Home Screenwriting Products Screenwriter Community Screenwriting Store
ScriptBuddy - Screenwriting Software for the Web

Screenwriter Community

Back to List of Published Screenplays
View/Leave Feedback

Urban Shadows
by JC (j_aussiedawg@yahoo.com)

Rated: R   Genre: Horror   User Review: ***1/2
An unknown horror terrorizes the gangs of L.A.

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.



A warm Autumn night. All the houses look the same. The
blocks are dark. Silent. The way it should be on a Sunday

A CAR slowly cruises down the street. No headlights. It
crawls to a stop in front of one particular home.
A flickering TV SCREEN is the only light. The place is a
dump. Beer cans litter the stained carpet. Ashtrays overflow
with cigarette butts. Cockroaches scurry across the floor.

The house is quiet, until --
The front door crashes open to reveal TWO MEN with guns.
They are hispanic. Well-built. Tattoos run up and down their
naked arms. Their eyes hardened by time.

They enter the trashed abode, undaunted. One sports a scar
across his cheek. The other dons a black eye and missing
teeth. These guys are not to be messed with.
      (loud whisper)
Fuck, ese. It's all dark and shit.
MIGUEL, the bigger of the two, reaches for a light switch.
DARIUS slaps his hand away.
      (loud whisper)
What the hell're you doin', 'Guel?
Keep 'em off.
Darius sighs, regards his friend with annoyance.
You stupid, vato. You know that?
Nah, you stupid. Kickin' the door
in and shit. Pendejo knows we're


The two hoods LOOK scary and tough. Not too bright, though.
Darius quietly shuts the busted front door. Both men's eyes
swim around the room.
Yo, Billy! Guess who's here? Got
my money, bitch?
Silence. Miguel crinkles his nose.
What's that stink, homes? Puede
A FOUL STENCH engulfs the two hoodlums. Darius holds his
Man, fuck this.
Miguel's finger flips on the light switch.


Cockroaches run for cover. Both men stand frozen.


A MAN'S bloody, inanimate body. His face caved in.
Fuckin' A.
They creep closer. Darius examines the tattoo on the body's
Is it Billy?
Yeah, it's him. Piece of shit

The BANGING upstairs startles them both.
Miguel looks freaked. He backs away, tries to keep his


Dude, vamos! Let's go, man. I-I-I
don't like this.
Nah, someone else's here. We ain't
leavin' 'til I get my fuckin'
Darius heads for the staircase. A spastic Miguel holds court
by the front door.
Orale, homes! Let's go!
Miguel shakes his head "NO". Darius regards his friend with
Fuckin' cobarde. You just got
outta Wasco, homes. What the
hell's wrong wit'chu?
Dar, don't do it. I'm serious,
man. Shit don't feel right. Let's
just go, man. It's only five Bens,
right? Billy's fucked. He got what
he deserved --
You stupid pendejo! You wanna go?
Then go. But I'm gettin' my green.
Darius scoffs.
      (under his breath)
Darius slowly makes his way up the stairs, gun drawn. The
stairs CREAK with each step of his sneakers.


The hallway is black. Darius feels for a light switch. No
such luck. He comes to a door.

A VOICE giggles from within. Darius puts a hand on the knob.
He turns it. The door slowly creaks open.

Darius hesitates a moment, then enters.



It is pitch black. MORE GIGGLES. Darius searches his way
through the darkness. His gun trained on whatever.
Who's there? That you, Tommy Boy?
Billy's right-hand bitch?
The giggles are LOUDER now. More sinister.
Oh, you think it's funny? Smokin'
Billy, then tryin' ta steal my
money? We'll see who's laughin'
when I pump yer ass full've
bullets, bitch! You can't laugh
when yer muerto, cabron!
VIOLENT COUGHS replace the giggles. Then a GRAVELY HUM. More
coughs. The giggles return.

A see-saw of voices surround Darius in the dark room.
Coughs. Hums. Giggles. Coughs. Hums. Giggles.

The door behind Darius SLAMS SHUT. For the first time he
looks scared. REALLY scared.
                       VOICE (O.S.)
What the hell IS that?
I-I-I ain't playin', man. Just
give me my money --
HEAVY BREATHING bears down on the gangster's neck.

Darius quickly spins around, faced with a horror only he can
see. Blood slowly drains from his face.
A jittery Miguel crushes a cockroack with his sneaker.
                       DARIUS (O.S.)
Darius's BLOOD-CURDLING SCREAM has Miguel in a state of
panic. He runs around the room like a headless chicken.


Darius! DARIUS!
An unnerving silence.

Darius's tattered body TUMBLES down the stairs. Drenched in

Miguel's face is flushed. His eyes near tears.
Darius... Mi hermano...
                       VOICE (O.S.)
Miguel's face twists with rage. He dashes up the stairs. Two
at a time. His gun ready to kill.
Miguel disappears into the upper darkness.
                       MIGUEL (O.S.)

