Daryl Garrs

Frustrated but composed, with a quiet anger at the thieves’ ignorance and a hint of embarrassment at his mother’s assumptions.

Humiliated and terrified, caught between his mother’s insistence and his own fear of escalating the conflict. His silence speaks volumes—he doesn’t want to be here, but he doesn’t have the agency to refuse. There’s a quiet desperation in his compliance, as if he’s bracing for worse to come.

A facade of indifference masking deep-seated vulnerability and fear of confrontation, with underlying resentment toward his mother’s scrutiny.

Terrified and childlike, oscillating between defiance (‘They start it’) and compliance, with a underlying belief that he is justified in his actions despite the evidence.

A paralyzing mix of terror, resignation, and childlike helplessness, with flashes of defensive justification for his actions.

A paralyzing mix of terror and resignation—he knows he’s guilty but clings to the narrative that others provoked him, unable to break the cycle.

A volatile cocktail of seething rage and deep-seated humiliation, barely contained beneath a facade of forced composure. His anxiety is palpable, but it’s the ferocity of his suppressed fury that dominates—like a dam about to burst. There’s also a desperate vulnerability, the look of a man who has been pushed one too many times and is now teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

A volcanic mix of humiliation, frustration, and unchecked rage. His silence throughout the taunts suggests a long-suppressed fury, and the moment he strikes Lad 2, his emotional state is one of incandescent, wordless fury—less a calculated attack and more a release of pent-up pain. There’s a fleeting sense of power in his swings, but beneath it lies the raw vulnerability of a man pushed to his absolute limit.

A mix of rage and panic; his outburst is fueled by pent-up frustration and humiliation, but the moment the hammer connects with the counter, he is momentarily stunned by the realization of what he has done.

Implied to be a mix of fear, defiance, and resignation. His absence from the scene suggests he is either bracing for the confrontation or already emotionally detached, a result of years of bullying and institutional neglect.

Overwhelmed by fear and resignation, with a flicker of defiance in his muttered justification for the assault.

Surface: Terrified, helpless, resigned. Internal: A mix of shame (for the violence), self-pity (for being the victim of bullies), and deep-seated hopelessness. He knows he’s done something wrong, but he also knows the system will chew him up regardless. His childlike state isn’t just about mental age—it’s a survival mechanism. If he can’t fight, he’ll disappear.

A volatile mix of cooperation and simmering panic. Daryl’s directive to Ann is calculated, but his physical state—trembling, tense—reveals his fear or guilt. He is acutely aware of the implications of the evidence being found, but his ability to influence the situation is now limited. The reroute to Norland Road is irrelevant to him; his focus is on surviving the immediate aftermath of his arrest and the discoveries in his car.

A volatile mix of betrayal, rage, and despair—he feels abandoned by the system he trusted, and his violence is both a reaction to his tormentors and a manifestation of his own broken psyche.

A storm of rage, grief, and helplessness—he’s furious at Catherine for abandoning him, terrified of the consequences of his violence, and utterly powerless against the police’s authority. The forced swab is the final humiliation, reducing him to a sobbing, struggling mess.

Absent but inferred as defensive and evasive, with a underlying current of guilt or defiance.

Feigned indifference masking deep-seated avoidance of accountability and emotional numbness to the consequences of his actions.

Surface-level calm masking a potential emotional void or guilt. His indifference is not just a refusal to engage but a rejection of Alison’s love and concern, suggesting a deeper psychological detachment.

A volatile mix of terror (of capture), shame (over his actions), and desperate need (for Alison’s absolution). Surface: tearful, submissive; internal: panicked, resigned, and strangely relieved to have ‘shared the burden.’

Numb resignation with underlying terror, punctuated by moments of raw vulnerability and guilt.

Childlike excitement and fleeting curiosity, tinged with a naive trust in his mother’s words—his obliviousness makes the horror of the moment even more poignant.

A hollow acceptance, as if he has already surrendered to his fate long before the shot is fired. There is no fear, only the quiet relief of an end to the torment—both his own and the torment he inflicted on others.

Feigned indifference masking potential guilt or detachment from reality

Distressed and fearful, but with an underlying detachment that suggests he is emotionally numb to the gravity of his actions. His tears and pleading for reassurance ('Are you cross?') reveal a deep-seated need for maternal approval, even as he acknowledges his crimes.

Guilty and terrified, with a desperate need for reassurance and protection from Alison, masking a deep sense of vulnerability and helplessness.

Euphoric and trusting, masking deep-seated insecurity and fear of abandonment. His excitement is tinged with a child’s desperation for approval, unaware of the violence lurking behind Alison’s words.

Euphoric and oblivious, clinging to the fantasy of escape while unknowingly standing at the precipice of his own demise.

Abject terror and remorse, tinged with a fragile hope that his mother can somehow fix everything. His emotional state is raw and exposed, stripped of his usual evasive detachment.

Not present, but his posthumous influence is electric—his alibi forces the case to backtrack, exposing deeper inconsistencies. Catherine’s disbelief ("What the fuck?") captures the audience’s reaction: If he didn’t do it, who did?

Not physically present, but his emotional state is one of cold, calculated control. He is likely deriving satisfaction from the disruption his influence is causing, particularly in Catherine’s life. His goal is to destabilize her, and this scene—with its tension and unanswered questions—plays into that.

Not directly observable, but inferred as fragile, possibly remorseful, and deeply influenced by his mother’s protective yet destructive love. His absence suggests he may be hiding, fleeing, or in a state of emotional turmoil.

A hollow, agonized void—she’s beyond shame or fear, her emotions reduced to primal sensations: pain, nausea, and the creeping realization that she’s lost everything. There’s a flicker of defiance when she refuses to vomit, but it’s short-lived, swallowed by the overwhelming physical and emotional torment. Her confession is not a triumph of truth but a surrender to the inevitable.

Chillingly detached in his confession, yet his denial of the Fleming murder suggests a twisted moral code. His mother’s violent reaction implies he was both a victim of societal assumptions and a perpetrator of horrific acts.

Dead, but his final words to his mother reveal a mix of defiance and desperation. His denial of Vicky Fleming’s murder suggests a final, pathetic attempt to distance himself from the worst of his crimes, even as he acknowledges the others. His emotional state in life was likely one of deep resentment, self-loathing, and a warped sense of entitlement.

Not applicable (deceased), but his death is a source of Catherine’s trauma and a reminder of the darkness she is fighting against.

None (post-mortem), but the scene evokes a sense of his finality and the irreversible nature of his actions.

N/A (Deceased, but his actions and the evidence tied to him evoke a sense of dread and urgency in the living investigators)

N/A (deceased, but his memory evokes horror and disbelief in Catherine).