[…] July is Scene-Writing Month here at Go Into The Story. Every Monday-Friday at noon Eastern / 9AM Pacific, I will upload a post with a prompt for writing a script scene. Each day, write a scene per those guidelines. If you really want to get …read more […]

SCENE 12 (PROMPT: An interrogation scene.) INT. RESTAURANT – DAY DIANE (31) sits at a table in the middle of a restaurant. MARCUS (25) approaches from the side. MARCUS: Diane? DIANE: Marcus? It’s clear they’re on a blind date. They awkwardly hug and take their seats. MARCUS: You’re gorgeous. DIANE: Thank you, you’re not too bad yourself. MARCUS: I dunno about you, but I’m always nervous about these things… DIANE: …Never quite knowing who’s going to show up? MARCUS: Exactly. How long have you known Bill? DIANE: Oh, god, I don’t know, ten years? Since college. You? MARCUS: Just a few months. Met him in a pottery class. DIANE: Pottery? You like pottery? MARCUS: Well, pottery’s not the right type of word… I like sculpting. I’m an artist. DIANE: I see. MARCUS: And you? DIANE: Psychic. There’s a slight pause. An awkward pause. MARCUS: Interesting. DIANE: How so? You don’t believe we’re real? MARCUS: Oh. No-no. Nothing like... DIANE: Go on. Don’t be shy, it’s all right. We all know Bill here. They both laugh. MARCUS: I’ve never… DIANE: Met a psychic before? MARCUS: Right. DIANE: Bill didn’t tell you what I do, did he? MARCUS: No… DIANE: Want a reading? MARCUS: …Sure? DIANE: Hold out your hands, palms up. (he does) Interesting. Okay. You’re a Capricorn. MARCUS: Gemini. DIANE: You have three younger brothers. MARCUS: One sister. Older. DIANE: Your favorite color is red. MARCUS: Blue. DIANE: You drive a 2007 Corolla. MARCUS: 2010 Mustang. DIANE: Your favorite person is yourself. MARCUS: My mother. DIANE: You’ve slept with ten women who you haven’t loved. MARCUS: Three and I’ve been in love with each. He retracts his hands and looks at her dumbfounded. MARCUS: … I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this… and don’t take it the wrong way or anything… but you’re God awful at that. DIANE (smiles): I know, but now it doesn’t have to feel like an interrogation.

Grin.

SCENE 12 INT. OFFICE - DAY Stacey walks into the office, carrying a commuter mug. She’s startled to find Mortensen standing at her desk. STACY: Good morning. MORTENSEN: Good morning. STACY: Is something wrong? MORTENSEN: Where’s my pen? STACY: Excuse me? MORTENSEN: Where is my pen? STACY: What pen? MORTENSEN: The gold pen on my desk. It’s missing. STACY: And you think I took it? MORTENSEN; You were the only other person in my office yesterday. STACY: Why would I take your pen? MORTENSEN: It’s very valuable. You could sell it. Look, I’ve been through your whole desk - Stacy glances over at her desk - it is in complete disarray. MORTENSEN (CONT’D): - and I can’t find it anywhere. STACY: You went through my desk? MORTENSEN: Yes, I did. You stole from me. STACY: I did not. She pushes past him, towards his open office door. She goes to his desk, and, with her back to the door, quickly slips the gold pen out of bag. She holds it up, turns to him. STACY: Is this it? He comes over. MORTENSEN: Where did you find that? STACY: It was on your desk. MORTENSEN: What? STACY (pointing to the desk): Right there. MORTENSEN: Oh. He takes the pen from her, goes to the desk, sits down. MORTENSEN: Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to work? Stacy walks to her desk, and starts to re-organize the chaos.

My Scene 07 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY Seated on one side of the table, KATE (30s) and RICK (30s) face JOHN (20s), who's seated on the other side, blinking in bursts. As the silence stretches, he blinks faster and faster. Finally, Kate leans across the table. KATE You're in trouble. You need to tell us what happened. Now. JOHN I... what's this about? RICK You thought we wouldn't find out about the stalking? JOHN The stalking? It was ages ago. It was a misunderstanding, know what I mean? I was in love, both times. It was childish behavior, okay? I got therapy. KATE It didn't work? What happened this time? Did Suzy confront you? JOHN What's this all about? Suzy? You think I killed Suzy? You're out of your mind. KATE I'm not, but perhaps you were? JOHN I tried Suzy, know what I mean? But she wouldn't give me the time of day. RICK Really? JOHN Yeah, yeah. And I got the message, know what I mean? I sure didn't press anything and sure didn't stalk her. RICK You got an alibi? A good one? JOHN I... I went to the movies. But all by myself. KATE I can believe that.

My Scene 12: (I'm actually on 9 at this moment, but heading back to complete the other 3 right now) INT. PRISON ISABELLA: Do I look that different from my pictures? SARAH: No, I’m sorry. It’s just that - Sarah pushes a couple cans of diet cokes toward Isabella. SARAH: These are for you. Isabella takes one with cuffed hands and drinks heavily. ISABELLA: It’s like an orgasm in a can. Not really a princess thing to say? SARAH: No. Isabella holds out her hand. They shake. ISABELLA: Prison will do that to you. Isabella Dalin. SARAH: Sarah Cross. Thank you for- Isabella waves her off. ISABELLA: Thank me when we’re done. There’s a reason I turned down every reporter and biographer from here to kingdom come. I read some of your pieces. Hard to find I’ll admit, but good. You’re here for a test. I like you, you stay. I don’t, you leave. First question. SARAH: Why me? ISABELLA: Pass. Second. SARAH: Did you kill your husband? Silence. Isabella makes her wait. ISABELLA: Pass. You’re really out of practice aren’t you? Why don’t you start with something simple. SARAH: Why do they call you Cinderella? ISABELLA: There we go. (then) Because I’m her. SARAH: Cinderella’s a fairy tale princess in a fictional story. ISABELLA: Creative writing 101. The basis of every good story is grounded in truth.