Gunshots echo. Then a silence. A cold, eerie silence.

SOMETHING makes it's way down the creaky stairs. Slowly.
                       VOICE (O.S.)
COPS are everywhere. Some in blue. Others in suits. All
doing what police usually do during a homicide
investigation. Taking photographs. Dusting for prints.

floor, waiting to be taken out.

Fallon is fortyish, with a three-day growth and caustic
eyes. Slim yet strong. An intimidating man. Not physically.
But intellectually. Respected among his peers.

BLOOD covers the walls.


OFFICER TERRY HILL stands next to the detective. Much
younger than Fallon. Thirty maybe. Or twenty five. Hard to
tell with his clean-cut baby face and innocent eyes. An
eager-to-please man.
The junior officer looks revolted by what he sees.
                       OFFICER HILL
Jesus H. Christ.
The detective saunters over to the body bags. He points to
the first one.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Nope. Billy K. Anderson. Drug
dealing loser. Overall scumbag.
The detective crouches down. Eyes the other two.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
And his two amigos. Miguel Chavez
and Darius Duran. Members of the
gang The Asesinos. Spanish for
Assassins. Small-time.
                       OFFICER HILL
What the hell happened here?
Fallon stands upright, shakes his head. He places his hands
on his waist. His eyes focused on the stairs.
                       OFFICER HILL
Neighbors heard screams and
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
      (in a trance)
                       OFFICER HILL
Mulder and Scully would know.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
                       OFFICER HILL
Mulder and Scully. You know, the
X-Files? I've got practically
every episode on DVD. I almost
cried when it got cancelled. The
show was awesome, until David
Duchovny left and that guy from
Terminator 2 took his place.


                       OFFICER HILL (cont'd)
Anyway, this case kinda reminds me
of an X-File. Especially this one
episode where --
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
      (rolling his eyes)
Officer Hill?
                       OFFICER HILL
Yes, sir?
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Shut up.
                       OFFICER HILL
Yes, sir.
The young officer quickly zips it.

The door creaks open. Detective Fallon steps in. The room is
bare save for a tattered bed and a wall clock. The clock's
hands are frozen on 8:17.

Fallon pops a mint into his mouth. He studies the bullet
holes in the wall. Looks under the bed. No blood on the
bedroom walls. The room is spotless.

He runs fingers through his thick locks. His eyes search for
something. Anything.

Officer Hill looks over the shoulder of Forensics Specialist
MALCOLM SIMMS. Late thirties. Calm. Distinguished. He sports
glasses and brand-name necktie. Malcolm looks more like a
banker than a cop.
                       OFFICER HILL
Man, I love watching you guys
collect forensics evidence. You
know what my favorite show is now?
CSI. You know, Crime Scene
Simms cracks a smile as he does his job.
Well, Officer Hill, in real life
forensics evidence is not


                       SIMMS (cont'd)
collected at every crime scene.
Either because criminals clean up
after themselves or because of
limited resources. And in this
case, the criminal cleaned up
after himself pretty good.
Simms rises from the couch, slips off a pair of bloody
transparent gloves.
                       OFFICER HILL
This isn't a routine case, is it.
Far from it. A man's arms and legs
ripped clean off, with no signs of
the limbs in this house. Him and
this poor son of a bitch on the
couch, their faces smashed in by
God knows what. Blood splatter,
fingerprints, hairs and fibers...
they'll all be collected and
                       OFFICER HILL
What about all this other stuff?
Oh, yeah. Beer cans, cigarette
butts, fast food wrappers and
other trash. You name it.
                       OFFICER HILL
Cool. Man, I wish I could be there
when they do the autopsies. I'm a
strong believer in the power of
science to solve cases. Especially
ones like this. Detective, do you
think you can get me into
Simms smiles at the ignorant, naive officer.
Well, it can be pretty compelling
stuff. When you're dealing with
the rules of science, that is.
Those who watch CSI think they
know more, and in some cases, they
do know more. But it's just a TV
show. They haven't a clue that --


                       DETECTIVE FALLON (O.S.)
-- criminals are learning new ways
of covering their tracks.
Detective Fallon reappears.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
They watch CSI, too. Officer Hill,
you really gotta cut down on the
TV. It's beginning to kill your
brain cells.
Fallon eyes the beer cans scattered all over the carpet.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
These beer cans will tell us
A sarcastic sigh leaves Fallon's mouth.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
      (looking around)
Your guess is as good as mine
right now. Burns and claw marks
were found all over the bodies.
Not to mention the hundreds of
cockroaches. I've never seen
anything like it. We won't know
more until we've conducted the
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Time of death?
Don't know the EXACT time of
death. I'd say somewhere between 8
and 9.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
What time is it now?
Simms reads his watch.
11:43. Don't you ever wear a
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Nope. Bad for the wrist.


