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The Prodigy
by J.R. (jdeppa427@yahoo.com)

Rated: R   Genre: Drama   User Review: ****
A young white lawyer returns home to housing project he grew up in, only to find his friend at the epicenter of a racially polarizing murder case. This is a pilot script written for TV. It contains multiple uses of the

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.


The Watson Housing Projects in the Bronx, New York, consist
of four buildings. Outside one of them, three
twenty-something black men are gathered, each sipping
something (presumably forty ounce bottles of beer, or
"40's") out of a paper bag. They are "thugged out", that is
to say they are attired in high-end designer gear.
"Bling-Bling" (shiny, gaudy jewelery) can be found around
their necks and wrists. One of the men, ANDRE WILLIAMS
(heretofore called 'Dre) is talking on a cellular phone,
while the other two, ROSHAWN BRADFORD (Jazz) and EARL HARRIS
(Pop, so named because of his weight, in excess of 300 lbs.)
continue to sip their 40's.
Aite. Cool. Pick me up a dutch, I
gotta roll up. (pause) Yeah
definitely. Hold up. (to Jazz and
Pop) Yo, you guys smoking?
You got the weed?
      (searching his
I got a dime, (pause) and a nick.
Fuck that nigga. A nick? Shit man,
we need at least a half a o-z. You
know how we do!
Word. The fat blunts.
'Dre stares at them for a second, rolls his eyes, and then
continues his phone conversation.
Yo Nice, you got any weed on you?
Word! Good shit son. (pause) Nah,
bring it all. These niggas talkin'
like they gonna smoke the whole
Fuck that nigga! You know how we


Word! (gives Pop a "pound", a
street version of a handshake in
which the fingers interlock)
Aite. And hurry up man! Cracka's
gonna be here any minute. (pause)
Aite man. Peace. (hangs up) You're
hooked up.
Bitch ass nigga. 'Bout time he
supplied the tree.
      (starts to slur,
Word to Big Bird!
      (examines Jazz)
Nigga is you fucked up offa one
No! (a pause as the others stare
at him in disbelief. then,
quietly) This is my second.
      (laughing, along
       with Pop)
Bitch ass nigga!
      (trying to sober
Shut up man.
The laughter eventually dies down, and there's a moment's
pause. Cut to an upstairs window, about six floors up. An
attractive, but loud, woman named SHAWANNA leans out the
window, and calls for her man.
Andre! Come to bed baby!
      (under his breath)
God damn. (to Shawanna) I'll be up
in a minute baby!


Cut back to Shawanna, who shakes her head, then closes the
window. Back to 'Dre.
And I ain't even marry the bitch
But you her baby's daddy. That's
the same shit 'Dre.
      (still a little
True, true.
Man, whatever. All I know is, a
man got the right to hang out with
his boys at (checks his watch)
midnight. It ain't that late, man.
Where the fuck is cracka? Nigga
said he was gonna be here at
Nah, son. He called me and said he
was comin' at twelve.
Oh, cool.
      (after a pause)
I can't wait to see him, yo.
For real, man! I miss that nigga!
He's back for good now? Right?
Yeah, but he ain't livin' up in
here. His job hooked him up with a
crib in Queens.
For real?
Yeah, man. Five and a half room
apartment, all to hisself.


Damn, man. Ain't too long ago his
moms, his pops, and his sister
split two rooms up in here.
Kid's makin' top paper now. You
know what lawyers get paid?
He told me he's gonna make 50 g's.
And that's just to start. Coupla
years, that nigga gonna make six
digits. He paid.
He earned his shit, son. Fuckin'
make it up outta here. He earned
Word! Those was some good times we
had here, though, back in the day.
Say word! Remember that time we
balled with them niggas from
Throgs Neck, in that PAL game? We
beat them by like, 20, and then
after the game, they wanted beef.
So we fucked them up real good.
Oh mah God! I remember that shit!
Cracka dropped, like, 35, on those
sorry ass niggas.
And I had twelve dishes.
That's why they call you Jazz.
Smooth as a motherfucker!!!
They all laugh. We slowly fade out, but we can still hear
them laughing and talking about the glory days. We stop when
we reach a 1995 Ford Taurus. Out of it steps THE PRODIGY,
MICHAEL BUCHANAN, who has been affectionately referred to


all this time as Cracka. At 6'1", he is not all that
physically imposing. Therein lies, perhaps, his greatest
talent. He can fit into any situation and appear perfectly
natural. He will converse with these three young men with
ease. We will later hear him converse with intellectuals
with the same ease. He walks SLOWLY to meet his friends,
appearing as though he has all the time in the world. He
gets spotted only when he is about ten feet away, as the
trio remained lost in conversation all the while.
Noticeably, he is attired in a similar fashion to the rest
of the crew, save for the bling-bling. Pop spots Michael
before the others.
Get the fuck outta here, cracker!
It's past ya bedtime!
      (trying to sound
Why, golly! I do believe I see me
some niggers. I hope they don't
rob me, or something!
Everyone erupts with laughter, and hugs, and pounds, are
exchanged. The most emotional one, that is to say, the
longest, is shared with Jazz.
So what's poppin', Pop?
Mah fuckin' pants is poppin' man.
Fuck outta here! For real?
(laughs) Yo, I missed you guys,
We missed yo lily white ass too.
Been a long time.
Six years.
Six years of school. You out yo
fuckin' mind, Mike. Rest of us
ain't got six years school


Fuck that shit, 'Dre. I'm gonna
make crazy paper now that I'm out.
Yeah, Jazz said you was making
fifty large.
Hell yeah, son. And my job hooked
me up with this pad. (to jazz) In
Queens, same neighborhood as your
girl, Jazzy.
For real? In Little Neck?
Yeah man.
Shit, there's some nice cribs up
in there. It's--(abrupt cutoff)
Cut back upstairs where the window is violently opened, and
Shawanna is back, louder than ever. The following lines are,
obviously, all screamed.
Andre Williams! Get yo lazy, ain't
got no job, broke, black,
motha-fuckin' ass up here now!!!
Nigga!! Don't make me--(stops in
mid-sentence, seeing Michael) Oh
snap! Is that Mikey?
Hey Shawanna.
What's up baby?!? I ain't know you
was comin' home!
I just got back. How's 'Kesha?
She's great. She just said her
first words.
No shit!


Uh-huh. She said her daddy's a
lazy, outta work, broke-ass
All laugh, except, of course, 'Dre.
That's a smart girl, Shawanna.
Aite, baby, I'ma see you lata.
Lata baby.
Close the window, and exit Shawanna. Back to regular volume.
      (to 'Dre)
Don't it bother you that I hit
Fuck outta here nigga! When?!?
Oh shit! I thought you knew that
shit, son. My bad. Back in '97. We
hooked up in the back of my ride.
One time thing.
In the fuckin' Rabbit?!?
      (others are
Yeah man. Some good times in the
back of that piece a shit car,
man. But it's all good, right?
(extends his hand)
      (gives him a pound)
No doubt cracka. We as tight as
Pop's pants. (laughs) Besides, I'm
tired of the bitch anyways.
Ain't no thing, Mikey. We all hit
that shit one time or another. (to
jazz) Ain't that right son?


Hell yeah son! Even yo fat ass
(gives pop a pound)
Aite, Aite, shut the fuck up! All
ya'll! That's my baby's momma you
talkin about, man.
There's an uncomfortable silence for a second here, as the
others realize they went too far. It takes a minute before
Michael breaks it.
What the fuck yo?!? I've been here
five minutes already, and ain't
nobody give me a Dutch, a 40, or
nothing! What the fuck good is it
hanging out with a bunch of grimy
niggers if you can't at least get
fucked up?!? (laughs)
D-Nice is on the way with the
tree. (reaches for Jazz's 40)
Here, kill Jazz's 40. Lord knows
that nigga don't need no more.
      (looks at his
You know what, lemme go see my
parents real quick, they probably
waitin' up for me. Yous going
Fuck else we gotta be, yo?!?
Dumb question. (starts to walk
away) I'll be back in a few.
Aite, man.
      (after a pause)
Yo, that's mah boy right there.