#12-7/16 "I am the Passenger..." EXT. BAR - CONTINUOUS Jansen, still holding Woolskie’s hand exits the bar. Parked right in front is a black SUV with tinted windows. And an orange license plate. The bodyguard opens the back door, they enter the SUV THE MAYOR OF CHICAGO sits directly across from them, smiling. He looks greasier than he did on TV. PAUSE. Woolskie and Jansen do their best not to come off as scared, however, they’re so freaked out, they don’t even note the crisp leather interior of the Car. The Mayor smiles brightly in a way only Politicians can. MAYOR-Hi, I’m Ron. Jansen, right? He leans in for a handshake. Jansen shakes his hand. JANSEN-Hi? MAYOR-And who is this? Great hair by the way. He reaches over to Woolskie who, much to the astonishment of Jansen, but also to his relief, shakes the Mayors hand and smiles. WOOLSKIE-Madeline. Hi. MAYOR-Hello. Madeline, I’m sure you and Jansen here are very busy supporting your local watering hole, so I’ll get to the point. His eyes focus on Jansen. MAYOR-Jansen, who is he? Jansen, at Woolskies surprise man’s up. JANSEN-I’m sorry, who are we talking about? MAYOR-C’mon J-rah. Oh, great blog by the way. Took me about five minutes to read everything, but I loved your one post, what was it again, oh yeah...’R.I.P. Lou Reed’. Wow, using two words to sum up a great artists entire body of work. Now, that’s great writing. God, if only I could get you on page two of the Trib, my life would be much easier, but that’s not why we’re here is it J-Rah? So, again...Who The Fuck is Woolskie?! JANSEN-Oh, Woolskie. Sorry, I don’t know who he is, but I think I might know where he is. MAYOR-Where? JANSEN-Pretty sure he’s down in Englewood, waiting to get hit by a stray bullet, while you sit here in your taxpayer SUV asking a “a blogger” to turn in his source. Woolskie lightly squeezes Jansen’s hand. MAYOR-Who the fuck is he? JANSEN-Don’t know. Some dude. Hispanic. Maybe black. Coulda been Canadian. MAYOR-Fuck you, you Nancy fuck?! Who the fuck is Woolskie?! JANSEN-I’m pretty sure he’s a DJ from Paris, who dresses up like a robot, but only flies to Chicago just to give you a hard time. Woolskie squeezes harder, Jansen uses his thumb to massage the space between her thumb and index finger. The Mayor leans back. SIGHS. Looks out the window to the bar. MAYOR-Oh J-Rah J-Rah J-Rah. Did you know that before your local bar was “Maria’s” it was named after a horse that won the Kentucky Derby in the seventies? Some Polish woman won big on the Derby, decided to buy a corner bar in Chicago. JANSEN And she named it after the horse, yeah I know. You think I drink at TGIF? The Mayor smiles. MAYOR-I think you drink wherever someone else is buying. But the thing is Jansen, back then, there weren’t occupancy laws. And it would be a shame for this Maria woman to have the Fire Marshall come in and deem that her Mom and Pop establishment is, “Unsafe due to Occupancy”. Jansen drops Woolskie’s hand and rubs his temples. Woolskie, does her best to protect the bystanders, especially the one she cares about the most. WOOLSKIE Ahem. I am Woolskie. The Mayor laughs. MAYOR-Oh, I love how you neighborhood kids won’t show up for community meetings, but when it’s ‘Save my Bar’, oh, suddenly everyone gives a shit. That’s cute Madeline, very noble of you. Jansen, eyes on the floor of the SUV, slowly looks up to the politician with power, who is now smiling like he was two minutes ago. JANSEN-Don’t do this. MAYOR-Don’t make me. Jansen EXHALES. JANSEN-Maria cards everyone. When Woolskie approached me, she carded him. His real name is James Osterberg. There mighta been a junior or a second. It was hard to see. The Mayor smiles. Victory. MAYOR-Thanks J-Rah. Do me a favor, and never let me see you ever again. Madeline, lovely meeting you, however, I have to go down to a community meeting in Englewood,...

SCENE TWELVE INT. BAR – EVENING CLAIRE sits by herself at the bar with a half full beer glass in front of her. She glances at her phone, seeming impatient. DENNIS enters, looks around the bar, spots Claire, who briefly looks up as he enters, and purposefully walks to a seat near her. DENNIS: Hey. Claire doesn’t respond. DENNIS: I’m Dennis. Again, no response. DENNIS: And you are… CLAIRE: Sorry, I’m not really in the mood to chat right now. Have a nice night. DENNIS: Rough day? Claire offers a small smile, but still doesn’t respond. DENNIS: Can I buy you a drink? Claire gestures to the glass in front of her. CLAIRE: I’m all good, thanks. DENNIS: Boy troubles? CLAIRE: Sure, let’s go with that. The door opens and a WOMAN enters. Claire watches her take a seat on the other end of the bar. DENNIS: Want to talk about it? CLAIRE: Look, assuming it’s boy troubles, solely based on the fact that you have a dick, I’m bound to take out my anger on you tonight, so I’d recommend just letting me be. DENNIS: How do you know I have a dick? CLAIRE: Excuse me? DENNIS: I could be a transvestite for all you know. You’re making reductive assumptions before you even get to know me. CLAIRE (suppressing a smile): Okay then. DENNIS: So what’s your story? Other than the shitty boyfriend troubles. A COUPLE enters. Claire looks up at them briefly as they sit down at a table. CLAIRE: Dennis, right? Look, Dennis, I’m gonna put it out there right now. This is a no-go, so I’d suggest setting your sights elsewhere. DENNIS: What can I say, I like a challenge. A MAN enters and glances around the bar before heading to the back room. Claire straightens up in her seat slightly. She pulls out her phone and texts: “He’s in.” DENNIS: You have any siblings? CLAIRE: No. DENNIS: Ah, only child? I’ve got four older sisters, and a younger brother. As he talks, Claire picks up her phone and texts: “60 seconds.” DENNIS: As you can imagine, it’s made for some pretty hectic holidays, now that we’re all older. I’ve got eleven nieces and nephews already, can you imagine? The man reenters the bar from the back room, walking quickly. Claire stands and pulls out a gun, pointing it at him. CLAIRE: Freeze! The man immediately runs for the door, just as it opens and two POLICEMEN, in full uniform enter, guns pointed. The man frantically tries to run the other way, but one of the policemen dives at him, and they fall to the ground. The other policeman takes out a pair of handcuffs. CLAIRE: We’ve been looking for you for quite a long time, Morello. You have the right to remain silent…

SCENE 12_________________________________ A lamp hung on wall is swinging. Flashing light. ANNIE, 24,blonde, is looking up at the lamp, open mouthed. ANNIE'S POV: IN SLOW MOTION the lamp is swinging, silence. Where the light falls, it turns into a peice of another room, green painted. A calm voice interrupts DOCTOR Annie? Doesnt look like she heard. DOCTOR(louder) Annie? She looks at him. Though her eyes reaches each corner of the room. She doesn't look at one thing for long. The doctor smiles at her. DOCTOR For how long have you been psychotic? ANNIE its been…umm… 1 year (beat) No! Half a year… no, 1 year…ya, 1 year. DOCTOR okay. He reads from the papers he is having at the table. DOCTOR You claim here you have been a prisoner…for 4 years? ANNIE Yes. (beat) You won't find any records though. DOCTOR Why is that? ANNIE The jail I been to wasn't a governmental jail, you see. All… all murders, kidnapping, you knkw why those happen? Because there is someone put there, who… who….who disgues…law and its decisions. So , so he decides to have his own. DOCTOR I understand. And how is it that you were there? A long pause as ANNIE looks at him, feeling difficult to answer the question. ANNIE I had come to know a person, I shouldn't have known. She looks at him, analysing. ANNIE You dont believe me, do you? DOCTOR Why not? Of course I believe you. ANNIE Well, why would you? You're a psychiatrist anyway. You know what, It may seem strange but I am telling the truth. I certainly wasn't having delusions the entire. There have been times, doc, but not this. Not this. (Beat) He'll be here anytime. DOCTOR Who? ANNIE My friend, he'll be here to kill me. Her face turns melancholy. KNOCK KNOCK someone knocks. ANNIE He's here DOCTOR gets off to open the door, annoyed. DOCTOR Nobody is going to kill you Annie. You're just not that special ANNIE DONT OPEN THE DOOR! And the door opens, a man holding a tea tray appears. DOCTOR See? SHOT! A bullet goes through the doctor's head. SHOT! Same with the tea man. He falls to reveal ED,26, holding the gun. He looks at ANNIE ED Hi, Alice. ___________________________________________ Alice is my character's name, not mine:P Thank you for reading. Please comment and let me know how it could've been better Thank you again :D

