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                        LAW-ABIDING CITIZEN

                             Written by

                    Frank Darabont & Kurt Wimmer

    WHITE      -   9-7-8                                       1.

    FADE IN:

1   OPENING CREDIT SEQUENCE. Images and sounds are surreal,          1
    dreamlike, disturbing:

    A HAND is trying to dial three simple numbers. Trembling
    fingers miss, try again...we hear boop-boop-boop.

                                  911 OPERATOR
                    911 operator, what is your emergency?

    The phone rises, gripped tightly. Knuckles white. We're TIGHT,
    it's dark, we see no face -- just slack, trembling lips.

    Whoever it is, he can't talk. All we hear is breathing, all
    we sense is grief and panic and deep shock.

                                  OPERATOR (V.O.)
                    Hello? Can you hear me? Can you


                                  OPERATOR (V.O.)
                    What? Can you speak up?


2   EXT. ROAD - NIGHT                                                2

    Lights appear like phantoms over blacktop, flashing. Police
    cars coming our way.

                                  OPERATOR (V.O.)
                    Sir, what is the nature of your

    The man can't speak.

                                  OPERATOR (V.O.)
                    Sir? Are you injured? Do you need
                    medical attention?

    The cars blast by us...

3   INT. HOUSE - NIGHT                                               3


                    ...her eyes...she can't...

    WHITE   -   9-7-8                                            2.

4   EXT. HOUSE - NIGHT                                                4

    POLICE VEHICLES converge in SLOW-MOTION, dreamlike. Doors fly
    open, COPS jump out, weapons drawn as WE MOVE with them to:

    Front door. RAMP TO NORMAL CAMERA SPEED as it opens, revealing:

    BENSON CLYDE, phone still gripped. He barely registers the
    weapons aimed at his face. CAMERA CLOSES IN ON HIM, as:

                 She can't...close her eyes.

    He's pulled from frame. CAMERA KEEPS MOVING, following COPS
    into the house...

    Dark as hell inside. And tense. Arms training weapons. Moving
    up a tight hallway, emerging into...


    ...where the flashlight beams find blood-spatter patterns.
    Furniture shattered and overturned. A kid's sneaker.

    The flashlights play across TWO BODIES in the wreckage -- a
    woman's pale hand, a child's motionless leg.

    CAMERA DRIFTS AROUND to the cops' faces, as:

                               COP #1
                        (unsnaps shoulder radio)
                 Dispatch, we have multiple 10-55s,
                 need full response, 11-41.

5   EXT. HOUSE (SLO-MO) - NIGHT                                       5

    Chaotic now, vehicles and lights. The eye of the storm is
    Clyde on the lawn, hugging his knees, fetal with horror and
    grief. He's screaming at the sky, but no sound is coming out.
    EMS TECHS enter shot, steal the frame, race toward the door...

6   INT. HOUSE (SLO-MO) - NIGHT                                       6

    TRACKING SHOT at floor level, photos being taken. FLASHES
    bathe the foreground wreckage. FORENSIC TECHS step gingerly.
    Uniformed cops hang grimly back, hugging the walls...

    foreground, face tilted obliquely in the wreckage.

    A CAMERA FLASH reveals the face with shocking glare and the
    IMAGE FREEZES. A TEN YEAR-OLD GIRL, eyes open, staring at us.

                               CLYDE (V.O.)
                 Her eyes. That's how they were.
                 Open like that. You see?

    WHITE   -    9-7-8                                           3.

7   INT. CITY HALL - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY                            7

    Clyde is seated, speaking slowly and precisely. ANGLE WIDENS,
    revealing the room, light filtering through blinds, as:

                  When I found my wife and child dead,
                  my little girl's eyes were open.
                  The last thing she saw of this earth
                  were the faces of the men who took
                  her life. Can you understand that?

                                NICK (O.S.)
                  Yes. Yes, I can.

                  Can you? Really?
                         (looks to somebody else)

                                CANTRELL (O.S.)
                  Mr. Clyde. I don't see this helping.

                  No? You married? Children?

    Senior Attorney for the State. He wears thick glasses and is
    suffering the early stages of macular degeneration.

                  Divorced. I have a son and daughter.
                  Both in college.

                  My daughter was ten. I married late
                  in life.

    Clyde spreads the crime scene photos further on the table.
    ANGLE COMES AROUND to reveal the third man in the room:


    The D.A. under Cantrell -- focused, exceptional at what he
    does, the man you'd want on your side.

                  You, Mr. Price? Married? Kids?

    Nick doesn't answer, stays focused on the task:

                  I've seen the crime scene photos,
                  Mr. Clyde. Many times. They're
                  horrifying. But they don't alter
                  the facts of the case.

    BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        4.

                 Facts? Those men are guilty. Both
                 of them. You know they are.

                 This isn't about what we know. It's
                 about what we can prove in court.

                 Things have gone against us. Tainted
                 crime scene, evidence thrown out...

                 Maybe you just haven't tried hard                     *

                 Look. We've had only one real break
                 in this case. The fact that one
                 asshole has decided to testify
                 against the other asshole.

                 In return for immunity. So he gets
                 away with it.

                 The other man doesn't. He'll go
                 down for the crime. That has to
                 count for something.

                 Yes. It counts for half.
                        (pause, quietly)
                 Don't reward one of the men who
                 murdered my family. Please.

                 Mr. Clyde. I can't claim to know
                 what it's like to be in your
                 position. Losing your wife and child.
                 But please try to grasp how limited
                 our options are. This is how the
                 justice system works.

    Clyde sits for a long moment, numb, absorbing this.

                 Ah. I see my mistake. I came for
                 justice. Instead I got a system.

8   INT. CITY HALL - HALLWAY - DAY                                 8

    SARAH LOWELL, fresh out of law school, is waiting anxiously
    for the meeting to end, arms full of file folders.                 *

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          4A.

With her is BILL REYNOLDS, the defense attorney in this case,     *
glancing impatiently at his watch.                                *

Clyde exits the room fast, not watching where he's going,         *
accidentally plowing into Sarah as he passes.                     *

    BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         5.

                 Sorry. My fault.

                 It's okay.

    On he goes. Nick and Cantrell exit the room.

                 You're due upstairs in three minutes!
                 You're gonna be late!

                 Thank you, voice of doom.

    They move toward the elevators with Reynolds. Sarah's at their       *
    heels, sensing the tension and keeping her mouth shut.

                        (to Cantrell)                                    *
                 We doing the right thing?

                                REYNOLDS                                 *
                        (jumps in)                                       *
                 You even doubt it? C'mon, you didn't
                 just tumble off the fucking truck.
                 Do the math...

    Cantrell has trouble seeing the elevator button, misses. Nick
    presses it for him. (This is thrown away without comment;
    both men are used to Cantrell's bad eyes by now.)

    They elevator opens, they get on...                                  *

9   INT. ELEVATOR - DAY                                              9

    ...and ride up:

                 It's your office.

                 It's your decision.

    Nick shoots him a withering look, glances back at Sarah.

                 What do you think?

                               REYNOLDS                                  *
                 What are you asking her for? She's                      *
                 just an intern.                                         *

                        (deer in the headlights)                         *
                 I am just an intern.                                    *

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        6.

                  You were top of your class at Yale,
                  don't give me that shit.

                  Young lady. Someday you might have
                  our jobs. You know the issues of                      *
                  the case before the court. Speak.

                  Okay. Um. You can take both men to
                  trial, spend a year and millions of
                  taxpayer dollars, and probably lose.
                  Or you can cut a deal and at least
                  put one of the men who did the crime
                  on death row. It's a no-brainer.                      *
                  You make the deal.                                    *

                                 REYNOLDS                               *
                          (smug, to the men)                            *
                  Duh.                                                  *

     They trade a look. Cantrell glances to Sarah.                      *

                  When the day comes that you argue a
                  real case in court, you might refrain
                  from summing up with "duh."

                                SARAH                                   *
                  I'll avoid that.                                      *

10   INT. JUDGE'S CHAMBERS - DAY                                      10

     JUDGE LAURA BURCH presides. Nick, Cantrell, Sarah are present.    *
     CLARENCE DARBY is the focus, Bill Reynolds at his side.           *

                                JUDGE BURCH                             *
                  The agreement has been vetted by
                  both sides? Satisfactory to all?

                  Yes, your Honor. Defense approves.

                  State also approves, your Honor.

     Nick places a document before DARBY, along with a pen.

                  Clarence Darby. This document
                  guarantees that you will provide
                  testimony against Rupert Ames in
                  the matter of which you were both
                  accused. In return, you will be

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                           7.

                                NICK (CONT'D)
                  shielded from further prosecution
                  for those capital crimes. But you
                  will plead guilty to the lesser
                  charge of breaking and entering.

                  You'll do a maximum of five years.
                  With good behavior, you could be
                  out in three.

                                JUDGE BURCH
                  That also depends on your testimony
                  and the level of your cooperation.

                  Your Honor need not worry on my
                  account. I assure the court that I
                  am aware of the opportunity I've
                  been given. And I am deeply grateful
                  to all concerned.

     Nick gives Cantrell a glance, both stoically enduring this
     proceeding. Darby pulls the document closer.

                  If I may. It has come to my attention
                  that Rupert Ames has been spreading                   *
                  lies about me to the tabloid press.                   *
                  About certain alleged activities of                   *
                  which I have no knowledge. Sexual
                  and otherwise. Libel and

                  You can always sue him.

                  Well, no matter. My tongue will wag
                  in court, under oath. His tongue
                  will wag in hell.

     He puts pen to paper, looks to Nick.

                  He'll get the chair?

                  We don't do chair. We do needle.

11   INT. CITY HALL - GRAND INTERIOR STAIRCASE - DAY                   11

     Cathedral-like, pigeons fluttering. The door from the hallway
     opens and BETSY, a months-old GERMAN SHEPHERD PUPPY, bounds
     toward us on a leash pulling Cantrell toward the top of the
     vast marble staircase. Nick trails them, nervous as hell:

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         8.

                  Whoa, Jonas, take my elbow.                          *

                  I'm not blind. Yet. I'll do it.

                  You're shitty on stairs. At least
                  let me take the leash so the dog
                  doesn't pull you down.

                  No. She needs to imprint on me. Not
                  you, not somebody else.

     Cantrell starts down. Nick's at his side, hovering and ready
     to grab him, jumping at every little lurch Cantrell makes.

                  That's the whole point of this phase.
                  She needs to get the idea that she
                  and I are partners. Then the real
                  training can begin. Unless you wanna
                  lead me around the rest of my life.

                  I'll pass.

12   EXT. COURTHOUSE STEPS - DAY                                     12

     Nick and Cantrell emerge into daylight and find Darby in the
     protective custody of a FEDERAL MARSHAL on the courthouse
     steps, surrounded by a crush of REPORTERS:

         was a burglary gone wrong. We
                  thought the house was empty. Rupert
                  found the woman and child at home
                  and went crazy. I was stoned and in
                  fear of my own life, so I fled...

     They catch sight of Bill Reynolds, the defense attorney.

                  Bill! You let all your clients give
                  testimony on the courthouse steps?

                  Hellooo, kettle to pot. Since when
                  do you shy away from publicity?

                  Since everything in this case has
                  gone sideways so far. Tell your boy
                  to save it for the courtroom.

BLUE   -     9-19-08                                        9.

               He's your boy too now. You tell

Reynolds proceeds down the steps...




...and vanishes in the crowd. Nick glances sourly toward Darby.

               ...and may I say for the record how
               very sorry I am that I failed to
               prevent Rupert Ames from committing
               those terrible crimes...

               You good here?

               Long as nobody bumps into me.

CAMERA FOLLOWS Nick through the crowd toward Darby...

               ...been given a chance to put the
               drugs and foul living behind me. To
               atone for my past failings and
               weakness of character. It is a gift
               given me by God's grace...

Darby sees Nick, grabs his hand, shaking it for the cameras.

               ...and the grace and wisdom of this
               court. I cannot thank you enough,
               sir. I cannot.

A BARRAGE OF CAMERA FLASHES. Nick caught off guard before the     *
press, Darby not letting go. Then Nick sees:                      *


Clyde, a tiny defeated figure far below, waits at the bus
stop. He's gazing up, seeing this photo op happen.


breaks the handshake with a flush of discomfort, signals the
federal marshal:

     WHITE   -   9-7-8                                           10.

                  Marshal, escort your man, please!
                         (to the reporters)
                  Mr. Darby is done here!

     Darby is hustled down the steps. The reporters surge to Nick,
     surrounding him, shouting questions.

     Nick looks over their heads and glimpses Clyde getting on a
     bus. The door closes, the bus pulls away...

13   INT. NICK'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                         13

     Nick enters. Dark. He drops his briefcase by the door.

14   INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT                                             14

     REFLECTED IN THE MIRROR: KELL, Nick's wife, is just out of
     the bath, wearing a robe and toweling her hair.

     Nick enters behind her. She cranes back for a kiss, keeps
     toweling her hair in the mirror. He hugs her from behind,
     buries his face in her neck. Drained.

                  Shit day?

                  Shit day. Better now.
                  How's she doing?

                  Fine. She drove me a little crazy

                  She was busy?

                  In overdrive. Here. Feel.

     He reaches around, slowly unties her robe, pulls it open...

     ...revealing her pregnant belly. (Our angles have avoided
     this till now.) He places his hand, feeling for movement.

                  Of course she stops kicking the
                  moment you get home.

15   INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT                                              15

     SLOW TRACKING SHOT finds them in bed, Nick with his head on
     Kell's chest. Pensive.

WHITE   -   9-7-8                                           11.

             I had to say some things to a man
             today I didn't want to say. And I
             did something I didn't want to do.

             You didn't lie to him. Or bullshit
             him. Or shine him on.

             None of those things.

             So you had your reasons. You did
             what you had to. It's not your fault
             the world sucks.

Nick smiles, eases his face to her belly.

             You in there. Listen up. Your mother
             just said the world sucks. You may
             wanna rethink this whole thing. My
             advice? If you're asking? Just stay
             in there. I promise you, nothing
             will ever make as much sense as it
             does right now...

             What is wrong with you?

    there's shit you don't need
             to know about. Rap. Internet porn.
             Madonna's entire back catalog.

             Did someone drop you on your head?
             Seriously. I have swollen ankles
             and all I do is pee. That baby's
             coming out.

                    (weighs that)
             Okay. I'm sure you heard that. Then
             again there are the Beatles. 70's
             funk. Louie. Ella. Be a shame to
             miss those.
                    (beat, getting serious)
             All right, kid. Bring it on. But
             when you're old enough for the world
             to disappoint you, I hope you won't
             blame your old man for bringing you
             into this mess. Give me that at

                                            FADE TO BLACK

     WHITE   -   9-7-8                                           12.

16   INT. BEDROOM - DAWN                                               16

     Nick and Kell asleep. She's no longer pregnant -- it's now
     ten years later. A long beat of quiet...

     A small face peers in from the hallway. EMMA, their 10 year-
     old daughter. She darts in, puts her face to Nick's.


                  Huh? Wha--?

                  You know what it is?


                  IT'S MY BIRTHDAAAAAY!

     She jumps up on the bed, bouncing up and down and dancing
     around, hollering at the top of her lungs:

                  IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY,
                  IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

     Nick and Kell are too groggy to do anything but ride it out.
     Emma sails off the bed and vanishes out the door, hollering
     all the way up the hallway:

                  I'M SO COOL IT'S MY BIRTHDAAAY!

     Nick and Kell are left groping with blankets, heart rates,
     and consciousness:

                  Glad it's once a year.

17   INT. KITCHEN/BREAKFAST AREA - MORNING                             17

     Nick and Emma finishing breakfast, getting ready to leave,
     Kell packing Emma's lunch at the counter:

                  Why can't you be here?

                  It's a work thing. Grownup stuff.
                  You know that happens sometimes.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       13.

                  But it's...
                         (draws sneakily close)
                  ...MY BIRTHDAAAAAY!

     He claps his hand over her mouth.

                  I believe we've established that. I
                  let go, you'll stop reminding me?
                         (she nods, he lets go)
                  We'll celebrate this weekend. Tonight
                  is all about your friends. Knock                    *
                  yourselves out, don't give mom any                  *
                  grief. I'll try to be home in time
                  to tuck you in, okay?

                  Okay. But what are you doing tonight
                  that is more important than...

     She's doing that "sneakily drawing close" thing again. Nick
     holds up his finger, cautioning her to say it quietly.

                         (leans in, whispers)

                  Something he'd get out of if he
                  could. Here. Take lunch. Grab                       *
                  backpack. We go.                                    *

     Emma grabs her stuff, kisses dad, races from the room. Kell
     grabs her keys to follow, kisses Nick goodbye.

                  Nice evasion. Thanks.

18   EXT. RURAL ROAD - DUSK                                         18

     Cars are traveling an old service road...

19   INT. TOWN CAR - DUSK                                           19

     Nick's in back with Cantrell. The years have left Cantrell
     90% blind; his glasses are beyond Coke bottle-thick.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         14.

      Between them sits Betsy the German shepherd, now ten years
      old, wearing a guide-dog harness. She looks miserable wearing
      a big cone-shaped POST-SURGERY COLLAR.

                   How long she have to wear this stupid

                   Till the stitches heal. Week or

      Nick dotes on the dog, they're old pals:

                   Poor honey. Sucks, doesn't it? But
                   you're very pretty. Yes, you are.
                   Even with a radar dish on your head.

                   There they are. Like clockwork.

      ANGLE SHIFTS TO Sarah -- much more confident and power-suited
      than last time we saw her -- riding up front with the driver.


      The car pulls up to the gate as CAMERA RISES to reveal the         *
      new facility positioned right next to the old one...               *

20    INT. EXECUTION CHAMBER - NIGHT                                    20

      The condemned, RUPERT AMES, is placed against the upright
      execution table and buckled in. The table is tilted back to
      vertical. All Rupert can do is lay there and watch, as:

      MEDICAL TECHS swab his arms with alcohol, prepare the needles,
      find his veins. The needles are inserted, taped off. The I.V.
      lines are attached. Very methodical.

      The techs leave the room. The curtain is drawn aside, revealing
      the big window that separates the chamber from:

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          15.

21   INT. VIEWING ROOM - NIGHT                                         21

     Nick and his colleagues are among SEVERAL DOZEN WITNESSES
     seated in chairs. They watch as WARDEN IGER faces Rupert.

                                WARDEN IGER
                  Rupert Ames. Do you have anything
                  to say?

     Rupert doesn't have much of an IQ and he's scared shitless,
     but he does his best:

                  I'm here. Clarence Darby ain't. And
                  that ain't right. 'Cause that man
                  is evil, ain't no other way to say
                  it. All them things he done, and
                  him turn witness against me for it.

     He pauses, trying to untangle his thoughts.

                  I did wrong too. I guess I'll pay
                  up. But it was always him sayin'
                  jump and how high, and I just went
                  along. Now he's killin' me and he
                  got you people to do it. And that's
                  a shame. A goddamn shame. And...
                  ...and I guess that's all.

     Nick trades a look with Sarah. Cantrell is stoic.

     Warden Iger nods to TWO GUARDS manning the LETHAL INJECTION
     row are the main feature, filled with various clear liquids.

     There are two switches -- one a dummy, the other live (no way
     to know which is which). The guards power up the machine.
     Lights activate on the board. Each man grabs a switch, waits.

     Nick watches the wall clock. It hits 7 o'clock. The warden         *
     nods and the guards flick their switches, quickly leaving the      *
     room. The warden follows them out, closes the door.

     We hear the pumps quietly activate. Rupert is taking shallow
     breaths, terrified...then lays back to wait.

     PLUNGER ONE slowly descends, emptying its contents into the
     I.V. lines...

     Rupert sags as the fast-acting barbiturate spreads through
     his veins...his breathing slows...his head drops back... he
     loses consciousness...

     PLUNGER TWO depresses, sending the second vial of liquid into
     the I.V. lines with a quiet whir of pumps...

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         16.

PLUNGER THREE activates...then PLUNGER FOUR...the row of
cylinders emptying in sequence...