Yeah man. That's definitely our
There is one dim light on in the Buchanan residence. Yet the
two people who currently occupy the apartment are both
reading. Michael's 50 year old mother Maureen (who looks
60), is seated at a table in the cramped apartment, with a
pen in her hand, and a crossword puzzle in front of her.
Across from her, is her 54 year old husband, Seamus. Seamus
is seated in a wheelchair. He is unkempt, unshaven,
un-everything. He appears to be closely examining the sports
page. We absorb the setting for a moment, as not a word is
spoken between them. There is an old sofa bed, and an even
older coffee table in the center of the room. We see a foyer
that leads into a kitchenette, and there's also a tiny
bathroom, and a tiny bedroom. When we have sufficiently
gotten the idea of the dreary setting, a DOOR OPENS. Enter
Michael, to and enthusiastic greeting from his mother, who
rises from her chair and hugs him.
Oh Michael!!!I'm so happy to see
you!!! I missed you so much!!!
I missed you too, mom. I missed
you too.
After a long embrace, they separate. And we can't help but
notice how icy this next exchange is between Michael and his
dad. Before either of them says anything, they simply stare
at each other. Michael then APPROACHES SLOWLY, and then
Hey dad.
Hello son. (Michael leans down to
give him a soft hug) Welcome home.
Thank you. (a pause) How is
Oh, we're okay. I'm working at a
new diner now.


Oh yeah?
By your old school, on Bedford
Park Boulevard.
Oh yeah, I know that place. That's
the one next to Mike's Deli,
across from the 4 train, right?
That's the one. I like it there.
The money's been pretty good, so
That's good, mom. That's good.
(takes a second to sit down here)
There's something that I wanted to
ask you guys. Uh, I just moved
into this apartment, over in
Queens. Five and a half rooms. And
I was thinking, well, maybe you
guys wanted to come live with
me.... (words trail off)
Oh Michael! That would be
wonderful! Won't that be wonderful
Out of the fuckin' question.
What?!? But Seamus, why?!?
I don't want his fuckin' charity
Dad, for Christ's sakes it's not
charity. I just want to live with
you guys.
Then move back in here.


Dad, I just thought...(words trail
You heard me, Goddammit! Move back
in here! Find out what it's like
to live in this fuckin' dump,
while your boy is out living it up
at some fuckin' fancy, yuppie,
high society college!
I lived here a long fucking time,
remember?!? That's why I went to
college, dad, to get us the fuck
outta here!
Michael, I wish you wouldn't use
that language.
Sorry, mom. Just trying to make a
Yeah, well, you made it. (under
his breath) The only fuckin' thing
you made in the last six years.
What's that supposed to mean?!?
It means you had no business going
to fuckin' college while you had
an old man, a mother, and a kid
sister holed up in this piece a
shit. You're fuckin' selfish! You
should've stayed home and worked!
Whatever, man. I reached out my
hand. (gets up and turns to leave)
What you do with it is your
Michael, don't leave! You see what
you've done, Seamus?!? Michael!


                       MAUREEN (cont'd)
You just got here.
      (gives his mom a
Good night, ma. Say hi to Megan
for me. Hey, where is she,
We return to the earlier setting, with two new additions.
One is DARYL "D-NICE" RANDALL, a young man who closely
resembles the other three. His arm is placed firmly around
the neck of a striking young blond who is SCANTILY CLAD. The
blond is quite a bit younger than her suitor, as there
appears to be a five year age difference between them, at
least (it's actually seven). She is MEGAN BUCHANAN,
Michael's younger sister. And she, at first glance, appears
to fit in just as well as he does, although, for a very
different reason. Enter Michael, who is walking RAPIDLY
towards the group.
      (giving brother a
Hiya Mike!
Oh shit! There's mah cracka!
(gives him a pound) What up son?
What up Nice? Stayin' outta jail
You know it son!
      (to Megan)
We gotta go.
What?!? Why?!?


Our moms wants us upstairs. The
four of us haven't been together
in forever, man. We can chill
another time.
      (gives Michael a
Aite man. Peace out baby.
      (gives the others
Lata guys. (to Megan) Come on. (to
Jazz) Breakfast tomorrow?
No doubt.
He yanks Megan away by the arm. Her reluctance to leave is
evident. They eventually do leave, though. D-Nice pulls out
an ounce of weed from his pocket, and examines it.
Man, fuck am I supposed to do with
all this weed?
Start passing the shit, you
fuckin' dumbass!
This is how we leave them. Cut to Michael and Megan, who are
walking towards their apartment. Michael no longer has his
sister by the hand, as they are out of the others' sight.
They are both visibly UPSET.
What was that about?
It's 12:30, on a Monday! You
should be upstairs.
It's finals week, I don't have one
Yeah, well, you should be upstairs


Fuck that!
      (stops walking)
Don't you ever, ever, talk like
that in front of me! You
understand?!? (she nods) Look at
you for Christ's sakes. I can't
believe you're dressed like that.
Dressed like what?
A fuckin' slut. (pauses) Look, I
want you to listen to me, Mom just
told me about you and Daryl.
That's a street name. That's what
he goes by out here, with his
boys. If you're going out with
him, he's Daryl. Look Meg, he's
seven years older than you.
Oh please, Mike. Save it. I
already heard it from mom and dad,
like, fifty times.
Well, you're gonna hear it
fifty-one times. I know this guy,
okay? He's gonna look to make a
move on you, like, real soon. How
long has this been going on?
'Bout three months.
Oh shit. (hesitates) Have you guys
had sex?


I said no. We haven't had sex. (a
pause) I blew him once, but that
was it.
Oh Jesus Christ. I'm gonna fuckin'
puke! Meg, this has gotta stop
right now.
      (a pause first)
Daryl is very, very, smooth with
women. I've seen him operate. The
guy is very good. He'll romance
you, and he'll make you feel
special and all that. But once you
put out, he's out the door. And
then you find out you didn't mean
jack shit to him. He just wanted
to fuck you, and leave. And
besides all that, you are way,
way, too young for him to begin
Bullshit! It's because he's black!
Oh God! Megan, that's not it. It's
just that-(cutoff)
You think you're so special. You
think you're above being a racist.
You've got this crew that you've
been tight with ever since you
were little, and you tell yourself
you're cool with black people.
You're politically correct, and
all that. But deep down, you're
just like every other white boy in
America, who freaks out when his
sister goes out with a nigger.
Admit it!


I'm not talking about all niggers.
I'm talking about this one. Stay
away from him.
      (after a pause)
You don't get to tell me what to
do. You left us when we needed you
You know what, fuck this! I'm sick
of this already! Yes, I went to
college, and I went to law school.
And you know what? I fuckin'
deserved it. And you do too Meg,
and that's the point. No one's
saying you don't have the right to
enjoy yourself, but you have got
to watch out when you're with
someone like Daryl. Come here (he
gives her a hug). I'm only talking
to you like this because I love
I love you too, Mike. I'm glad
you're home.
We slowly fade out, leaving them while they are still locked
in their embrace.
Jazz and Michael are being escorted, by a hostess, to a
window booth in the Bedford Park Diner. Jazz is attired in
different designer gear, but gear nonetheless, while Michael
stands out in this blue collar diner by wearing a suit. The
view shows us that it's an overcast morning, with rain
certainly threatening. They take their seats, examine the
menus, and Jazz begins the conversation.
Thanks for breakfast, man.
No prob.
So how does your moms like this


She likes it. The people really
suck, apparently, but the money's
too good for her to really give a
Word? That's cool. But you gonna
take care of them anyway now,
Not if my fuckin' dad can help it.
Why's that?
He's still pissed at me for going
away to school. Says I "deserted
the family". It's a bunch a
Enter Maureen, with a glass of water in each hand. The diner
is busy, and, therefore, her speech and actions are very
Hello boys!
      (gives her a kiss)
Hi mom!
      (does the same)
Hey, Mrs. B! How're you?
Busy, thank God.
Well, don't let us keep you then.
You guys know what you want (pulls
her checkbook from her pocket)?
I'm ready. You?


Yeah, I'm cool. Can I get a stack
of pancakes, and a tall glass of
Certainly, Roshawn. Michael?
I'm gonna have a couple over with
sausage and bacon...and
toast...and a tall glass of
OJ...and coffee...and make that
three over.
      (waits a second)
Anything else?
No, I'm done.
Okay, boys, give me five minutes.
Okay. Thanks, mom (Maureen walks
away, Jazz smiles at her). Yeah.
So anyway, he refuses come live
with me. I didn't even offer to
give him cash, I knew he wasn't
gonna take that shit. But I
figured he was gonna let mom and
Meg come live with me.
Ain't my place to talk shit about
your pops, but that's fuckin'
No, you're right man. He's a sad,
old, fuckin' drunk. And I feel
sorry for him. (a pause) Whatever,
man. What's happening with you?
Life, man. Life's fuckin'
I hear that shit.