Scene 12 Today’s prompt: An interrogation scene. EXT. PADDOCK CARLISLE FARM Doc leans against the railing watches Gates ride Juanita through the barrel exercises. MARCI (O.S.): They’re beautiful together. Doc turns as Marci joins him. DOC: Haven’t seen a horse she couldn’t ride. MARCI: How you feeling? DOC: Like a horse crushed my chest. They watch in silence, then. MARCI: I’m really sorry dad. I didn’t know-- DOC: Why’d you leave? MARCI: I was scared. She needed me. DOC: She had her parents. I needed you here. Marci leans her head on Doc’s shoulder. MARCI: I didn’t know. DOC: You chose to live with a drunk. MARCI: She was sick… of you and your perfect life. She could’d live up to it. Doc stares as Gates rounds the barrel with the grace of an artist’s brush. DOC: You want to see perfection. Look at her. That’s perfection. Grace. MARCI: You know what she was watching when she died? Old Kentucky Derby videos. Her fantasy was your life. She was a drunk… her addiction was you. DOC: So it’s my fault. She threw her saddle on and took the bit in her mouth. She knew exactly who I was. I haven’t changed at all. MARCI: Still she-- DOC: When will you stop blaming everyone for-- MARCI: No woman can survive the great Doc Carlisle. Who are you chasing? DOC: No one. Gates rides up to the rail. GATES: So you decided to get some fresh air. Give me a minute to change and I’ll run you to the doctor’s. DOC: No worry. Marci can take me. Marci and Gates share a glance.

Scene 12 INT. ROLLINS HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT GEORGE ROLLINS (63) takes off his hat as he steps into the darkened room, flips a switch, jolts. JOHN BARROW (40) is seated in an easy chair, legs crossed, casually waiting. BARROW: Welcome home, George. Find a seat. ROLLINS: Who are you? This is my home! BARROW: Then it shouldn't be too hard for you. Barrow stands, grabs a hi-ball glass off an end table and downs his drink. BARROW: Nice collection of scotch you got. ROLLINS: (scrutinizing Barrow) You are not the police. BARROW: No. But they are. Barrow gestures behind Rollins. Detectives HAHN (40) and MULANEY (30) are standing there ominously. HAHN: Have a seat Mr. Rollins. Rollins nervously sits on the couch. ROLLINS: What is this? HAHN: We have some questions for you regarding your business partner, Mr. Mayhew. ROLLINS: Ex-business partner. He was a crook, a thief. BARROW: That's the line in the papers. Problem is the facts don't add up. Barrow makes his way over to Rollin's bar, takes a cigar from a cigar box, smells it and pops it in his mouth. ROLLINS: Who is this man? HAHN: Mr. Barrow is a private detective, hired by Mrs. Mayhew to look into her husband's suicide. ROLLINS: This is why you have invaded my home? He killed himself because he was a crook and was about to get found out. BARROW: Or he found the real crook. (lights up) And when he wouldn't go away he was framed and executed. ROLLINS: Outrageous! I don't have to listen to this! HAHN: Mr. Barrow has obtained evidence-- ROLLINS: That I murdered Patrick?! I was hundreds of miles away the night he died. Hahn looks confused, glances at Mulaney. MULANEY: Can you corroborate that? BARROW: I can. Got plenty of alibis in Vegas. Too many. HAHN: Barrow? What the hell are you talking about? BARROW: An accomplice. Someone skilled at planting evidence, covering their tracks. And when the time came, faking a suicide. Barrow walks up to Mulaney, blows smoke in his face. BARROW: Someone on the inside. Someone who could steer an investigation the way they want, keep everyone guessing. Mulaney reaches inside his jacket - CLICK - the cocking of a pistol behind him. KEMPER (35) emerges from the shadows, aiming his revolver at Mulaney. BARROW: Meet Mr. Kemper, an associate of mine. Don't bother introducing yourself. He's a little shy. Hahn stares stunned. Barrow reaches in Mulaney's jacket, pulls out his gun. MULANEY: Barrow, you son of a bitch. BARROW: I may be a son of a bitch, but I'm not a murderer. (to Rollins) Or a cowardly, double-crossing thief. Barrow hands the gun to Hahn. Rollins flops over begins to sob into a pillow on his couch. BARROW: I figure you can take it from here, Lieutenant. Hahn takes the gun, shakes his head as Barrow and Kemper back out of the room. BARROW: Hell of a place you got here, George. Hell of a place.

Scene 7 (Day 12) Interrogation INT. BEDROOM Stark. A twin bed and a side table crowd this small room. A lamp on the side table is the only light. The bed sheets are twisted and disheveled. Pillows misshaped. A man sits on the bed staring at a full length mirror. He turns his head from side to side slowly, never taking his eyes off the reflection. MAN: Who are you? The reflection stares back at him. He glares menacingly at the reflection. MAN: How did you get here? REFLECTION: I don't know. The man jumps up, frustrated, challenging. MAN: What do you mean you don't know? How could you not know? REFLECTION: It doesn't matter. MAN: Why not? The reflection stares back at him. He turns his back to the reflection and faces the bed. He takes in the chaos of the sheets. MAN: What happened here? No response. He turns and rushes toward the mirror. The reflection comes at him. He stops just out of reach. MAN: Why are you here? REFLECTION: To help you. MAN: How? REFLECTION: That's for you to decide. The man screams as his anxiety grows. MAN: Stop fucking around and tell me who you are?! The room grows quiet. The reflection just stares back at the man. He begins to pace, looking at the reflection each time he passes. He catches a smile in the reflection. MAN: You think this is funny? He slams his palm on the mirror. MAN: Huh? You think this is funny? His face just a fraction away from the reflection. He's eyeball to eyeball. MAN: Huh? Is this funny to you? He watches the reflection peer into his eyes. It mimics his every move as he studies the face. Every part, every inch. He touches his face, letting his hand push and pull at it. He opens his mouth, bares his teeth. MAN: I know what this is. REFLECTION: Are you sure? MAN: You are my imagination. I must have been given drugs. REFLECTION: That's possible. MAN: Yes, it is possible. REFLECTION: Is it? The man stops and stares at the reflection. Suspicious. MAN: What do you know? REFLECTION: Nothing you don't. MAN: That's a lie. Tell me what you know. REFLECTION: No more than you. MAN (very agitated): Stop lying!!! Tell me. REFLECTION: I can't. The man screams and begins punching at the mirror. MAN: Tell me who you are! TELL ME! TELL ME! Exhausted he stumbles backward and falls to his knees. His screams turn into sobs. His arms fall to his sides and he cries to the ceiling. He finally looks at the mirror, its cracked and bloody face. The reflection is shattered. MAN: (sobbing) Wait....wait come back. You have to tell. He crawls to the mirror and falls against it. MAN: Come back, please. Tell me who I am...please....come back....come back. Please.