Rupert lies unconscious, just drifting away...

He suddenly comes to. He draws in a long, shaky breath. It
catches in his throat. His eyes go wide. His entire body starts
to clench against some increasing pain.

Nick is surprised, uncertain. Betsy starts GROWLING SOFTLY at     *
Cantrell's side. Her head comes up, hackles rising.               *

Nick glances to the dog...then to Iger, sees the stunned look
on the warden's face. Something is definitely wrong.

The pumps keep whirring, the plungers keep descending...

Rupert he throws his head back, mouth wide...


The witnesses go tense, confused -- what the hell?

             Ah--ah--Jesus, don't that HURT!

Rupert looks down at his arms, his expression turning to sheer
horror, because: The veins are turning angry red, then
blackening, as the liquids course through them...


Those are last coherent words he speaks. From then on, he's
just shrieking and bouncing against his straps, because:

His veins are starting to smoke. Noxious and foul. The flesh
starts giving away, blood eating though skin like acid.

Shock sweeps the onlookers:

             Oh, Jesus.

             What's going on? Nick?

People are on their feet. Horror and incomprehension.

             Nick, goddamn it, what?

             I don't know!

Rupert is fast becoming a horror:

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       17.

     It's going down his arms and legs, up his neck, infusing his
     ears -- a nauseating discoloration courses through his body,
     using his veins as a road map, going from red to yellow to
     black like bruises birthing spontaneously before our eyes...

     People in the room scream, turning away. Nick pushes his way
     to the viewing glass, shouting at the techs:

                  WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON? DO

     The techs dash into the chamber -- but are instantly gagging      *
     and choking on the toxic fumes billowing from Rupert. They        *
     retreat coughing, pulling the door shut again.                    *

     Rupert's screams spew forth toxic fumes...breath blows smoke
     from his nostrils...eyes liquefy...he's arching against his
     restraints so hard that bones begin snapping, blood spewing
     and smoking through his skin...

     All Nick can do is stand at the glass in horror as whatever
     is happening runs its course and the victim collapses in a
     cloudy, toxic haze...

22   EXT. PRISON YARD - PARKING AREA - NIGHT                          22

     Drained and waiting: Nick sitting against the town car.
     Cantrell across from him with Betsy at his side (the guide
     dog will always be at his side in this movie, specified or
     not). EMERGENCY LIGHTS are swirling all around them.

     Iger, COPS, PRISON STAFF. Intense:

                  We're still trying to sort through
                  this thing.

                  Gentlemen, we face a terrible
                  shitstorm of scrutiny in the days
                  to come. We need answers. Start
                  with what we know.

                  Lethal injection is a series of
                  drugs given in a specific order.
                  Somebody had to have replaced one
                  or more of those ingredients with
                  something else.
                         (off their looks)
                  Industrial solvent? Acid?

                  Let's not guess, let forensics do
                  its job.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       18.

                                CANTRELL                               *
                  How could the chemicals be switched?
                  We're in a goddamn prison!                           *

                                NICK                                   *
                  I'll ask because somebody has to.                    *
                  Is there any chance, no matter how
                  remote, that this was an accident?
                  A mix-up? Weird shit happens?

     A beat of awkward silence. The warden hesitating.

                  Show them. The bad part.

23   INT. PHONE JUNCTION ROOM - NIGHT                                23*

     Dunnigan brings our group in. ELECTRICIANS huddle at an array    *
     of circuits and trunk lines. In the dancing flashlight beams:    *

                                DUNNIGAN                               *
                  Some kind of bypass on the phone                     *

     Nick sees a CIRCUIT-BOARD spliced into the wiring.

                                DUNNIGAN                               *
                  Twenty minutes before the execution,                 *
                  the prison stopped receiving incoming
                  calls and emails. Cell service went                  *
                  dark too. Signal was probably jammed.

                                SARAH                                  *
                  The bad part. I was just on with
                  the Governor's office. He commuted
                  Rupert Ames' sentence. They were
                  trying to call us to stop the
                  execution. They couldn't get through.

     Nick and Cantrell are stunned as this sinks in.

                  The Governor's incoming number
                  triggered this device and shut out
                  any further calls.

     Cantrell removes his glasses, rubs his eyes. Softly:

                  Oh, fuck me. Fuck me.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       19.

                                DUNNIGAN                                *
                  One more thing.                                       *

     Dunnigan aims his maglight and swings the junction box cover
     all the way open. Scrawled on the inside of the door in red
     are the words: "HIS TONGUE WILL WAG IN HELL."

                  This mean anything to you?                            *

     CAMERA PUSHES IN on Nick...

24   EXT. PRISON YARD - PARKING AREA - NIGHT                          24

     Nick's LAPTOP sits on an unmarked car, streaming the D.A.'S
     DATABASE by wireless. Nick taps the keys, as:

                  Clarence Darby. That's what he said
                  when he agreed to testify against
                  the man we executed tonight.

                  "His tongue will wag in hell." Those
                  very words? It was ten years ago.

                  I remember it too. Some things stick
                  in your head.

                  Check the court transcripts, they're
                  public record.

     DARBY'S MUGSHOT (ten years ago) scans up, along with pertinent    *
     info of that time. GARZA, Dunnigan's partner, peers at it.        *

                                GARZA                                   *
                  I know this prick. I'm pretty sure                    *
                  he's one of our C.I.s.

     Surprised looks are traded.

                  You think, or you know?

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       20.

                  That's not the name he uses now.                    *
                  But I'm pretty sure he's one of
                  Bernstein's informants.

                  Okay, raise Bernstein, I want
                  everything he's got, including an
                  address. We roll with tactical.

                  How about I ride-along? Give you a
                  fast, accurate ID on this guy?

                  Is that necessary?

                  You said yourself we should move
                  fast. This thing'll be all over the
                  morning news cycle. We'd all look a
                  lot better if we have the right man
                  in custody by then.

     Off Cantrell's look...

25   EXT. BRIDGE/CITYSCAPE - NIGHT                                   25

     speeding across a bridge.

26   INT. UNMARKED CAR (MOVING) - NIGHT                              26

     Garza driving. Dunnigan riding shotgun. Nick in back, putting    *
     on a tactical vest. A transmission comes over the car's          *
     dashboard computer: a MURKY NIGHTTIME SHOT OF A MAN in           *
     sunglasses and Hawaiian shirt.                                   *

                  That's him. "Wayne Dunlap."

                  Is that Clarence Darby?

                  I think so. Hard to tell.

     Dunnigan scrolls the classified police data pertaining to the
     informant: dates, number of convictions attributed...

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       21.

                  Jesus, look at this. No wonder
                  Bernstein loves him.

                  We scored a lot of good intel off
                  this fuckhead through the years.
                  Almost a shame to bag the guy.

     A snort from Nick. The cops glance back.

                  A shame?

                  He's helped us put a lot of bad
                  people behind bars. Look. Arrests,

                  I can read a C.I. profile. What I
                  see is an asshole dirty up to his
                  ears in the drug trade. So you cops
                  look the other way? He gets a free
                  pass as long as he keeps feeding
                  you convictions?

                  Isn't that what you did ten years
                  ago? Give this guy a free pass in
                  return for a conviction?
                         (off Nick's look)
                  Maybe we played this asshole to our
                  advantage on the street, but you're
                  the one who put him there. So, no
                  offense, but you might wanna go
                  fuck yourself a little.

     Nick stares at the man on the dashboard computer screen...

27   INT. CLARENCE DARBY'S HOUSE - NIGHT                               27*

     ...who is indeed Clarence Darby, naked and drenched with sweat,    *
     taking a hit off a crack pipe. A woman's HAND flails up into
     frame, trying to grab for it.


     He sucks in a full breath, hands the pipe off to: LISA, the
     thin tattooed skank he's got bent over his bed and is fucking
     from behind. She flares the bowl with a lighter, barely
     registering any reaction as he keeps pumping her.

BLUE    -   9-19-08                                      22.

              Almost. Almost.

              This shit makes you soft, baby.

                     (thrusting, grimacing)
              Thank you...for stating the

He grits his teeth. Screams. Finishes. He sags, catching his
breath, and glances at the PLASMA TV SCREEN, which has been
playing silently. He grabs the remote, unmutes the set:

                            NEWSCASTER (V.O.)                   *
              ...rumors the execution did not go
              well due to technical flaws, but
              that has yet to be confirmed...

              "Did not go well." Way to go, Rupert.
              You even fucked up dying.

              You know that guy?

              Knew. Past tense.

CELL PHONE RINGS, he answers.


              Depends. Who's this?

              Somebody who doesn't want to see
              you in jail. Look out your window.
                     (Darby hesitates)
              Argue later. Do it now.

Darby goes to the window. Headlights in the distance. Lots of
them. He grabs binoculars off the sill.


All cop. Racing this way. No lights, no sirens.


lowers the binoculars, stunned.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         23.

                  There's a world of shit coming your
                  way. I'd get out the back. Now.

     Click -- line dead. Darby frozen for a moment, looking around
     at all the drugs and paraphernalia. He scrambles, tossing on
     his pants, grabbing his shirt. Lisa jumps off the bed --


     She goes to the window, sees cars sweeping from the darkness.

                  Are those fucking cops?

     Darby lunges to a bookcase, grabs a REVOLVER from behind the         *
     books, sails out the bedroom door...

28   INT. DOWNSTAIRS - NIGHT                                             28

     ...and races down the steps with Lisa at his heels.

                  You ain't leaving me here!

     She catches him halfway across the room, holding him back. He
     smashes the gun into her face repeatedly...

                  OFF'A ME!

     ...and knocks her bleeding and crying to the floor. He sails
     on through the kitchen, leaving her there...

29   EXT. DARBY'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                          29

     ...and bursts through the screen door, fleeing barefoot across
     the back yard as VEHICLES AND COPS swarm the front of the
     house. A cruiser nails him with a spotlight:

                                COP VOICE
                         (over car speakers)
                  You! Freeze right there!

     Darby, never slowing, swings his arm around, FIRING his
     revolver blindly at all the lights...

30   EXT. FRONT YARD - NIGHT                                             30

     ...whoa, fuck, gunshots! Cops scramble and dive.   Nick has
     just gotten out of Dunnigan's car -- a cruiser's   window takes
     a blind hit nearby, exploding glass. Nick ducks,   total shock,      *
     out of his element. Drawing, Dunnigan throws him   to the ground.    *

                  STAY DOWN!

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          24.

31   EXT. BAD NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT                                     31

     Darby runs like an amped-up rat in a maze, hearing cop cars
     in the night: Engines ROARING, tires SQUEALING...

     Suddenly, the SOUND OF A HELICOPTER above. Darby dashes for
     cover against a garage, lost in shadow. A massively bright
     searchlight sweeps from above, probing...

     Darby crouches, heart hammering, watching the searchlight
     scan over rooftops. His phone RINGS, he answers:

                  Ditch the gun. Wipe the prints.

                  Kiss my ass.

                  I heard six shots. Revolver? Bring
                  extra ammo?

     Darby glances at the gun, realizing. He bangs his head back
     against the garage wall in frustration -- fuck!

                  You shot at cops. That's attempted
                  murder if they find the gun on you.
                  You're in deep enough without that.

     Darby frantically wipes the gun with his shirttail, as:

                  You'll need my help getting out.

                  What'll it cost me?

                  We'll discuss terms later. Go south,
                  across 10th. Past the El tracks.
                  Alley behind the clinic.

                  What's there?

                  A cop. Take his ride, he won't give                    *
                  you any trouble.

                  How do you know?

                  'Cause I tasered his ass. You gonna
                  keep asking questions?

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         25.

     Click -- line dead. Darby breaks cover, heaves the gun into
     somebody's yard, keeps moving...

32   EXT. DARBY'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                       32

     Chaotic with cops and lights. Lisa is dragged out, shrieking
     and bleeding, her face a broken mess. ANGLE TO Nick watching
     it all unfold. He sees Dunnigan approach:

                  No way he's getting out of this

33   EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT                                               33

     Darby finds a POLICE CRUISER parked in the moonlight, window
     down. Dark inside. A LOCAL COP is sprawled across the front
     seat...groaning, coming to.

     Darby jumps in, passenger side, wrestles the cop upright. He
     yanks the cop's service revolver, slapping him awake.


     Darby reaches over and keys the engine to life.

                  Drive, fucker! I'll put your brains
                  on the dash!

                  Don't shoot! Don't hurt me, okay?

                  Depends on you. Go.

     The cop hits the gas. Tense moments go by as they accelerate
     up a dark road. Darby ducks as COP CARS stream past.

34   EXT. DARBY'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                       34

     Dunnigan and Nick tense, hearing a VOICE over the radio:

                                COP VOICE
                         (heavily filtered)
                  ...air unit three...see no sign of
                  suspect...think we lost him...

                         (keys mic)
                  Keep sweeping the area, unit three.
                         (to Tactical Commander)
                  Go house-to-house. Check everything.                  *
                  Garages, dumpsters, storm drains...                   *

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        25A.

                           NICK                                  *
             You gotta be kidding me.                            *

Dunnigan -- angry, at a loss -- doesn't reply. Cops are          *
scrambling in all directions.                                    *

Nick turns, steps TOWARD CAMERA INTO A TIGHT SHOT, gazing off    *
into the darkness. Something very weird just happened here,      *
but he has no idea what. Softly:                                 *

                           NICK                                  *
             How could we lose him?                              *

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          26.

35   EXT. INDUSTRIAL ZONE - NIGHT                                      35

     Tracks and factories, remote and deserted. Far away, the POLICE
     COPTER is still buzzing, searching...

     The police cruiser appears, stops. Darby emerges with gun and      *
     flashlight leveled, motions for the cop to get out. The cop        *
     complies with hands raised, shaking.

                  In the ditch.

                  ...please...don't kill me...

                  Knees. Let's go.

     Darby shoves him stumbling into the ditch. The cop sinks to
     his knees and starts to weep.

                  I'll never see my wife and little
                  girl again. I'll never see them.

                  It's fucked up.

     Darby steps closer, draws the hammer back, takes aim for a
     head shot...but his PHONE RINGS. He pulls it fast.

                  This my guardian angel?

     On his knees in the muck, the cop's quiet weeping becomes
     soft laughter. He brings up a cell phone, speaks into it:

                  I see you got out okay.

     Darby draws back, confused, gun still aimed. The cop snaps
     his cell phone shut, rises to face him.

                  You know why I'll never see my wife
                  and daughter again?

     He takes his hat off, peels his moustache away. Darby pins
     him with the flashlight, finally and fully revealing:

                                BENSON CLYDE
                  You took them from me.

     Recognition floods Darby. He pulls the trigger, and:

       BLUE      -   9-19-08                                    27.

       Nothing. Just a click, Darby freezing, a hiss of pain. Not
       comprehending.                                                   *

       Clyde reaches for the gun, pries open Darby's fingers, pulls
       it from his grasp... revealing the TINY NEEDLES that sprang
       from the pistol's grip into Darby's palm.

       Darby stares at his perforated palm. His knees give out and
       Clyde catches him, eases him to the ground.                      *

36     OMITTED                                                        36*
THRU                                                                  THRU
38                                                                    38

39     INT. FARM SHED - NIGHT                                         39*

       ANGLE: A head encased in a hood. The hood is pulled off,
       revealing Darby -- eyes wide, lying on a rough table. Benson
       Clyde leans over him, checks his pupils.

                       Can't speak?

       He displays the prop gun rigged with the needles.

                       Tetrototoxin. Fascinating stuff. It
                       paralyzes you, but leaves all other
                       neurological functions intact.

WHITE   -   9-7-8                                          28.

He sets the gun down, starts rooting through some instruments
that Darby can't see (though he's straining to).

             That means you can't move. Or talk.
             But you can see. Hear. Feel.
                    (busying himself)
             That last one's important. Feel.
             You can feel everything.
                    (glances at bottled drugs)
             Got some other items here. Drugs to
             revive you in case you pass out.
             Stuff like that.

Darby almost manages to speak, thrashing weakly. Clyde leans
over, checks his pupils again.

             Wearing off a little. No worries.

He tucks a padded block under Darby's head like a pillow,
raising his head so he can see better. Clyde moves down the
table, tightens straps holding Darby down. But the worst part:

TOURNIQUETS are tied on Darby's arms and legs at various
points. Darby sees them and starts hyperventilating.

             Oh. These. Don't want you bleeding
             out. This will take a while.

Clyde puts on a thick coat, like a meat-packer's. He returns,
sorting implements, Darby trying to see. Clyde obliges him,
holding things up:

                    (bolt cutter)
             Fingers. Maybe toes.
             Eyelids. In case you insist on
             shutting your eyes.

Darby's screaming -- but with the tetrototoxin in his system,
all that's coming out is air, like a slow leak.

Clyde picks up an object, unfolds it -- a full-body plastic
coat. He puts it on over his other coat, as:

             Earlier on the phone? I said I'd
             get you out? You asked me what it
             would cost? Well.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       29.

     He finishes buttoning up, crosses back to the table, raises a
     new object into view: a CIRCULAR POWER SAW.                        *

                  We'll start with an arm and a leg.
                  Go from there.

     Pause. The reality of what he's about to do washing over him:     *

                  I've been waiting to say that line                    *
                  for years. But it wasn't very funny,
                  was it? No. Played much better in
                  my head. Maybe it's my delivery.

     He puts a construction-site face protector atop his head, the
     kind with a full plastic face shield that can be flipped down.    *

     He turns and undoes the slipknot of a laundry cord stretching     *
     up to the ceiling. He feeds the cord and a full-length mirror     *
     tilts down horizontally above the table. Darby finds himself      *
     staring straight up into it -- he'll see everything.              *


     The CAMERA'S LCD SCREEN looms large in our shot. The LCD is
     dark, the camera inactive. It's mounted high on a tripod,
     aimed down at the table. Clyde approaches b.g., pauses.

                  Gosh. My heart's beating. You?                        *

     He flips his visor down -- dark, no face visible. He reaches
     up, turns the camera on. The LCD screen activates.

     ANGLE CLOSES IN until all we see is:

     THE LCD IMAGE. Grainy in low light. Clyde, now faceless behind
     the visor, crosses to the squirming figure on the table. We

                                              FADE TO BLACK

     ...and the SHRIEKING SAW FADES...

40   HOLD IN BLACK.                                                   40

     THE BLACKNESS OPENS UP -- we're in a cop car's trunk looking
     up as the lid is opened. A FIGURE in a meat-packing coat looms
     over us, faceless and scary behind a dark face protector.

     ANGLE INTO TRUNK                                                   *

     reveals OFFICER HILTS hand-cuffed and duct-taped. He's spent      *
     the night in here. He recoils, terrified and blinded by glare.    *

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                      29A.

     The figure opens a wicked-sharp butterfly knife, CLICK-CLACKS
     it open. He leans down, slits the tape binding Hilts' arms,
     drops the keys in the cop's hands.

41   EXT. COUNTRY DIRT ROAD - DAWN                                   41

     The police cruiser sits on a dirt road, a FEMALE DISPATCHER'S
     VOICE issuing softly and incessantly from the radio:

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          30.

                                FEMALE VOICE
                  ...unit twenty one, come in...unit
                  twenty one, please
                  your location...

     The mysterious figure strides from the police cruiser to a
     MIDNIGHT BLUE 1965 LINCOLN CONTINENTAL in superb condition,
     shrugging off his thick coat. He gets in, hits the gas.

     Hilts struggles to uncuff himself in the cruiser's trunk,          *
     arms and legs cramping, as:                                        *

     The Lincoln becomes a CLOUD OF DUST receding in the distance...    *

42   INT. NICK'S KITCHEN - MORNING                                     42*

     Cleaning up the aftermath of the party: Nick up on a step-
     stool taking down the birthday banner; Kell in her robe feeding
     the dishwasher; Emma zooming in and out shuttling paper plates
     and plastic cups into a big trash bag...

                  ...and while we were singing karaoke,
                  Ashley was all dancing around and
                  jumping up and down and suddenly
                  she gets this look on her face...

                  I saw it coming.