Fallon sighs, pats Simms on the back.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Hit those labs, my friend. Get
with the Medical Examiner. Keep me
Will do.
                       OFFICER HILL
Hey, have either one of you seen
Predator 2? I know it sounds
far-fetched, but what if there's,
like, this alien hunter from space
who's hunting human gang members
and stuff. And --
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Officer Hill?
The excited officer stops, deflated.
                       OFFICER HILL
I know, I know. Shut up.
The detective points down to the officer's shoes.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
No. Your shoelace is untied.
Detective Fallon gives him a playful scowl. He straightens
his tie, then exits the house.
NEIGHBORHOOD CITIZENS loiter outside the house. Brown.
Black. Others.

Detective Fallon takes a set of keys from his pants pocket
and approaches his vehicle.

He spots an ELDERLY HISPANIC MAN glaring at him from across
the street. The man mouths something to Fallon.

Fallon pockets the keys and crosses the street. The elderly
man quickly heads for his house. Fallon catches up.


                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Sir? Excuse me, sir? Could I have
a word? Er, uh... Me permite
usted...uh...una palabra?
The elderly man stops and turns to face Fallon.
                       ELDERLY MAN
Tengo prisa.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Como esta usted? Er... No hablo
espanol. Mi policia. Do you speak
The man slowly nods "YES."
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Is this your house?
                       ELDERLY MAN
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
There were murders here tonight.
Directly across from your house.
Did you see anything? Anything at
all? Anything...unusual?
The old man's hands begin to tremble. His lower lip quivers.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
What? It's OK. You can tell me.
What did you see? What did you say
to me across the street just now?
                       ELDERLY MAN
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Fantasma? What's that?
                       ELDERLY MAN
That's all. That's all I say. I go
now. Fatigado.
The man enters his house and slams the door shut.

Fallon shakes his head. He passes a YOUNG SPANISH WOMAN on
the way to his car.
                       YOUNG WOMAN


Fallon stops in his tracks. He turns to the woman.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
I'm sorry?
                       YOUNG WOMAN
That's what fantasma means.
Phantom. Or spirit.
Fallon eyes this woman from head to toe.

She's a beauty -- Busty. Curvy. Gorgeous dark curls flow in
glorious profusion around a flawless face. Her azure eyes
are deep yet warm.

Fallon finds himself blushing.
                       YOUNG WOMAN
If I were you, detective, I'd be
careful. What with All Souls Day
coming up, she might even pay you
a visit. La Muerte -- Death.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Miss Alves. What brings you here
at this time of night?
VERONICA ALVES. Tabloid journalist. Late twenties. Tough.
Confident. And sexy. Very, very sexy.
A story. Halloween's just around
the corner. Not to mention All
Saints Day, All Souls Day. What
the spanish call Dia de Muertos.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Dia de Muertos. Day OF The Dead,
if I'm not mistaken.
The Spanish bombshell cracks a sultry smile.
Si. This'll make a great story for
next week's edition. We could sell
hundreds of copy, from now through
the first week of November. The
headline: "La Muerte Kills Gang
Members In Drug Deal Gone Bad.
Will Death Strike Again Come
She whips out a pen and pad.


So, detective. What've you got?
Fallon arches an eyebrow, gives her a naughty smirk.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Sorry, Ver. Not this time.
Fallon opens his car door and slides into the driver's seat.

Veronica pouts as she stows the pen and pad inside her
purse. She slowly approaches the car. Her high heels click
against the gravel and cement.

Fallon starts the ignition. He rolls down the window, sticks
his head out.

The babe in tight slacks crouches down. Their faces just
inches apart.
Just a few grisly details. That's
all I'm asking. Please?
Fallon sighs. Veronica bats her eyes.
I'll let'cha sleep with me again.
And I promise, you can do whatever
you want.
Fallon regards her with lust.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
See you at home.
Fallon's car quickly leaves the scene. Veronica dashes to
her car to follow.

The guy caves in. How could he not?

Under silk bed covers. The covers pull back to reveal Fallon
and Veronica. Sweaty. Pink-faced.

The couple kiss.


                       DETECTIVE FALLON
I'm glad you came back early. I
couldn't hold out 'til next week.
I missed you.
I missed you, too.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
How was Costa Rica?
Fabu. I really needed the break.
Wish you were there with me,
Fallon sighs.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Babe, you know my job. I'm so
fuckin' swamped right now. I'll
make it up to you --
She puts a finger to his lips.
I know, I know, I know. Just hold
me, OK? I'm...cold.
Another kiss.

Fallon covers her naked shoulder with part of the blanket.

They cuddle. He strokes her beautiful mane.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Ver, you can't be comin' to the
crime scenes. OK? No more.
Veronica laughs mischievously. Her eyes dance with mirth.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
C'mon. You know why.
But I love watching you work.


