This article could never fully do justice to the brilliant display of cinematic tension captured in a single scene between Alfie Solomons and Tommy Shelby. I am going to try still.

The other day I was standing with a friend by Outer Ring Road, the constant rush of cars on the highway filling our ears and forcing our conversation into raised voices instead of gentle tones. She has a fondness for cars of a particular kind and colour, red wine Mazdas that seemed to glide past every other time we paused for breath. She is drawn to Mazdas even though her dad drives a Toyota that has served their family faithfully for years.

Our conversation drifted back to our high school days, when we spent more time wandering the dusty estate paths back home and were far more diligent about church than we are now, sadly. Gradually our lighthearted talk about cars gave way to something heavier, a lingering wound she has carried for years, even after relocating permanently to Nairobi with her family.

Back home, we attended the same Seventh-day Adventist church. The conversations we had then were not like the ones we share now. She was new to the area, her family having moved because of her parents’ work. Settling into the church proved difficult during the few years she lived among us. From what I have seen, SDAs everywhere can have a quiet tendency to give you strange looks when you do not quite “look” or act like them. If you are a man and you do not wear suits or loafers or suspenders, and cannot quote verses off the top of your head. If you are a lady and your dress is shorter than their approval, or your neatly done hair draws more attention than theirs hidden beneath deaconry headscarves, you are noticed. God forbid you are seen laughing too freely with the opposite gender, lingering too long around certain people, or drinking anything other than tea.

The poorly concealed scorn and murmured judgments from members of my home church wore her down. What hurt her most was that the whispers came from her peers, from us. Whatever she did, or failed to do, that triggered those murmurs slowly eroded her trust and sense of belonging in that particular church, though not in the SDA faith as a whole. She said she felt judged and alienated from the moment she stepped through those doors. She also told me how grateful she was that after finishing high school and relocating to Nairobi, she found churches that welcomed their members with greater warmth and respect.

All I could offer was an apology. We were young. We made mistakes born of ignorance. We carried the mindset that we were the perfect worshippers, incapable of wrongdoing because we followed the Good Book to the letter. The Commandments were etched into our hearts and minds, and anyone who deviated from them was the sinner, never us.

Even so, the apology came years too late. The pain of being judged, especially by friends and peers, is not something a handful of words can simply rinse away.

On my way home, that conversation summoned a particular scene from Peaky Blinders, the one I mentioned at the beginning. It replayed in my mind again and again.

In this scene, Tommy confronts Alfie over a Fabergé egg deal. Alfie was meant to provide Tommy with a list of potential buyers in Britain. He deliberately leaves one name out and Tommy, meticulous as ever, discovers the omission. He also uncovers something worse: Alfie has made a separate arrangement with the Odd Fellows, a corrupt clergy group that has just kidnapped Tommy’s son.

The Odd Fellows abducted the boy to blackmail Tommy into carrying out a murder they did not want traced back to them. They also wanted the Fabergé eggs the Russians had sold to him. Alfie, who brokered the original deal between the Russians and Tommy, struck his own agreement with the Odd Fellows behind Tommy’s back, securing a cut for himself.

Then Tommy’s composure shatters. Realizing that Alfie has aligned himself with the men who kidnapped his only son, he roars, “You crossed the line, Alfie. They’re using my booooyyyy!”

Alfie appears startled.

“Did you f*ing know?” Tommy demands, rare tears gathering in his steely blue eyes.

“Yeah, I knew. But damned as I am, it didn’t make a difference to me, mate,” Alfie replies without remorse.

Tommy loses control. A violent scuffle erupts. Alfie’s bodyguard is shot in the head by Michael, the young backup Tommy brought along because Alfie is a dangerous and cunning businessman. Michael pulls them apart and demands to know whose side Alfie is on, Tommy’s or the Odd Fellows’.

Alfie answers that he does not give a rat’s ass which side he is on. He stands with whoever offers the most money and the best chance of survival. In the underworld alliances are not built on loyalty but on self-preservation. You choose the side that keeps you alive and pays well. That is the only rule that matters.

Then he goes on to lay down what he believes is the fundamental law of their world:

“I do not want him to spare me because of some f-ing peace pact. I want him to acknowledge that his anger is UNJUSTIFIED!! I want him to acknowledge that he who fights by the sword, he f-ing dies by it, Tommy.”

Tommy falls silent, blood from the dead bodyguard spattered across his face. Alfie steps closer, determined to drive the point home. He refuses to be accused of crossing a line that, in his mind, never existed.

“So they took your boy, did they? Eh? They got your boy?” He leans in, locking eyes with Tommy.

“AND WHAT F-ING LINE AM I SUPPOSED TO HAVE CROSSED?”

He pauses.

“How many fathers, how many sons, yeah, have you cut, killed, murdered, butchered, innocent and guilty, to send straight to f-ing hell, ain’t you? JUST LIKE ME!! You f-ing stand there, you, judging me.. stand there and talk to me about crossing some f-ing line?”

Spittle clings to his beard from the force of his words.

Silence.

Alfie presses on. “If you pull that trigger, right, you pull that trigger for a f-ing honourable reason, like an honourable man. Not like some f-ing civilian who does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate.”

End monologue.

It is one thing for your friends to judge you for not being ‘SDA enough’. It is another for a gangster to judge you for crossing lines in a world built on wickedness. And I know what you might be thinking, that such an eye-opening confrontation changed Tommy’s life, that he renounced violence and went on to accept Jesus Christ as his Lord and personal Saviour.

It did not. He continued his killings. He later shot Alfie in the face.

The only revelation he had in that exchange was that there is no measurable threshold for wrongdoing. Boundaries exist only in righteousness, for what is good and just. In darkness there are no neat lines separating right from wrong. When you kidnap and murder other people’s fathers and sons, you should expect the same fate to circle back to you and yours. And if there are no clean lines in the dark, then there is no moral high ground either. There is therefore little sense in condemning someone for sins that mirror your own.

That truth extends far beyond the underworld.

Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man was released on Friday the 6th. I have not watched it yet, but as I said, this year belongs to the movies, so it is only a matter of time. The trailer suggests the story resumes during, or just before, World War II, brushing against Nazi Germany, and hints that Tommy is “not that man anymore”. Whether that signals true change or simply another evolution of his darkness remains to be seen. Perhaps he finally chose a different path.

Spoilers soon.

✍🏽Reagan.