                  ...and suddenly she just went barf.
                  Total puke moment. And we were all
                  like, ewwww gross! It was so funny...

     She's out of the kitchen to grab more stuff. Kell starts
     preparing a bowl of cereal for Emma.

                  Funny for her. I cleaned it up.

                  I had my "ewwww gross" moment last
                  night too.

                  Hey. I had a house full of shrieking
                  ten year-old girls.

                  Hey. I saw a guy's veins dissolve.

                  Honey. It's not a competition.
                         (off his look)
                  Okay, you win.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        31.

     Emma re-enters, dumping more trash:

         Tara says that's what you get
                  for eating too much cake and that
                  almost made Ashley puke again...

     The DOORBELL RINGS. Kell glances out the window.


                         (grabs her cereal)
                  I'll get it!

     She runs out. Nick comes off the step-stool, gratefully accepts
     a cup of coffee from Kell. He suddenly freezes, notices:

     The kitchen TV is playing CNN: a top-of-the-hour story on the
     Rupert Ames execution and foul-up.

                  Oh, shit. We've gone national.

43   INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY                                            43

     At the front door, a MESSENGER hands Emma a GIFT BASKET
     trailing mylar balloons with "Happy Birthday Emma" on them.

                  Thank you!

     She closes the door, turns toward us, finds a CARDBOARD
     ENVELOPE on the basket -- a card? She opens it, finds:

     Not a card. An unlabeled DVD.

44   EXT. COUNTRY DIRT ROAD - DAY                                      44

     LOCAL SHERIFFS (not city cops) are spreading out across the        *
     fields, beating the grass, looking for clues...

     ANGLE TO Officer Hilts, blanket-draped and still rattled by
     his night-long ordeal, being interviewed by a SERGEANT:

                  ...the suspect who tasered you last                    *
                  night...was it the same person who                     *
                  let you out of the trunk this

                  I never saw a face...either time...he
                  wore a thing, a face shield...

     Suddenly, we hear a DISTANT VOICE shouting in panic:

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          32.

                  Sergeant! Sergeant!

     Everybody's gaze snaps up, tense. Across the fields, a YOUNG
     COP is stumbling away from a distant farm shed, pointing:          *

                                YOUNG COP
                  Come quick! You gotta see this!

45   INT. NICK'S KITCHEN - DAY                                         45

     Nick at the table with Kell, riveted to CNN: STATE OFFICIALS,
     including Iger, are being grilled in a media frenzy. Cantrell
     was right, it's a shitstorm of scrutiny...

46   INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY                                            46

     Emma, munching her bowl of breakfast cereal, slots the DVD in
     the player. She backs up, hits play with the remote.

     An IMAGE appears on screen, grainy. Emma looks perplexed.
     It's not a normal DVD -- more like a bad home movie:

     A figure in a plastic coat and face shield turns from the
     camera to a table, where another man is strapped down.

     The first man raises a circular saw. The man on the table is
     thrashing weakly, trying to move. Emma still has no idea what
     she's looking at. Suddenly:

     The man with the saw makes a quick sweep across the table,
     across the other man's leg at the shin. The move was so fast
     and casual that it's taking a moment to sink in:

     Emma stands frozen, clutching her cereal bowl.


     B.G., we see Nick lean back in his chair, reacting to her
     tone of voice...and by what sounds like a shrieking saw.

     On screen, the man with the saw picks up the severed limb and
     shows it to the victim. It's been lopped off below the knee.

     Emma drops her bowl -- it shatters at her feet. Nick and Kell
     enter behind her, confused, not sure what they're seeing...

     On screen, the man with the saw lops off the victim's forearm.

                  Oh my God!

     Emma turns, throws herself into her parents' arms. They drop
     to their knees, shielding their sobbing daughter. PUSH IN ON
     them staring at the shrieking saw...

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          33.

                  What the hell is this? Jesus Christ,
                  Nick! Turn it off! Turn it off!
                         (comforting Emma)
                  It's okay, baby, I'm here...

     Nick lunges to turn off the TV as:


47   INT. FARM SHED - DAY                                              47*

     The door is swung open in a blaze of sunlight. The local cops
     enter with pistols drawn and shotguns leveled. Faces go stark
     with horror as their eyes adjust.

                  Oh my Lord.

48   INT. A RENOVATED FARMHOUSE SOMEWHERE - DAY                        48*

     A RECORD is pulled from a sleeve. An old-school vinyl LP.

49   INT. FARM SHED - DAY                                              49*

     Cops easing in. ANGLE SWINGS QUEASILY AROUND as they enter,
     WIDENING to reveal a scene of nightmare intensity: Blood
     everywhere. Streaks. Spatters. And body parts. Strewn and
     discarded. Intestines nailed to the rafters overhead.

50   INT. FARMHOUSE - DAY                                              50

     A RECORD PLAYER NEEDLE DROPS, hits the groove with a HISS of
     vinyl. MUSIC STARTS TO PLAY LOUDLY, BOOMING through the space.     *

     FOCUS REMAINS WITH the spinning record. An OUT-OF-FOCUS FIGURE
     in a rolling chair pushes away from the record player and
     sails across the room toward a brightly-lit work table...

51   INT. FARM SHED - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                             51*

     Cops are covering their mouths with handkerchiefs, gagging.
     The stench is incredible. Flies are buzzing and swarming. One
     cop turns away and doubles over, trying not to puke.

     The Sergeant moves cautiously forward, finds: A HEAD. On the
     wooden dissection table. Clarence Darby, not that you'd
     recognize him. His eyes are gone. His lips are missing. His
     teeth...well, most of them are scattered about.

52   INT. FARMHOUSE - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                             52

     A MINIATURE CIVIL WAR SOLDIER is held in extreme magnification
     before us under a tabletop magnifier, the tip of a paintbrush
     delicately evoking stunning detail...

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          34.

53   INT. NICK'S HOUSE - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                          53

     Emma is still sobbing into her mother's arms as Nick takes
     the frame f.g., shouting into the phone:

                  My daughter is traumatized! She's                      *
                  only ten! It's a goddamn snuff film!                   *
                  In my home!                                            *

54   INT. DETECTIVE'S BULLPEN - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                   54

                         (motioning O.S.)
                  Price got a video of it happening
                  delivered to his house...

     Dunnigan enters frame f.g., snatches up his extension. He
     listens for a few beats, trying to get a word in:

                  Yeah, we know. Nick, we know. The
                  body's been found. The pieces,
                  anyway. Call just came in.
                  In some old shed on a farm outside                     *
                  the city. About a hundred and fifty
                  acre piece of property.

55   INT. NICK'S HOUSE - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                          55

                  Belonging to who?

56   INT. FARMHOUSE - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                             56

     A GIANT EYEBALL stares at us, unnaturally magnified by a
     tabletop magnifier. The lens is swept aside, revealing:

     Benson Clyde. In addition to the tabletop magnifier, he's
     wearing MAGNIFYING LENSES on his head. He examines the figurine
     with his naked eye, then flips the glasses down to continue...

57   EXT. COUNTRY HIGHWAY - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                       57

     VEHICLES race along two-lane blacktop: CRUISERS, UNMARKED
     above them at scary-low altitude...

     The cars veer off pavement and up a dirt road, kicking up an
     awesome trail of dust as the copter sweeps wide, pacing...

58   INT. CARS - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                                  58

     Tense faces: Dunnigan, Garza, Nick.

     WHITE   -   9-7-8                                           35.

59   INT. FARMHOUSE - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                             59

     Clyde pauses, hearing a RUMBLE under the music. Glances up as
     the rumble passes overhead -- a helicopter? He clicks on a
     tiny fan, holds the figurine under it, giving it a final dry.

60   EXT. FARMHOUSE - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                             60

     A shitstorm descends: vehicles swerving in, COPS jumping out,
     machine gun-toting SWAT TACTICAL TROOPS pouring from vans...

61   INT. FARMHOUSE - DAY (SONG CONTINUES)                             61

     Clyde, still holding the figurine under the whirring fan,
     leans to one side in his chair, glancing out the window.

     He glimpses scurrying figures behind cars, cops darting and
     surrounding the house, motioning with hand signals...

     He holds up the figurine for a final look. Satisfied with it,
     he places it onto:

     A CHESSBOARD -- the last piece. All the others are also hand-
     painted, gorgeous. Real craftsmanship here.

     He stands. Calmly moves to the middle of the room. Kicks off
     his shoes. Peels off his shirt and undershirt. Even takes off
     his pants. There will be no confusion about hidden weapons.

     He positions himself, very precise and purposeful. Lifts his
     hands high above his head. Presenting himself. Waiting.

     Then, bam: doors EXPLODE in and windows SHATTER as the SWAT
     tactical troops storm the room, bad-asses in black, machine
     guns aimed, encircling him, everybody shouting:

                                SWAT TROOPS
                  DON'T EVEN TWITCH--WE WILL FIRE
                  UPON YOU--LET'S SEE THOSE HANDS--

     Clyde is the calm eye of a pissed-off storm of highly
     professional cops with itchy trigger fingers. He remains
     serene, looking around at them, hands raised high...

                                SWAT CAPTAIN
                  ON THE FLOOR! FACE DOWN! DO IT NOW!

     He compliantly goes to his knees, then prone, offers his hands
     behind his back. They move in, cuff him, as troops spread
     throughout the house yelling "Clear!"

62   EXT. FARMHOUSE - DAY                                              62

     Nick, wearing his kevlar, follows Dunnigan and Garza. Nick
     glances over and sees a perfect 1965 midnight-blue Lincoln
     Continental in the carport...

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          36.

63   INT. FARMHOUSE - DAY                                              63

     Clyde is pulled to his feet just as Nick enters. UNIFORMS
     spread out, securing the house. Dunnigan faces Clyde...

                  Benson Clyde. You have the right to
                  remain silent... the full Miranda is read, Nick and Clyde have their
     eyes locked throughout -- this moment is all about them...

                  ...understand your rights as I have
                  explained them?


     Clyde is hustled outside, leaving Nick with Dunnigan and Garza
     in the farmhouse -- it's renovated, clean, very loft-like.

     Nick drifts to the table, sees the chess board, can't help
     admiring the pieces. Then his eyes go to a floor-to-ceiling
     bookcase. He's stunned to realize: they're all law books.

                                GARZA (O.S.)
                  Check this shit out.

     Nick turns, moves to Garza's side. Dunnigan joins them. All
     three staring at a wall. ANGLE SHIFTS around to reveal:

     The long-ago PHOTO (clipped from a newspaper) of Nick and
     Clarence Darby shaking hands on the courthouse steps.

     ANGLE WIDENS to reveal:

     Photo after photo. The crime scene of Clyde
     and his family in happier clipped from magazines
     and newspapers about the murder and trial...all very neatly
     and precisely arrayed. The entire wall covered with them.

     THE MUSIC KEEPS BOOMING from the record player. Dunnigan turns     *
     TIGHT TO CAMERA and yells:

                  OFF, PLEASE?

64   INT. POLICE INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY                              64

     Clyde sits alone and isolated in a small room. WIDEN to reveal
     Sarah at the observation glass. She turns as Nick steps up.

                  He says he'll only talk to you.

WHITE   -    9-7-8                                         37.

Nick and Dunnigan prepare to go in. Dunnigan takes off his
gun and holster, lays them on a table, as Garza activates the
VIDEO. Cantrell finds a chair by feel, sits down, as:


Nick and Dunnigan enter. Dunnigan melts into a corner to
observe as Nick sits across the table from Clyde.


              Mr. Clyde.

              Why so formal? We go way back. Call
              me Benson. Or Ben.

Nick sits across the table from Clyde, settles in.

              Well. I'm here. So?

              So. Maybe you can explain what this
              is all about.

Nick almost laughs -- not what he expected to hear.

              I think that's obvious.

Clyde spreads his hands questioningly -- not really.

              You murdered two people. Rupert
              Ames and Clarence Darby.

                     (shifts his gaze)


              Dunnigan. I thought I'd made it
              clear I would only speak to the
              gentleman across the table from me.

Dunnigan glowers at him, looks to Nick.

              You murdered two people. Rupert
              Ames and Clarence Darby.

BLUE   -     9-19-08                                  38.

               Darby? I knew about Ames, of course.
               I've been following the news about
               his horribly botched execution. But
               Darby too? Quite a coincidence.

               Cut the shit. We know you did it.
               Save everybody a lot of time and
               trouble and just confess.

               Are you going to continue to insist
               on being part of this conversation?


                      (beat, gives in)
               Fine. Far be it from me to be rude.

               Clarence Darby was found on your
               property. Old abandoned shed?                *

               I didn't know I had one. It's 150
               acres, uncultivated. The other day
               I found a creek I never knew I had.
               Hunters trespass all the time. You
               going to try to pin the dead deer
               on me too?


               I don't believe this guy.

               That man is frosty.

INNER ROOM                                                  *

               It occurs to me that an even
               moderately clever person could try
               to frame me for the murder simply
               by killing him on my property. One
               of Darby's drug rivals? That's an
               unsavory world.
                      (off Nick's stare)
               A jury would have to weigh that
               possibility. What else you got?

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       39.

                    (temper flaring)
             How about video of you dismembering
             Darby while he was still alive?

             That's odd. See, if I were to do
             such a thing, I'd probably wear
             something so I couldn't be
             identified. Some kind of mask maybe.
             But you say it's actually me on the
             video? Did the camera capture my
             good side?                                          *

Nick snaps, lunges across the table, grabs Clyde.

             You sick fuck, you sent it to my
             house! My daughter saw that video!
             It fucking traumatized her! She
             couldn't stop sobbing!

Dunnigan moves in fast, trying to pull Nick off (but failing):

             Whoa-whoa, Nick, ease off!

             No trouble here, Detective, we're
             fine. Thank you, though.

Dunnigan backs off. Clyde turns back to Nick, who's still got
him in his grasp, their faces close.

             Your daughter is, what, ten now?
             That's a wonderful age. My daughter
             was always so busy at that age, so
             interested, so into everything.
             Jumping around. I called her "Bean,"
             she jumped around so much.

Nick is easing off by inches, subtly and ineffably weirded-
out, unable to break Clyde's gaze. Softly:

             I am sorry, Nick, that your daughter
             experienced that. You're right.
             That video should not have arrived
             that way. The person who sent it
             should have thought twice.

Dunnigan moves in again, gently but firmly pulls Nick away.

             Okay, enough.

WHITE   -   9-7-8                                   40.

             Unless there's hard evidence tying
             me to these crimes -- forensic or
             otherwise -- why am I here? Why are
             we having this conversation?

             We know you did it.

             It's not about what you know. It's
             about what you can prove in court.
                    (off Nick's look)
             Your words. Like when you called it
             a justice system. You know the thing
             about a system, Nick? Any system
             can be played.

             You think you can play us? You gonna
             take me on?

             Clarence Darby did. And I'm much
             smarter than he was. Or you.

Nick advances, furious, held back by Dunnigan:

             I'm gonna bury you, fucker!

                    (lunges to his feet)
             That's it, that's what I want! That
             fire in the belly! That's what I
             wanted ten years ago! Do it, Nick!
             Bury me!

                    (shouting at Clyde)
             Sit down! Sit the fuck down!

Clyde does, settles in, speaking calmly:

             Or. Set me free.


             Did I stutter? Make your case. Or.
             Shake my hand on the courthouse
             steps and send me on my way.
                    (off Nick's look)
             I'll even make it easy on you. I
             will confess, how's that?

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                  41.

                  You're gonna confess.

                  Let's start tomorrow after a good
                  night's sleep. We'll all be fresh
                  and rested.

65   EXT. CITY HALL COURTYARD - DAY                            65

     Nick paces agitated, with the group:                        *

                                SARAH                            *
                  Ten years he's been planning this?             *
                  Patient people make me nervous.
                  This? This freaks me out.                      *

                                DUNNIGAN                         *
                  Is he serious about confessing?                *
                  What's his deal, is he crazy?

                  Confession or not, we're gonna nail
                  him on two counts of first-degree.

                  Agreed, but softly. Nothing hard-
                  ass, no grand-standing. Kid gloves.

                  Kid gloves? He's a psycho with a
                  power saw.

                  Depending on who's writing the
                  headline, he's a grieving husband
                  and father who got revenge on the
                  men who murdered his wife and child.
                         (off Nick's look)
                  Public sympathy is to be respected
                  and feared. This could blow up in
                  our faces if we're not careful. We
                  can't look like we're pissed off or
                  have an ax to grind.
                  Are we pissed off? Do we have an ax
                  to grind?


     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          42.

                  Then stop acting like it.

     Beat. Nick takes a deep breath.

                  Okay. He got under my skin a little.
                  That's done.

66   EXT. CITY HALL - DAY                                              66

     STEADICAM TWO SILHOUETTES: We're following Nick and Sarah
     through one of the pedestrian tunnels to the street:

                  ...background check's gotta be
                  thorough, I want to know everything
                  there is to know about this son of
                  a bitch. Get all the ADAs on it,
                  tell 'em I better not see them
                  sitting around on their asses or
                  texting their pals...

                  How about outside help? That P.I.
                  who helped us on the Jacovitz case?

                  Yeah, he was good. And Hanson's                        *
                  always reliable. But try to limit
                  their hours, okay?

     We find a MERCEDES at the curb -- Kell at the wheel, Emma in
     back. Nick gets in. Sarah leans down, happy to see them. Emma's
     face lights up -- the little girl obviously adores her.

                  Well, hello there beauty!

                  Hey Kell! Hey Emma, how's my dynamo?

                  Hi, Sarah!

                  We haven't seen you in so long it's
                  ridiculous. When are you gonna come
                  by for a visit?

                  Who needs a life, right? Talk to
                  your husband, maybe he'll give us a
                  day off one of these years.

                  Soon, huh? Seriously, we miss you.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       43.

     Sarah blows Emma a big extravagant kiss. Emma returns it,
     waves as they pull away. Nick and Kell glance back, happy to
     see their daughter acting a bit more like her old self...

67   INT. NICK'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                       67

     Late. Nick, in t-shirt and pajama bottoms, comes up a dark
     hallway with a file in his hand, rubbing his eyes. He comes
     to his daughter's bedroom door, quietly turns the knob...


     ...and finds the bed empty. Sheets thrown back.

     Nick stands for a moment, every irrational fear he's ever had
     washing over him. CAMERA FOLLOWS HIM fast down the hallway...

     ...into the master bedroom, where he finds Emma sleeping with
     Kell. He stands for a moment, heart hammering. Softly:


     Kell stirs, sees him, puts a finger to her lips. In whispers:

                  I saw her bed empty. Scared the
                  shit out of me. Don't know why.

                  She had a bad dream. She wanted to
                  sleep with us tonight.

                           (feels his heart race)


     He climbs onto the bed, cuddles up, Emma between them.

                  I had a nightmare. That man.                         *

                  I know. Shhh. We're all good. You're
                  safe. Nobody's gonna hurt you.

                  Especially not that man. Daddy's
                  gonna put him in jail forever. That's
                  what daddy does. He makes sure the
                  bad people stay locked away.

     Nick lays there, listening...

     BLUE      -   9-19-08                                    44.

68   OMITTED                                                          68*

69   INT. "THE DOME" - DAY                                            69*

     A huge domed chamber. In the center of the floor stands a
     smaller free-standing domed cage, like a bizarre birdcage.

     Inside the birdcage: Nick and Garza wait. Garza mans a camera.

     Outside the birdcage: Observers. Some (Cantrell and Sarah)
     occupy floor-level, where the video monitors are. Others (Iger
     and Dunnigan) are on a catwalk above that encircles the room.

     A door opens and Clyde is brought into the birdcage. He gazes
     around, checking his surroundings.

                     I admit I expected something more
                     modern. That jail downtown?                        *

                     Filled to capacity. It has been for
                     years. They had to re-open this for
                     the overflow. Part of it anyway.                   *

                     Welcome to the county jail annex.                  *
                     All new inmates come here. It was                  *
                     in the papers.

                     Right. Prison crowding. It's a

     He sits. Nick joins him, pulls out a legal pad.