Fallon moans.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Ver, I'm serious. No more going to
the goddamn crime scenes, OK?
People are gonna think I'm a
whacked-out nut case.
OK. I promise.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Turn out the light. I'm tired.
Fallon's hand turns off the lamp light.
Sunlight bleeds through the blinds, waking a pallid Fallon.

The guy looks like hell. Blood-shot eyes. Heavy bags.
Disheveled hair. Whiskey bottles litter the floor.

Fallon slowly sits up, holding his head. His tired eyes
examine the room.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
No Veronica. The cell phone next to the lamp RINGS.

Fallon moans, picks up the cell.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
      (in phone)
Yeah. What? You've got to be
shitting me.
Fallon slowly climbs out of bed, phone still pressed to his
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm on my way.

Fallon trips over an empty whiskey bottle.


                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Owww! God-DAMN IT!

Dangle from the decrepit ceiling. Each rope stained by
blood. A swarm of COPS swim through the dilapidated

Fallon stands under the bodies, his hands on his waist. He
peers up at the four inanimate corpses.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Christ, what the hell's going on?
A magnificent MOON illuminates the city. A stunning image
that could rival any postcard found in the tourist shops.
A dingy one-bedroom apartment. Various plants hang around a
filthy window looking out onto a narrow, lamp-lit street.
An attractive young BLACK WOMAN sits on a worn-out couch,
smoking a fat joint. A B-Girl type. Baby-faced, but with a
woman's body. This is TYRA.

The room is quiet. Serene. The young woman completely
engrossed in getting high as she puffs away on the joint.
The SOUND of SCRATCHES suddenly startles her. She looks
Tyra puts out the joint, walks into her bedroom. She
reappears, slightly perplexed.
Anna? Where are ya, girl?

CLICK! The lights come on to reveal a mess of a kitchen. If
Martha Stewart walked into this dump, she'd have a cardiac.

Tyra eyes the food and water bowl on the floor.


Damn, girl, I swear... How did'ja
manage to get out this time?

Tyra stands in the middle of the room, thinking. The
scratches ESCALATE from above. She glances up at the
God, dogs are such a pain in the
ass. I should've gotten a turtle.
Tyra moans as she pushes a set of keys into the pocket of
her tight hip-huggers. She moves to the front door.

Tyra walks out into the hallway, shuts the front door behind
her. She looks downstairs over the rotting banister.

No one. Just the comforting lights of the hall and the
familiar graffiti art that dons the walls.

But the scratches continue.

Tyra follows the sound to the rusty metal stairway that
leads to the roof's door. The scratches are STRONGER there.
Just chill, Anna, mama's comin'.
She places one hand on the metal door latch and the other
flat against the door.
stupid mutt.
Tyra twists the latch and pushes the door open onto the
gorgeous, moon-lit night.



lies dead in a drain by the edge of the roof, her stomach
CUT OPEN. The tiny dog's insides hanging out.

Tyra approaches the slain canine. Slowly. A trembling hand
over her mouth. Utterly unprepared for this moment.

A HARD RAIN begins to fall. Tyra doesn't flinch.
An...Anna? Oh God! NO!
The roof's door CLOSES behind her.
                       VOICE (O.S.)
Before Tyra can spin around, a massive BLACK SHADOW engulfs

Bears down on the back of her neck. She throws her head back
to scream. Nothing. The woman is completely mute.


Tyra stumbles forward as the dark, shapeless figure releases
it's grip. Her hands move up to her neck, instinctively.

She opens her mouth to the sound of her own strangled
gurgles. Her hands basked in CRIMSON RED as they move away
from her throat.

Tyra's eyes bulge. Her legs buckle.


The steady rain POURS DOWN on the city.

The shimmering stars have now been replaced by ugly gray
clouds. So much for the postcard-perfect vista.

MARCUS WILLIS struts down one of L.A.'s slum streets.

The guy is young. No older than twenty five. A Handsome
black man. Decked out in hip-hop fashion. No umbrella.
Soaked to the bone.

He passes various derelict projects, a cell phone pressed to
his ear.
      (in phone)
I'm talkin' skanks galore! It was
wild, dawg. Fuckin' wild. Naw, fer
real. Hey, you got fresh towels at
your crib? Cool, I'm soaked as
shit. See you in five.
Marcus stows the phone in his back pocket, then STOPS DEAD
in his tracks. He looks down at his feet.
What the --
BLOOD congeals around his sneakers. Marcus stares mystified
by the red liquid that passes between his legs, carried
along by the flowing rain water.
What the fuck?
He begins to follow the crimson trail back to its source.

The red stuff alternately drips and spews out the bottom of
a drain pipe.

Marcus's eyes climb the rotting edifice. The pipe travels
uninterrupted all the way up to the five-story building's

Marcus looks around. Confused. Not really knowing what to
do. He takes his cell from his pocket, begins to dial a
number. He stops.