_SCENE 12_ INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT BEN (30) and MINDY (28) are standing in a small apartment kitchen. MINDY: I'm tired, Ben. BEN: Why can't you be honest with me? MINDY: I was. I told you I didn't want to talk about it. BEN: That's withholding information- MINDY: Withholding information- BEN: Which is a form of dishonestness. Why are you laughing? MINDY: A. You just have no idea, and B. Dishonestness? The TEA KETTLE WHISTLES. BEN: Okay. Dishonesty. I'm in the middle- MINDY: Sorry for my dishonestness. Want a cup? BEN: Yeah, but not the Xiao's stuff. MINDY: It's Xiao's or Lemon Rose. BEN: Ugh. Okay. Xiao's. MINDY (beat): Do I have to tell you everything? Pick up the phone the second you- BEN: That was not it! It's how you acted when I asked. MINDY: I acted like a person who didn't- BEN: You acted weird. MINDY: Okay. I'm done with this. BEN: You don't care about our relationship. MINDY: Whoa! How did we make that jump? BEN: You always run away. MINDY: This is ridiculous. I am walking away... ten feet away, to our bed. BEN: I don't trust you! How can I trust- MINDY: Grab my phone. Listen to the audio recordings. I was recording some bars. BEN: You're writing again? MINDY: Yes. No. I mean, I don't know. BEN: Mindy, that's- MINDY: I don't want to- BEN: -incredible. MINDY: Thanks. I just... I hate you.

SCENE 12 INT: KITCHEN-AFTERNOON Fiona is waiting to confront her teenage daughter who's out on a date after finding sexually provocative women’s magazines and a box of condoms in her bedroom. FIONA: Abby I need to see you for a moment. ABBY: Yeah mom? FIONA: Have a seat. I just made some iced tea. You want some? ABBY: No thanks. Ashton and I just came back from the movies. I had a pop there so I’m not thirsty. FIONA: Speaking of Ashton. How’s that going? ABBY: Great. It feels weird to have a boyfriend, but in a good way. FIONA: What do you mean? ABBY: I feel that Ashton really cares about me. FIONA: Well don’t get too serious. You’re only in tenth grade. ABBY: Oh mom, please! We’re just having fun together. FIONA: Has he been pressuring you for sex? ABBY: No. Why would you ask that? FIONA: I found some women’s magazines in your room that are quite racy to say the least, and (holds up condoms) these in your dresser drawer. ABBY: Why were you in my room? FIONA: Cleaning and putting away clothes you’d left in the laundry room. ABBY: The magazine belongs to Lisa and the condoms were handed out in health class. FIONA: Abby you can be honest with me. If you have, or are thinking about becoming sexually involved, please feel free to discuss it with me. It’s such a huge step in a young girl’s life… ABBY: I don’t want to discuss this anymore. FIONA: Why not? You don’t think I’d understand? ABBY: This is just too much. I’m outta here! FIONA: Abby we are not done here. ABBY: We are done here. This is all about you not trusting me and wanting to control every aspect of my life, and I’m not gonna let you. FIONA: I just want you to make smart choices. Look at my life, look at your older sister. She’s got four kids, and she’s only 23. Do you want that for yourself? ABBY: I’m nothing like you two. FIONA: How so? ABBY: Because I’m on the pill! Ashton and I know condoms aren’t 100% so we talked, and I told him I’d get on the pill. FIONA: Jesus. ABBY: Are you satisfied now? Now you know everything. Abby storms off leaving her mom shellshocked.

scene 9 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM On opposite sides of a tiny table sit PAUL, a young ambitious detective and FRANK LEONARD a dull looking man in his 50ties PAUL: Don’t tell me you didn’t do it you filthy bastard because I know, I can see right through you, I got you. LEONARD: I did it. (a beat) PAUL: (holding back his anger) how? LEONARD: A hammer, I like hammers. Always had a thing for them.. PAUL: No you didn’t! You lured her into you house and got hold of a sharp thin object like.. like LEONARD: A steak knife? PAUL: A steak knife? You repulse me.. You ripped her open like some package you got in the mail.. because that’s where you get off on. LEONARD: I do, I get off on that. Yes PAUL: Where did you put it? LEONARD: Where I put what? PAUL: The knife you idiot! LEONARD: Oh, eh yes. Eh, I buried it in the garden. PAUL: No you didn’t you’re way too clever, besides.. we turned your little garden upside down! Where. is. it?! LEONARD: You murdered my plants? PAUL: So you DO care about plants then. You’re sick, you’re a sicko. a KNOCK on the door PAUL: Come in! An older officer comes in OFFICER: Ehm, Paul, ehm maybe we should let Mr. Leonard go? PAUL: What why? He confessed, we’ve got him! OFFICER:(whispers) Well.. Mr. Leonard is here on a weekly basis. He always confesses. Paul clenches his fists, ashamed and -mostly- annoyed. PAUL: (to Leonard, sights) That's all sir, you can go. LEONARD: You’re not gonna lock me up? PAUL: I’m afraid not, now go. LEONARD: and what about my plants? PAUL: GO!