                     For the record: You've waived legal
                     counsel. You've offered to confess
                     to the murders of Clarence Darby
                     and Rupert Ames. Yes?

                     We'll get to that. First, what I'd
                     really like to talk about is the
                     cot in my cell. It's lumpy.
                            (off Nick's stare)
                     Hardly any padding? Steel springs?
                     Very uncomfortable?

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       45.

             I know what lumpy means. Sorry to
             hear it. But we're not here to talk
             about prison conditions, we're here
             to talk about things you've done.

             Start with things I haven't done.
             Like get any sleep last night.
                    (beat, leans forward)
             I said let's begin today fresh and                *
             rested. You recall my words?                      *

                           NICK                                *
             What do you want from me?

             A bed in my cell.

             A bed. In your cell.

             Yes, please. One of those Sleep-
             Matic adjustables. Those are best.                *

             You want the variable temperature
             control too?

             That would be nice.

Beat. Nick tosses his legal pad on the table, swivels around
in his chair to the observers up on the catwalk, spreads his
arms in a "help me" gesture.


             It's a steel cot! It's bolted to                  *
             the wall!                                         *

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                   46.

                  I'm sure they have a wrench.                    *

                  We also have rules prohibiting                  *
                  personal items such as beds.                    *

                         (looks to Nick)
                  Let me get this straight. You're
                  going to let a bed prevent this
                  confession from taking place.

                  You looking to deal? All right,
                  how's this? How about I don't kick
                  your fucking teeth down your throat?

     Clyde is mildly taken aback. The cops tense up.


                  Sorry, Jonas. Okay, kid gloves.
                         (to Clyde)
                  My daughter slept in our bed last
                  night. She hasn't done that since
                  she was six. You gave her nightmares.
                  So excuse me if I don't feel like
                  cutting any little deals today.

                  My daughter can't have nightmares,
                  because she died with Clarence                  *
                  Darby's breath in her face. You                 *
                  gave him a reduced sentence and his             *
                  freedom. All I want is a good night's

70   EXT. PRISON COURTYARD - DAY                                70

     Everybody's wound up, talking fast:

                  This is bullshit. He's jerking our
                  chain big-time...

                  I can justify the expense.                      *

                  It's not just a bed. Every inmate               *
                  here will be on the phone to their              *
                  lawyer filing lawsuits for equal
                  treatment. Can you justify that?                *

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       47.

                                SARAH                                  *
                  We give him a bed, he confesses, we                  *
                  take the bed away. At most it's one                  *
                  night.                                               *

     Cantrell weighs it, decides:

                  We're talking a high-profile double
                  homicide. Order the bed.

71   INT. CELLBLOCK - CLYDE'S CELL - DAY                             71

     Clyde watches as MAINTENANCE MEN remove the unbolted cot from
     the cell and his Sleep-Matic is rolled in.

     CONVICTS watch, dumbfounded. Clyde's cellmate, a towering
     Aryan Brother named DWIGHT DIXON, stands quietly amazed...

                                CLYDE (V.O.)
                  Switching the drugs was easy...

72   INT. "THE DOME" - DAY                                           72

     Back in the birdcage:

                  I hacked the Fedex database, diverted
                  the package to me, made the switch,
                  sent the package on. It's automated
                  tracking numbers moving millions of
                  packages daily. Nobody's questioning
                  who receives what, or why.

                  And the prison phones?

                  Get a phone company uniform, hack
                  the prison database, schedule an
                  official visit. They'll wave you
                  through the gate, like they did me.
                  It's simple if you know how things
                         (off Nick's look)
                  It's a system. You learn how it
                  works. You play it. Any system.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       48.

                  I saw him die. That stuff burned
                  his veins. He suffered terribly.


     Nick flips to a new page on his pad.

                  Let's move on to Clarence Darby.

                         (sits back)                                   *
                  Hey, you like music?

                         (hesitates)                                   *
                  Very much. Why?                                      *

                  I could tell. I love music. All of                   *
                  it. It's like air in my lungs. So
                  the thing about Clarence Darby is,
                  I want my record collection and
                  player brought to me. The vinyl
                  discs as well as CDs.

     Reactions all around the room. Iger leans forward:

                  Vinyl records and CDs can be broken
                  into shards. They make excellent
                  weapons. My answer to that one, Mr.
                  Clyde, is not no, but hell no.                       *

     Clyde absorbs that, looks to Nick, as:

                  It's a legitimate concern.

                         (beat, calls to Iger)
                  How about my ipod and speaker dock?

73   INT. CELLBLOCK - CLYDE'S CELL - DAY                              73

     AN IPOD AND SPEAKER DOCK now occupy a small plywood shelf
     attached to the railing outside Clyde's cell. A GUARD plugs
     it in via a long orange extension cord.

     ANGLE WIDENS to Iger, who turns to the bars and hands a remote
     control through to Clyde. Dixon's watching balefully, as is
     every inmate on the cellblock.

     WHITE   -   9-7-8                                        49.

                  The player stays out here. You hand
                  the remote to the on-duty guard
                  every night at lights out. Those
                  terms aren't negotiable.

                  I appreciate your compromise.

     Iger draws close to the bars. Quietly:

                  You looking to get your ass kicked?
                         (off Clyde's look)
                  By every inmate on this cellblock.
                  You keep this up, they'll take it
                  out on you. Harshly.

     Clyde glances back to Dwight. Dwight's watching, glowering,
     agreement in his silence. Clyde turns back to Iger.

                  Just trying to keep you alive in
                  here. That's all.

     Iger walks away. Clyde aims the remote. MUSIC STARTS PLAYING.
     He leans his head on the bars, listening, blissed. Cons all
     over the cellblock are staring daggers at him.

                                CLYDE (O.S.)
                  I took his fingers with a bolt
                  cutter. His toes with a pair of tin
                  snips. His balls with a hacksaw...

74   INT. "THE DOME" - DAY                                           74

                  ...his penis with a box cutter. His
                  skin with a filet knife. His teeth
                  with pliers. His eyes...for those I
                  used my fingers.
                         (looks to Nick)
                  Check the video I made. All that
                  will match up. I kept him alive for
                  an hour, give or take. Time it.

     Nick trades looks with the others in the room -- everybody
     have what they need? People nod. Nicks closes his pad.

                  What now?

                  My office types it up, you sign.

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       50.

Nick rises, putting things in his briefcase. People get ready
to leave -- but Clyde motions Garza to keep it rolling.

             How about a signing bonus? The small
             concessions you've made so far have
             kept my cooperation flowing...why
             not give me a reward for signing?

             You don't want to sign, don't sign.
             We've got you on videotape, we'll
             go to trial. In ten years, when
             your appeals are exhausted, I'll
             attend your execution. I'll make
             sure nobody tampers with the drugs.

             Don't be such a hard-ass, Nick. I
             don't want much. Just a good meal.
                    (directed at Iger)
             The food here? Sucks. No offense.

Dunnigan glances at Nick and stifles a smile, enjoying where
this is going in spite of himself:

             What do you have in mind?

             There's a place in town on Halston.
             La Traviata. Ever been?                            *

             It's a little above my pay grade.

             You know it, don't you, Nick?                      *

             I've eaten there. So?                              *

             They cater. Tonight, at 7 p.m., I                  *
             would like my meal delivered to my
             cell from La Traviata. With nice
             silverware, crisp linens...

             Not gonna happen.

             Why not?

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          51.

             Because I have no interest in making
             it happen. And you have nothing
             left to bargain with.

             C'mon, Nick. We've just started
             bargaining. You haven't even heard
             what I'm offering yet.

This makes people pause. Something in the tone of his voice.

             Miss Lowell? Is your laptop still
             on? Would you please do a search?

She flips the laptop opens, dread mounting even though she's
not sure why, poises her fingers over the keys.


Cantrell's quietly stunned as the name sinks in. Pin-drop
silence now. Laptop keys CLACKING SOFTLY. People frozen.

             Who's William Reynolds?

             Clarence Darby's defense attorney.
             He brokered the testimony deal with
             us ten years ago. He's been missing
             now since...

             March of '06.

Sarah spins the laptop -- a photo of Reynolds, a story of his
disappearance.                                                    *

             Detectives Dunnigan and Garza will
             like this offer, Nick. It'll clear
             one of their department's missing-
             persons files. And it'll solve them
             their third homicide this week.

             Tell me.

             How do you think I located Clarence
             Darby after he got out of jail and
             legally changed his name? Reynolds
             told me -- though it took some                       *
             convincing.                                          *

     BLUE      -   9-19-08                                    52.

     PUSH IN ON Clyde in the frozen silence...

                     You want the location of the body?
                     Tonight, 7 p.m., I get my meal                    *
                     delivered to my cell from La

75   OMITTED                                                         75*

76   EXT. ROOFTOP HELIPAD - FEDERAL BUILDING - DAY                   76*

     A HELICOPTER THROTTLES UP, everything moving fast: an FBI
     FIELD TEAM, led by AGENT SAM DAVIES, emerges from a staircase
     door onto the roof, where they are met by Nick and Dunnigan.
     Davies dons his kevlar vest on the move toward the waiting
     copter, everybody SHOUTING over the rotors:

                     WITH THE D.A.'S OFFICE!

                     NICK! TELL ME ABOUT THIS BODY!

                     STATE LINE! THAT MAKES IT FEDERAL,
                     THAT MAKES IT YOU!

                            (to another FED)
                     GET THE CAMDEN OFFICE TO HAVE A
                     GROUND TEAM MEET US!
                            (to Dunnigan)

                     SUSPECT WILL GIVE US A GPS MARK!
                     WE'LL ADVISE YOU IN THE AIR!

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          53.

     They get to the helicopter, feds loading in as Nick pulls a
     business card, hands it to Davies.

                  I'LL BE IN MY OFFICE! PLEASE CALL
                  ME! WE GOT A LOT OF PEOPLE HOLDING
                  THEIR BREATH ON THIS!

                  WILL DO!

     Davies gets in, signals the PILOT. The copter takes to the
     air, buffeting Nick and Dunnigan...

77   INT. CLYDE'S CELL - DAY                                           77

     TIGHT ON CLYDE. He looks up, speaking slowly and clearly:

                  GPS position is as follows...

78   EXT. AERIAL SHOT - DAY                                            78

     FBI HELICOPTER THUNDERING over the city...

                                VOICE ON RADIO                           *
         niner foxtrot...GPS                           *
                  coordinates follow...                                  *

     The helicopter veers, banks into a steep turn...

79   INT. D.A.'S OFFICE - DAY                                          79

     Nick enters, moves through the bullpen. ADAs (assistant
     district attorneys) are working and grimly focused. Nick pokes
     his head into Sarah's office. She looks up.

                  What do we have so far?                                *

80   EXT. PRISON - DAY                                                 80

     A HIGH-END DELIVERY VAN bearing the logo of La Traviata is
     waved through the gate into the delivery entrance...

                                SARAH (V.O.)                             *
                  He's got no next-of-kin. No family                     *
                  since his wife and daughter were                       *

81   EXT. AERIAL SHOT - DAY                                            81

     THE FBI HELICOPTER THUNDERS over beautiful green hills...

                                SARAH (V.O.)
                  He's a tinkerer. Little inventions                     *
                  and gizmos...

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          54.

82   INT. NICK'S OFFICE - DAY                                          82

     Nick gazing out the window, Cantrell seated with his dog,
     Sarah reading the report thus far:

                  ...he holds two dozen patents that
                  have made him a lot of money the
                  last ten years. He's invested a lot
                  of it in real estate. Weird stuff.

                  Weird how?

                  Properties with no real value. Around                  *
                  airports, chemical plants. Stuff                       *
                  nobody wants...

83   INT. CELLBLOCK - DAY                                              83

     A CONVICT comes to his bars, peering out...                         *

                                CONVICT                                  *

     ...because here comes the rolling La Traviata cart -- gleaming
     domes keeping food warm, silver utensils, crisp linens, a
     ROSE in a bud vase. A red-jacketed LA TRAVIATA WAITER is
     pushing the cart, accompanied by GUARDS and Warden Iger.

     More cons appear at their bars, faces peering, an angry grumble
     growing in the cellblock as the cart goes by. The waiter's
     looking around, nervous...

                                SARAH (V.O.)
                  He votes. He gives money to charity,
                  mostly victim's funds...

84   INT. OFFICE - DAY                                                 84

                  ...but he also gives a big chunk to
                  macular research.

                         (looks up)
                  He donates to eye research?

                  RPI. That's the charity you work
                  with, isn't it?

                  Huh. Strange.

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         55.

85   INT. CELL - DAY                                                  85

     The waiter, hemmed by guards, nervously reads the order:

                  ...consommé...sea bass...squab...                     *
                  New York strip, rare...a variety of                   *

                  Rack of lamb?

                  ...oh, yes, rack of lamb...

86   EXT. NEW JERSEY HILLTOP - DAY                                    86

     THE HELICOPTER ROARS IN, lands. Davies and his men jump out.

     AN FBI GROUND TEAM is waiting for them. A CAMDEN FIELD AGENT
     runs up and points at the ground, shouting:

                                FIELD AGENT
                  WE THINK WE'VE GOT A CAIRN HERE!
                  PLANTED SOD OVER IT!

     Davies signals his team. SHOVELS AND PICKS hit the ground...

87   INT. CELL - DAY                                                  87

     ...while GORGEOUS FOOD hits paper plates. It's being slopped
     unceremoniously from the fine china by the guards. TILT UP to
     Iger overseeing this process, passing china and utensils to
     the waiter, who's flustered:

                  You're bruising the crepes.

                  Life's a bitch, then you die.

         plates, they break into nice
                  jagged pieces...nothing sharp,
                  nothing that can be made
                  forks, no knives, no spoons....lose
                  that carafe...we will have no
                  potential weapons of any kind this
                  evening, thank can eat
                  with your fingers...

                  The guards will think me gauche.

     Clyde's got the rose, teasing his nose with it. All around        *
     the cellblock, inmates are shouting insults and threats...

     BLUE    -   9-19-08                                         56.

88   INT. OFFICE - DAY                                                 88

     Sarah is exiting, leaving Nick and Cantrell to stare at the
     phone and wait for it to ring...

                          (calls after her)
                   Thanks. Keep digging.

89   EXT. HILLTOP - DAY                                                89

     Digging. Sod coming off, being set aside on plastic. FLASH
     PHOTOS being taken. Stones being pried up...

90   INT. CELLBLOCK - DAY                                              90

     Waiter and guards exit with the cart. The entire cellblock is
     SHOUTING. Iger pauses, gives a final glance back. Softly:


     Then he too departs, as:


     aims his remote. MUSIC for dining. Clyde glances back at            *
     Dwight, who's poised and tense.

                   I suppose if I don't share, you'll
                   beat the shit out of me. Make me
                   squeal like a piggy. That sort of

                   Fuckin' A.

     Clyde motions "join me, won't you?" They each take a seat.

     Clyde passes Dwight a crisply-folded linen napkin. Dwight
     tucks it like a bib. Clyde lays his on his lap.

     A hurled object CLANGS off their bars. The cons are now
     throwing things, hollering to raise the dead. Clyde cranks
     the music a bit louder, motions for Dwight to dig in.

     Dwight goes for it, cramming food in his mouth and grabbing
     for more, fingers digging in...

91   EXT. HILLTOP - DUSK                                               91

     ...fingers digging in, pulling loose soil, prying stones. A
     layer of soil is brushed aside to reveal:

     A face. Embedded in the dirt. He's been there a long time.
     FLASH PHOTOS highlight desiccated lips and teeth...

     BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       57.

92   INT. CELL - DUSK                                                  92

     ...lips and teeth -- Dwight chewing, laughing. Oddly enough,
     he and Clyde seem to have started enjoying each other's
     company. THE MUSIC PLAYS in bizarre counterpoint to:                *

     THE CACOPHONY of an angry cellblock -- if the cons weren't in
     their cells, this would be a riot. All imaginable items are
     being hurled through bars: toilet paper rolls, books, shoes,
     clothes, all raining down, showering the cellblock floor...

                  I wonder what the little people are
                  eating tonight?

     Dwight throws his head back and laughs...

93   INT. OFFICE - DUSK                                                93

     ...while, in deep silence, Nick unwraps a sorry-looking deli
     sandwich, swaps his pickles for Cantrell's potato salad (their
     long-standing ritual). They both keep glancing at the phone...

94   INT. CELL - DUSK                                                  94 Clyde and Dwight indulge their food orgy. Dialogue is
     not important, so we won't hear any -- we'll let the MUSIC         *
     take over and carry -- because it's all about tone:

     They're laughing and talking, winding each other up. And the
     more Clyde wisecracks, the more Dwight laughs.

     Clyde finishes gnawing a lamb rack and says something to Dwight
     about the ruckus. Dwight turns, glances out, as:

     Clyde casually, but with purpose, lowers the bone onto his
     lap -- adding it to one already there. He picks up a fresh
     one, starts chewing the meat off...

95   EXT. HILLTOP - DUSK                                               95

     Dark enough now for flashlights. In the beams, we see the
     body mostly excavated. Forensic team members gather, in gloves
     and breather masks, getting ready to try lifting.

                                FORENSIC TECH
                  Okay, let's see if we can get him
                  out in one piece...

     ANGLE FINDS Davies at the helicopter, activity around him,
     holding Nick's card and dialing a cell phone...

96   INT. CELL - DUSK                                                  96

     Clyde laughing, chewing, gnawing that third bone. ANGLE CLOSES
     DOWN as he brings it to his lap...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          58.

      TIGHT REVEAL: His napkin wrapped tightly around his hand
      provides padding for his palm. The two earlier bones are
      already held between his fingers -- he places the third, makes
      a fist -- and the bones now protrude from his clenched knuckles
      like a trio of spikes.

      TILT UP to Clyde...he reaches across, turns a paper plate
      over to cover the crepes...

97    INT. OFFICE - DUSK                                                97

      The PHONE RINGS. Nick snatches it up. He listens, looks to
      Cantrell...nods. They found the body.

98    EXT. HILLTOP - DUSK                                               98

      Behind Davies, B.G., the body's being extracted from the hole:

                                 FORENSIC TECH
                   ...gently on

                          (on cell)
                   --we'll have to wait for the autopsy
                   results, but--

      pop like firecrackers, knocking Davies forward...                  *

99    INT. CELL - DUSK                                                  99

      ...and Clyde lunges, face no longer laughing, the rolling
      cart slamming into the wall as the lamb bones protruding from
      his fist go slamming into Dwight's throat...

100   EXT. WIDE LANDSCAPE/HILLTOP - DUSK                                100

      ...and the dust cloud cascades across the hillside...               *

101   INT. CELL - DUSK                                                  101

      ...and Clyde has Dwight pinned on the floor against the bars,
      arm ramming like a piston, punching those bones into Dwight's
      throat again and again, blood everywhere...

102   INT. OFFICE - DUSK                                                102

      TIGHT ON NICK holding the phone. He knows something awful
      just happened on the other end:

                   Agent Davies?

103   EXT. HILLTOP - DUSK                                               103

      An open CELL PHONE lies on the grass. Feet stumble haltingly
      into the shot. TILT UP TO:

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          59.

      Davies, dazed, staring offscreen in shock. Dust and smoke
      billowing. People running, shouting...

104   INT. CELL - DUSK                                                  104

      Clyde rises into the shot, calm now, covered with blood. He
      unwraps the napkin from his hand, snaps it open, uses it to
      wipe the blood from his face.

      He takes his seat, positions the cart, uncovers the crepes
      and resumes eating...

                                                 FADE TO BLACK

105   INT. PRISON COURTYARD - DAY                                       105

      A steel gate slides open, revealing Nick. Flanking him are
      Cantrell, Dunnigan, Davies (banged up and bandaged), Iger,
      others. They move toward us with purpose, grim and resolute,
      Sarah bringing up the rear with a young ADA named ROYCE.

                   Why do you have him in the dome?

                   He killed his cellmate. We had to
                   separate him out.

                   What's wrong with solitary?

