Spoiler alert: this recap is for people watching Sherwood on BBC One. Please don’t read it unless you have watched series two, episode five.
No one shot the sheriff
As we returned, sheriff and councillor Lisa Waters (Ria Zmitrowicz) was critical but stable. Phew. She’d been poisoned with synthetic cannabinoids, slipped into her vape pen. Police pulled intel on local groups with access to liquid spice, AKA K2 – a trail which might lead to any of our rival gangs.
It wasn’t those “herbs from my arboretum” gifted to her by Franklin Warner (Robert Lindsay) after all – although the smarmy mogul was seen handling her vape and would surely show up on City Hall’s CCTV. Had he silenced Lisa to keep his shady past hidden and quash opposition to the new pit? Warner’s son Samuel (Robert Emms) had long done dirty work for his father, averting scandals and paying off secret love children. Another was about to emerge. “You’re my eldest,” Franklin assured him, Logan Roy-like. “My heir.” “Am I?” asked Sam. One more half-sibling could upset the megabucks apple cart.
Called in for questioning, Warner Sr arrived with a phalanx of lawyers, lied that his meeting with Lisa had been aborted and dismissed suggestions that she knew about his history as a government mole, which could constitute a motive. There were three sets of fingerprints on the dossier – Lisa’s plus two others. Both Warners? Or did one belong to its anonymous sender? The chief constable (Jennifer Hennessy) watched with interest. I fear she could be in Franklin’s deep pocket.
Good cop, sad cop
After the assassination attempt, a media circus arrived. Ian St Clair (David Morrissey) couldn’t be the public face of the investigation if he was returning to grassroots work. DCS Harry Summers (Michael Balogun) stepped up but had a panic attack during the press briefing. He confided in Ian about his trauma and admitted messing up at the Bottomleys’ safe house, fearing he led the Bransons to them. Ian agreed to face the febrile reporters instead.
Denying that the rising tide of crime signalled a return to the dark days of “Shottingham”, impassioned Ian went off-piste. He said “nothing happens in a vacuum” but locals mustn’t submit to fear. He knew people had lost faith in “institutions, leaders and the police in particular” but the community needed to work together to stop further bloodshed. A powerful speech, if verging on clumsy proselytising. Perhaps we can forgive writer James Graham some soapboxing in such a state-of-the-nation piece.
Accused of “virtue signalling”, Ian replied that he “won’t bullshit people any more”. Examining the contents of Lisa’s desk, he found the Warner file and went to consult the other undercover operative from the 80s …
Franklin, my dear, I don’t give a damn
Daphne Sparrow (Lorraine Ashbourne) denied sending the dossier but did know Warner during the miners’ strike. They hadn’t crossed paths for decades and “our last contact wasn’t a happy one”. Daphne clammed up when Ian asked about their relationship, needing to “talk to someone else first”. That someone was long-lost daughter Rachel (Christine Bottomley, coming into her own). As we feared, villainous Franklin was her father. Daphne struggled to keep baby Rachel because she was a living, breathing reminder of “the very worst of them all”. Was the implication that she was a child of rape?
Talking of fathers and children, Rory Sparrow (Perry Fitzpatrick) met “trust fund wanker” Sam about renting their farmland for solar panels. Rory was also building up a fleet of minibuses, eyeing a corporate travel contract at the new mine. This unlikely pair had more in common than it first appeared. When they spoke of refusing to let their fathers control their destiny, I began to wonder if Sam will listen to his conscience and bring down his dodgy dad? It could add classical drama to the series finale.
‘Give my regards to who the fuck ever’
As the criminal fraternity began to splinter, Roy Branson (Stephen Dillane) met a gangland ally. The Bottomley massacre, he said, had broken the code of the streets. People were getting tooled-up for turf wars. Hamstrung by being under police protection, Roy offered a deal: in return for a 50/50 split on the drug trade, eliminate the competition who were muscling in, and help take out the Sparrows. They’d grassed, so were fair game.
Behind bars, Ryan Bottomley (Oliver Huntingdon) got rid of his own rival. He provided a smuggled-in burner phone so Scott Rowley (Adam Hugill) could check on his £15,000 “investment”, framing him to be caught in the act. As Scott’s second strike after the pair’s punch-up, he’d get time added to his sentence and transferred to another wing. Ryan’s right-hand man Jordan (Tyrese Eaton-Dyce) mentioned his own brother once being banged up, hinting that it didn’t end well. Could this prove significant?
Memory jogged by Daphne’s trembling hands, Rachel suddenly remembered Roy throwing away a blood-stained cigarette after the Bottomley hit. Daphne tipped off police, they searched the woods, found the incriminating fag, and arrested both Roy and Ann (Monica Dolan) for murder. “I’ve been waiting a long time to say this,” said Harry as he read them their rights. As he was led off, Roy exchanged looks with dirty detective DI Marcus Clarke (Jorden Myrie).
Special providence in the fall of a Sparrow
“Ding dong, the shits are dead,” sang Rory. With the Bransons in custody, the Sparrows could “breathe again”. Daphne came clean about her past to husband Mickey (Philip Jackson) at last. As she falteringly confessed across the kitchen table, Mickey replied: “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” He’d known all along. It was surprisingly romantic as he shushed her, telling her to “save it for the long road”. He didn’t realise how long.
One devastating scene followed another. Next morning, Daphne was at a taxi pick-up when word came that Ann had been released. Banged to rights, Roy claimed he’d acted alone. There was no evidence that Ann was part of a conspiracy to murder. What’s more, police protection had been dropped so they had no idea of her whereabouts. Daphne raced home to warn Mickey but, agonisingly, it was too late.
Ann coldly shot Mickey through the stomach, splattering blood across the farmhouse window. Her gnomic evil was chilling. Mickey groaned, “Just me, no others”, gallantly trying to save his family to the last. In a tableau of primal grief, Daphne laid down beside him as he bled out. Oh Mickey, you were so fine.
Line of the week
“When I first saw you, I saw a girl with a whole universe of a past. I know who you are. I’ve always known” – Mickey’s magnificent final speech to Daphne.
Notts notes
Thanks to commenters who pointed out parallels between Warner and real-life activist David Hart. Even the photo on his Wiki page resembles the mugshot in the Warner dossier.
Composer Lorne Balfe’s score has been atmospheric and evocative all series – never more so than in that Shakespearean final scene.
Lots of loose ends to tie up. Who poisoned the sheriff? Will Stephie get caught for killing Kyre? Will Clive Myrie’s nephew be unmasked? This was also a Lesley Manville-free week, so we need a happy ending for Julie and Ian please.
Just the finale remains, so rejoin us for one last postmortem on Monday. In the meantime, Mickey mourners, please leave your thoughts and theories below …