Scene 6 Sherry Levon nervously sighs as the elevator door open to #12. The sign in Hall says Loggings and Burns to right and she follows down to two large double glass doors that read the same. She is lead into a large fancy office Mr Patterson sits behind the desk fondling her resume and sizing her skirt as she walks in. Mr Patteron, “Please, sit down.. miss” ... looking at resume Levon, "Levon," “thank you” as she sits MP, “it says here you were an assistant for a very large corporation. Please describe in detail the things you did for your company and most importantly, your boss” Levon, “Yes sir… I started working there right after college and…” Patterson interrupting MP, “College? Were you on the Dean’s list?” Levon, “I got good grades” MP, “yes of course, so after college you….” Levon “I…” MP “What kinds of things did you do for this dean’s list? Tell me about your extracurricular activities for this Dean” Levon “Ok well uh I played tennis and was on the drama team, I actually won a partial scholarship for…” Patterson continues to interrupt a his eyes light up MP “drama huh?, ok .. do you think we need drama around here?” Chuckles… Levon, “No sir I am not into that kind of drama” MP, “good, now lets get back to the things you said you like to do to please your boss, oh yes and this Dean at school” Levon, “sir the Deans list” MP “I know what a Deans list is dear and it does not come easy does it?” MP “well which is it? Did it come easy or did you do hard work to get it?” Levon? “Excuse me I do not understand… As I was saying when I graduated from college I…” MP “Did you move fast? Promotions? Did you get them often?” Levon, “Well I um” MP “tell me in complete detail exactly what you did for your boss and the positions you held. Or did you just do simple coffee runs? Because I take my coffee very serious here,” chuckles Levon, “well sir I put together a demo presentation for you…” As she begins to open her briefcase MP “Ah yes film.. Now I see where your drama background serves you. Titillating indeed!” He is beginning to sweat. Levon “Sir this is more a presentation of spread sheets, it does not have anything to do with theatre or film or anything like that really..” MP “Spreading the sheets? Yes yes , is that how you were promoted?” Levon “Sir I want to explain that this is a data sheet with figures and numbers showing our rising stock” MP Very excited “Rising stock! Do tell me more!!” Levon, glad to finally be getting somewhere Levon, “over the course of three years we developed a way of getting the heads up if you will of potentially rising stock and then the plan was to..” MP “Honey, stop right there! You got the job and we will pound out the details tonite at dinner.. Do you think you could wear a shorter skirt and maybe a low cut blouse? And would you bring your camera, I like the film idea." Levon, “But sir I am not sure you understand what I am trying..” MP “Can you make sure you are available for an all-night business meeting, after all how do you think I got the job?" "My wife owns the company.”

SCENE 12: INT. BRIGHT SUBURBAN BEDROOM – DAY: Wendy storms in with his wallet. WENDY: You son of a bitch! What the hell is this? Calling me at 3AM. Where the hell were you last night? And who the fuck is Jenna? You’re on a first name basis with hookers now? JACK: You called her? I mean… WENDY: I’m not stupid! JACK: Ah, I was just doing character research, Okay? It’s that, ah…, a sex addict role? Jenna is just a friend, an old friend actually, from acting class. I ran into her yesterday. And why are you always in my phone anyway? Wendy wants to kill him. WENDY: You ran into her at 3AM? JACK: She’s been working in porn for the past few years. WENDY: Porn? Really Jack? SHE’S A HOOKER! JACK: Really? I mean, how would you know…? WENDY: I called back her number! You can do that now. JACK: Why would you call a hooker? WENDY: AND she thought it was you! ‘Oooh, Jack, Jack, Jack!’ She sounded quite desperate. JACK: Ok. Well she needed some money. I lent her 200. WENDY: You did WHAT? You LENT her $200? You think I’m that stupid? I swear to God! Why the hell are you out all night with some cheap ass $200 hooker? And why did you call me at 3AM? JACK: I was doing research, OK? I thought you might be worried about where I was. WENDY: Are you stupid? You call your wife at 3AM to tell her you’re with a hooker, so she won’t worry? (beat) Thank God we never have sex anymore. JACK: Well, I didn’t know if you were up worried about me. WENDY: No, I wasn’t up worried! I WAS SOUND ASLEEP! JACK: Ok, well. Forget it then. I got home OK. WENDY: You were out with a HOOKER! JACK: No. It’s just Jenny. She was my acting classmate, remember, from a few years ago? WENDY: SHE’S A HOOKER! JACK: Oh. Okay, well, are you sure? I mean, I didn’t know. WENDY (mimicking): ‘Hi this is Jenna at your Pleasha... leave your number SWEETIE??!!’ JACK: She’s really a hooker…? Wendy glares at her watch. WENDY: Five minutes! She storms out. JACK: Shit.

Lol

Scene 12 (6th entry so far) INT. KITCHEN - DAY TWIN babies, just now walking and very pre-verbal play with toys while a MOTHER washes dishes in the background. Baby girl has a plastic toy in her mouth. Baby Boy holds a toy shovel. They wear only diapers. We hear indecipherable baby talk with subtitles: BABY BOY I want to know where it is. BABY GIRL (yelps) No. BABY BOY (bangs with shovel on a pot) Tell. Me. Where. It. Is! BABY GIRL No! BABY BOY Where is the peanut butter?! Baby Girl takes the toy out from her mouth. BABY GIRL I don’t know! Baby Boy muster all his strength and stands up. He ambles over to the cabinets. BABY BOY I know you saw where she put it. BABY GIRL Nu uh. BABY BOY I need that peanut butter! Baby girl throws her toy at him and of course misses. BABY GIRL Never! BABY BOY I’ll find it myself. Baby Boy tries to open a cabinet. He can’t figure it out. BABY GIRL (laughs) Only mommy can get the peanut butter. Baby Boy manages to open the cabinet but it throws him off balance. It slams shut as he falls on his butt. The frustration and surprise makes him CRY. Mother comes over. MOTHER Aww baby what happened, huh? Aww stop crying, mommy will get you some peanut butter. Mother picks up Baby Boy and walks away. Baby Boy throws his sister a sinister grin. Baby Girl is shocked. BABY GIRL (eyes wide) He was Keyser Sose all along.

Sc. 8 INT. EMPTY WAREHOUSE - NIGHT With a heavy GROAN a big man with a boxer’s nose and ears delivers a thumping punch to the face of TOMMY (23) tied to a bolted down chair. CRUNCH. Tommy’s head snaps violently to the side and blood squirts. Looking at the carnage, picking his teeth, is LOU (28). Next to him, rubbing his temples, is JIMMY. Both wearing grey tailored suits and freshly shined shoes. THUMP. Another punch. Jimmy looks up. JIMMY: Tommy. Tommy, Tommy. Whaddya doin’ Tommy huh? TOMMY: I haven’t done anything, Jimmy. I swear. Jimmy gives a look to the big boxer and with another heavy groan he delivers another punch. This time to Tommy’s kidneys - then another. JIMMY: That’s enough. The boxer delivers another punch. JIMMY: Jesus, enough already. The boxer stops mid punch. Breathing heavily he blinks as sweat drips into his eyes. JIMMY: … what the fuck is goin’ on here. Nobody’s listening to me. (at the boxer) you’re not listening (at Tommy) and you’re not listening Tommy. TOMMY: I’m listening Jimmy, I swear I’m listening. The blood seeping from his nose has started to soak into his white shirt. JIMMY: Then tell me what happened last night? TOMMY: Jimmy, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jimmy turns to Lou. JIMMY: See … you see what I’m saying? Nobody’s fuckin’ listening … He motions to the boxer. JIMMY: Get the pliers. BOXER: Nobody’s payin’ me for no pliers. Jimmy starts rubbing his temples again. JIMMY: Get. The fucking. Pliers. LOU: Hey, calm down Jimmy. There’s no need for the pliers. Jimmy looks at Lou. TOMMY: I didn’t do anything Jimmy. Jimmy looks at the Tommy. BOXER: Nobody said nothin’ about no pliers. Jimmy looks at the boxer, pulls out his snub-nosed 38. BANG. Tommy’s head explodes in a crimson cloud. JIMMY: You’re right. There’s no need for the pliers. Jimmy swings the gun, pointing it to the boxer’s head - his eyes white with fear. JIMMY: Next time, listen to what I say, and do as I fuckin’ tell you ... He holsters the gun, puts on his jacket. JIMMY: Let’s go Lou. Lou sucks his teeth. Slides the toothpick carefully into his breast pocket. Pulls out a roll of bills and flicks of three … then another, and hands them to the boxer. LOU: Next time, get the pliers.

