man, fire away.

F***ing shoot me, man.

Is someone going to do something

about this psycho here?

It's all right.

Put it down.

Wait! After them, lads!

Come on, move it!

Peelers!

This way, let's go!

F***!

Come on!

After doing 90 on the Shankill,

your mate Sean spun out...

took off before the officers

chasing him could say "wanker."

I gather you're in sales.

A bloke like you

gets around the area.

Not me, man. I make

it a point to see nothing.

How about easy cash...

the kind that doesn't see you going

to jail for selling stolen goods?

I show you some faces, you tell us

what you see them doing.

What makes you think that

I would be a tout for anybody?

The comings and goings of neighbours

is not exactly being an informer...

or a "tout, " as you call it.

A car. No record.

Not even on police files yet.

Martin didn't go for any of our usual

offers or threats.

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