                   We don't have the authority. Not
                   without a court order. This place
                   was re-opened under protest as it
                   is. Some areas are off-limits to
                   our use -- tied up in a legal
                   challenge by the ACLU as cruel and
                   unusual. Especially solitary.
                          (off Nick's look)
                   It was nicknamed the dungeon...

                          (to Sarah)
                   Get Judge Burch on the phone.

      Sarah speed-dials as a GUARD lets them in...

106   INT. "THE DOME" - DAY                                             106

      Clyde waits in the birdcage, shackled. The group spreads into
      the room, silence thick. Nobody will enter the birdcage this
      time. Clyde occupies it alone -- owning it, in fact -- as:

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                   60.

             Nice trick with the rack of lamb.
             Didn't see that one coming.

             Why'd you kill your cellmate?

             I claim self-defense.

             Here's what I think. You suckered
             us in. You ordered that meal for
             the purpose of killing him.

             Which makes it premeditated. Again.

             And, again, you'll have to prove
             that in court. As I've said before...
                    (to Nick)
             ...make your case. Or set me free.

                    (pissed, moving forward)
             Your booby-trap killed two of mine            *
             and put four in the hospital. That            *
             brings the total of people you've             *
             killed to six -- and be advised the           *
             Bureau does not suffer losing agents
             in the field.
             We're done dancing. I have the right
             to claim jurisdiction here, do I
             not, Detective Dunnigan?

             That is correct, Agent Davies.

                    (again to Clyde)
             So. I'm gonna rendition your ass.
             Rumor has it we have places that
             make Guantanamo look like Disneyland.
             Don't bother packing, you're gonna

                    (beat, glances to Nick)
             You see, Nick? That man is pissed!
             That's what I'm talking about! No
             deals, no compromise! You see?

             I see you totally disconnected from
             reality, that's what I see!

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        61.

                          (handing off phone)
                   Judge Burch with an answer for you.

107   INT. JUDGE'S CHAMBERS - DAY                                     107

                                 JUDGE BURCH
                   I'm the ACLU's biggest fundraiser
                   in this state. You wanna put that
                   piece of shit in solitary? Good. As
                   far as I'm concerned, you can bury
                   him in the bowels of hell.

108   INT. "THE DOME" - DAY                                           108

                   Thank you, Judge Burch.
                          (hangs up, looks to Iger)                     *
                   Consider your court order signed.
                          (moves to Clyde)
                   Freedom? Not likely. In fact, you
                   just bought a one room suite in the
                   dungeon. Very exclusive.

                   You'll have it all to yourself --
                   the first man down there in over
                   twenty years. Quite an achievement.

      Clyde sinks with a sigh of resignation and defeat, rests his
      head wearily on the bars. Nick moves in, speaking quietly:

                   You're doing everything wrong. Making
                   all the wrong moves.

                   It would seem that way.

      The wording catches Nick -- but he dismisses it, turns:

                   Sam. I know you got hit hard. I
                   know you're furious. But I'd like
                   my shot at prosecuting this case.
                          (off Davies' look)                            *
                   This started with us. Let me finish                  *
                   it. Give me that chance.                             *

                   I'm seeing fire in your belly, Nick.
                   I like it. Keep going. This is our
                   deal, after all...

                   Let's not mistake this! This is not
                   about the two of you!

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                   62.

             Wake up, blind man! It's been exactly
             that since I watched him shake
             Clarence Darby's hand on the steps
             of the Hall of Justice ten years
             ago! The Hall of Justice!

His voice echoes off. In the silence that follows:

             You wanna take this fuck down? Be
             my guest. Whatever you need.

                    (bangs his bars)
             That's the spirit, yes!
                    (to Nick)
             It's on you now, Nick. It's your
             game to lose. Just don't screw up.
             You do, they'll scapegoat you. That's         *
             how the justice system works.                 *
                    (to Davies)
             Good call, Sam. Making me disappear
             was a bad idea. You couldn't have
             handled the blowback.

             Blowback?                                     *

                           CLYDE                           *
             Cause and effect. Your actions                *
             provoke reactions. The choices you            *
             make come back to haunt you.                  *
                    (off their looks)                      *
             There are things I've set in motion.          *
             Dominoes that will fall. Didn't see           *
             the rack of lamb coming? Start a
             list. All I can do at this point...if
             I feel like stop them from
             happening. Ready to talk deal?

             You're insane.

             See how insane you think this is.
             You're going to release me from
             this place with all charges dropped
             within twenty four hours...

             Or what?

             Or I start killing everybody.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       63.

109   INT. SOLITARY WING - DAY                                          109

      "The Dungeon" -- a small underground block of FIVE CELLS dating
      back a century or more. A GUARD is spraying WD-40 into the
      lock of a cell, trying to turn the key. It finally does, as:

      Clyde is brought in. GUARDS have him on poles connected to a
      leather collar around his neck, and they're none too gentle.
      Clyde tosses a final glance back at Nick and Iger.                  *

                   Clock's running, Nick.

      ...and then he's gone, shoved inside.

110   EXT. PRISON COURTYARD - DAY                                       110

      Nick and the others exit the Dome, thoughts racing:

                   What can he do? We've got him boxed
                   in. He's isolated, for God's sake.

                   Let's keep him that way. Strict
                   rules apply. Law says he gets one
                   hour outside his cell a day, that's
                   what he gets. Just one, under heavy
                   guard. The other twenty-three hours,
                   he's in that cell, he's a ghost, he
                   doesn't exist. No contact whatsoever.

                   You think it was a bluff?                              *

                   We underestimated him before. I'd
                   like to know what this prick is
                   capable of.
                          (calls to Sarah)
                   Update on the background check?

                   Properties, investments, a few small                   *
                   businesses he owns -- a lot of it's                    *
                   hidden behind false names and shell                    *
                   companies, but we're still digging...                  *

                   That's it? Nothing else unusual?                       *

                   The last twenty years, he's been                       *
                   Joe Blow Citizen. But prior to that,                   *
                   we've hit a blank spot. He used to                     *
                   do consulting for the government,                      *
                   but we can't pin down what.                            *

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       64.

      They absorb this -- especially Davies. All eyes go to him.

                   What kind of government work leaves
                   a blank spot, Sam?

                   I'll make a few discreet calls. See
                   what I can find out.

111   INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT                                         111

      Expensive, upscale. We find Nick and Kell at a table. She's
      got her menu, but her attention's really on Nick. He's toying
      absently with his wine glass.

                   Where are you?

                          (catches himself)
                   Million miles away. Sorry.

                   Don't be. This guy's really doing a
                   number on your head, isn't he?

                   Yeah. I guess he is.
                          (she expects more)
                   It's...killing his cellmate. I need
                   that to make sense.

                   Why? Happens in prison all the time.

                   Yeah, I know, but...we're not talking
                   some gang-banger. This man is
                   precise. Does things for a reason.

                   He's psycho. You said so yourself.
                   We saw it on that video. Psychos
                   don't need a reason, Nick. They're
                   just psycho.
                          (off his look)
                   Whatever. You'll figure it out. You                  *
                   always do.

                   Thanks. I'm a poor excuse, though.
                   It's date night. You deserve better.
                          (a glance around)
                   Just wish you'd picked another                       *
                   restaurant.                                          *

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          65.

                   This is our place. You love it here.                   *
                          (as a waiter approaches)
                   You should have said something...                      *

      She raises her menu -- yes, we're in La Traviata. And the
      waiter is the same guy who brought Benson Clyde his meal:

                   Have we decided?

      Nick's CELL PHONE RINGS. He pulls it, checks the number, gives
      them a look -- sorry, gotta take this.

                   Sam? What is it?
                   Not far, maybe six blocks. I'm having
                   dinner with my wife.

112   EXT. CITY HALL - NIGHT                                            112

                   Two words: doggy bag. Be in your
                   office in ten minutes.                                 *
                   Nick, don't ask questions. I was on
                   the phone all day. Believe me when
                   I say we've got one shot at this.

      He clicks off...

113   INT. NICK'S OFFICE - NIGHT                                        113

      ...and faces Nick and Cantrell in the dimly-lit office:

                   He's coming here?

                   So I'm told. It's called inter-agency
                   cooperation, but don't ask me what
                   agency because I wouldn't know.
                   This isn't even back-channels, this
                   is Theseus in the fucking Labyrinth.
                          (off their looks)
                   I just blew thirty years' worth of
                   favors today calling in this one
                   chit. I hope it's worth it.                            *

      The desk phone RINGS. Nick answers, listens a beat:

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                        66.

                   Yes. Yes, we're all here. Downstairs?
                   Okay. Understood.
                          (hangs up)
                   He said not to take the elevator.

      Off their puzzled looks...

114   INT. CITY HALL - SPIRAL STAIRCASE - NIGHT                        114

      Huge, descending seven floors, circles within circles dropping
      into darkness. Nick and Davies lead the way down. Cantrell
      brings up the rear with his dog and cane...

                                 SPOOK (O.S.)
                   That's good there.

      They freeze. Nick and Davies peer down. They start to make
      out a FIGURE in the murky darkness one level below.

                   Which one of you is Davies?

      Davies takes a step forward. THE SPOOK eases partially into
      the light -- flinty gaze, military-style haircut.

                   You must be well thought of, Agent
                   Davies. I don't do this. But I was
                   asked nicely by the right people.
                   They briefed me on your problems
                   with Benson Clyde.

                   What are we dealing with?

                   Things I can neither confirm nor
                   deny. Things of which, if I'm asked,
                   I will disavow any knowledge.

      The guys trade a look. Cantrell can't help chuckling.

                          (to Davies)
                   You gotta be kidding me with this

                   He's not. Tell me you grasp the
                   implication of what I've said, or
                   we're done here.

                          (smile fades)
                   Yeah. Okay. I get it.

WHITE   -   9-7-8                                    67.

             What was Clyde? Some kind of spy?

             Spooks like me are a dime a dozen.
             Clyde was a brain. He ran a think-
             tank, inventing things for use in
             the field. Ways to kill people.
                    (off their looks)
             You need to get rid of somebody.
             It's not a situation where you can
             get close. What do you do?

             Ask Clyde?

             That's right. Ask Clyde. And he'd
             figure something out. Gizmos,
             strategy. He was good at it.

             How good?

             You play chess?

             Yeah. Tournament level in college,
             matter of fact.

             In my line, we use an aptitude
             profile based on chess. A tournament-
             level player like you can think
             five to eight steps ahead of an
             average player, did you know that?
             Me, I think about ten steps ahead,
             so I'd take you in a game.

             What about Clyde?

             Off the charts. If you're eight
             steps ahead, he's twenty. Or fifty.
             He's already got the game won on
             the first move, you don't even know
             you're playing yet.
                    (further into the light)
             This cellmate he killed? You think
             that was random? Bullshit. That was
             a pawn taken off the board. If I
             were you, I'd be trying to figure
             out what the move was.

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       68.

             I have been. Any thoughts?

             Top of my head? Was the cellmate
             ever connected with this case? Or
             with Clyde? Was anybody else in
             that facility? Guards? Cons? The
             janitor? Any connection at all, no
             matter how remote. Because if Clyde
             says he has things in play, he does.

             Like what? He's locked up. What can
             he do?

                    (gives him a look)
             You're an average chess player,
             aren't you?

             Actually, I kind of suck.

             I can tell. But I like your tie.

             Thank you. Father's Day.

             There's this tie -- we call it the
             Albert, after Albert DeSalvo. They
             tiptoe in one night, thread a piano
             wire with a ratchet gizmo into one
             of your ties. Sounds crazy, but                     *
             trust me it works. You put your tie                 *
             on and all day long it slowly
             tightens. You don't even notice
             it's cutting off the blood-flow to
             your brain. Then you drop dead.
             Brain-dead or plain dead, doesn't
             much matter at that point.
             Clyde invented that.

The Spook melts back into the shadows. The guys crane forward,
trying to see. There's a brief spill of light below as a
doorway opens and closes...he's gone.

The three of them stand there absorbing everything they've
heard. Nick sits on a step. Quiet looks are traded...

...and they all start taking off their ties...

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                        69.

115   INT. NICK'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                       115

      Nick enters tie-less, subdued, distracted. Kell and Emma are
      in the living room playing Scrabble.


      Emma jumps up and runs over for a hug.

                   Mom said I could stay up late. Wanna
                   play Scrabble?

                   Let me talk to mom first.

      Emma returns to the couch. Kell comes to Nick, noticing his
      weird vibe: he's looking around at the room.

                   Sorry about date night.

                   It's fine. You learn anything?

                   Thing or two.

      He moves up the hallway -- slowly, as if noticing the walls
      for the first time, the picture frames, the light fixtures...

                             (following him)

                   Hey, I was thinking. Maybe you could
                   pack an overnight bag for you and
                   Emma in case you need
                   know...spend the night in a hotel.
                   Or something.

                   Why would we wanna do that?

                   No reason. It's like a fire-drill
                   thing. You know. In case.

116   INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT                                            116

      He comes in, opens the closet, reaches up for some overnight
      bags -- but pauses, drawn to his tie-rack inside the door.

      He stares at the ties hanging in neat rows...starts touching
      them, running his hands up and down the fabric...

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        70.

Kell stands in the doorway watching. Wondering what the fuck
is going on. And getting a little creeped out.


He freezes, feeling something in the seam of a tie. Runs his
fingers up and down, thinking something's in there.

Emma appears in the doorway too, at her mother's side. Both
staring now. They watch as:

Nick grabs a pair of scissors from Kell's sewing kit, carves
the tie lengthwise, rips it open, feverish and faster, finds
nothing inside but mangled fabric and thread and -- stops.
Looks back. Realizes they're staring at him.

             What the hell are you doing?

Nick pauses -- what the hell is he doing? He starts to regain
his sense, laughs at himself in amazement.


             It's okay, baby -- I'm fine, I
             promise. Go back to your game.

Dubious, Emma departs. As soon as she's out of earshot:

             Seriously, Nick. What the fuck.

             Nothing. I got paranoid for no
             reason, that's all. I'm fine now. I
             can't believe I let that son of a
             bitch Clyde get to me like that.

             Are you in danger? Are we?

The question hangs there -- the real question.                  *

             I'm sure we're fine.                               *

He pulls his phone, speed-dials.                                *

                           NICK                                 *
             I'll make goddamn sure.                            *
                    (beat, into phone)                          *
             Sarah, roust the ADAs. Tell 'em                    *
             we're pulling an all-nighter.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       71.

117   EXT. PRISON COURTYARD - NIGHT                                  117

      ADAs are parking their cars along the wall, directed by a
      waving GUARD. ANGLE FINDS a lot of people: cop, prison, FBI.    *
      Sarah jumps out of her car and hurries over to Nick and the
      others with a flock of EIGHT ADAs at her heels.

                   Ready to turn this place upside

118   INT. PRISON ADMINISTRATION OFFICES - NIGHT                     118

      ...we find the ADA team spread around the bullpen, aided by
      prison personnel and police advisors -- everybody's on
      computers, or sorting heaps of paper files, etc.

                   See if there's anybody locked up
                   here -- or working here -- ex-cop,
                   witness for the prosecution --
                   anybody who might have had anything
                   to do with the original Darby-Ames
                   case, or has any previous history
                   with Benson Clyde. Start with the
                   cellmate. Flag anything, no matter
                   how insignificant it seems...

      JAMESON glances up in dismay from his keyboard.

                   This could take days.

      Sarah, grabbing a stack from a filing cabinet and slamming
      the door shut with her hip, gives him a laser look:

                   We boring you, Jameson? You got
                   someplace to be?

                   No, Miss Lowell.

                          (crossing the room)
                   Weekend plans? Cancel 'em! I don't
                   wanna hear any shit about it!
                          (on Jameson again)
                   Clack-clack, Jameson. Clack-clack.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          72.

      Jameson dives onto the keys, starts clack-clacking. Sarah
      gives Nick a nod -- she's got this in hand. Nick exits...

119   EXT. PRISON GROUNDS - NIGHT                                       119

      ...and finds a FORENSIC TEAM disassembling Clyde's Sleep-Matic
      bed -- nuts, bolts, struts, electronics. The mattress is being
      razored open, wadding pulled out and run under fluoroscopes.


                   It used to be a Sleep-Matic
                   adjustable bed. Now it's not.

      CAMERA FOLLOWS them to a table where an FBI TEAM is focusing
      all their skills and tech on Clyde's ipod and speaker dock.
      The TEAM LEADER places the buds in his ears, listening.

                   What do you have?

                                 TEAM LEADER
                   Rocky Mountain Way. Joe Walsh.
                          (off Nick's look)
                   What do you want from me, it's a
                   fucking ipod.

      The other agents snicker, not hiding their amusement, but:         *

                                 NICK                                     *
                   Tear it apart, make sure. Memory.                      *
                   Speakers. Wiring. Everything.                          *

120   INT. CLYDE'S CELLBLOCK - NIGHT                                    120

      GUARDS, FEDS, BOMB-SNIFFING DOGS -- they're cruising the
      cellblocks, flashlights swiveling, beams catching the faces
      of sleepy cons in their cells or at their bars...

      We find Nick and Iger at Clyde's now-empty cell. TWO FBI            *
      emerge, shake their heads.                                          *

                                 FBI FORENSIC
                   Blood stain. Few fibers. That's it.

                          (sleepy, at his bars)
                   Warden, man, whassup?

                   Everybody back to sleep.

                          (looks to Iger)
                   I want to see him.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          73.

121   INT. SOLITARY WING - CLYDE'S CELL - NIGHT                         121

      Two doors: solid steel outer door, inner barred door. The
      outer slides aside, reveals Nick outside the bars. Inside
      stands a shadow, waiting: Clyde.

                   You're up early. Trouble sleeping?

                   It was a good bluff. But you're
                   done. Fucking with my head. Scaring                    *
                   my family half to death. Done.

      Clyde moves closer to the bars, into the light.

                   Amazing, isn't it? How primal that
                   is. That pull? What a man is capable
                   of when it comes to his family?                        *

                                 NICK                                     *
                   You strip away all the polite shit,                    *
                   that's what we're really about.

                                 CLYDE                                    *
                   I hope you never face what it is to                    *
                   lose them, Nick. It's like dying
                   yourself. There's nothing worse.

      That could play as a threat, of course -- but it's not. It's       *
      genuine. And pained. And sincere. And Nick knows it.

                   Good night, Ben.

                   Good night, Nick.

      And then the moment's gone and the mocking Clyde returns:

                   Is it casual Friday?
                          (off Nick's look)
                   I've never seen you not wear a tie.

      And that says volumes: Clyde's totally aware of what they've
      been up to and is tickled by it.

      The outer door GRINDS SHUT...

122   EXT. PRISON GROUNDS - DAWN                                        122

      Night has passed, day is coming. All the earlier energy has
      dissipated into anticlimax and weariness. People straggle
      across the yard in groups toward their vehicles...

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         74.

Nick, Dunnigan, Davies, Iger -- all look whipped. Sarah
approaches, briefcase in hand, files under her arm.

             We dug pretty deep for one night.
             Still got a ways to go, but on a
             first look? Nothing. Nada. Zip.

             Well, that's good news.

             So far. Now we double-down. Make                    *
             absolutely certain.                                 *
                    (nods after ADAs)                            *
             Let them all sleep a few hours,                     *
             then bring 'em back for round two.                  *

             Due diligence. My middle name.                      *

She trudges toward her car, following the ADAs toward their
vehicles. Nick trades relieved looks with the men -- everybody
coming down from a tense night. Davies shakes their hands:

             Fellas. For once, glad not to be of

             Love it when they cry wolf.

The men separate in different directions. Dunnigan catches a
glimpse of Sarah almost at her car -- she loses a page from
under her arm, which flutters away on the breeze.

                    (calls to her)
             Miss Lowell! Lost something!

She looks back, sees the page skittering slowly across the
ground. Weary, she blows a strand of hair from her eyes, sets
down her briefcase, walks back to get it...

Dunnigan smiles, keeps walking. The other men too. Nick stands
a moment, watching, then starts toward his car...

The ADAs are getting to their cars, pulling key fobs, aiming
them to unlock their cars...

Sarah is getting to the page, leaning down...

