Jack had spent the whole day locked up in his home. He didn't come out until about 3am, when he figured he'd be alone. He walked to his store and found a stack of magazines had just been dropped off for his store's inventory by the back door. He looked at the cover and fell to his knees weeping. It was an old photograph of Jack's late son in his ex-wife's arms with the headline, "The Child Bride of Broadchurch Jack." There was nothing left for him, he understood that now.

Pond and Oswald were called to the beach that morning as the sun rose to look at Jack's body. He'd jumped off the cliff and killed himself. To everyone's surprise, Pond shed a single tear through her cold stare. It was never Jack's fault, he was pushed to make this decision. Since he had no one else, Paul Coates set the arrangements for Jack's funeral service. Half the people who had formed mobs against Jack showed up, more out of guilt and remorse then out of genuine grief.

Pond looked at herself in the mirror of her hotel room as she straightened out her tight but professional, knee-length black dress. Her hair fell in soft red curls down her back and she even put on a little make up. Clara looked surprised to see her so dolled up as she walked into Pond's hotel room. Pond was always obviously attractive but she always wore a business pantsuit to work. Prior to the funeral service, Clara had been convinced that all Pond kept in her closet was a rack of black pant suits, dark blue if Pond was feeling particularly cheerful.

"Aren't you the sexiest cop in Britain!" Clara exclaimed.

Pond completely ignored Clara's compliment and went straight to business as usual. "Danny's killer will more than likely attend the funeral service, now with two deaths weighing on his conscience. Let's see who's looking worried."

The reverend walked up to the pulpit and looked over all the people at the service. He held tightly to the podium, his knuckles white. "We've assembled here today to share our grief and to celebrate the life of Jack Marshall." He began. "Jack was a good man, and as has been made clear since his death, an innocent man." His voice was calm but Pond was detecting a hint of anger in his tone. "We let him be smeared and intimidated, we weren't there when he needed us. Although we're here to celebrate his life, we must also admit that some of us have failed him." Paul's eyes fell directly on Pond as he said those words. He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. "The second commandment tells us to love thy neighbour as thyself. Now, in our darkest of times, we have to be better than this. If we're not a community of neighbours, we are nothing."

After the service, refreshments for the mourners were held at The Trader's Hotel. There was an area with a bar and some tables as well as a lounge room on the opposite end of the lobby. Guests were everywhere, so many that some sat on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Pond looked around through the sea of people, she found herself unsure of where to begin. She hated to admit, she was losing her footing on the case. She saw Rev. Coates sitting at the bar talking to Becca. Ms. Fisher handed Paul a glass of orange juice from behind the counter as they chuckled together. They seemed to make such an odd couple, the town homewrecker and the town vicar. They looked like they were good friends. Pond walked up as close as she could without interfering to listen in.

"Well done, you. You really gave us all what for." Becca smiled.

"I'm a little worried I might have sounded too harsh." Paul sipped his juice. "No one's ever going to want to speak to me again."

"Don't worry, I'll speak to you." Becca winked flirtatiously, making Paul look down at the ground with a shy smile on his face. Pond shook her head, it seemed Becca honestly flirted with any man she could get her hands on. Paul stood up and walked out into the lobby, walking past Detective Inspector Pond.

"That was quite the lecture you gave back there." Pond took hold of Paul's arm, forcing him to talk to her. "And I got the strangest feeling it was directed at me. Or is there some other reason why you couldn't take your eyes off me?"

Paul looked at her for a moment, a slow-burning rage growing in his eyes "I came to you and told you Jack needed protecting and you did nothing." The reverend scoffed and loosened the D.I.'s grip on his arm "I don't understand you." He walked off angrily.

Pond kept an eye on him the whole time. He went back to the bar for a second glass of orange juice and then sat on the staircase next to some of the boy's from the Sea Brigade. They were in their brigade uniforms in honor of their former troupe leader. They got to chatting a bit and the detective noticed Paul sitting very close to Tom as he spoke, even placing his hand on Tom's knee once before getting up and walking back to the bar for his third glass of orange juice.

Pond took the opportunity to sit beside Tom to get some information. "Was that Paul I just saw you with, do you two get along well?" She asked as Tom shook his head yes timidly. Pond sweetened her voice a bit more. "Do you think Danny got along with him?"

"I suppose so." Tom shrugged.

"Did you and Paul or Paul and Danny every hang out together outside of your computer class?" Pond inquired.

"I'm not sure... I..." Tom stopped talking as he noticed his dad walking up.

"What are you doing?" Oswald's husband looked a bit annoyed.

"We're just talking, Joe." Pond replied.

"I should hope so..." Joe looked at Tom. "Your mother's looking for you."

As Tom walked off to find his mother, Joe sat down beside Pond on the stairs. "I'm sure Clara would love to hear about how you attempted to interrogate our son without permission."

"Is that some sort of threat, Joe." Pond glared.

Joe scoffed. "Of course not." He chuckled a little. "Hey, I like you, ok? I'll let this go but just this once. Got it?"

"Got it." Pond forced a smile.