EXT. SKYSCRAPER ROOFTOP - NIGHT Two men on the rooftop - JIMMY sits on the ledge, feet dangling over. a duffelbag full of cocaine beside him. The other, CONROY - a tiny-framed, soft-faced COP, stands behind him. Jimmy surveys the skyline, and the ground far below. JIMMY: You know, 'sa beautiful night for a walk. CONROY: First step's a big one Jimmy. JIMMY: hah. That's funny. CONROY: Listen, you gotta roll on someone, at some point. Otherwise, someone else'll roll on you. JIMMY: I ain't a rat. CONROY: I just don't get that, you know? You guys are all the same. No one's ever a rat yet somehow, in the end... you're all rats. So why don't you just tell me who killed Maria? JIMMY: Maybe it's just a matter of timing. You gotta hold back til all your other options are exhausted, knowwhatimean? CONROY: I caught you Jimmy. that's enough coke to put you away for life. What other options do you have now? JIMMY: Like you said, first step's a big one. Jimmy shoves off the ledge, to plummet to his death, but Conroy DIVES at him, grabs hold of his arm before he can fall. Now Jimmy dangles, Conroy struggles to hold onto him. CONROY: Tell me who it was! JIMMY: What's the point? You ain't gonna get to him anyway. No one can get to him. CONROY: Why not? Conroy struggles with his grip. His hand's sweating. Jimmy's sliding slowly. JIMMY: Just let go, will-ya? I was a deadman as soon as you got me. Not delivering that coke is as good as jumpin' off this building. this way's just quicker. CONROY: Then at least make it worth something Jimmy. Gimme a name. Jimmy thinks about it, as Conroy's grip starts to give. Jimmy stares him right in the eye. JIMMY: It's in the bag already. Jimmy balls his other fist, swings his arm up at Conroy's face, clocks him in the jaw! Startled, Conroy's grip gives out. Jimmy falls. Conroy rolls onto his back. He's defeated, staring at the sky. Slowly, his eyes roll toward the duffel, and realization sets in. He bolts upright, starts tearing through the bag, tossing kilo after kilo of coke aside, until he finds it. It's the PHOTO taken at COMMISSIONER LLOYD's retirement bash. In the photo... Conroy, Maria, and COMMISSIONER LLOYD, who's face is circled.

INT. HIGH-END OFFICE – DAY JASON ADAMS, 24, dressed in a simple but expensive and high-quality white t-shirt and black obviously-expensive jeans and boots, sits in a plush armchair facing an expensive-looking glass desk. He is taping the arm of the chair. The office belongs to DANIELLE FIGUEROA, 27, gorgeous public relations manager. She is on the verge of becoming an executive/partner in the company. Behind the glass desk, through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the city of Los Angeles thrums in the heat. The silence is oppressive. Suddenly, Danielle opens the door and comes in carrying a single folder, striding purposefully to behind the desk. JASON: What the hell? DANIELLE: I’m sorry. JASON: I’ve been in here for fifteen minutes. I’m working on a project you know, and I’m not trying to be a dick but I don’t really have time to come across town and do this kind of shit. DANIELLE: I said, I’m sorry. JASON: It’s fine, I came because I wanted to see you. You just… haven’t made me wait like a client in a long time…I just—are you okay? She looks seriously disturbed. DANIELLE: No. JASON: What the hell happened? Did Ross just say something again, because I swear to God, I’m in the fucking office this time— DANIELLE: No, Jason, he didn’t. JASON: What’s up, then? You’re scaring me. DANIELLE: Who is Brianna Giardelli? Jason is dumbfounded. JASON (after a beat): Why? DANIELLE: “Why?” Did you go to school with her? JASON: Yes. She was in a sorority there. Why are you asking me? DANIELLE: Do you know what she does now? JASON: I don’t know- last I heard she got married and probably went back to Maine or something. DANIELLE: She writes. A blog. A style blog. It’s pretty popular. JASON: What the- WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS? DANIELLE: Did you two used to date? JASON: No. Kind of. DANIELLE: Kind of? JASON: We hooked up a few times. DANIELLE: Oh, so you fucked her? JASON: Danielle, Jesus! What the fuck is the matter with you? Disgusted, she tosses the folder to Jason. He picks it up, and takes out the single sheet of paper in it. He looks pale as he reads. Danielle is staring intently at him as he reads. He closes the folder. JASON: I don’t—I don’t know why she wrote that. DANIELLE: I can tell just from looking at you that it’s true. JASON: I don’t- ah. DANIELLE: Is it true? JASON: Are you seriously asking me--? DANIELLE: YES. JASON: How long have you been doing this? You know people make shit like this up for attention, ratings, or, whatever. Hell, it’s a viable business plan these days, for Chrissake. DANIELLE: Jason. I am asking you. Did you, or did you not, rape that girl in college? JASON: No. DANIELLE: Three of her friends, three of them, have all corroborated her story. Probably because they knew the backlash we would have rained down upon this girl if they didn’t. This came in this morning, so naturally I’ve had some time to look them up. These girls are lawyers, doctors, and one is a travel blog writer. They live in Minnesota, Tennessee, and Kentucky. They have nothing to gain from this. JASON: Oh really? You don’t think a bunch of bored former sorority girls have nothing to gain from becoming a TMZ household name? DANIELLE: I’m going to ask you one more time, Jason. And I want to hear your real, honest-to-God answer. Did you do it?