The ADAs are pressing the remotes, a CHORUS OF CHIRPS...

And WHAM -- the cars EXPLODE in a stunning SERIES OF
DETONATIONS, killing the ADAs, throwing bodies through the
air, kicking cars off the ground and flipping a few skyward...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          75.

      Nick is knocked flat by heat and shrapnel ripping the air...

      Sarah goes flying. An arcing car slams upside-down nearby on
      a rocket-booster of flame and shattering axle...

      And from this point on the visuals and sound are surreal:          *


      pries himself off the ground, stunned, looking around, trying
      to figure out what the fuck just happened. He's disoriented,
      all sound muffled. Smoke drifting. Flames billowing.

      Dunnigan runs up to Nick, shouting something. We can't tell
      what, because Nick can't hear. Dunnigan sees Nick is alive,
      turns and keeps going, running to help the others...

      Nick looks over, sees bodies being pulled clear by responders,
      men running in, beating at flames...

      Nick, dazed, looks through the drifting smoke and sees Sarah
      trying to sit up. There's something wrong with her leg.

      Nick pulls himself to his knees, staggers to his feet as sound
      filters back in: screams, shouts, the roar of flames.

      He stumbles through the smoke to Sarah. She's on the ground
      in shock, sobbing and flailing, crying out. Nick sees the
      jagged piece of metal that slammed deep into her calf, nearly
      severing it. He drops to his knees, tries to calm her:

                   You're gonna be all right.

      He pulls the metal from her leg -- mistake. Blood sprays. He
      clamps down hard with both hands, blood going everywhere.

                   MEDIC! I NEED A MEDIC!

      He keeps clamping down, Sarah screaming and sobbing, as we

                                                GO TO BLACK


      FIREMEN spraying the flaming rubble of the cars...

      TANGLES OF WRECKAGE billowing smoke...

      A BODY BAG dragged across the ground, added to a ROW OF BODY
      BAGS awaiting transport...

      EMERGENCY VEHICLES parked haphazardly, lights spinning...

      COPS AND RESPONDERS dealing with the scene...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       76.

      SARAH being wheeled on a gurney to a PARAMEDIC VAN by an EMS
      TEAM, oxygen mask on her face, gravely injured but stabilized,
      everything swirling around her, Dunnigan clearing a path...

      NICK appears, takes her hand. She clasps it weakly. They load
      her on and the vehicle pulls out with siren and lights...

124   EXT. PRISON GROUNDS - DAY                                        124

      Back to "real time" -- Cantrell is just getting out of his
      town car with his dog. WE FIND Nick on his cell:

                          (on cell)
                   Baby. Listen. Don't be worried or
                   scared. But I want you to pack those
                   overnight bags... I don't have time
                   to explain now. Just do it, okay?
                   I'll call you back as soon as I can --
                   please, honey, I gotta go.

      He clicks off as ANGLE COMES AROUND, revealing Davies and his
      TEAMS coming his way:

                   Each car had an explosive charge on
                   the gas tank.

                   He's got someone working with him.
                   On the outside. He's got to.

                   Not necessarily. Everything looks

                                 BOMB EXPERT
                   We found a short-range transmitter
                   beacon buried outside the prison
                   wall. When your people showed up
                   here and drove in through the gate,
                   the signal armed the bombs.                           *

                   He could have planted those bombs a
                   month ago.

                          (grappling for sense)
         , we've got two dozen ADAs
                   on payroll. Those eight were picked
                   last night on the spur of the moment.
                   How could he know which eight would
                   show up?

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                        77.

                   He didn't. Our people just found
                   bombs on every car in your ADA pool.
                   All two dozen. We're disarming those

125   INT. "THE DOME" - DAY                                          125

      TIGHT ON CLYDE shoved into the birdcage. The neck-poles are
      disengaged. He moves forward, gazing through the bars...

                   I want a phone in my cell. If I'm
                   conducting my own defense, it would
                   be useful. Also in case you and I
                   need to be in touch, Nick.

                   Fuck you.

                          (glances at clock)
                   Your twenty four hours are about
                   up. In return for the phone, I'll
                   extend you another twelve hours.

                   If not?

                   How many more people die while you
                   stand around dithering? How many do
                   you get killed before my point starts
                   sinking in?

      Cantrell closes in, tracking Clyde by voice:

                   Motherfucker! Whatever point you
                   had was lost long ago! Eight kids
                   dead in that yard, most of them
                   just out of college! Eight! I have
                   to talk to their families. I have
                   to try to explain why their loved
                   ones are dead.

      Clyde leans down, right in Cantrell's face, intense:

                   I've been waiting for my explanation
                   for ten years. So far...
                   ...NOBODY'S FUCKING BOTHERED!

      Beat. Cantrell spits in his face, turns away trembling with
      rage. Clyde calmly wipes it off, rises to address them all:

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       78.

             If it hasn't dawned on you, this is
             a war. As in any war, there will be
             collateral damage. The question, as
             always, is how much damage you're
             willing to take before you withdraw.

             Maybe I got a better idea. Maybe we
             end this war right now.
                    (looks around)
             Fourteen people dead! I have to say                  *
             this out loud?
                    (moving toward Clyde)
             Prisoners die in custody all the
             time. Attacking a guard. Trying to
             escape. Shit like that.

Clyde, eyes locked, pulls his shirt open -- here's your target.
Dunnigan, temper flaring, yanks his revolver and aims.

             Don't tempt me.

             Jesus Christ, man, dial it back...

             Do it. It would be decisive. Stupid,
             but decisive.
                    (off Dunnigan's look)
             Can you handle the blowback,
             Detective? The "shit like that?"

Nick's stunned, seeing the whole situation spiraling out of
control. He steps in, seizing the moment back:

             Put the gun away! Are you crazy?

                    (calmly reholsters)
             It's an option. All I'm saying.
             Risk the blowback. Ride it out.

             We're not risking anything. Or
             letting him tear us down.
                    (to Clyde)
             You're not getting us to throw out
             the rules, like you. No way.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       79.

                   I like rules. I've wanted you to
                   follow them from the start. Like
                   the one that says you prosecute a
                   man who murders my family.
                   So. Rules. A phone buys you another
                   twelve hours. But if you haven't
                   cut my deal and let me go by the

                   What? What then?

                   I'll kill someone in this room.

      That sucks the air out of the conversation -- everybody stares
      as that sinks in. Glances are traded.


      He looks at the room full of people, scans their faces as if
      trying to pick. He points his finger, starts going from one
      end of the group to the other...


      ...from person to person, to the end, moving back again...

          mother...told pick...a

      He lands on Cantrell. Silence. Cantrell obviously can't see.

                   Who's he pointing at?

126   EXT. PRISON COURTYARD - DAY                                      126*

      Everybody on the move, emotions high:

                   Fuck him. Let him try.

                   That's not helpful! We have fourteen                  *
                   dead! You could ask them what he's
                   capable of, but they're in no
                   position to answer.

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                 80.

                    (beat, tight)
             Point taken.

             We'll give him his phone. We'll tap
             in and monitor every call.

             Buys us another twelve hours, we
             could use that right now. That puts
             the deadline at...
                    (checks his watch)
             ...about 7:30 tonight.

             Shit. I'll be in front of a room
             full of lawyers. The A.B.A. dinner.
             I'm the keynote speaker.

             No way. Find a replacement.

             Until his deadline passes, you're
             in protective custody. Not

Cantrell isn't happy about it -- but nods.

             And have them switch the location
             of that dinner.

             That's last minute.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       81.

                   Exactly. He could have gotten your
                   schedule in advance -- been planning
                   to take you out at the dinner along
                   with everybody else. That eenie-
                   meenie act could have been horseshit.
                          (off their looks)
                   We have to get a few moves ahead.
                   Plan for every contingency.

                   This way, Mr. Cantrell. Garza, you're
                   with Mr. Price.

      They split up. Dunnigan leads Cantrell to an unmarked car
      while Nick and Garza head toward Nick's. Nick's phone RINGS.
      He checks the number, answers:

                   Hey baby -- no, I'm fine. Really.
                   Honey, calm down...

      He listens a beat, calls to the men getting in the other cars:

                   Our shit just hit the fan in a big
                   way -- we're all over the news...
                          (on phone)
                   Yes, all eight died. Sarah's in
                   surgery right now...
                   ...they think so, but...
                   ...okay, I'll meet you there. Love

      He hangs up, aims his key fob -- and hesitates. He and Garza
      trade a look, thinking the same thought. ANGLE SHIFTS to:

                                 BOMB EXPERT                            *
                   You're good. Car's been swept.

                   Of course it has. Thanks.

      Nick, feeling foolish, presses the fob. Nothing but a tiny
      CHIRP. He and Garza get in.

127   INT. UNMARKED CAR (MOVING) - DAY                                 127

      Dunnigan drives. Cantrell and his dog ride in back. Both men
      tense and silent. TWO POLICE CRUISERS provide escort...

128   INT. NICK'S CAR (MOVING)/EXT. HOSPITAL - DAY                     128

      Nick is pulling up toward the hospital, sees a TV NEWS VAN at
      the entrance, a MINICAM CREW arguing with hospital security.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          82.

                   Go around. I'll get us in back.

      Nick hits the gas, drives past the news van...

129   INT. HOSPITAL - DAY                                               129

      ...and they come past the nurse's duty desk. UNIFORMS are
      stationed in the hallway. Garza pushes a path through:

                   Keep the press off this floor,

      Nick squeezes past. The floor is busy. He finds Kell in the
      waiting area. She looks up, spots him.

      Kell rises. She and Nick pull into a tight embrace. No words
      for a long moment. Kell's shaken, fighting tears.

                   Any word?

                   She's in surgery now. They're saying
                   she'll be okay.

                   Thank God. That's good.

                   Good? You'll have to explain the
                   good part, Nick. I'm missing it.
                   This is crazy. What if something
                   happened to you? What would I say
                   to Emma? What would we do?

                   You didn't lose me. You won't. Does
                   the school know we're pulling Emma
                   out of class?

                   I called, yeah, but -- I'd rather
                   be here for Sarah when she wakes
                   up. Nick -- and for you. I want to
                   do something...

                   You are. Getting our daughter out
                   of harm's way. And yourself.
                           (calls to Garza)
                   Detective. Will you escort my wife,
                           (to Kell)
                   There's not much time. I'll be there
                   to see you off. Okay? Please?

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         83.

      Kell reluctantly walks away with Garza, while:                     *

130   EXT. CITY HALL - DAY                                             130

      A media frenzy is brewing: TRUCKS pulling in, NEWS CREWS
      gathering. ANGLE TO A REPORTER on-camera:

                   ...reporting live from a tense scene
                   at City Hall...we have confirmation
                   of earlier reports that eight people
                   with the district attorney's office
                   were killed this morning in an
                   explosion at the County Correctional
                   Annex in George Hill...

131   INT. D.A.'S OFFICE - DAY                                         131

      Nick enters, finds the STAFF around the bullpen watching the
      same live report. Everybody's in shock, a few are crying...       *

                   ...details are sketchy at this point,
                   and names are being withheld...

      People start noticing Nick. Royce comes up, looking dazed.

                   Sarah's fine. That's the good news.

                   Oh, God, that's a relief...
                          (calls to the others)
                   Miss Lowell is okay...she's okay...

      Everybody reacts -- they needed a shred of good news.

                   We've been getting calls from
                   upstairs. The mayor's people.
                          (off Nick's look)
                   Someone from our office has to make
                   a statement to the press. With Mr.
                   Cantrell absent, the mayor wants
                   you to do it.

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                        84.

                          (pause, thinking)
          much petty cash do we
                   have in the safe?

                   I don't know...four thousand?

                   Give it to me. And your cell phone.
                   I need to borrow it for a few days.

                          (beat, puzzled)
                   What do you want me to tell the

132   INT./EXT. CITY HALL - DAY                                         132

      A FIGURE enters shot, pushes a door open into glaring daylight.
      CAMERA FOLLOWS him outside to a podium set up before a swarming
      MOB OF PRESS shouting questions. ANGLE COMES AROUND to reveal:

      Royce, nervous, leaning to the microphones.

                   We in the D.A.'s office are still
                   reeling from the events of this
                   morning, as you can imagine. It's a
                   tragic day for us...for our city...

133   EXT. TRAIN STATION PLATFORM - DAY                                 133

      Kell and Emma on the platform, Garza hovering nearby, CROWDS
      swarming around them as boarding calls come over the P.A.
      system. Kell is looking around, anxious.

      Nick appears on the platform, hurrying. They see him. Emma
      runs, throws herself into Nick's arms as he crouches.

                   I wanna see Sarah...

                   Hey, hey...she's fine, don't be
                   scared. That's not allowed. And
                   there's no reason for it.

                   This sucks.

                   I know.

                   Why do we have to go?

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       85.

             'Cause your mom wants to see a few
             Broadway shows. You gonna begrudge
             her that?

             You're kinda full of shit, Dad.

Nick's taken aback -- not sure whether to laugh. He trades a
look with Kell, who's too tense with worry to care.

             Okay, you're right. Maybe I am a
             little. But only a little. The part
             you can believe is that this is all
             going to be fine. Sarah, us.
                    (directed at Kell)
             I mean it. Okay?


She detaches from her father. Nick rises to Kell, pulls an
envelope, hands it to her...

             No credit cards. Too easy to track.
             Meals, hotel, whatever -- pay cash.

...then takes her cell, swaps it for Royce's...

             I'll keep this. It can be traced.
             Use this one instead. Don't answer
             unless you see it's me.                           *

                           P.A. VOICE
             CITY DIRECT, FINAL CALL...

             Anything else?

             I love you.

             Emma's right. This sucks.

She embraces him, fears and emotions swirling.

             Be goddamn careful.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          86.

      She breaks the embrace. Nick stands, watching them get on the
      train. The doors close. The train starts out...

      Nick turns. Garza's been watching -- a look of sympathy for
      what Nick's going through...

134   INT. TRAIN - DAY                                                  134

      Kell and Emma on the train, watching buildings slide by outside
      the window. Kell troubled, holding her daughter...

135   EXT. AERIAL SHOT OF TRAIN - DAY                                   135

      WE FOLLOW the train traveling a path through canyons of
      buildings, leaving the city...

      ANGLE SWAPS TRAIN FOR CAR as we drift over a bridge and find
      Nick's car racing across the span...                                *

136   INT. CANTRELL'S HOUSE - DAY                                       136

      Nick and Garza enter. ANGLE COMES AROUND to reveal the house
      swarming with HIGH-TECH FBI FORENSIC TEAMS turning the house
      upside-down, tearing things apart, X-RAY SCANNING walls...

      Cantrell sits isolated, near tears of frustration, as the
      place is trashed around him. He glances up, hearing:

                   Jesus.                                                 *

                   Nick? These guys won't even let me
                   pack a bag. Not even a toothbrush.

      Davies enters frame, accompanied by FORENSIC TECHS -- not the
      guys from downtown, but people who work serious ops.

                   We have granules of an unidentified
                   substance in the ice-maker...

      He holds up a drinking glass with a few ice cubes, runs a
      black-light wand behind it -- dark granules become visible on
      each pass, embedded in the ice.

                   I'm betting something lethal.

                                 TECH #1
                   Like this salt.
                          (pours a small amount)
                   Not sodium chloride. Potassium
                   chloride. It's a neuro-blocker,
                   stops the heart -- they use it in
                   lethal injections. You'd be dead
                   before you got up from the table.                      *

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                 87.

Nick tosses the others a grim look.                      *

             I'm telling you, Clyde has someone          *
             working with him. Someone on the

             Who? Who could he have?

             Somebody from his past. Could be            *
             that spook we met on the stairs,            *
             for all we know -- he'd know how to         *
             plant this shit...

             Him? No--why would Clyde let him
             come talk to us?

             To fuck with our heads? To get us
             to bring in our ADAs so he could
             blow them up?

                           DUNNIGAN                      *
             It would be a Clyde move. But it's          *
             not proof.
                    (to Cantrell)                        *
             Could he have planted this stuff in         *
             your house before he was arrested?

             I--I don't know...

             Jonas, think -- last few days, have         *
             you used any ice? Any salt?

                    (confused, grappling)
             I don't use salt--my cholesterol.
             Ice? Yeah--not long ago.

             Before or after he was arrested?

             I don't remember! You track your            *
             use of ice, Nick? You keep a daily          *

TECH #2 calls from the kitchen:

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                          88.

                                 TECH #2
                   Heads-up! Looks like polonium here.
                   In his tea pot. Same way the Russians
                   killed Litvenenko. Took him two
                   weeks to die.
                          (off their looks)
                   It's an exotic isotope. All you
                   need is a trace amount. Rips through
                   your organs and bone marrow.

      Nick's been listening, thunderstruck, paler by the moment. He
      looks to Cantrell sitting there, quiet and shaking.

                                 NICK                                     *
                   I'll buy you a new toothbrush.                         *

137   EXT. AERIAL ESTABLISHING OF HOTEL - DAY                           137

      DRIFTING IN on a reflective glass skyscraper -- spectacular.

138   INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY                                             138

      The door opens, revealing Nick, Cantrell, et al. They come
      into the room...actually, "room" undersells it. It's the most
      spectacular suite known to man -- huge open floor plan, with
      a stunning view of all the downtown buildings surrounding us.

                   Holy shit.


                   I'm actually a little jealous Clyde
                   didn't pick me.

      Cantrell laughs -- and it lightens everybody's mood. Nick          *
      drifts to the windows, gazing out, as:                             *

                   It's the presidential suite. Last
                   person who stayed here was actually
                   a president. Of a country. Security
                   here is amazing.

                                 NICK                                     *
                   It's not bad, Jonas. I think you
                   can muddle through.

                   You're muddling with him. I don't
                   want you back at your house until
                   my people sweep it. You need pajamas,
                   buy some in the shop downstairs.

      Nick nods, pulls Sarah's reports from his briefcase.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       89.

                   The background check my office was
                   compiling -- these properties we                    *
                   think Clyde owns? If he is working                  *
                   with somebody, they could be                        *
                   operating out of any of these. We                   *
                   should check them.                                  *

                   I'll try to wrangle additional                      *
                   manpower. Big job.                                  *

                          (pages the report)                           *
                   No shit. This is quite a list. Over                 *
                   forty locations?

                   It's not even complete. Sarah was                   *
                   in the middle of it -- untangling
                   property ownership from under assumed
                   names, shell companies. She's the
                   expert on all that.

                                 CANTRELL                              *
                   Fellas... I'm grateful for all your
                   efforts. I just wanted to say it.

                   Save it for tonight. Hope you're in
                   the mood for Chinese takeout.

                   Where are you going?

                   That stuff in your house -- it's
                   all gone too far. I started this. I
                   owe everybody at least one last try
                   at defusing it.

139   EXT. COUNTY JAIL ANNEX - DAY                                    139

      A STEEL DOOR opens. Clyde steps out, shackled, blinking at
      daylight. He comes down a short flight of steps...

      CAMERA COMES AROUND to reveal his surroundings: not within
      prison walls, but rather behind the prison -- a loading area
      we haven't seen, comprised of fences and razor wire.

      Nick walks in the rear gate, passed through by Warden Iger
      himself -- this is clearly an off-the-books meeting. Nick and
      Clyde walk to each other, meet halfway.

WHITE   -   9-7-8                                           90.

             Interesting location you've chosen.

             I thought we'd have some privacy.

             For what? A talk? Or...
                    (gazes around)
             Maybe you've decided to take
             Detective Dunnigan's advice.

He's noticing GUARDS atop the prison wall and surrounding
roofs -- all with sniper rifles.

             Be the perfect place for it. Outside
             the wall. Look like you were shot
             trying to escape.


Nick and Clyde below. A SCOPE suddenly rises into frame,
turning our shot into a SNIPER SCOPE POV, jumping Clyde's
face into magnification. He smiles in the crosshairs...


             You have some kind of signal worked
             out? You scratch your nose and blam,
             I'm a goner?

             Something like that.

             Might solve all your problems. What's
             stopping you? Afraid of the blowback?

