Chester Campbell

You must not let your personal history cloud your judgement.

Agent Grace Burgess believes that the weapons were stolen by the IRA (Irish Republican Army) group, which killed her father.

— So I'd be solving a problem for you.
— And I'd be winning you that medal.
— If I get a medal, I will have your initials engraved on my backside.
— Oh. My initials on your backside. That's quite an image.

One thing I have learned is that you and I are opposites, but also just the same. Like an image in a mirror. We hate people. And they in turn hate us. And fear us. Before the day is over, your heart will be broken just the same as mine. Men like us, Mr Shelby, will always be alone. And that love we get we will have to pay for.

— It was me who killed them. I had no control.
— You've been living with beasts.
— It was the beast that tried to stop me.

Grace shot the bandits who wanted to kill Thomas Shelby.

— Do you think there might be some...measure of respect developing between us? Old foes that have grown to admire each other, and see each other's professional virtues. Personally, I think not.
— I think not.

— Inspector, I responded to your invitation because I want us to understand each other. I'm a businessman. I want to make my business successful.
— And I want my city run peacefully.
— Well, if the city is peaceful, business can thrive.
— So we're on the same side.
— I think perhaps we could be.

Babies discarded with the fish bones and egg shells. Girls, 11 years old, pierced and punctured by old men for thrupence a time. Rutted upon like animals. Degradation. Fathers with their daughters, brothers and sisters sharing beds. Beggars and thieves left to run in the streets. And astride the whole stinking pile of wounds and rotting flesh... your masters! The men who you touch your cap to. The Peaky Blinders! The vicious, merciless gangs who blind those that see and cut out the tongues of those who talk. You are worse than them! Those of you who have taken their bribes these years since the war. Those of you who look the other way. You are worse than them! God damn you for soiling your uniforms!

Inspector Chester Campbell addresses the police.

— How wrong I was about her.
— I was wrong about her, as well. You once said to me, that men like us can never be loved. But she loves me. She told me. She loves me. And all you got was a bullet and a fucking wolf head cane.

— Nevertheless the pro-treaty Paddies and the King want the same man dead... Why him?
— Did you ask why in France?
— Yeah.
— So, it's the same answer, because.
— Why me?
— Because.

France means the First World War. The Irish and a servant of the crown hire Thomas to kill the general, leaving him no choice to refuse.

— Some part of you...
— I have no parts.
— Some part of you wanted me as well. I know that, I felt it. And sure as hell some part of me wants you still. And no just that part, but... some part of my soul. Some part of my soul. Curious how that is to me and curious that it should be you. Opposites perhaps. Opposite, and that... That thing sticking in my heart, you own, you own part of that heart, you do. You do, Polly. You do.

Polly put a gun to Chester Campbell's chest.

— I find the more obvious vices the easiest to resist.
— It's the sneaky little obscure ones that bring you to your knees, yes?

— You know, when... when you came here from Belfast I was overjoyed. I was sick of this force, and I was sick of all the corruption. When you made that speech about cleaning this place up, I gave a little cheer inside. You said it was the devil's work to look the other way.
— I am not looking the other way, Sergeant Moss. I am looking directly at the events of the day. And I like what I see.

— Thomas Shelby was a tunneller. His demand is rather amusing. He has asked that the Colonial Office grant him an Empire export licence. And specifically a licence covering India, Malay Peninsula, Canada and Russia. He plans to transport certain manufactured goods from Birmingham to the Poplar Docks.
— And you plan to agree to this demand?
— Dear God, Major Campbell... We will be asking this man to carry out an assassination on behalf of the Crown, once more risking his life. These demands by comparison are slight and easily met with a few quiet words over lunch with the appropriate ministers.
— Sir, with the greatest respect, Thomas Shelby is a murdering, cut-throat, mongrel, gangster.
— And yet, the tunnels were dug beneath our feet to silence the guns pointed at our heads.

Killing a man affects the hearts.

— Tommy knows who I am. What did you say to him? What did you say to him?!
— I told him... That his heart would be broken before the day was over. So it seems... You've broken two hearts, Grace.
— As well as my own.

"Dear Grace. I write this letter to you with a heavy heart. I know exactly what you did, and with whom. I will not mention any of it in my report. However, you should be aware that I know you gave yourself to the man who is our sworn enemy. That is not only treason, it is disgusting beyond all measure. Your father would be ashamed of you. And as for myself... I am beyond desolation. You have betrayed every principle and standard of honour that was your birthright. And for what?"
— Love.

Chester Campbell

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