It's Angela. She's pregnant. Three
months. She's startin' to show.
But I ain't told nobody yet.
Oh shit! You for real? (Jazz nods)
Yo, congrats, man! (sees pained
expression on Jazz's face) Oh, I
It's not that I don't love her. I
do. But Mikey, I ain't makin' the
kinda paper you need to support a
fuckin' kid. And God knows her
fuckin' racist daddy isn't gonna
help us out.
Shit, man. That sucks. She keepin'
I hope not. She says she wants to,
but I think I can talk her out of
it. But she's got them hard-ass
Catholic principles and shit.
'Member I told you I met her when
I was ballin' at St. John's?
Right. You told me.
She's the only one who wants the
fuckin' thing. I don't want it,
her moms don't want it, her pops
definitely don't want it. She's
the only one.
That totally blows. You going out
there today?
Yeah, probably. Lord knows she
ain't never comin' out this way.
That white, huh?


Lily, fuckin white. Ain't her
fault. Her pops is stuck in the
50's, man. She ain't get exposed
to nothin' growin' up. That's why
she hooked up with me, to get back
at her dad.
But then...(trails off)
Love, man. Love kept her there.
And now...(trails off again)
And now...(catches a glimpse of
Maureen with the food) it's time
for pancakes. Thanks Mrs. B. (she
places Jazz's plate in front of
      (receiving his
Thanks mom.
You're welcome boys. Enjoy (exits
      (after a pause)
So you ain't feelin' her no more?
There's somethin' different about
this girl, Mikey, I ain't gonna
front. I mean, since when do I go
with the same girl for three
years, and I don't even have a
little somethin'-somethin' on the
side (Michael nods) But I just
don't know if this girl's the one,
man, you know? I ain't feelin' her
like that.
I hear ya man.


A pause here as they both begin EATING. Michael takes a sip
of coffee, sighs, and the conversation continues.
So, you're the fuckin' working man
now, huh?
No doubt. No doubt.
Sucks man. That lawyer shit is
gangsta. 18 hours a day, shit
ain't no joke.
Starts out like that, but
whatever. Coupla years, I'll be
fuckin' playin' golf everyday with
the partners.
They don't ball, do they?
Maybe they did, sixty years ago,
when they were forty.
What else you doin' today?
I'ma go see William Preston, that
judge. You know, the one who set
me up at Harvard.
Oh yeah. The one whose daughter
you was hittin'!(Michael nods) You
tryin' to get back at that?
Hadn't thought about it...(keeps a
straight face for a second, then
laughs)ah, fuck!
See! I knew that shit. I knew it.
That's cool man. I remember her.
She was slammin'.


You're gonna love Angela, man.
Nice girl, ain't nothin' wrong
with her. And her body is fuckin'
crazy, son. It's just like, I'm
readin' the same book over and
over. You know what I mean?
      (spills egg yolk
       on his tie)
Yeah, which is amazing,
considering your dumb ass ain't
never read a book before! (laughs)
Yeah, funny. You got egg on your
tie, ya fuckin' cracker.
      (checks his tie,
       then wipes it)
Whatever. (southern accent) Just
keep your mouth shut, nigger, or
I'll get your massa to come give
your black ass a whuppin'!
Both LAUGH. We leave them here, with nearly finished
breakfasts in front of them.
Seamus is seated, much as he was yesterday, at the table
with a paper in front of him. He is drinking something from
a coffee mug. He then takes a moment to empty the contents
of a silver flask, also on the table, into the coffee mug.
He takes another sip, and then smacks his lips, as if
satisfied with this new mixture. Enter Megan, wiping the
sleepers out of her eyes. She STAGGERS to the kitchen area
to get a a bowl of cereal. Not a word is spoken between the
two of them as yet, and it stays that way as she pours the
cereal and milk, and assumes her position at the opposite
end of the table. The uncomfortable SILENCE lingers for a
minute more, before Seamus finally breaks it.
What? Did you get drunk last
night, or something?


You're the only one who drinks
around here.
Did you smoke crack?
No. I didn't smoke crack.
      (after a pause)
Just wait. You keep going around
with that fucking spade, and shit
like that's bound to happen.
      (gets up)
That's too bad, 'cause I'm
probably going to marry him.
She abandons her cereal and EXITS. The exit is made as
nonchalantly as the entrance was.
Don't you have school today?!? (to
himself) Fuck do I care? She's a
fuck-up anyway. My kids are both
Back to his drink, back to his paper. We leave him as we
found him.
We establish a modest, but nice, house in Little Neck. In it
resides Jazz's girlfriend, Angela Wilson, and her parents,
Richard and Emily. As we go inside, we see that Jazz has
already arrived. He is laying on the couch, holding Angela
in his arms. An open book lays atop Jazz's chest, with the
cover on top, indicating it is not being read at the moment.
Jazz opens the scene.
Don't get it twisted, baby. I love
you. And I'd love having mah baby
wit you. But baby, I ain't makin'
that kinda paper right now.
I know baby, I know. It's just
that my parents-(abrupt cutoff).


You're parents ain't gonna do jack
shit for our baby. They hate me,
and they'd take it out on the
baby, you know that! I ain't
sayin' never, don't get it
twisted. I'm just sayin' not right
      (begins to cry)
But Shawn, I can't kill my baby.
(breaks down) I just can't!
      (holds her tighter)
Awww, baby. Don't cry. Come here.
They embrace, while she continues to sob. We hear footsteps
coming down the stairs. Enter Richard. Richard wears a
MENACING SCOWL on his face, as he approaches the couch.
What's the matter Ang?
      (wipes her eyes)
Nothing, daddy. Everything's fine.
Just fine.
      (considers this
       for a moment,
I'm going to pick up your mother
at the office. Then I have to take
her to some tupperware party, or
something. I'll be back in a
little while.
Ok. Bye daddy.
Take care, Mr. Wilson.
Richard stares icily at Jazz, but says nothing. He turns
away, and walks out of the house. Jazz does not react to
this slap in the face he's just been given, not until he
leaves, anyway.
See, he fuckin' hates me!


Shawn, I really wish you wouldn't
talk like that.
I'm sorry baby. I'll try not to
fuckin' talk like that anymore
(Angela frowns) Just kidding.
(gets up) I gotta go. My shift
starts in an hour.
      (grabs him)
I thought you were gonna help me
      (shakes her off)
Come on! Let go! You're a straight
A student. I flunked out. I
couldn't even pass the bullshit
courses they give to ballers.
(Angela frowns again) Trust me.
You don't need me to help you
      (reaches for him
Awww baby! Please?
Baby, I gotta...(she kisses
him)...I mean I gotta...(kisses
him again)...I gotta...(gives
in)...ah, fuck it.)
He takes off his cap, throws it on the kitchen table, then
focuses on her clothes. The clothes are flying all over the
place, and the passionate kissing continues. When they are
naked, we can see Jazz turn Angela around, and she seems
more than willing. We fade out as we hear the SCREAMS of
pleasure and pain echoing in the distance.
Everything about this opening shot screams "rich". A stately
looking fifty year old gentleman is seated in a fine leather
chair. He is READING from a leather bound book, of some
sort, with gold trim on the pages. He sips expensive brandy
from a snifter, and then takes a puff of an expensive cigar.


The rest of this living room also exudes class and
sophistication. The gentleman, the Honorable WILLIAM
PRESTON, is the room's only occupant at the moment. This
changes as a ravishing 22 year old brunette ENTERS. She is
the judge's daughter, ANNE MARIE. She wears a classy black
evening gown, but it accentuates what it needs to. Her
father can't help but take his eyes off the book.
I guess it's serious, you and
                       ANNE MARIE
Yeah, I guess so.
I was hoping you'd wear a moo-moo.
(Anne Marie frowns) I'm kidding
sweetheart. You look wonderful.
And he's a fine young man, he
deserves it.
                       ANNE MARIE
We'll see.
Where's he taking you tonight?
                       ANNE MARIE
Le Cirque. Shocking, huh?
Yeah. I never would've guessed.
When's he picking you up?
The doorbell RINGS.
Question asked-(cutoff)
                       ANNE MARIE
Question answered. I'll get it.
She goes to answer the door. Enter Michael. Anne Marie looks
stunned, but also, excited.
                       ANNE MARIE
Hey! (gives her a peck and hugs
her) Look at you! You didn't have
to get all dressed up for me!