Aw, fuck it.
He shoves the phone back into his pocket, then heads into an
alley between the apartment houses. The young man begins to
make his way up the fire escape.

Isn't dead yet. She is on her back, drenched in rainwater
and her own blood. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish
out of water.

Tyra's head rolls to one side. Her tears mingle with the
raindrops on her face. Her eyes lock on to --


Looking at her from over the side of the building; his head
and shoulders above the roofline. His expression is one of
absolute terror.


races toward Marcus. The guy falls back as the looming,
shapeless figure advances.

Marcus alternately SLIDES and TUMBLES down the fire escape,
desperate to save his own ass from whatever that thing was.

CRASH! He lands hard on the wet alley cement.

The shadow glares down at him from the rooftop. It's
silhouette a haunting mass intermixed with the apocalyptic
night sky.

Marcus quickly gets to his feet. He hightails it out the
alley as the shadow LUNGES at him from the roof.


Marcus sprints madly down barren streets as fat raindrops
pummell him.



Marcus's cell phone lays atop the gravel. The shadow's
black, unformed hand examines it.

Tyra looks up at the clouds. Her eyes blink a few times.
Then close. Forever.

Marcus is a panicked mess as he makes his way down desolate
blocks. A CAR suddenly appears. It screeches to a HALT in
front of him.

Marcus makes eye contact with the startled driver through
the windshield. A middle-aged Hispanic WOMAN. He races to
the passenger side, begins to pound on the window.
Lady! Hey lady! Help! Some --
The woman looks scared out of her skull. The car DARTS OFF,
leaving Marcus alone with the sound and smell of burning
Fuck you then, bitch!
Marcus makes out ANOTHER CAR through the night sky's tears.
He frantically waves his hands as he bum-rushes the vehicle.
The car's sirens BLARE.
Marcus makes a dash for it the other way. The L.A.P.D.
patrol car gains ground. Marcus stumbles on the wet

The vehicle comes to a STOP about ten yards away. The doors
pop open, depositing TWO UNIFORMED OFFICERS; one of them
Officer Terry Hill.

Officer Hill trains his FIREARM on a freaked Marcus.


                       OFFICER HILL
What?! Man, I didn't do anything!
                       OFFICER HILL
Do it! Do it NOW!
Marcus quickly does what he's told. Both cops advance.

The other officer whips out a pair of cuffs.
                       OFFICER 2
Easy now...
He brings the young man's hands behind his back and slaps on
the cuffs. The cop heaves him up.
Man, I didn't do anything!
                       OFFICER HILL
You have the right to remain
The policemen lead a disoriented Marcus into the back of the
squad vehicle.
                       OFFICER HILL
Anything you say can and will be
held against you in a court of
Man, this is some bullshit!
A famished Detective Fallon walks side by side with
DETECTIVE CHARLES O'SHEA down a glossy hallway.

Detective O'Shea is about the same age as Fallon, only less
handsome. Short, chubby and balding, with a gruff demeanor
and too-tight suit.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
He's concocted some supernatural
bullshit story...somethin' about
a...a black poltergeist or some
such shit.


                       DETECTIVE FALLON
"They're heeeeeere."
O'Shea chuckles at Fallon's throwaway joke.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
No, he's clean. But when our boys
found him, he looked the epitome
of a high-strung crackhead.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Epitome. That's a big word, Chuck.
You been hitting the Thesaurus
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Fuck you, Kelly.
Fallon smirks at O'Shea's reaction.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Who's the victim again?
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Tyra Jordan. Twenty four.
Unemployed. Her throat was slit,
her stomach gutted like a fish.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Yeah, no shit. Apparently, Miss
Jordan was doing the 'wild thing'
with a one Furious G. They were
going out for quite some time.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Furious G? A.K.A. Freddie Gates?
One of the four bloods we found
lynched and hung this morning?
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
You got it.
They turn a corner which leads to another hallway.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON


                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
You tell me. You're the pro at
Fallon takes a beat.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Who's the kid again?
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Christ, Fallon. Did you suffer
from A.D.D. as a boy? MARCUS
WILLIS. Pay more attention.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
      (mock sincerity)
Sorry, daddy.
They pass a female officer.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Why don't you believe his story?
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
What, trick question? His
appearance matches neighbor's
descriptions to a tee. He ran,
Kell. He's got a record. The added
bonus -- We found his cell phone
at the crime scene, covered in the
victim's blood.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Fallon's eyebrows furrow in thought.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Mulder would believe him.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
You know, Mulder? From the
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Give me a fucking break.
They stop in front of a door marked INTERROGATION-DETENTION
ROOM. The door almost looks like a movie prop, it's so


                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Let me have first dibs on him. You
know, good cop-bad cop.
Fallon gives O'Shea a sardonic pat on the shoulder.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Yes, Chuck. I know the drill.

The room is remarkably like the hundreds we've seen before,
folks. White corkboard everywhere.