             No. It's to prove a     point.
                    (off Clyde's     look)
             Just because I have     the power,
             doesn't mean I have     to use it.

             Ah. Nice. Good one.

             One can show mercy.

             Mercy. Right.

             Yeah. So why don't you?

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       91.

We see Clyde's brain bend a little -- trying to wrap his head
around it. It's almost painful for him.

             I think we've come a little too far
             for that, haven't we, Nick? I mean,
             what do I say? Sorry, my bad? Which
             way to the execution chamber?

             Don't give me that. Death doesn't
             scare you.

                    (smiles "right")
             Yeah, but...we're in the flow of
             this now. You cry havoc, you let
             slip the dogs of war, you go with                  *
             it. You don't just stop because                    *
             someone says hey wait. By then the
             dogs are dragging you.

             Until one side admits defeat. What
             if I did that? What if I said...
    were right. I was wrong.
             What if I say I should have
             prosecuted both men ten years ago?

             I'd say you're making progress. You
             should have, you know. Prosecuted

             I'd have lost.

             With your head held high. And without
             any blame from me.

Nick's CELL RINGS -- he turns away, answers:

             She is? Great news. I'll stop on my
             way back. And Royce? Put some get-
             well flowers in her room, they sell
             'em in the lobby. Thanks.
                    (hangs up, baleful)
             Six hours in surgery.

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                  92.

             But she's okay -- good. Miss Lowell
             is a fine young woman.
             Oh, hey...your wife and little girl
             get out of town all right?

                    (beat, staring)
             You asking that question makes me
             want to scratch my nose.

Clyde glances around at the snipers with a laugh.

             Just a guess. It's what I would do.
             Get 'em out, make sure they're safe.
             C'mon. Like I'd ever have hurt them


             There are limits. Even in war. I
             may be many things, Nick. But I'm
             not Clarence Darby. I'm not Rupert
             Ames. I'm not that kind of monster.

             What kind are you?

             Not the kind who'd hurt your wife
             and child. Christ, look at me. Mine
             were my salvation -- then they were
             killed -- and all I had left was
             this. Life without them in this
             fucking charnel-house world.

Pause. Drawing close:

             It hurt to lose them, didn't it?
             Your family. Even knowing they'd
             come back.


             Imagine knowing they wouldn't.

             I can't. I can't imagine that.               *

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        93.

                   Good. I envy you. For me, knowing                     *
                   mine won't come back is the only
                   thing that's crowded my thoughts
                   for ten years. If I could take a
                   rusty knife and cut out that part
                   of my brain, I would.

                   I won't make any more deals with
                   murderers. If hearing that makes a
                   difference...if that was the point
                   of all've won.

      We see Clyde's brain hurting again -- he's trying to believe
      that, would like to believe that...

                   Counselor. I have no doubt, as we
                   stand here, that you really believe
                   that. I wish I could.
                   Are we done? You gonna scratch your
                   nose, or can I go?

      Silence now. Nothing left to say. They turn and walk in
      opposite directions...

140   INT. CLYDE'S SOLITARY CELL - DAY                                  140

      ...and Clyde is brought in, locked into gloom as the doors
      SLAM behind him. He stands, staring at the darkness...

141   EXT. CITYSCAPE - DUSK                                             141

      The sun is setting...

142   INT. NICK'S CAR (MOVING) - DUSK                                   142 Nick drives back into town, crossing one of the bridges.

143   INT. HOTEL BALLROOM - DUSK                                        143

      (Not Cantrell's hotel, but one close by.) A SIGN reads: "A.B.A.
      Dinner." PEOPLE are entering, passing a GREETER. ANGLE FINDS
      Judge Burch arriving...

144   INT. JUDGE BURCH'S OFFICE - DUSK                                  144

      A SECRETARY answers the ringing phone:

                   Judge's chambers.

                                 VOICE ON PHONE
                   Laura? Laura, that you?

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       94.

                   I'm sorry, Judge Burch is gone for
                   the evening.

                                 VOICE ON PHONE
                   Dang it. Listen, honey, I flew in
                   from Galveston for this A.B.A thing
                   Laura invited me to -- just got
                   here and they said it was moved.
                   You got a number, address, anything?

145   INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DUSK                                       145

      Nick peers in. Sarah's in bed, leg braced, in traction. She's
      awake but groggy -- which isn't stopping her from giving
      instructions to Royce, who's scribbling notes at her bedside:

                   ...tell Hansen we need hard info on
                   those addresses...don't let the
                   shell game on ownership title slow
                   him this point we'll take
                   educated guesses...

      Sarah looks over, sees Nick step in, gives him a weak smile.


                   Hey. Nice flowers. Thanks.

      He comes to the bed, takes her hand, squeezes it.

                   How you doing?

                   This place has great drugs. Damn. I
                   should've totaled my leg long ago.

      But her emotions are in turmoil -- she puts her hands over
      her face, holding back a sob.

                   They're all dead?

                   I'm afraid so.

      Sarah lets herself cry. Nick waits, then:                         *

                   You're alive. That counts for a                      *
                   lot.                                                 *
                          (beat)                                        *
                   I'm sorry I put you in harm's way.                   *

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                  94A.

She absorbs that, angrily wipes her eyes.

             It wasn't you. It was that son of a
             bitch. I hear he's threatened Jonas?          *

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       95.

                   We're all over it. Jonas is safe --                 *
                   out of reach.                                       *

146   INT. CANTRELL'S SUITE - NIGHT                                  146

      Cantrell on the upper level, wearing brand-new sweats, white
      cane tapping the unfamiliar place, Betsy at his side. He
      follows VOICES around the corner...

      Inside a room, Garza's playing poker with three other cops:

                   Who's winning?

                   Laszlo, the cheatin' prick...

                   Yer mama...

                   Wanna sit in?

                   If I had my Braille set, I'd clean
                   you out. Not much of a game if you
                   have to tell me what my cards are.


      The other guys toss Garza a look -- what a moron.

                   People forget. No worries.
                          (turns away)
                   Enjoy your game, fellas.

                   Need help? Want one of us should
                   walk you down?

                   I'm good. Unfamiliar places take me
                   a little longer. But I get there.

                          (calls after him)
                   Holler if you need anything.
                          (back to the game)
                   Okay, who's in, who's out...

147   INT. HOTEL BALLROOM - NIGHT                                    147

      WAITERS setting out salads, guests taking seats, as:

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                           96.

                   Good evening. Sorry for any confusion
                   our last-minute change of location
                   might have caused...

148   INT. CANTRELL'S SUITE - NIGHT                                     148

      That incredible city view -- skyscrapers all around, aglow
      with lights. Cantrell enters frame, drawn to the glass...

      A POLICE HELICOPTER IS ROARING slowly past out there, drifting
      among the buildings at our eye level. Cantrell raises his
      hand, places it on the glass, feeling the vibrations...

      The copter's searchlight sweeps the windows, highlighting him
      briefly with incredible light he can't see...

149   INT. OTHER HOTEL BALLROOM - NIGHT                                 149

      ...but we can see the copter going by from here, searchlight
      playing over Cantrell's building -- which is plainly visible
      just across the way.

      ANGLE WIDENS to find Judge Burch at a table, as:

                   ...please join me in a warm welcome
                   for our keynote speaker this evening,
                   Judge Laura Burch...

      She rises and heads for the podium amidst APPLAUSE...

150   EXT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - NIGHT                                   150

      Nick exits, arms loaded down with bags of takeout, talking on
      his cell phone as he heads for his car:

                   ...yes, you pain in the ass, of
                   course I got your
                   think I'd forget...just don't give
                   Betsy any, I can't deal with dog
                   farts all night...

151   INT. CANTRELL'S SUITE - NIGHT                                     151

      Cantrell's sitting in front of that incredible view with Betsy
      at his feet, on the phone:

                   How long, man, I'm starving...

152   EXT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - NIGHT                                   152

      Nick gets to his car, checks his watch -- and pauses. The
      time reads: "7:27." Nick is suddenly hit with a momentary
      sense of dread. He glances up the street...

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                        97.


      reveals Nick in deep f.g. looking up the broad avenue -- in
      the distance stands Cantrell's skyscraper.

                      I'm minutes away. Relax.

      Nick shakes off his misgivings, hangs up, gets in the car...

153   INT. CANTRELL'S SUITE - NIGHT                                   153

      Cantrell eases to the floor, sits with Betsy. He strokes her
      fur. She WHINES, uneasy.

                      It's okay. It's gonna be okay.

154   INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT                                           154

      Judge Burch at the podium:

                                    JUDGE BURCH
                      ...Jonas was upset not to be here
                      with you tonight...a personal matter
                      came up...but he wanted me to give
                      you all his fondest regards...

155   EXT. A ROOFTOP - NIGHT                                          155

      ANGLE LOOKING UP at Cantrell's hotel -- a FIGURE steps into
      our shot, his back to us. He pulls a cell phone from his
      pocket, flips it open, sees the time: "7:29."

      The thumb starts pressing numbers -- boop...boop...boop...

156   INT. CANTRELL'S SUITE - NIGHT                                   156

      ANGLE DRIFTING ACROSS THE FLOOR -- Cantrell and Betsy against
      the incredible city view...

      He finally gets fed up with that surgery collar she's worn
      the entire movie, reaches around, unsnaps the plastic. He
      puts the collar aside, gently ruffs her shaggy neck.

                      There. That's better.

      He puts his arm around her, taking comfort in her presence. A
      quiet, pensive moment...

157   INT. NICK'S CAR (MOVING) - NIGHT                                157

      Nick driving, a block from the hotel now...

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                           98.

158   EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT                                              158 the FIGURE finishes dialing. The thumb hovers a moment,
      then presses "send." We hear the call RINGING through...

159   INT. CANTRELL'S SUITE - NIGHT                                     159

      ...and Cantrell hears a strange SOUND...almost like a phone
      ringing -- sort of close but not -- weirdly muffled.

      He looks around, trying to pinpoint it. His head finally
      swivels down to Betsy lying at his side. She's WHINING, getting
      a little freaked, licking her stitches...

      Cantrell's hand travels down her fur to her belly...fingertips
      tracing the stitching...and what he can't see is the strange
      glow building under her skin...

      But he can sense it. His eyes widen slightly...

      ...and WHAM! The room is swallowed in a DETONATION --

160   EXT. CANTRELL'S FLOOR - NIGHT                                     160

      -- which BLOWS OUT THE ROOM IN A HUGE EXPLOSION, the rows of
      windows vanishing in a storm of flame and shattering glass...

161   INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT                                             161

      Judge Burch and the others gasp as the explosion lights up
      the night from the building across the way...

162   EXT. NICK'S CAR - NIGHT                                           162

      Nick slams on his brakes -- he cranes forward, gazing up in
      horror as the explosion is reflected in his windshield...

163   EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT                                              163

      The blast kicks from the face of the building, fireball rising
      with eerie grace into the night sky, as:

      The FIGURE steps into frame, pockets the cell phone. CAMERA
      PIVOTS BEHIND him, losing Cantrell's building and bringing
      the other hotel into view -- the one with the lawyers...

164   EXT. NICK'S CAR - NIGHT                                           164

      Nick jumps out, stunned. He runs up the street toward the
      hotel as glass and debris rains onto the sidewalk...

165   INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT                                             165

      People crowd to the glass, staring out at the skyscraper across
      the way -- at the smoking ruin that was once a floor...

      BLUE      -   9-19-08                                        99.

166   EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT                                               166

      ...and the FIGURE bends down, picks something up. He hefts it
      onto his shoulder: a LAWS ROCKET-LAUNCHER. He flips up the
      sight, takes aim at the other hotel, fires...

      WHOOOSH -- the rocket streaks, leaving a contrail...

167   INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT                                              167

      FAST CUT: Judge Burch and those around her reacting as the
      glare of the rocket approaches in a heartbeat --

      WHAM! OUR SECOND EXPLOSION of the night takes out the ballroom,
      killing dozens, blowing flame and debris across the room...

168   EXT. STREET - NIGHT                                                168

      Nick sees it: the contrail, the second blast, all of it. It
      stops him dead in his tracks. Just overwhelmed.

169   OMITTED                                                            169*

170   INT. CANTRELL'S SUITE - NIGHT                                      170*

      Garza and his guys come stumbling and bleeding from the room        *
      they were in. They get to the top of the stairs, find the           *
      front of the suite open to the windy sky outside...

                             (gasping on radio)
                      ...we need help up here...                           *

                      Jesus Christ. What the fuck hit us?

171   EXT. STREET - NIGHT                                                171

      Nick stares up, wondering the same thing as we

                                                   FADE TO BLACK

172   INT. CITY HALL - GRAND CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY                       172

      A 30-foot-high hand-painted domed ceiling above, an equally
      huge ROUND TABLE below -- an imposing room that says power.

      Nick is ushered in. A DOZEN OR MORE PEOPLE are seated -- top-
      echelon city brass -- political, fire, police.

      Also present are Davies and Dunnigan. (Dunnigan is not seated --
      he's getting his ass reamed today.)

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                      100.

The top dog: THE MAYOR. He's seething but not a screamer -- a
man who keeps it tightly reined:

             We're worldwide news this morning.
             Almost twenty dead, among them some
             of this country's top attorneys. I
             had friends in that room. Hell, I
             almost attended myself.

             The second explosion. I saw a rocket               *
             fired.                                             *
                    (to Davies and Dunnigan)
             Clyde does have somebody on the

                           MAYOR                                *
             What you saw or think you saw is                   *
             beside the point. What matters is                  *
             that the FBI wanted to rendition                   *
             this man out of my city. The reason                *
             he's still here causing havoc is
             you. You wanted to prosecute this
             case. Your ambition kept him here                  *
             and provoked this tragedy.

             ...not entirely fair...

             Detective. Your job is hanging by a
             thread. I'd think a man of your
             experience would know when to keep
             his mouth shut and his ass covered.

Dunnigan -- formidable though he is -- looks away, keeps his
mouth shut. The Mayor approaches Nick, looks him in the eye.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                      101.

                   When I go in front of the cameras
                   today -- unlike some people who
                   seem unwilling to do so when asked --
                   I'm going to make goddamn sure the
                   media doesn't hang this abject
                   disaster around my neck. Why? Because
                   I'm hanging it on yours.
                   You're done. Gone. Fired. Non-
                   existent. Get the fuck out.

173   EXT. CITY HALL COURTYARD - DAY                                 173

      People going about their business.

      Nick exits, dazed, comes down the steps. He sits on a step,
      vacant -- a man completely at a loss and out of options.

      His CELL RINGS. He rouses himself, flips it open.

                                 CLYDE (V.O.)
                   Hey. Some legal team from the mayor                 *
                   showed up here this morning. I hear                 *
                   you're off the case. Told you they'd                *
                   scapegoat you, didn't I?
                   Nick? You there?                                    *

                                 NICK                                  *
                   How'd you kill Jonas? I know about
                   the second explosion, I saw the
                   contrail, so I know you got somebody
                   working for you. But the first
                   explosion -- how?

                   Say you find a guy with a bad cocaine
                   problem. Hungry ex-wives. Greedy
                   mistress. Heavy gambling debts.                     *

      ...a bizarre sound occurs on the line -- an unidentifiable
      SHRIEKING SOUND that grows and rapidly dissipates...

                   Say that guy's a veterinarian. You                  *
                   hand him a million in cash, he'll                   *
                   do what you ask. Especially if he's                 *
                   looking to blow town for good...

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                      102.

                    (can't believe it)
             It was...inside the dog?

             You own the vet, you own the dog.
             Explosive wasn't even that big.
             Stuff I use, it didn't have to be.
             Hidden in plain sight. That's my
             specialty. Haven't you figured that
             out yet?

Nick sighs, rubs his eyes, can barely even speak.

             What's next for you? Mulling career
             options? I suppose law is out.

             I'm trying to get over my friend
             being dead. Aside from that, fuck

             Fair enough.
             I'll miss you Nick. It was a good

             Didn't bring your family back,
             though, did it?
                    (off Clyde's silence)
             Has it made you feel better? All
             this? You done making your point?

             Just warming up. This is Clausewitz
             shit, my friend. Total war.

CAMERA PUSHING IN on Nick, listening, as:

             I'm gonna pull the whole thing down.
             I will topple the gleaming pillars
             and drag the whole fucking diseased,
             corrupt temple down on my head.
             Stay tuned. It'll be Biblical.

Click -- line goes dead. Nick sits staring at the phone...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                     102A.

174   INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY                                        174

      Nick enters, finds Sarah crying. A WALL-MOUNTED TV IS PLAYING
      A NEWS REPORT of the explosions -- file footage of Jonas
      Cantrell pops up. Nick drifts over, sits at her bedside, as:

                   ...going live now to City Hall where
                   Mayor Tilden is about to make a
                   statement...announcing, we're told,
                   among other things, the dismissal
                   of District Attorney Nick Price...

      The IMAGE cuts to the Mayor stepping to the mic.

                   Thank you all for gathering on this
                   solemn and anxious occasion...

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                       103.

      Nick MUTES it. He and Sarah don't speak for long moments --
      he's waiting for her to pull herself together.

      She finally does, going into professional mode, pulling her
      laptop and files and reports around her.

                   We got the latest batch of background
                   in. Hansen and the other guy did
                   some good work here--

                   Sarah. Give it a rest. It's over.
                   We're done.
                          (off her look)
                   I'm done. The mayor is nailing my
                   coffin shut. The best thing you can
                   do right now is distance yourself
                   from me as much as you can -- see
                   what you can salvage of your career.

      Sarah is staring at him with "fuck you" in her eyes. She picks
      up a multi-page list of addresses, hands it to him.

                   This lists over fifty shit-value
                   properties in industrial zones that
                   nobody in their right mind would
                   want to own -- stuff around chemical
                   plants, factories. All are owned by
                   Benson Clyde. Look at twenty-two.

      Nick, not caring, scans down to:

                   "Joe's Lube-and-Drive Garage." Went
                   out of business in '94.
                          (looks up, irritated)
                   Now why would Joe's extinct Lube-
                   and-Shit Garage be of the slightest
                   possible fucking interest to you,
                   me, or anyone?

                          (tight, pissed)
                   The garage, not so much. But the
                   address. Look at the location.

      Nick looks down at the list again...staring...

175   EXT. JOE'S LUBE-AND-DRIVE GARAGE - DAY                           175

      A shitty garage in a shitty industrial park. Bordering it, on
      the other side of some fencing, are municipal train tracks.

      Nick's car pulls up. He gets out. It's a ghost town here.

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        104.

      He goes to the garage window -- glass thick with dirt. He
      wipes with his sleeve, but it doesn't help him see in.

176   INT. GARAGE - DAY                                                 176

      TIGHT ON ROLL-UP DOOR -- a CAR JACK jams in under the lip. We
      hear CRANKING and the door rises...

      Nick drops down, peering in. He squeezes under the door, stands
      up. Gloomy in here. He hits the door switch -- it RATTLES up       *
      on its tracks, flooding the place with light...                    *

      He looks around. Cobwebs. Dust. A CAR under a tarp on the
      hydraulic floor-lift. Old shelves and pallets of tools. Rust.
      Grime. The crap of ages.

      He sighs, turns and walks out...

177   EXT./INT. GARAGE - DAY                                            177

      ...and pauses. Something tickling his brain.

      Suddenly, a SHRIEKING COMMUTER TRAIN blasts by -- gone,
      dwindling. It was a bizarre, distinctive the one
      Nick heard during his last phone call with Clyde.

      Nick stands frozen, pieces in his head tumbling and threatening
      to fall into place. Something about the shape of that car
      under that tarp...

      He turns, staring at it. Goes back in, drawn to it -- it's
      long, distinctly old-school, with sharp boxy corners...

      He draws the tarp off -- finds a 1965 Lincoln Continental,
      midnight-blue, in excellent condition. The last time he saw
      it, it was parked in a carport at Benson Clyde's farmhouse.

      What's it doing here? More pieces falling into place. Nick
      leaves the garage again, walking out...

      CAMERA TRACKS HIM across the tarmac, and as we come around
      the corner of the building, we reveal:

      The County Correctional Annex is right there, a backwater
      corner of the prison not sixty feet away...