                       ANNE MARIE
Yeah, funny, you egomaniac! Come
in, come in. (closes the door)
      (gets up)
Michael, my boy! (hugs him) So
good to see you!
You too sir! How's things?
      (waves to a chair)
Wonderful! Absolutely splendid. (a
pause) Congratulations, son.
Welcome home.
      (sits down)
Thank you, sir. It's good to be
                       ANNE MARIE
Yeah, congratulations, Michael.
You too, Anne Marie. Did you land
a job yet?
                       ANNE MARIE
Yeah, I hooked up with a firm on
the East Side. I'm gonna do PR for
Damon Wallace.
Really? (to William) And you
approve of her being so involved
with a rapper?
I have no choice. She absolutely
refused to follow her old man into
the courtroom.
                       ANNE MARIE
God bless you guys. I could never
get into law. It's just so dull, I
could never do it.


That's true. It's more fun to be
with someone who breaks the law.
(William laughs)
                       ANNE MARIE
Damon doesn't break the law. He
just...bends it a little.
Yeah, okay. Save it for Page Six,
will you?
Boy, you guys didn't miss a beat,
did you?
I guess not.
He looks at Anne Marie here, almost as if to ask her out
right then and there. She immediately picks up on this.
Before she has to respond, though, the DOORBELL RINGS once
again. Anne Marie hastily rushes to her feet, thankfully
avoiding that issue.
                       ANNE MARIE
      (walking to door)
I'll get it.
She opens the door. It's the boyfriend JEAN-PHILLIPE
BREUNEAUX. He holds in his right hand a bouquet of flowers.
His english will be heavily accented.
My love!
                       ANNE MARIE
Anne Marie goes over the top here, faking some affection for
Jean-Phillipe as they kiss here. She knows Michael is
watching closely, and she clearly is trying to send the
message that she isn't interested. Jean-Phillipe is taken
aback by the length and passion of the kiss, as he didn't
expect such affection from Anne Marie.
My love! I'm glad you're happy to
see me.


                       ANNE MARIE
      (still over the
I am happy to see you darling!
Just so happy.
They share another brief kiss.
Good evening Mr. Preston.
Good evening, Jean-Phillipe.
       Jean-Phillipe by
       the arm)
Come here, darling. I want you to
meet an old family friend. This is
Michael Buchanan. Michael, this is
Jean-Phillipe Breuneux.
A pleasure, Michael.
      (somewhat testy)
Likewise, I'm sure.
Pause for a moment here. There's awkwardness all over the
      (to Anne Marie)
Shall we be going?
                       ANNE MARIE
We shall, darling. It was great
seeing you, Mike. I'll see you
      (gives Anne Marie
       a peck)
See you.
                       ANNE MARIE
      (gives William a
Bye daddy.


Have fun, guys.
We will Mr. Preston, thanks. (to
Michael) Nice to meet you.
Yeah, same here.
There's a moment here where Michael, Anne Marie, and
Jean-Phillipe, all measure each other up. Finally, the two
"lovers" exit, arm in arm. Michael and William wait until
they have gone down the hall before picking up their
How long has that been going on?
About three months. He's the
French consul's son.
Is that right? Very nice.
The real question is, how long
will it last?
Oh, I have a sneaking suspicion it
won't last very long. She was
clearly faking her affection for
Yeah, I suppose that was a little
over the top. (a pause) She
should've ended up with you,
Michael. She hasn't felt that the
same way about anyone else.
You never know, sir. What's meant
to be is meant to be. It could
happen one day yet.
I honestly hope it does, Michael.
You're an exceptional young man.


Thank you sir. You're not so bad
Thank you. Thank you. Care for a
brandy? Nice cigar?
Absolutely. It's high time we
shared a drink together.
William gets up to pour the brandy, and retrieve the cigar.
      (pouring brandy)
I can't tell you how proud I am of
you Michael. Editor-in-chief of
the law review at Harvard, that's
no small feat.
Yeah, thank you. Hey, it never
would've happened if it wasn't for
      (hands Michael the
       brandy and cigar)
Don't mention it, Michael. God
knows you deserved it.
Michael sips his brandy. The cigar, for the moment, has been
placed on a table, unlit.
      (smacks his lips)
Now this is the life.
Don't get used to it yet, young
man. First, you have to pay your
I know, I know.


And that won't be easy, especially
at Jake Caplan's firm. I've known
Jake for twenty years. He works
his associates hard.
So I've heard.
And you won't make partner for a
long time. That's the best
criminal defense firm in the city.
Anytime one of his lawyers walks
into my courtroom, I know they're
gonna win the case.
Apparently, every associate was a
top five percent student at an Ivy
League college.
You'll fit right in.
Another sip of brandy here. He then reaches for the cigar,
and stares at it, as if to ask for a light.
      (hands him lighter)
      (takes the lighter)
Michael takes a puff. He starts coughing intensely. William
chuckles. It takes a moment before Michael recovers.
My first.
I can tell. That's good. You
wouldn't want to overindulge on
What about you?
Notice how I said YOU wouldn't
want to overindulge.


Both laugh. Another sip of brandy for Michael.
Boy, your daughter's just as
beautiful as ever.
I thought you would've brought
home a girl from New Haven, or
Cambridge. Hey, speaking of which,
I meant to ask you, do they still
have the fuck truck?
Oh yeah! It's great. It's wild.
Probably more so now than it was
in your day.
Oh, it was pretty interesting back
in my day too, young man, don't
underestimate it. Those Wellesley
girls just couldn't wait for the
weekend, boy.
I guess some things never change.
No. They don't.
The gentlemen each take another sip of brandy, their last
for the camera. William takes one last puff of the dwindling
cigar, and puts it out. Class and sophistication reigns
supreme once again, and Michael is a natural, once again.
We find Jazz, 'Dre, Pop, and D-Nice, standing outside the
Watson Houses, in a scene eerily similar to the one that
took place the night before. This apparently is a nightly
ritual, this downing of the 40's and smoking of the weed.
They are all laughing when we first find them here. Jazz
takes a long chug of beer, and opens the conversation.
So I says to myself, "Fuck that
shit!", and I just bounced. I'm
not gonna fuckin' stay there and
read with the bitch. So I hit that
and quit that!


Shut the fuck up! Hit that and
quit that? Gimme a fuckin' break,
you fuckin' pussy!
      (smoking a Dutch)
My man's right Jazzy. Your bitch
turned you into a little bitch.
You've been hittin' that shit for
three years, and you ain't quit
that shit yet!
All laugh.
Fuck ya niggas! Ya niggas talkin'
shit?!? (to 'Dre) You gettin'
bitched by a bitch right now! (to
D-Nice) You with a bitch seven
years younger than you!
I'ma hit with that bitch later, as
a matter a fact. You best
remember, though, she is white.
True, true. But still, that's
fucked up. (to Pop) And you ain't
been with a bitch in seven years!
So I don't wanna hear none of
ya'll talkin' shit!
      (shakes his head)
Damn, Jazz. That's cold.
My bad Pop. You know you're my
boy! Bitches don't wanna be with
you, they don't know what they're
Jazz holds up his 40, for a toast, and looks to engage Pop.
Pop thinks for a minute, still somewhat depressed from
Jazz's comments, and then gives in.
Thanks, Jazzy.
40's are sipped, and Dutches are smoked for a moment.


Oh shit! Five-oh, five-oh. Out
that shit! Hurry up!
It's a mad scramble to out the blunts, and toss them. There
are two between the group, 'Dre had one, and Jazz had the
other. They both successfully lose the blunts in time. Enter
a trio of MENACING figures. "Five-Oh" is street slang for
police, and these are indeed cops. There are two uniformed
officers, SEAN MURPHY and PATRICK MULCAHY. They are Watson
regulars and do not stand out. The presence of a suit,
though, in the person of detective DAN O'CONNELL, is
somewhat disconcerting for the boys.
Hello guys.
Officer Murphy, Officer Mulcahy!
Past ya bedtime, ain't it? What's
with the suit?
      (to Jazz)
Uh, Roshawn, could we talk to you
for a second?
      (joking around)
Yo, my man ain't do shit! He was
right here the whole time!
Shut up Nice! Everything aite,
Uh, yeah, we just need a minute,
that's all.
Yo, Jazzy, don't tell 'em shit,
man! They ain't got shit on you!
NICE!!!! Shut the fuck up!!
Goddamn, man!
Jazz is thinking for a second about whether or not he should
go. He then realizes he doesn't have all that much choice as
he sees the three imposing figures in front of him. He
stands up.