Within its unsullied confines is a table, a tape recorder
and four chairs. Uncannily old-school.

In one of the chairs is a very angry Marcus Willis.
You guys can't keep me here! I
didn't do anything!
O'Shea stops in the doorway, turns to Fallon.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
They all say that.
They both enter, Fallon shuts the door behind him. O'Shea
plops down across from Marcus. He slams a stack of reports
onto the table.

Fallon stands behind the other detective. He leans against
the bulkhead, arms crossed.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Maybe, maybe not. So we're just
gonna have a little chat before we
decide what to do with you.
Fuck you guys, man! I didn't do
fuckin' JACK SHIT!
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
The language, Mr. Willis. Watch
the language.
What, you Christian or somethin'?


                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Perhaps. Hey, maybe you should
convert. I mean after all, In your
short yet pathetically
crime-filled life, you've broken
nearly every commandment in the
book, my friend.
I ain't your friend, ya fat pig
O'Shea slams his fist down HARD in front of Marcus, who
doesn't flinch.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
      (teeth clenched)
Listen, boy. You either watch that
filthy mouth of yours, or so help
me God --
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Fallon puts a hand on O'Shea's shoulder, gestures for him to
leave. O'Shea's face is beet-red. A forehead vein looks like
it's going to burst any second.

The portly man stands, straightens his suit and exits the
room. Jeez, that was fast.
Yeah, that's right! Get yo'
Passion Of Tha Christ-watchin', Da
Vinci Code-readin' ass outta here
with that shit!
Fallon sits.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
I know you didn't do it, Marcus. I
believe you.
Awww, ain't that nice. And who the
fuck are you?
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
I'm Detective Fallon, and
according to my records, you've
only broken one commandment --
'Thou Shalt Not Steal.'


Man, that was a long time ago.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
I know. I'm not holding that
against you. We brought you in
because...well, basically because
you were in the wrong place at the
wrong time.
Damn straight.
Fallon stands, walks around the table.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Your cell phone was found at the
crime scene. The victim's blood
was all over it. Can you explain
I've already done told my story,
dawg. How many fuckin' times I
gotta tell it?
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Again, because I haven't heard it.
Enlighten me. Please. I'm on your
Marcus scoffs, turns away.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
You're an innocent man, Marcus.
Why did you run?
The young man shrugs.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Were you scared?
Marcus cackles arrogantly.
Scared? Not me, dawg. I ain't
scared of shit.
Fallon sighs. He inches closer.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Tell you what I'm going to do
then. I'm going to let you go.


What, fer real?
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Yes. For real.
Right now?
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Soon, yes. But on one condition.
Marcus throws his hands in the air in disgust.
Man, there's always a fuckin'
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Yes, there's a catch.
Fallon sets his card on the table.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
That's my number. You have twenty
four hours to tell me the truth
about what happened tonight.
Twenty four hours. And I want to
know everything. EVERYTHING. You
Marcus doesn't blink.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
If you try to run, we will find
you. And you will be charged with
the gruesome murder of Tyra
Jordan. That, my friend, is a
Marcus jumps to his feet, almost knocking Fallon down.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
I know, and you've got twenty four
hours to prove it to me.
Marcus sits back down, sulking.


                       DETECTIVE FALLON
A pause. Marcus reluctantly swipes the card.
      (calmer now)
Yeah, man. Whatever.

Fallon exits, straightens his tie. A flustered O'Shea takes
his arm.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Kel, we just can't let him go.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Too late. This is my
investigation, Chuck. Remember?
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Yeah, and maybe your last if this
thing blows up in your face!
O'Shea sighs, releases Fallon's arm.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Look, we're on the brink of a gang
war here. This kid is our only
lead right now. You're
unorthodoxed, Kelly, you always
have been.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Fallon doesn't appear to be listening.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
Goddamn it, Fallon, you're
stubborn as hell. The chief's in
an uproar. The whole department
is. He wants results, and he wants
them yesterday. If this thing gets
out, the media will have a fucking
field day. Now this Willis kid --
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Relax, Chuck. That's never going
to happen. And I've never let you
down. Never.


Fallon winks and departs down the hallway, leaving O'Shea
redder than before.
                       DETECTIVE 0'SHEA
The MORNING SUN'S RAYS beam down on The City of Angels, and
it ain't a pretty sight. This place always looks better at

Fallon makes his way down a moderately busy street, coffee
in hand. He takes a sip as he passes a newspaper stand. He
stops dead in his tracks.
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Great. Just...fucking great.
A TABLOID HEADLINE catches his weary eyes:


Fallon moans as his eyes move down to the NAME of the
article's writer:

"by Veronica Alves"
                       DETECTIVE FALLON
Goddamn it, Ver...

Author's note: The completed first draft is registered with
the WGA.


Back to Top of Page
Leave Feedback
From teeto Date 12/18/2012 ***
Good work. Needs more, keep it going.