      Nick stares up at it -- a very curious location indeed.

178   INT. GARAGE - DAY                                                 178

      FAST CUTS: Nick searching...behind shelves...the
      closets...the grimy little office...

      He stops. Looks at the car. There's a mechanic's pit below
      that hydraulic lift. He goes to the control, hits "up"...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         105.


      Nick's face comes slowly into view as the hoist rises...

                                                 FADE TO BLACK

      IN BLACKNESS, WE HEAR: Boop-boop-boop...a cell being dialed.
      The line RINGING. A voice answering:

179   INT. POLICE STATION - BULLPEN - NIGHT                             179



                          (on cell)
                   Do we finish this tonight?

                   Nick? Jesus...
                          (nervous glance around)
                   Look. No hard feelings, but there
                   is no "we." You're radioactive. I                      *
                   can't even be seen talking to you...

                   I know who he's got on the outside.
                          (that stops Dunnigan)
                   I'll ask again. Do we finish this

      Poor Dunnigan looks tortured. He catches Garza's eye...

180   EXT. JOE'S LUBE-AND-DRIVE GARAGE - NIGHT                          180

      A TRAIN SHRIEKS through shot, revealing:

      The garage quiet in moonlight. The area deserted. Beat. The
      garage door rolls up on its tracks. Darkness within.

      A PAIR OF HEADLIGHTS kick on, blinding us. The Lincoln emerges,
      moves off into the night as the door rolls down again.

      We hear SOFT STATIC from a police radio, and a voice:

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                      106.

                                 DUNNIGAN (O.S.)
                   All units. Subject vehicle is on
                   the move.

      ANGLE WIDENS to reveal we're in an UNMARKED CAR -- Dunnigan        *
      at the wheel, Nick beside him. Dunnigan's on the radio:

                   Everybody maintain distance.

      Dunnigan puts the car in gear, pulls out...


181   EXT. AERIAL SHOT - NIGHT                                          181

      DRIFTING MAGICALLY THROUGH the downtown skyscrapers...neon-
      lit lights reflecting off glass buildings...

      AN FBI HELICOPTER drops into shot. CAMERA COMES AROUND, pacing,
      the copter's reflection in the buildings we're passing...

182   EXT. AERIAL SHOT LOOKING STRAIGHT DOWN - NIGHT                    182

      SKYSCRAPERS pass the lens below us...

      There's a midnight-blue Lincoln traveling the streets far
      below. It turns a corner, moving up a long boulevard. CAMERA
      PIVOTS around a skyscraper, following...

183   EXT. STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - NIGHT                             183

      The Lincoln cruising, cold reflections of street lamps kicking
      off sheet metal, flowing along its body and windshield...

      WE START ZOOMING AND RACKING FOCUS to the unmarked cars tailing
      it in traffic....visually, it becomes a surreal dance of
      headlights and traffic signals...

184   EXT. AERIAL SHOTS - VARIOUS ANGLES - NIGHT                        184

      A POLICE COPTER joins the FBI copter in the air...both cruising
      eerily against a kaleidoscopic wash of city lights...

                                 VOICE #1 (V.O.)
                   Maintain two thousand foot ceiling...

185   INT. DUNNIGAN'S CAR (MOVING) - NIGHT                              185

                                 VOICE #1 (V.O.)
                   Subject vehicle turning south off
                   of Hudson...into an alley...

                          (clicks hand-mic)
                   Hang back...hang back...

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                          107.

186   EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT                                                186

      The Lincoln pulls to a loading door. The door rises...

187   INT. BUILDING - NIGHT                                             187

      ...and the Lincoln enters. It stops next to a LARGE CUBE VAN
      with the logo: "Nomos Custodial Services."

      CAMERA PUSHES IN as the car door opens, feet step out...

      TILT UP to Clyde dressed in a custodial services uniform. He
      slams the car door, gets in the van, fires up the engine...

188   EXT. AERIAL VIEW OF ALLEY - NIGHT                                 188

      Far below us, the van emerges from the same door, comes out
      of the alley and back onto the street...

                                 VOICE #2 (V.O.)
                   I got a white van...large cube
                   type...think he switched vehicles...
                   moving north again on Hudson...

189   INT. DUNNIGAN'S CAR - NIGHT                                       189

                   Five and six, stick with that
                   building in case he's trying to
                   cowboy us. All other units, stay
                   with the van...

      Dunnigan pulls out into traffic, resuming the tail...

                                 VOICE #3 (V.O.)
                   I have visual on van. Logo on side
                   reads "Nomos Custodial Services."

                   Where the hell is he going?

190   EXT. CITY HALL - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT                             190

      The glorious old building looms above us. TILT DOWN to reveal
      a red carpet event brewing -- LIMOS AND LUXURY CARS pulling
      up, GUESTS in expensive attire getting out...

      The NOMOS VAN STEALS THE FRAME as it drives past and turns to
      go around the back of the building...

      A LIMO STEALS THE FRAME BACK as it pulls to the curb. The
      Mayor steps out, waving and smiling for FLASHING CAMERAS...

191   INT. DUNNIGAN'S CAR (MOVING) - NIGHT                              191

      Nick and Dunnigan drive past all the hoopla...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       108.

                   You don't suppose Nomos Custodial                    *
                   has a service contract with City
                   Hall, do you?

      Off Dunnigan's look of "oh shit"...

192   EXT. CITY HALL SERVICE ENTRANCE - NIGHT                         192

      TIGHT ON A CARD SCANNER as a card is swiped. THUNK -- the
      lock disengages. TILT UP to Clyde as he rolls a loaded
      custodial cart (with mops and trash barrel) inside...

193   INT. CITY HALL SERVICE AREA - NIGHT                             193

      A GUARD mans the security desk -- he glances up from a BANK
      OF LIVE-FEED VIDEO MONITORS as Clyde rolls his cart in.

                                 SECURITY GUARD
                   Mr. Nomos! Ain't seen you around.

                   Ted...had to get that vacation in.
                   Visited my sister in the Keys...

                                 SECURITY GUARD
                   Nice. Good for you.

                   Hey, what's all that hoopla at the
                   main entrance?

                                 SECURITY GUARD
                   Mayor's got a big fuckin' thing.
                   Thousand dollar a plate whatever.
                   They say the Governor might come.

                          (moving on)
                   I'll stay out of their way.

                                 SECURITY GUARD
                          (calls after him)
                   They're up on six, avoid that floor.
                   They got more security than God...


      Far below: The entrance lit up with arriving cars and guests,

      A HELICOPTER DRIFTS through the shot just below us in SLOW-
      MOTION, rotors thrumming eerily...

195   INT. SERVICE ELEVATOR - NIGHT                                   195

      ...while Clyde rides up. He stops at five, gets out...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                         109.

196   INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT                                              196

      ...and rolls his cart up the hallway. MUFFLED MUSIC from the
      floor above. He comes to a door, sorts his keys...

197   INT. EMPTY COURTROOM - NIGHT                                      197

      ...and enters in darkness. Moving swiftly, he reaches into
      his trash barrel, pulls a gleaming STEEL BRIEFCASE from under
      the shredded papers -- he strides to the judge's dais, lays
      the case atop it, turns and heads back to his cart...

198   INT. SERVICE AREA SECURITY DESK - NIGHT                           198 a STREAM OF TACTICAL COPS stampede into the building
      and up the stairs. ANGLE FINDS Nick, Dunnigan, and Davies
      looming over the nervous security guard:

                   What floor?

                                 SECURITY GUARD
                   I told him to avoid six...
                          (checking monitors)

      On a monitor: Clyde rolls his cart from the courtroom...

                                 SECURITY GUARD
                   That's the main courtroom on five.                     *

                   That's right below the ballroom.
                   The Mayor's event.

199   INT. 6TH FLOOR HALLWAY AND BALLROOM - NIGHT                       199

      Early arrivals are coming up, entering the ballroom. The place     *
      is crawling with SECRET-SERVICE TYPES in suits.                    *

200   INT. 5TH FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT                                    200*

      Clyde comes down the hallway B.G., rolling his cart...

      F.G., ANGLE FINDS tactical cops with machine guns pouring
      quietly up the stairs, taking up positions just around the
      corners, poised and tense. TIGHTEN IN as the TAC LEADER uses
      a small mirror to peek around the corner and spot Clyde:

                                 TAC LEADER
                          (whispering on headset)
                   Subject in sight. Do we take him?

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                      110.

201   INT. ANOTHER STAIRCASE - NIGHT                                   201*

      Nick, Dunnigan and others are racing up the steps. Dunnigan       *
      raises his radio to say yes, but:

                   No. Let him go.
                          (off Dunnigan's look)
                   We know where to find him. Let's
                   get to that courtroom.

      Dunnigan hesitates -- against every instinct in his body.

                   I hope you know what the fuck you're
                          (clicks mic)
                   Negative. We're letting him go. All
                   units hang back. Repeat. We are
                   letting the subject go.

202   INT. 5TH FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT                                   202

      The cops trade surprised glances. The elevator DINGS. Clyde
      gets on, the doors close. The cops swarm up the hallway...

203   INT. COURTROOM - NIGHT                                           203

      This all happens fast: Bang -- the doors slam open. Nick leads
      a huge phalanx of cops and FBI in, weapons and flashlight
      beams stabbing in all directions.


      They race to the judge's dais -- the steel case.

                   Don't touch it! Could be motion

      Davies shoves his way to the front, grabs a small hand-held
      drill from one of his guys' tactical vests:

                   I need light!

      Dozens of beams converge. Davies places the drill, goes to
      work on the case...grind, grind...

                                 VOICE #4 (V.O.)
                   I have visual...suspect leaving the                   *
                   building...different service exit...

204   EXT. CITY HALL - NIGHT                                           204

      Clyde exits a loading dock, gets in his van...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       111.

205   INT. COURTROOM - NIGHT                                          205

      ...grind, grind...the drill taps through. Davies yanks it,
      feeds a fiber-optic tube into the hole, puts his eye to the
      eyepiece. He swivels the tube carefully, peering inside...

                                 DAVIES                                 *
                   Crap.                                                *
                          (glances up)                                  *
                   Explosives. Nasty ones.                              *

                   What? C-4?                                           *

      Davies takes his eye from the eyepiece, looks at them.

                   C-4 is for girl scouts. This is
                   malglinite. Take out the whole floor
                   above us...maybe this entire corner
                   of the building...

                   Can you open it? Disarm it?

                          (back to eyepiece)
                   No, we got tripwires. We open this
                   lid, instant karma's gonna get us.
                          (keeps scanning)
                   Don't see a motion sensor. Trigger
                   looks simple...dial a cell phone,
                   incoming call arms the trigger --
                   trigger's set to count down from
                   forty seconds, then boom.
                          (off their looks)
                   That call comes in, we have forty
                   seconds to get as far away from
                   this thing as possible.

                          (to his men)
                   Alert the mayor's security team.                     *
                   Evacuate those people upstairs --                    *
                   clear that ballroom, go!


      Dunnigan turns on him, instant shouting match:

                   No? What the fuck are you talking
                   about, this could go off any second!

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                         112.

                   He won't set it off until that room
                   is full! People are still arriving,
                   red carpet shit, that's at least
                   another half hour!

                   I will not take that risk!

                   You have to!

      Beat. Nick, no longer shouting, but intense and fast:

                   If I'm him, I've rigged cameras in
                   that ballroom -- live video feed --
                   first sign of an evacuation, I
                   trigger the bomb.
                          (off their looks)
                   We have to think ahead of this fuck!

      Pause. Looks traded.

                   I'm open.

                   Okay, Nick. What's the move?

206   INT. LINCOLN/NOMOS CUSTODIAL - NIGHT                             206

      Clyde slams the van door, gets in the Lincoln. He pulls a
      handheld CLAMSHELL VIDEO MONITOR -- it shows a LIVE FEED of
      people entering the ballroom, mingling as they arrive...

      Clyde smiles, starts the engine...

207   INT. CITY HALL BALLROOM - NIGHT                                  207

      The Mayor enters, waving to everybody, shaking hands...

208   INT. JOE'S LUBE-AND-DRIVE GARAGE - NIGHT                         208

      The garage door rises. The Lincoln backs in, stops on the
      hydraulic lift. Clyde gets out, throws the tarp over it.

      Briefly checks his clamshell. Still plenty of time...

      He raises the lift a few feet, drops down and crawls under
      the car into:

209   THE MECHANIC'S PIT                                               209

      Duplicate controls. He hits the button and the car sinks down
      atop us, settling to the floor, sealing us into darkness.

      WHITE   -   9-7-8                                         113.

      Beat. A BRIGHT LIGHT turns on -- one of those gazillion
      candlepower flashlights. Clyde aims it and we see:

      A TUNNEL hewn into the wall of the mechanic's pit. Just large
      enough for Clyde to crawl into. He does...

210   INT. TUNNEL - NIGHT                                              210

      Hand-dug, rough dirt held up by two-by-four bracing. A wheeled
      platform is the transport -- Clyde's on his back, pulling
      himself along by an overhead rope, hand over hand...

211   INT. UNDER THE PRISON - NIGHT                                    211

      Clyde emerges in the suffocating darkness of a sub-basement
      laid into a foundation that dates back to the Civil War. He
      crawls free, shining his light as rats scurry in shadows...

      He's on his hands and knees at first because the ceiling's so
      low. He's finally able to rise, moving along at a crouch...

      ...and emerging into a proper sub-tunnel. Now able to walk
      normally, he navigates the tunnels and comes to:

212   INT. CLYDE'S STAGING AREA - NIGHT                                212

      We're just below the solitary wing. Clyde has it rigged with
      all his needs: computer, spare cell phones, various kinds of
      clothing, even a shelf lined with snacks.

      He quickly shrugs off his custodian's outfit, revealing his
      prison jumpsuit beneath. He gazes up a welded steel ladder
      (identical to four others in a row -- one for each cell).

      He checks his clamshell one last time, tweaking the bad
      reception with a relay -- ballroom looks full. He clicks off
      his lamp and clamshell, sets them on a shelf...

      He goes up the ladder to a hatch in the ceiling...

213   INT. CLYDE'S CELL - NIGHT                                        213

      ...and enters through a swiveling portal concealed behind the
      toilet. In deep darkness now, he pulls his cell phone, starts
      inputting a number -- boop...boop...boop...

      And he freezes. Realizing...

      There's somebody in there with him...a silhouette sitting on
      the floor by the door. The figure reaches out, pushes open
      the outer door a bit. Faint light spills in, revealing:

                   I came to talk. Guess who wasn't in
                   his cell? Imagine my surprise.

BLUE   -   9-19-08                                      114.

             Imagine mine.

             Beautiful how you played us. Getting
             yourself tossed into solitary --                  *
             pre-rigged with exits from all five               *
             cells. Whichever one we put you in,
             you had your bases covered.
                    (faint smile)
             I thought I was such a bad-ass
             putting you down here. Turns out I
             was doing what you wanted.

             That's how you play. Make the other
             guy think it's his idea.
             You came to talk, so talk.

             Been thinking. If I'd done things
             differently -- made different
             decisions from the start -- we
             wouldn't have gotten to this point.

             But it happened. And here we are.

             Here we are.
             Your decisions put us here too.
             This mess is on both of us.                       *

             You want to hold hands? What's your

             We can't change decisions we've
             made. We can only account for
             decisions we make from here. I know
             what mine will be.
             What about you? You gonna finish
             dialing that number, or what?

Clyde hesitating, thumb hovering over the number pad.

             If I don't? What are you offering?

             You looking to deal?

BLUE   -     9-19-08                                       115.

               I'm willing to listen.

               Okay, here's the deal. The deal
               is...there is no deal.
                      (off Clyde's look)
               I told you. No more deals with
               murderers. I'm sticking to that.
               That's my decision. It's what you                  *
               taught me. Strange as it sounds,                   *
               I'm grateful for the lesson.                       *

Nick rises, steps out -- pauses, turns back.

               Your turn. You make the right
               decision, I'll see what I can do
               for you. But the wrong decision is
               one you'll have to live with the
               rest of your life.

The moment stretches. Clyde poised -- all down to this. In        *
the end, he can't help himself: Boop-boop-boop -- hits send.      *

               I'm sorry.

               Me too...

Nick pushes the barred door shut...

               ...because like I said, it's a
               decision you'll have to live with
               the rest of your life. Which at
               this point I figure is...
                      (glances at watch)
               ...another 35 seconds.

...and turns the key in the lock -- klatch.

               Check mate.

Clyde hears a a phone ringing -- sort of close
but not -- muffled -- like the sound Cantrell heard...

Clyde, realization dawning, thrusts his hand out and jerks
the cot blanket up, revealing:

The steel briefcase under his cot. He glances up to see:

Nick gone.

Clyde scrambles to his portal, yanks on the handle...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                       116.

214   CLYDE'S STAGING AREA (UNDER THE CELLS)                           214

      ANGLE ON: The hatch handle rattles -- now padlocked shut.

215   INT. JOE'S GARAGE/MECHANIC'S PIT - NIGHT                         215

      FAST CUT: Dunnigan thrusts himself out of the tunnel, cops
      grabbing his arms, pulling him free...

216   INT. SOLITARY WING - NIGHT                                       216

      Nick comes through the sally-port at a fast stride, through
      another door, goes up the steps...

217   INT. CLYDE'S CELL - NIGHT                                        217

      Clyde wheels around, frantic as a caged tiger -- he lunges to
      the door, rattling the bars...

218   QUICK ANGLES                                                     218

      ...while Nick pounds faster and faster up staircase after

219   INT. CLYDE'S CELL - NIGHT                                        219

      Clyde -- enraged, bellowing -- picking up the steel briefcase,
      swinging it hard against the bars, trying to batter through...

      And then stopping. A self-awareness returning. Perhaps it's
      the Clyde that's been missing for years -- the sane one.

      Pause. He sets the briefcase down. Stands a moment.

      He sits down on the briefcase. Calm now. Pulls a SMALL PHOTO
      from his breast pocket. Gazes at it.

      It's his wife and daughter. He stares at them a while.

      Tucks the photo back in his pocket. Nods.

                      Well played.

      BOOOOM! The DETONATION is staggering, instantly vaporizing        *
      Clyde and the cell he's in...

220   SOLITARY WING                                                    220

      ...BLOWING the bars right out of the stone on a WALL OF FLAME
      that overwhelms the lens...

221   FAST CUTS: CORRIDORS AND STAIRCASES                              221

      ...FLAME HURTLING with express-train force...

      BLUE   -   9-19-08                                        117.

222   EXT. PRISON COURTYARD - NIGHT                                     222


      Nick enters the shot as WE DOLLY BACK WITH HIM, walking away
      from the building going to dust and rubble B.G.

      CAMERA PANS HIM AROUND, now following him, as he approaches
      Davies standing with Iger. Iger is staring, agog:

                   Jesus.                                                 *
                          (beat)                                          *
                   Thank God that wing was empty.                         *

      A car arriving behind them: Dunnigan getting out, approaching.     *

                   How do I explain this to the city?

                   I think the Mayor will have your

      Nick approaches, comes abreast of them.

      Looks are traded with Dunnigan and Davies. Relief. Fellowship.
      A touch of sadness. Words aren't needed here.

      Nick keeps walking, pulls his cell phone, starts dialing.

      Dunnigan smiles. He knows exactly where Nick's going...

223   INT. TRAIN STATION PLATFORM - DAY                                 223

      LONG LENS: Nick sitting...waiting...

      An ARRIVING TRAIN moves massively into the shot, pulling into
      the station...

      Nick rises. A SQUEAL OF BRAKES, steel on steel...

      Nick engulfed in a crowd of arriving passengers, people getting
      off, swirling and jostling all around him, wiping frame...

      ...only two faces he wants to see...

      ...and there they are...

      He sweeps his family into his arms. The final moments of this
      movie are all about faces and joy...

      ...and CREDITS BEGIN as we

                                                FADE OUT

Law Abiding Citizen

Writers :   Frank Darabont  Kurt Wimmer
Genres :   Crime  Drama  Thriller

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