I'll be right back.
Aite, man.
Jazz walks with the officers to a spot a few hundred feet
away to resume the conversation. We stay with the boys for a
second, though.
Yo, what they fuck do they want?
I dunno, Nice. All I know is, you
got a big fuckin' mouth, man. That
shit was fucked up.
For real, man! That's fuckin'
five-oh, for Christ's sake. You
don't fuck around with five-oh!
Back to Jazz, and the aforementioned "five-oh".
So what's the problem, guys?
      (points to
Roshawn, this is Dectective
O'Connell. He has some news for
Roshawn, where were you at about
six o'clock today?
I was, uh, on my way home from my
girl's place, In Queens. Why?
We found her body a few hours ago.
She took two 9MM slugs to the
stomach. She's dead.
Jazz is so stunned, at first, that he offers no reaction. He
doesn't believe what he's hearing.


She's dead.
And the baby?
And the baby.
Jazz starts bawling uncontrollably. He grabs onto Murphy for
support. He starts screaming something that is
unintelligible, and pounds his first against Murphy's
shoulder. Officer Sean does not take to this well.
Come on, Roshawn, stop!
He finally lets go of Murphy, but continues to scream. The
detective and the officers don't seem to be very
sympathetic, though.
Roshawn, we're gonna need you to
come with us.
In this moment, Jazz seems to, not only collect himself, but
also fully comprehend the situation. He instantly transforms
from being completely fragile, to indignant.
      (wipes his eyes)
Fuck's that supposed to mean? Huh?
What the fuck?!?
Roshawn, take it easy. Don't make
this hard for us.
      (to O'Connell)
What the fuck are you tryin' to
say? I had something to do with
this shit! Nah! Fuck that! I ain't
goin' nowhere!
Roshawn, he's not saying anything,
yet. He just wants to talk, that's


Nah, nah! Fuck that! I
Fuck this, already! Cuff him,
guys, I ain't got all day.
Mulcahy and Murphy go to handcuff Jazz who, obviously, is
not very cooperative. He puts up a, somewhat, violent
struggle. But the protest will eventually become more verbal
than physical.
Come on, guys! Murphy! Mulcahy!
What the fuck?!? I ain't do
shit!!! I ain't do shit!!! You're
arresting me for some bullshit!!!
We're not arresting you, Roshawn.
They begin to lead Jazz away, in the direction of the rest
of the crew.
Then what the fuck is up with the
cuffs?!? Huh?!? Bitch ass
I'd watch my mouth if I were you,
They reach the crew.
Fuck is goin on, Jazzy?
I don't know, man! Some bullshit,
is what!
The cops drag Jazz a little faster here, as they do not want
him conversing with his crew.
Yo, 'Dre! Call cracka, man! Call
fuckin cracka!
Jazz and the cops disappear from sight. The crew is in
stunned silence for a moment.


What the fuck?!?
I think I heard them say Jazzy's
girl got shot.
      (to D-Nice)
And you got to go fuck with Jazz
like that! Nigga, is you dense?!?
You NEVER fuck around with
five-oh! You probably got his ass
locked up.
D-Nice says nothing, knowing full well he screwed up. Pop
and 'Dre stare icily at him.
Yo, call fuckin cracka, man.
'Dre pulls out a cell phone. This last line is muttered in
D-Nice's direction
The glares continue as 'Dre waits for a response on the
other end of the phone.
Seamus had assumed, what appears to be his default position.
The opened newspaper in front of him, as well as the mug,
and the flask. He is alone for a moment, lost in his paper.
Enter Megan, DRESSED PROVOCATIVELY. She wears, fairly large
hoop earrings, a tight top and short skirt, and white
sneakers, all ghetto chic. We cannot help but compare this
to the scene with William and Anne Marie earlier, and how it
could not be any more different. Upon entrance, Megan
appears to be looking for something.
Dad, have you seen-(interrupts)
Your clothes? Well, you're damned
sure not wearing any, that's for


      (continues her
My cross.
She finds it on the coffee table.
      (putting it on)
Ah! Here it is.
That's wonderful, darling. Now the
whore outfit is complete.
Where's mom?
Damned if I know. She's late with
my fucking dinner! I'm starving
over here.
Megan realizes one of her shoes is untied. She sits down to
tie it.
I'm going out.
No shit! I never woulda guessed. I
thought you got all whored up just
for me.
I really wish you wouldn't use
that word. It's degrading.
And I wish you wouldn't go out
with a goddamn spade. But, I
suppose we don't respect each
others wishes around here.
You know what, fuck you!
Seamus ANGRILY wheels himself to the couch, and slaps Megan
in the face. She looks like she wants to cry.
You don't love me, little girl,
that's obvious. If you did, you


                       SEAMUS (cont'd)
listen to me more often. But I
don't give a shit about that. But,
by God, you will respect me in my
fucking house, or you will get the
fuck out!
Your house?!? Gimme a fuckin'
break. You pissed away all our
money on booze and your fuckin'
gambling. And the bookie made you
a cripple, so now you don't do
Goddamn you, little girl! GODDAMN
YOU!!! I curse the day you were
Megan breaks down. She gets up and starts to walk out, so as
to not let Seamus see her cry. She delivers a parting shot,
though, as she hits the door.
So do I.
She opens the door and is momentarily STARTLED to see
Maureen there, holding a bag with Seamus's dinner. She
recovers, though, and continues off. Maureen calls after
Megan! Where are you...(trails
off)My goodness gracious! She's
hysterical. What the hell
Seamus waves his hand in dismissal.
Ah! I have no use for her! She has
no respect. I have my problems
with the boy, but at least he
respects me. Her? Forget about it.
Maureen places the bag on the table and removes its
contents, a take out container from her diner.
Is that my dinner?
Maureen nods. Seamus wheels himself back to the dinner


Jesus! Where the hell have you
been? I'm starving!
Do you realize how much I worked,
how HARD I worked, to bring that
dinner home to you?
      (opens the
Nothing wrong with a little hard
work, woman. It's good for you.
(sees the dinner) Meatloaf?!?
Again? That's the third night in a
It's all I can get away with,
Seamus! If my boss catches me
lifting a t-bone steak, I lose my
I'm not askin' ya for a goddam
t-bone, just something else,
anything else.
Seamus sees the look of disapproval on Maureen's face, and
appears to be silently assessing the situation.
I'm sorry. It's just...that damn
girl gets me so mad, sometimes.
Maureen removes her coat, and takes a seat at the table
opposite Seamus.
You're too hard on her, Seamus.
Oh, come on! You're telling me you
approve of this business with the
She's growing up, Seamus. She can
do what she wants. I don't seem to
remember you having a problem with


                       MAUREEN (cont'd)
Michael, when he was going out
with that Letisha girl.
Seamus begins eating.
It's different for a man.
Well, why on earth is that?
      (between bites)
First of all, I wouldn't have
approved of that shit either, if
I'da thought that it was gonna
last any length of time. But
Michael's a man. He can handle
himself. If that bitch'd gotten
outta line, he would've just told
her to go fuck herself. Megan
doesn't know how to do that,
though. And that monkey is liable
to get out of line.
Maureen gets up from her chair, in anger.
And, I swear to God, if he so much
as lays a hand-(cutoff)
Maureen reaches across the table, and slaps Seamus across
the face. Seamus is stunned, not angry, just stunned.
Maureen reacts the same way. She sits back down, and they
stare at each other for a moment.
What a goddamn hypocrite you are!
Since when do you like spades so
goddamn much?
Maureen gets up and walks out of the room. The last time we
left Seamus after an argument, he didn't seem to care all
that much. This time, however, he just sits in his
wheelchair, an angry look on his face, too stunned to eat.
This is how we leave him.