From Larry Date 2/19/2012 ****
This is good jc this could be a movie.

From Alex Griffin Date 8/5/2011 ****
Nice, I love the story!

From Mei Lun Jue Date 6/21/2011 ***1/2
I loved it too short unless its suposed to b a short film

From lashawn anthony Date 5/6/2011 ****
a very good try.

From Renone Montanez Date 1/24/2011 **1/2
The diolouge could flow alot better. The story is a bit interesting. The characters could be worked on more but are good. It's generic, meaning, I've seen this before in Boy'z in the Hood, and Goodfellas and Blood Simple, but don't go wrong, you tackled it fine. 2.5 oughta 4.

From Christopher Jones Date 1/3/2011 ****
Good Job!! http://www.scriptbuddy.com/community/?p=4291534342 E-Mail me to get the password to my project! risingicon2010@gmail.com

From Nicole S. Porter Date 7/15/2010 **1/2
You lost me early on with a combination of over-description and really cliched dialogue. I also snorted at a Mexican gang member named "Darius." Work on the dialogue (and the names), and pare down the wordiness of the descriptions. There's meat here; it's just stuck under a crust of cliches. Good luck!

From Jake Williams Date 6/10/2010 **
I'm not impressed. I've seen stuff like this plenty of times. You've added little creativity to it but the dialogue is decent. You have potential, but you didn't meet it here.

From Jamie Brown Date 2/2/2010 ***1/2
Very very good but a few too many cliches, especially at the start.

From Ong Lee Date 4/27/2009 ****
Very nice. I love the vivid direction and details. Structure and technique is on point.

From vito jennette Date 4/26/2009 ***1/2
You have an amazing way with discription! I really enjoyed your story, keep up the good work.

From Mizo Date 2/23/2009 ***
Pretty Good. The description really made me picture the idea of the hispanic men with guns. However, you didn't need to swear every 5 seconds.

From DEBORAH FIELDS Date 1/2/2009 ****

From Mike McCrory Date 12/15/2008 ****
They say when exec types are skimming your script for tallent you have 10 pages to grab 'em. I ran through the first 10 before I knew it. Very nice. I enjoyed the script.

From anthony.cranstoun@ntlworld.com Date 12/3/2008 **1/2
Reads all too familiar....but good effort.

From Kevin Mitchell Date 10/1/2008 ***
I liked it. The premise seemed familiar but you made it your own and that was awesome. I would allow for more subtext. You seemed to explain too much. Allow the reader to articulate the story themselves and find the language underneath the words. For instance at the start of the script we hear the 2 gang members speak, we also know it's in an urban area yet you say they're no too bright. I know they are not Harvard grads by the dictation used so... Overall it was a great read.

From Steven Reeves Date 7/26/2008 1/2
Sorry, I wanted to like this screenplay, but I couldn't. The plot isn't anything new. The dialouge is horrible. The cliches are overwhelming. I suggest that the Author, who obviously has some talent and desire, try and write another screenplay. Any time it can be described as being like (fill in the blank), take it in a different direction.

From ralph keefer Date 7/21/2008 ***1/2
Very good so far. Would love to see more :).

From Valentine Nwafor Date 6/16/2008 ***
I like the story. It hooked me. The narrative is also superb. But I think more work should be done on the characters. They're good and original but they need to loosen up a little bit. Officer Hill acts like a rookie cop. Is he? The black guy who ran away, scared, from a police vehicle suddenly becomes tough. Not consistent. And suspects are not let go on such explanation. But the story's great. Keep it up. I'll love to see the rest.

From Jason Whitmore Date 3/5/2008 ****
Why do I always notice the same people giving the same poor scores on all the popular screenplays here? Do you guys not have any work to post up yourself? Why are there two stars on this? This screenplay ROCKS! I'd like to read the writing of anyone who leaves two stars or less!!!!!!!!

From Nick Hanks Date 2/24/2008 *
Too many words, just tell the story, don't try to dazzle the reader with your great vocabulary, (it is great by the way). But great vocabulary in a spec script is useless. Just tell the story. I would recommend a rewrite. It has potential but all the cliched phrases have to be weeded out in order for it to be taken seriously. When you write a line of dialogue just ask yourself, "Do people really talk like that, in the real world?" I would also like to recommend a book that is a must-read for beginners, it's called "ScreenWright" by Charles Deemer. I believe it's the best book on the subject.

From Taylor Date 2/21/2008 *
you're great at describing the scene. but the dialogue is too fake. people don't speak like that in real life. most of what's said in real life is non-verbal. use you're talents at describing a scene by moving the story along non-verbally. EVERY line has to mean something.

From Neil G. Date 1/15/2008 **1/2
It seems like this premise has been done to death (no pun intended). The writer does seem to have some skill but I think it might be better utilized in a more original and less cliched story. I agree with the feedback above in regard to letting the guy go for 24hrs. That just seems implausible and an unrealistic way to advance the story. I hope I am not coming off as harsh and the story did keep my attention to a certain degree but, I was not "blown away" or "riveted" by it. My honest feedback. Thanks.