[Scene 15, Prompt 12] INT. TSA SECURITY CHECK-IN LINE — LATE MORNING Thirty-something JERRY stands at the exit end of the luggage conveyor, waiting for TSA WORKER-1 to finish x-raying a bag. TSA WORKER-1 looks up from the x-ray monitor at JERRY, then flags TSA WORKER-2 to look at the monitor. Behind them, restless PASSENGERS glare at JERRY and TSA WORKERS. TSA WORKER-2 whispers to TSA WORKER-1 though they cannot be heard. TSA WORKER-2 takes a floral carry-on bag as it emerges from the scanner and carries it to the end of the line where an empty table waits. TSA WORKER-3, who appears to be more senior, approaches. TSA WORKER-2 whispers in TSA WORKER-3’s ear as they both eye JERRY up and down. TSA WORKER-2: Sir, can you tell me about this bag's contents? The name on the bag doesn’t appear to match the name on the laptop bag. Did anyone give you this bag to carry? JERRY: Yes, I was supposed to carry this bag for someone. All the TSA WORKERS within hearing look up at JERRY. The security line comes to a halt as TSA WORKER-4 and TSA WORKER-5 now approach JERRY from behind while gesturing to PASSENGERS in the line to halt. TSA WORKER-2: Do you have the name of the person for whom you are carrying this bag? JERRY: Yes, my girlfriend. Her name is Elyse Johnson. She asked me to bring it with me on my trip. TSA WORKER-2: Can you tell us anything about the contents of this bag, sir? JERRY: It’s my girlfriend’s bag. She left ahead of me on a business side trip. I’m supposed to meet her on vacation and bring this bag with me. It’s got personal effects she didn’t want to pack for her business trip. TSA WORKER-2: There’s a suspicious object in this bag. We need to unload the bag and inspect the contents. JERRY: (skeptically) O-kay— TSA WORKER-2 unloads the bag slowly, one object at a time — books, additional lingerie and swimsuits in a clear plastic bag, small bottles of sunscreen, a makeup bag, phone charger, batteries. TSA WORKER-2 looks at TSA WORKER-3, shaking their head negatively. TSA WORKER-3 nods. TSA WORKER-2 feels for something at the bottom of the bag not in plain sight. TSA WORKER-2 takes the bag back to the scanner and asks TSA WORKER-1 to run it through again. They peer carefully at the display, pointing to something. TSA WORKER-2 brings the bag back from the scanner and opens the bag more fully. TSA WORKER-2: Sir, there’s a hidden pocket in this bag. We’re going to have to open this. Are you sure you can’t tell us something about it? JERRY: (more puzzled) Um, no, I have no idea what she packed, let alone that there was a hidden pocket. JERRY appears worried, running his hand through his hair. TSA WORKER-4 and TSA WORKER-5 are more alert now, watching JERRY carefully. TSA WORKER-2 turns bag upside down, then rights the bag when nothing comes out. TSA WORKER-2 palpates the bag’s interior again, then opens a Velcro closure with a long ripping sound, drawing the attention of all PASSENGERS in the security area. TSA WORKER-2 reaches into the pocket and pulls out another pack of batteries, a detachable power charger, a small bottle of personal lubricant, and a massive, flesh-colored, vibrator-dildo. JERRY’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, his jaw drops open, slack with shock as TSA WORKERS and passengers alike gasp. Holding his arms out in a calming gesture, TSA WORKER-3 raises an eyebrow at the PASSENGERS, then JERRY. TSA WORKER-3: (loudly) It’s a dick, people, not a bomb. Move along. JERRY hangs head in shame. TSA WORKER-2: Um, sorry, man. Must be some vacation your girl has planned, eh? JERRY just shakes his head as TSA WORKER-2 stows dildo and batteries back in the bag. > FADE TO BLACK.

DAY TWELVE: An interrogation scene. INT. BASEMENT – UNSPECIFIED TIME A man, DEACON, is tied up in a chair, blindfolded. He is bloody and bruised. He has a large gash in his forehead, blood clotting into his short hair. He is delirious, but resistant to any questioning that has been leveled to him thus far. However, he is clearly starting to reconsider his loyalties and giving up the information. An interrogator is pacing in front of him, his hands behind his back. A faint glint barely registers in Deacon’s eyes each time the interrogator walks by him. INTERROGATOR: I know you have the disk. Now, we can stop this any old time we want. Or we can take it up a notch. It’s all up to you. DEACON: That’s interesting. You know, I used to pray a lot. About having the strength to make it through difficult days and know when it’s not up to me when things don’t go my way. That got me through my training on many days. That being said…I’ve received worse spankings from my mother and she loved me! You think I’m going to tell you anything, you must be out of your damn mind. Now crank it up! Let’s get crazy! The interrogator glares coldly at Deacon before exiting the room. Deacon stares after him with wide eyes. Moments later, a large man walks into the room. Deacon visibly sinks down in the chair, realizing that he is about to be in for a long interview. DEACON: Well, shit…do you even lift? Like, why are you that big? Immediately, the man gives Deacon a good sock to the solar plexus, knocking the wind right out of him. He coughs and heaves for a few moments before looking back up at the man. DEACON: You know, you really need to pull your punches. It makes it harder for someone to— The man seems to follow his advice, this time rabbit punching Deacon in the jaw, causing him to go on a bit of a tailspin in the chair. DEACON: Recover from the blow. Now, if you’re also curious about the disk, as I told your friend, I don’t have any idea where it is and I would really appreciate it if I could just go. I won’t tell anyone about your torture den. You do you. I’m not into it, but there are people who are and I respect that. The man clearly grows tired of Deacon’s mouth and catches him off-guard with a barrage of bone-crushing blows to various parts of his body: eye, jaw, ribs. The previous interrogator walks back into the room, this time with a file. INTERROGATOR: It says here that you have been working with an anonymous underground organization with the adorable hopes of, what? Something about government, I’m guessing. What did you really hope to achieve? Deacon is still recovering from the latest assault. His head hangs for a moment as he tries to catch his breath. Then, he looks up at the interrogator. DEACON: All right. Fine. You want the disk? It’s at Grand Central. There’s a lock box. I don’t have the key for it though and I don’t know where it is. INTERROGATOR: Oh. You’re going to have to do better than that. DEACON: Then just beat the shit out of me because that’s all I know! The reason why there’s only so much information per person is because we can’t give you all the information if we don’t have it. INTERROGATOR: Where are the others then? Deacon pales. DEACON: I don’t know. They scattered. I haven’t been able to get in touch with them. INTERROGATOR: Are you sure? Because we were able to catch up with one. DEACON: Yes. What? You think I’m lying now? This pretty face tells no lies. The interrogator looks over to the one-way glass behind Deacon and nods sharply. The door opens to reveal the large man from before, this time, he is dragging a half unconscious man into the room. The man’s eyes are swollen shut and, once the large man lets go of him, he immediately crumples to the floor. The only indication that he is still alive in this supine position is the ragged breathing that clearly indicates broken ribs. DEACON: What did you do? INTERROGATOR: He wouldn’t talk either. I give him a week. So… He kicks around the unconscious man on the floor. He then pulls a gun from his waist and points it at the man’s head. He pulls the hammer down. INTERROGATOR: Are you sure you don’t know where that key is? DEACON: I…I…I really don’t know. Please don’t do anything. He might know. I really don’t. A gunshot sounds off loudly in the room. Deacon jumps as his bottom half is sprayed with blood. The interrogator continues to look at him. INTERROGATOR: Well, that’s just too bad.

EXT. FARM - DAY Green corn rows stand tall, husks of corn dry in the strong sunlight. A FARMHAND dusts down her dungarees, spots a FARMER between the towering aisles of corn. Farmer's eyes hide behind a sunhat, as she inspects the crop. FARMHAND: Good crop this year. FARMER: Very. FARMHAND: I'd say three times the yield. FARMER: Could well be. Farmer ducks into the adjacent corn row, dodges through to the next. Farmhand, in pursuit, swipes past the end of a row, easy to lose sight of someone in this maze. FARMHAND: What are we growing? FARMER: Corn, isn't it obvious? Farmhand squints against the sun at Farmer, at the towering plants. FARMHAND: What are you fertilising them with? FARMER: You're very curious. FARMHAND: What are we doing here? What's in this crop? Farmer evades the question, side steps Farmhand, and wanders back to the farmhouse. Farmhand watches her go, turns her attention to the plants, which almost seem to grow before her eyes. Behind her, leaves rustle.