We watch Megan and 'D-Nice navigate their way through a
fairly small, and at the moment, very loud apartment. There
is a party in the crib, and it is wild. There is a brief
glimpse of a half naked guy, and two fully naked girls,
violently kissing. The only white face belongs to Megan as
she, of course, sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out
in another way too, though. She is much younger than
everybody else. The rest of the party goers more closely
resemble D-Nice's age than Megan's. Everything about this
place screams that it is a place that Megan should not be.
It is dimly lit, there is loud rap blasting, smoke permeates
the air, nothing about this place seems at all desirable.
D-Nice runs into some friends of his, and immediately
approaches them to give the obligatory pounds. The words in
these exchanges are screamed over the music.
Yo, what up Ray? Sup man? Sup, T?
Sup, ice?
The gentlemen he has just referred to as RAY, T, and ICE,
all are similar in appearance and behavior to D-Nice. We
will not be seeing much of them, after this.
What's the deal, Nice?
Just chillin' man. (pointing) This
here's my girl, Megan.
The guys are all undressing her in their heads, and they
make no attempt to hide it.
Sup, Megan?
Megan finally realizes where she is, and who she's with, and
why she shouldn't be here. She begins to look very, very,
Heh, heh, how'ya doin?
This was an awkward introduction, made more awkward by the
fact that the guys continue to just stare at her. D-Nice
doesn't seem to mind that much, but he does eventually break
the silence.


Yo, I'ma go get a 40. (pulls
Megan's arm) Come on, baby.
Ray stops them before they leave.
Oh, shit, Nice, before I forget.
Tina told me to say 'what up'.
She did? She here?
She should be here, somewhere.
D-Nice looks excited by the prospect. Megan catches this.
Aite. I'm gonna have to go say
what up to her myself. Aite guys,
They all grumble a response of some sort, to him, and
continue to check out Megan, this time from the back. We
stay with them as they walk away.
Oh shit, peep that ass!
That's my man Nice, right there
(gives T a pound). That kid is
And she's white!
For real, man.
They continue to look, in admiration of both Megan's ass,
and their friend, who, at the current moment, happens to be
the beneficiary.
They make their way towards the fridge, but do not make it,
as they run into the aforementioned Tina.
Oh shit! Sup, Tina!


      (gives him a kiss)
Hey baby! What's up?
Megan is now steaming, as it is painfully obvious that
there's something going on between this two. D-Nice spots
this, and quickly introduces Megan.
Um, Tina, this here's Megan.
His girl.
Megan nods. You could cut the tension with a knife. D-Nice
tries to rectify the situation. He puts one arm around each
of them.
Ladies, ladies, ladies. Can't we
all just get along?
D-Nice looks at Tina, who seems to be receptive. He then
focuses on Megan, who definitely looks like she needs some
convincing. He takes his hand, and tenderly rubs Megan's
chin. She appears to soften, somewhat.
Jean-Phillipe and Anne Marie are HOLDING HANDS across the
table, in the crowded restaurant. The throng is trying to
maintain the atmosphere the best they can, but such a large
gathering of people can only be so quiet. Jean-Phillipe
appears to be thoroughly enchanted by Anne Marie, while she
appears somewhat less than thrilled by him. Dinner is not
yet on the table, and the bread plates have gone untouched.
Have I told you how sexy you look
this evening, eh?
                       ANNE MARIE
      (nervously giggles)
Yes, Jean-Phillipe. Thank you.
There's an uncomfortable silence here once again, and Anne


Marie clearly cannot handle it so she GIGGLES again.
Jean-Phillipe just doesn't get it, as he has a stupid grin
on his face. Anne Marie is saved as her cell phone RINGS.
The people seated at the surrounding tables are distracted
by this, and they look in Anne Marie's direction. She
answers the phone.
                       ANNE MARIE
I'll call you back.
She hangs up.
                       ANNE MARIE
      (to the patrons)
Shaking heads, the patrons return to their meals.
                       ANNE MARIE
      (to Jean-Phillipe)
I have to take this. I'll be right
Jean-Phillipe is stunned and does not the chance to say
anything. Anne Marie runs to the restroom.
She dials a number on her cell phone, and enters a stall for
privacy. The MATRON eyes her suspiciously, but says nothing.
Other than the matron, there is no one else in the restroom.
There is a momentary pause as Anne Marie waits for the
person on the other end to pick up.
                       ANNE MARIE
Yeah...My bad Dame...I'm at Le
Cirque with my boyfriend. Why?
What's up?...Ah shit! Um, I'll be
right over.
She hangs up the phone and shakes her head. She flushes the
toilet, even though she didn't use it, and exits the stall.
'Dre is in his familiar position, on the cell phone. Pop is
seated against the wall. He takes a hit off of a blunt, but
this doesn't appear to calm him. 'Dre is not getting an
answer, and he paces nervously.


Come on, Mikey. Answer the fuckin'
phone, man!
He hangs up.
damn, man!
Yo, this shit ain't good, 'Dre.
Angela's white. This shit, is not,
fuckin', good.
I know, man. Shit ain't good.
They'll make shit up if they have
There is a pause here. 'Dre sits next to Pop, and they are
silent for a moment. Pop takes another hit off the blunt,
and passes it to 'Dre. 'Dre takes one, exhales slowly, and
drops his head.
You don't think he-(cutoff)
No fuckin' way, man! Nigga,
please. He loved that bitch, man.
But them ignorant ass cops ain't
never gonna understand that.
They'll be like "oh, he raped her"
or some bullshit. But they ain't
never gonna understand. And see,
they even got you believing their
racist ass bullshit. You ain't
thinking straight, son. You know
there ain't no WAY he did that
I know, I know. I must be buggin'
out. Fuck the Police!
      (takes another hit)
Yeah man. Fuck the police.
Enter MICHAEL. He walks rapidly, suggesting that he has
received the urgent messages left him by the boys.


The other two grunt something. They are high.
What the fuck happened?
Yo, man! Murphy and Mulcahy and
some suit just picked up Jazz!
For what?!?
His girl got shot. She's dead.
Oh shit. They picked him up? You
The other two nod. Michael begins pacing frantically. He's
trying to think.
You know if they arrested him?
They cuffed him, but they ain't
arrest him.
Oh my God! She's white. And he's
We was just talkin' about that,
Okay. I gotta get over there. He's
at the four-three?
I think so, man, I don't know.
Like I said, they was with a suit.


Silence here for a second. Michael takes a seat next to the
other two. After another moment of silence, he gets up once
again and heads toward his car.
I'll see yous later.
Good luck cracka.
Bring him home, Mikey.
Michael nods, and exits. Pop and 'Dre are left sitting
there. They say nothing for a moment, and then 'Dre begins
to CRY. Pop hugs him.
D-Nice, Tina, and Megan have found a room, which,
conveniently, has a bed. Jazz is seated on the bed in
between the two ladies. He VIOLENTLY KISSES Megan. He and
Megan smile. He then proceeds to do the same to Tina. Same
reaction from Tina. A moment of awkward silence ensues.
Now ya two.
Tina is way more into the idea than Megan, and she is the
one to take the initiative to lean towards Megan. Megan
looks away, at first. Tina is still approaching. SLOWLY,
though, as to give Megan a chance to back out if she wants
it. Megan eventually relents, but this kiss is nowhere near
as passionate as either of the other two. It is however, and
open lip kiss, and toward the end, it is, somewhat sensual.
D-Nice SMILES. He then proceeds to kiss Megan again, and lay
her flat on the bed. While kissing Megan, he reaches back
for Tina. D-Nice removes Megan's clothes, and Tina removes
D-Nice's clothes.
Dance music blasts, and neon lights glow, as Anne Marie
navigates her way through Bungalow 8, trying to make her way
toward her client, rapper DAMON WALLACE. Anne Marie shoves
people out of the way, as she crosses the VIP dance floor.
Eventually, she makes her way across, and finds Dames. He is
seated at a table, along with his entourage, three LARGE
black guys, known only to us as Tony, Kwame, and Reggie. A
bottle of Cristal is at the center of the table, and a glass
is before each of them. Anne Marie does not bother to sit.