From jacobb Date 11/21/2007 ****
Amazing screenplay. I enjoyed reading it, and I think it will be a lot better if made it into a movie. Send this script to a producer, I think it will sell. Good job on the dialogue.

From keshawn smith Date 8/25/2007 ***
I liked the script but i was wondering if anyone knew how to make a morning scene in your screenplay because on the script buddy program there is only day/ night scenes. If anyone knows the answer i'd be happy.

From ron jackson Date 7/15/2007 **
I think you have potential, and that this screenplay can be saved. Right now, however, you need some work.

From Ethan Date 6/3/2007 ****
Congrats, I give you 4 stars because your honesty for this script. The Dialog was great, I was completly engrossed by your story. Make a movie out of this!

From henry Grant Date 6/2/2007 **1/2
This isn't bad, but it's not finished and unfortunately, I think Ross has some very good points. You do seem to rely on way too many cliches. Put some work into it though, it could be worth saving.

From Elizabeth Francois Date 4/16/2007 ****
Hi JC My name's Elizabeth. I'm interning for a film company looking for horror stories based in urban settings. I'd like to speak with you. Could you please contact me at: just4.eliz@gmail.com I sent you an e-mail, but I don't know if you got it. Thanks

From Frank Klempar Date 3/3/2007 ***
I like it.

From Boris Novak Date 1/30/2007 ****
Wonderful command of format, structure and pace. I have faith in the finished product. Great stuff. This screenwriter is definitely on the right track. Take notes!

From Vanessa McKinney Date 1/22/2007 ****
This is awesome!

From Ross Raffin Date 1/9/2007 *1/2
Come on man. All this really does it play off stereotypes of thugs, film-noir cops, and desparate journalists. I can't see anything original in this. It's Leprechaun in the Hood without the creativity. You don't release murder suspects to figure out their own crime, especially when their story is that something supernatural happened. There is no subtlety to the dialogue. You even say "I'll screw you if you give me the story" and "let's play good cop/bad cop." Having a character addicted to television is cute, but he acts like he is new to the force when at crime scenes.

From Martin Aucoin Date 11/23/2006 ***1/2
I would give it a four but it is not the entire script, but is really good, it should be a movie.

From J.R. Hunter Date 11/20/2006 ****
Wow loved the story. I felt like I was right there. Great job keep up the excellent work.

From Cliff Date 9/23/2006 ****
Very good. Four star worthy, but I think it shouldn't be a to be continued. keep with the story and you'll go far.

From Raymond Charles III Date 9/5/2006 ****
Crisp dialogue and action with a very good flow.

From Merlin Chappuis Date 8/3/2006 ****
Dude, this is great! You should send this to Dreamworks, or some big producer.

From Christopher Date 7/28/2006 ****
You've got the basis of a wonderful flick in progress and I expect that the rest of the story will be just as much of a treat. The dialogue is superb.

From David Meis Date 7/14/2006 ****
Very good! I want to read the rest of it.

From Giancarlos Calderon Date 7/9/2006 ****
Hey that's a good story

From Brian Date 3/10/2006 ****
This is a great beginning, I'd like to see where it goes.

From Steve Date 3/6/2006 ***1/2
I like it, it is well written, and the description before each scene is amazing. I cant wait for the rest of it. Keep up the good work

From Darrell Wasiak Date 3/2/2006 ****
Excellent work.

From Deidra Date 2/24/2006 ****
this is one of the best stories i had read. i am really looking forward to reading the rest. great job

From Jan Lindser Date 10/30/2005 ****
Hey, this is pretty good.

From Paul Date 10/5/2005 ***1/2
Great read. Let's see the rest of it.

From Joe Andrew Date 9/30/2005 ****
Great work thus far. Keep it up!

From Larry Boodry Date 9/28/2005 ****
This is very good so far, I'm looking forward to reading more. (And, since I was able to figure out what 'to be continued' means, I won't nitpick about the length, either.) Keep up the good work.

From Thomas Date 9/27/2005 ***
Not bad. The first 10-15 pages of a script are crucial. You sucked me in, and I'd like to read more. My only gripe is that it seems so familiar. But who knows, maybe you'll surprise us.

From Josh Tucker Date 9/24/2005 ***1/2
Engrossing so far. Let's see more.

From Fraser Lockman Date 9/23/2005 **1/2
It's got an alright story in it but it's too short. A good movie screenplay contains from 90-150 pages.

Back to Top of Page
Leave Feedback
You must be logged in to leave feedback.
Home    My Account    Products    Screenwriter Community    Screenwriter's Corner    Help
Forgot Your Password?    Privacy Policy    Copyright 2024, ScriptBuddy LLC.    Email help@scriptbuddy.com