SCENE 7 A spy and his captors INT. INTERROGATION ROOM A stalwart CYRIL SPY is tied in a chair, with leader NASTY NORRIS and his three of his cohorts are standing with gruesome intentions inside the room. NASTY NORRIS: I want your intel...something to help me sleep at night. CYRIL SPY: You're obviously confused on the type of person you think I am. NASTY NORRIS: You don't want to give me the information... OK, I give you something instead... (he picks up a sandwich on the floor, which has a big lump inside. He brings it close to Cyril Spy's face) CYRIL SPY: After you, please. NASTY NORRIS: You said you were hungry...so eat. CYRIL SPY: (a beat) And what exactly did you put in it? NASTY NORRIS: Show me you're serious and I can trust you... Show me you can be cooperative... (a beat, as he places it closer to his face) Eat. CYRIL SPY: Why don't we go out for something instead? NASTY NORRIS: You don't want to talk...you don't want to eat. CYRIL SPY: I appreciate the thought. NASTY NORRIS You have a sense of humour... Nothing to laugh about, considering what I could put down that throat of yours.... This could be a lot more painful. CYRIL SPY: I just don't have the appetite. NASTY NORRIS: OK, let's go another way... I give you one last chance to talk... If not...I take you down to the pool... I drop you in the water... My shark, he eats everything I give him... Doesn't waste a thing... The only problem is, he always leaves a lot blood...pollutes the water... So what can you do, except clean up the water and start over again. (a beat) So now tell me...what can you do for me? FADE OUT.

Scene Twelve.

Scene 7 EXT./EST. APARTMENT – NIGHT The apartment building is in the middle of the city. INT. LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN– NIGHT The apartment is small and clearly belongs to two young men just out of college. The place is mostly clean (there's nothing on the floor). There is some framed photography, clearly gifted from a friend as it is all out of their price range. All the furniture is used but suitable. Nothing matches. One of the tenants, DEVIN (early 20s), is on the sofa on his laptop. The other tenant, MARCUS (mid-20s), bursts in through the front door barely acknowledging his roommate. He enters the kitchen. MARCUS: Yo! DEVIN: Yo. You get my text? MARCUS (O.S.): My date's tonight so I'm not coming back tonight. DEVIN (smiles to himself): You know that for sure? MARCUS (O.S.)(chuckles): Yeah you know I'll put the moves on her and she'll take me back. SOUND OF THE FRIDGE OPENING MARCUS (O.S.)(CONT'D): Gotta meet her downtown in, like, an hour but I smell like ass. Everyone at work smokes. It's super annoying. DEVIN: Did you get my text? FRIDGE SLAMS SHUT. Cupboards open, a bowl is dropped on the counter. MARCUS (O.S.): Yeah I did. DEVIN (looks up): Really? MARCUS (O.S.): Yes, really. I just didn't get a chance to respond. SOUND OF CEREAL HITTING THE BOWL DEVIN: It's just that I asked you to get milk. MARCUS (O.S.): Oh yeah. The store was out of milk. DEVIN (incredulous): They were out of milk? MARCUS (O.S.): Yeah and plus-- Marcus enters with a bowl of cereal. MARCUS: We have milk here. Devin sighs as he watches Marcus put a scoop of cereal and milk in his mouth and immediately spits it back out onto the tiled kitchen floor. DEVIN: Well, in the text, I remember mentioning the milk we had was spoiled. MARCUS (O.S.): Oh my god!

Scene twelve continues from yesterday's eleven: OVER BLACK SUPER "Six months later" MONTAGE - EARLY MORNING - DAY --George's bedroom. Majo and George sleep. An alarm clock wakes them up, they kiss, put on their wedding rings. --Kitchen. She prepares breakfast, he reads some folders. --They eat breakfast. --Living room. A wedding photo of Majo and George on a wall. They walk in front of it. --They kiss goodbye. --José, Majo's friend from Colombia spies them hidden behind a bush. INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY George enters, he carries a folder. Inside Simon waits sitting on a chair. George sits in front of him and opens the folder, shows some papers. GEORGE That warehouse you told us? It hasn't been used for over a year. The list of business you said the Butcher used to laundry money. All closed. SIMON It's not my fault, man. He does it all the time. Our deal is I tell you what I know. Too bad my info is outdated. GEORGE Too bad for you, Simon. Without useful information our deal is over. What else do you know about The Butcher? SIMON Nothing, man. I've told you everything. GEORGE What are you hiding? Eh? SIMON Nothing. GEORGE Your cousin must be a really good friend of The Butcher to let you get into the Butcher's organization so quickly. SIMON Well, yes, they're good friends. GEORGE Then why none of my contacts have heard anything about him? SIMON He's... really good at hiding him... not being noticed. GEORGE We captured you very easily. Too easily. My guess is the Butcher send you to give us false information. Our deal is over, you're going to jail and the Butcher is going to follow you soon. Simon laughs. SIMON You really don't know who you're messing with, right? The Butcher got protection from guys way beyond your league. I'm the one protecting you by giving you false leads. You'll see. George hesitates. Peter enters the room, gives George a paper. PETER His deal is over and the D.A. is dropping the charges. George looks surprised. To be continued...

INT. KITCHEN - DAY Mrs. Brown prepares her own breakfast while Johnny plays with his cereal. JOHNNY: Is it a bicycle? MRS. BROWN: I'm not saying. JOHNNY: Is it a video game? MRS. BROWN: Maybe. Maybe as a stocking stuffer. But I'm not going to tell you what your big present is so stop asking. JOHNNY: Did you buy it already? She avoids eye contact. JOHNNY: You did. You did buy it already. Where did you hide it? MRS. BROWN: Don't you dare wreck this house searching all over. JOHNNY: Is it in your closet? MRS. BROWN: You stay out of my closet. JOHNNY: It is-- No, that would be too obvious. MRS. BROWN: Just stay out. JOHNNY: You're making a big fuss to make me think it's there. But I heard Daddy say you need to throw out clothes you don't wear because there's no room. MRS. BROWN: Why do you want to spoil the surprise for yourself? You can wait five days. JOHNNY: Where were you the night of the eighteenth? MRS. BROWN: What? JOHNNY: We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Mrs. Brown laughs. JOHNNY: This isn't a laughing matter, Mrs. Brown. Answer the question. MRS. BROWN: OK. I was by the Johnsons. Is that a crime, officer? JOHNNY: Detective. It depends. Is that where you hided the loot? MRS. BROWN: Hid. JOHNNY: None of your tricks. Spill. He points an accusing finger and accidentally knocks over his own plastic cup, spilling milk on the floor. Mrs. Brown hands Johnny paper towels. MRS. BROWN: Detective, the case isn't closed 'til the paperwork is done.