                       ANNE MARIE
What happened?
Aite, baby, check it. I was
gettin' freaky with this bitch,
right, and, all of a sudden,
fuckin' Lindsay Lohan cuts in. So
I was like 'Whatever' right, and I
went with it. She moves in front
of me, and her ass was like, right
on my dick, and we was bumpin' and
Fat little ass, too. MMMM!
True, true.
      (to the entourage)
Shut the fuck up! This shit is
serious, man. (to Anne Marie) So
anyway, we was grindin' for a
minute, and then she starts
talkin' some dirty shit. She was
like 'Oh, I want that big black
cock', and she whispers some shit
like that in my ear. So I'm into
it. Whatever, you know, she's
bangin'. So we're still grindin'
and I put my hands on that ass,
and all of a sudden, she backed
away. And started callin' me
'pervert', and shit like that. Ten
seconds later, I saw some bitch
out of the corner of my eye on a
cell phone, callin' some dude
named Richard. Is that the dude
from Page Six?
                       ANNE MARIE
Yeah, it is. Shit. (thinking for a
second) I gotta spin this our way,
it ain't gonna look good. She was
fucked up, right?
Um, yeah, definitely.


                       ANNE MARIE
You leaving out any shit, Dames? I
mean, I can get this thing killed,
but I gotta know exactly what went
Nah, baby. That's how shit went
Anne Marie takes another second to think. She then reaches
for her cell phone and turns to walk away.
                       ANNE MARIE
Okay. It's too late for tomorrow's
paper, so that buys us a day. I'm
on it.
Thank you, baby.
Dames pecks her on the cheek, and she walks away. The
entourage ogles her, as does Dames.
She got a fat little ass, too.
Yeah, I'ma definitely hit that.
Loud laughter from the entourage. Drinks back in the air for
this crew, as if nothing ever happened.
                       ANNE MARIE
      (walking, on the
Richard, baby! Did you hear what
happened at Bungalow 8 tonight?
(waits for response) No, no,
that's not what happened at all.
Lindsay Lohan got fucking
plastered, and started throwing
herself all over him.
She exits the club.
Jazz is seated at a table in an interrogation room. Murphy


stands to his left, Mulcahy to his right, and O'Connell
directly in front of him. O'Connell is LEANING across the
table, and is currently engaged in a shouting match with
Jazz. He is no more than two or three feet away from Jazz's
Come on, Roshawn! Are you really
telling us you wanted this fucking
I ain't tryin' to say that. All
I'm sayin' is that I ain't do
shit, man!
ENTER Michael. Dead SILENCE upon his entrance. Murphy and
Mulcahy remove their hats, almost as if they were in the
presence of royalty. O'Connell does not know Michael, and is
visably puzzled by the officers' behavior. Jazz looks
relieved to see Michael.
Michael. We didn't know you were
Michael shakes Murphy's hand.
Hello Sean. Just got home
Mulcahy walks over and shakes Michael's hand.
Welcome home, Mike.
Thank you, Pat.
O'Connell extends his hand.
Detective Dan O'Connell.
Michael examines O'Connell before reluctantly shaking it.
Michael Buchanan. I represent
Roshawn Bradford. (pulls his hand
away) Thanks for waiting until I
got here.


Mike, like we said, we didn't know
you were here. We didn't know you
were coming.
Jesus, Sean, you've known the
fucking kid ten years. You
couldn't wait until he 'lawyered
up'? It is his right.
Silence in the room. Michael stares at the three men. He
then proceeds to take a chair from their side of the table.
He places it next to his client, who gives him a pound, and
then sits down. There is a tape recorder on the table.
Michael shuts it off.
We were in the middle of-(cutoff).
I'd like few moments to confer
with my client.
But we-(cutoff).
Mulcahy taps O'Connell on the shoulder and waves him out of
the room.
Come on. Give 'em a minute, Dan.
O'Connell is momentarily stunned. He looks around, suddenly
realizing that HE is not the man in this room. THE MAN just
walked in. He takes a step back.
You got five. After that, we're
not done until I say we're done.
Thank you, detective.
O'Connell stares daggers at Michael, who simply smirks. The
detective is the first one to exit. The others follow.
Michael waits for a moment, then speaks.
They're watching us, and listening
to us, so watch what-(cutoff)


Man, I've been here before. I've
seen fuckin' movies! I know the
What happened?
Jazz takes a breath.
I was at Angela's house, right?
And I was helpin' her study and
shit, right? I bounce at like
5:30. I come back home, whatever,
and I'm chillin' with Pop and
'Dre, and these FUCKIN'
Hey, hey! What'd I tell you?!?
Jazz STANDS, points to the two-way mirror, and walks toward
I don't give a fuck! THEY'RE
Michael just looks at Jazz. Jazz takes a second, and calms
down. He sits back down.
Anyway, they come and tell me
Angela got shot, and killed, and
they couldn't save the baby. And
they wanna talk to me about it.
Mikey, I ain't do shit, man! You
know that!
I know, Jazzy. Just relax. What
happened in here?
They've just been, like, "Oh, we
know you got a record, and we know
you ain't want the baby, and
you're the only one who had a
reason to kill her. Fuckin'


All right. Just don't say nothin'
that ain't true. If you don't feel
like answering something, just
look at me. Try not to let them
catch you off guard. They're gonna
ask anything and everything, and
they just wanna, like, startle
you. Don't let 'em. Just look at
me, and I'll get you out of it.
Look in the detective's eyes when
he asks you a question. Okay?
Jazz nods.
You'll be all right, man. Just be
He nods again.
O'Connell is holding a yellow legal pad, which he is looking
at. He is armed and ready. He assumes his position three
feet away from Jazz, not yet leaning in, but about to be.
I just talked to your boss over at
White Castle's. Why'd you call in
Uh, one of my boys called, and we
were gonna just chill. I didn't
feel like working.
O'Connell tries to break down Jazz in this moment, clearly
not satisfied with this answer.
He's holding a piece of paper. He hands it to O'Connell.
O'Connell examines it and smiles. Jazz and Michael exchange
blank looks. He looks at the paper while talking to Jazz.
Well, well. Apparently, one of Ms.
Wilson's neighbors heard young
Angela screaming for help. Then,
heard her screaming; "No! No!
Roshawn! No!" Then, saw you leave.


O'Connell drops the paper on the table and looks at Jazz.
What say you to that, Mr.
Jazz immediately turns to Michael. Michael scrambles to say
Um, I have to advise-(cutoff)
      (to Jazz)
Quit looking at him, punk! I ASKED
O'Connell is INCHES away from Jazz's face, at this point.
Murphy grabs the detective by the shoulders.
Come on, detective! Ease up.
Murphy lets go of O'Connell. O'Connell brushes himself off,
and, again, examines the room. He approaches the table
again, and retrieves his papers and tape recorder.
Well, whatever. I thought I'd give
him a chance to explain himself.
He's under arrest.
Jazz has his head down. Mulcahy hesitates before approaching
with the cuffs.


Come on, Pat. Her body isn't even
cold yet. This is a little quick,
I take the orders, Mike. I don't
give 'em. Get up Roshawn.
No! Mikey?
Jazz looks at Michael desperately.
Go ahead, Jazz. It's okay. I'm
gonna get you outta this.
Michael backs away. Mulcahy puts the cuffs on Jazz, and
begins to march him out of the room. Murphy follows behind
them, and begins reading Jazz his rights.
Roshawn Bradford, you have the
right to remain silent. Anything
you say can and will be used
against you in a court of law. You
have the right to an attorney.
Michael looks after them. Then, he pounds the table.
Pop and 'Dre, as they were earlier, seated against a wall,
splitting a Dutch. It is now raining, but not heavily enough
to chase the two from their spot. Pop hits it first, then
coughs, then passes it to 'Dre.
I'm scared, man.
Me too. That nigga in deep ass
shit, yo.
I feel bad, man.


'Dre hits the blunt.
It sucks being black, man. His ass
is fucked.
At least this is the Bronx. It
ain't Mississippi, or some shit
like that.
Man, shit's still fucked up around
Yeah. But still-(cutoff)
Still, nothing! Wake up, fool.
Think about it. Why do you think
people got so pissed off about
that thing with T.O. and that
white girl before the football
game? Think about it, man. I seen
more nudity on Sesame Street. Nah,
it's because T.O.'s a "dirty ass
nigger". And she was lily fucking
'Dre hits the blunt again.
Shit still ain't cool between
white and black. Even here. Come
on, fool. We a block away from
where Amadou Diallo got shot at 41
times by the police. And what
happens when they take those
cracker cops upstate, and have the
trial in front of other fuckin'
crackers? They innocent. Supposing
it was a nigger cop, shooting up
some white boy. Think he'da been
innocent? No fuckin' way.
Another hit for 'Dre.
We grew up in Amadou's shadow,
Pop. We should know this shit by


He hands the blunt to Pop, who takes a hit.
Still, 'Dre, it is the Bronx.
                       MICHAEL (O.S.)
It's Queens.
Enter Michael.
She got killed in Queens, the
trial's gonna be in Queens. And
there's LOTS of white people in
Queens. Lemme hit that?
Pop hands the blunt to Michael. Michael takes his place
against the wall, sits, then hits the blunt.
What happened?
He's under arrest.
Jesus Christ!
The detective was a dick. I heard
he's tight with the D.A., who,
apparently, is an ambitious fuck
who wants to be mayor, and is
gonna use Jazz to do it.
Michael hits the blunt again, then coughs.
Is he gonna be, gonna be okay?
Michael looks at Pop, then at 'Dre. He then takes one last
hit of the blunt.
I don't know.
We watch the rain fall from the heavens, and leave them in
their cloud of doubt.


The office couldn't be more plain. There are file cabinets
in both corners of the small room. There is a small desk,
with a folding chair on one side that is unoccupied, and a
somewhat nicer office chair on the other. It's occupant is
Queens County District Attorney Wallace J. Tompkins. He is
currently reviewing one of the many documents that are
scattered all over his desk. He is also on the phone at the
moment, with Detective O'Connell in fact. This will be a
one-way conevrsation, however, as we will only hear Wally's
So he didn't confess? (pause) No,
it's not a big deal. Don't worry
about it. (pause) Just get me some
more evidence. I'll close it,
don't worry. I could use a weapon,
but I'm not worried. (pause)
Listen, she's white, and he's
black, and that's the end of the
story. I've seen the pictures of
this girl. She looks innocent. And
he couldn't look more guilty. And
the baby, well that's just the
icing on the cake. (pause) How
'bout this? I tell ya, I'd really
love to give this baby a name.
(pause) Yes Dan, I know it was
only three months, but we can work
around that. How 'bout something
gender neutral, like Kelly for
example. Yeah, that's it. Angela
Wilson and baby Kelly. The jury
will eat it up.
There is a KNOCK at the door. It's Wally's assistant, Todd
Holland. He opens the door, and pokes his head in. Wally
holds up his finger, to hold Todd off for a minute.
Just get it done Dan. Talk to the
parents, I'm sure that wanna nail
that n to the wall even more than
we do. (pause) Christ, wouldn't
you, if it was your kid. Anyway, I
gotta run. We'll talk later.
(pause) Bye.
He hangs up the phone and motions Todd in.


What's up?
The mayor is here.
The mayor.
Goddammit! Shut the door!
Todd shuts the door, Wally rushes to his feet. He grabs his
chair, the more presentable one, and brings it to the other
side of the desk, where the mayor would be sitting.
Why didn't you tell me?!?
I tried. You waved me off.
It's the goddamn mayor, Todd!
Jesus! How long's he been out
He just got here.
You give him coffee?
The coffee machine's broken, sir.
Wally stares daggers at young Todd, who, at the moment, is
squirming. Wally finishes moving the furniture.
      (fixing his hair
All right, send him in.
Todd goes to fetch the mayor. Wally, who has been having a
busy day, sits down, takes a breath, and tries to appear as
relaxed as possible. The MAYOR enters, and Wally jumps back
to his feet to greet him.


Good morning, Wally.
      (shaking hands)
Mr. Mayor! A pleasure as always!
Have a seat (pointing to chair).
Thank you, Wally.
So, what brings you by, sir?
Well, I was wondering if you're
onto this Roshawn Bradford case
Yes sir, I am. In fact, I just got
off the phone with the lead
It's horrifying, isn't it? Sweet,
young, innocent girl like that.
Unborn child that never got to see
the light of day...(trails off)
It's deplorable, sir. Truly.
Yes. Well, I really think it'd be
best if you prosecuted this case
I agree, sir. I'd planned on it.
I'm glad to hear it. I can't tell
you how important I think putting
this monkey behind bars is.
Wally, taken aback, says nothing.
I have every confidence in you,
Wally. I think you're the best


                       MAYOR (cont'd)
D.A. in the city. And I think
you'd make a helluva mayor
Wally acts stunned, but we can tell that he's just going
through the motions for the benefit of the mayor.
Me, sir?
Absolutely. You and me have seen
eye to eye on many things over the
years. You know that I'm term
limited. Two more years and I'm
finished. By the time this thing
gets to trial, you'll be the toast
of the town. And you'll be a hero
for putting this scoundrel where
the fuck he belongs.
      (still playing
But sir...I never really thought
about being mayor. I don't know if
Give it up, Wally. The modesty
doesn't become you.
Wally smiles. The 500 lb. elephant just left the room, and
the air seems much lighter now.
It's no secret you want the job,
Wally, and frankly, I'd be happy
to give it to you. You're a good
man. And I trust you to do the
right things with the city, just
as I trust you with this case.
I won't let you down on either
count, sir.
The Mayor nods. Wally sits back in his chair and smiles.


Pop and 'Dre. They couldn't look more lonely. They are not
alone, as they were last night. The Watson Houses are
buzzing indeed. The Old Ladies are gathered on benches,
gossiping about this and that. The children are playing, a
jump rope or two is seen. But this does not stop Pop and
'Dre from smoking a little weed. An old woman, Mrs. ESTHER
JAMESON, approaches them, covering her nose because of the
smoke. She shakes her head in disapproval.
Put those out, dammit! (point to
the blunts)
The boys (somewhat high) meekly comply.
You boys must be out of your
minds! There's little children
Sorry, Mrs. Jameson.
Shame on you, shame on you both.
Sorry, Mrs. Jameson.
Goddamn fools. Gettin' high with a
buncha little kids running around.
Ignorant little punks.
      (in unison)
Sorry, Mrs. Jameson.
Esther walks away.
      (muttering to
Must be out their cotton-pickin'
minds. Little kids runnin' around.
Back to 'Dre and Pop.


She's right, you know.
      (still high)
I said she's right.
'Bout what?
Man, what the fuck are we doing,
You trippin, 'Dre?
Just shut up and listen fool. I
mean, what the fuck are we doing
with our lives? We're sitting here
getting toasted with a buncha nine
year-olds jumping rope and playing
on the jungle gym. What the fuck
kinda life is that?
It's called living the HIGH life
(cracks up).
'Dre says nothing, simply staring at Pop. Pop cracks himself
up, then catches the look on 'Dre's face, and silences
I'm sick of fuckin' Shawanna
gettin' on my ass every night. I
walk in, she be like; "Why ain't
you working? I need this! I need
That's messed up, man.
But see, that's the thing! She's
right. What kinda man am I? What
kinda life is this?
Pop says nothing. He takes anothoer hit off of the blunt.


It comes to a certain time where a
man's gotta start makin' moves.
You know? (silence from Pop) A
man's gotta just say "Fuck it!"
and get that paper. He's just
gotta do what the fuck he's gotta
do? You know what I'm sayin?
      (takes another
       hit, dazed)
Yeah, I feel you. I feel you.
Man, put the fuckin' blunt down!
I'm talkin'!
Pop hesitates, but does as told. 'Dre shakes his head.
I'm sorry. What were you sayin'.
I'm talkin' 'bout gettin' some
cheddar. If we ain't gonna get it
legit, then we gotta look for
another way.
Yeah, and what way is that?
We gotta sling some rock, man. We
ain't got a choice.
Man, what a fuckin' cop out. Do
you know how typical that shit is,
'Dre? We can't do that, man. We
You think I'm happy about this?
Get with it, fool.
Pop and 'Dre, both beginning to truly feel their high, sit
stone-faced for a moment, pondering the course of the
We still burnin', right?


      (pulls out another
Fuck you think? (laughs) You
always bring extra, case Mrs.
Jameson busts up your shit.
Both laugh, and return to the business of smoking. Little
children can be seen right in front of their face.


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From Rob DePaolo Date 2/6/2005 ****
It's really strong. I would've left out the small scene at the end, and just ended with the three guys, but that's a minor complaint. You've established your plot and subplots really well, you've got a few good storylines in here. Keep going.

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