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A New Era
by Patrick Saunders (jackbilk@live.com)

Rated: R   Genre: Organized Crime   User Review: **1/2
A New Era is a gritty crime drama centered in Boston Massachusetts. The story opens, presenting Robert Baronty, a wealthy and influential business man that makes a dark and fateful decision to save his fledgling political aspirations. Meanwhile, in Boston, Patrick Bilk, a successful union delegate and racketeering guru, welcomes his first and only son into the world. Patrick’s brother in law and business partner, Bucky Garrity faces a crisis of conscience as he desires for his son Tommy to escape the darker aspects inherent in the life of a gangster. Patrick Bilk does not share Bucky’s concern however, sculpting Jackson in his image, sharing with him first hand lessons in extortion, racketeering and even murder. Robert Baronty, feeling confident he has silenced his dark secret, aspires to introduce his legitimate son Nigel to the political spectrum; a decision that links him to the Bilk family. Baronty underestimates the Bilk’s true clout as he considers himself untouchable. However, his arrogance and greed may not go unpunished as his dark secret hides in the shadows, poised to strike.

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.



ROBERT BARONTY sits at a large oak desk within a spacious
office, which has Italian marble floors and tall windows
draped in Venetian blinds, authentic pieces of artwork layer
the walls. Baronty, a man in his late forty's, gray thick
beard stubble, Italian collared shirt, the first two buttons
unfastened, a tie hangs lazily to the side. His hair is
thinning and gray, albeit a few isolated patches of brown.
Baronty appears uneasy, as he repeatedly moves an unlit
cigar from his lips to his fingers. He then lifts a snifter
of aged brandy from the table and takes a large swill, his
face grimacing for a moment before he slowly places the
glass on the table. Enter SMERLEY, a short and wiry man,
wearing gold-rimmed glasses and an outdated suit, light
blond hair scarcely covers his large, full moon shaped head.
He stands in front of Baronty for some time, a nervous
silence, his hands behind his back.
What is it, Smerley?
It's Svetlana, sir, she had the
Baronty's shoulders drop; his face breaks into a heavy
frown. He begins to run his fingers through his steely gray
What would you like me to do, sir?
I cannot allow this to get out.
Call GURIG; have him take her to
the pits. Make sure he knows how
imperative it is that no one ever
finds her.
And what about the child,


Arrange a flight to Boulder
Colorado; my brother SHAMUS will
raise the boy.
Smerley exits the office, walking on egg shells as he
quietly moves down the long hall and into a small windowless
room, where there is a rotary telephone. He picks up the
phone and dials a number. The line rings for some time
before the other end picks up.
      (into phone)
Um,yes...my boss --
      (other line)
-- Tell the Senator elect that he
needn't worry, a resolution will
come before nights end.
SVETLANA is a beautiful yet frail woman of eastern European
descent. She lay in a hospital bed, holding her newborn son
VLADIMIR within the small white room. A young pretty female
INTERN stands in front of her, dressed in blue scrubs, a
chart in her hand.
I was born in Moscow; my mother
was several years younger than my
father, who had bravely fought the
Nazi's in the battle of
Stalingrad. He came back from the
war, but was never the same. He
had trouble finding work and we
rarely had money. My mother always
told me that you shouldn't need
money to do what you truly love.
That's why I have always treasured
So why did you stop dancing?
You know how life is; it has a way
of changing priorities.
Will you ever go back to Russia?


I can't.
What do you mean?
Svetlana has a distant stare before she continues in a low
I defected two years ago, shortly
after my national ballet group
performed for the Soviet Prime
Why did you leave, I mean you
already made it as a dancer in
You don't understand, in the
Soviet Union you are not a
performer, you are considered
property of the state and treated
as such. Desertion is met with
savage mutilation.
That's terrible; well you're in
America now, sweetheart, you can
do anything you want here.
If only it were that simple.
Rain falls heavily; a limousine pulls up to the curb. The
hospital door opens and Svetlana walks to the waiting
limousine carrying baby Vladimir. The DRIVER opens the door
and Svetlana enters the vehicle, a menacing, GURIG sits in
the front passenger seat.
Svetlana grips her newborn son tightly. She nervously looks
out the window as the vehicle drives deeper into a remote
wooded area.


Baronty's limo pulls down a dead end road before coming to a
stop at the coda sac. The area is extremely remote, a
conscious decision made by Robert Baronty. Gurig steps out
of the vehicle and opens the back door. He does not overly
threaten Svetlana, yet there is something chilling and
morbid about his presence that Svetlana recognizes
Get out.
Svetlana leans back in the seat frigid as a stone, gripping
Vladimir close to her. Gurig grunts before beginning to lean
in toward her. Svetlana then reluctantly exits the vehicle;
Gurig, his face devoid of expression, extends his hands for
the child. Svetlana initially takes a step back before she
notices the pistol concealed in his waistband.
I'm not giving you my child.
Either you hand him to me, or your
child will never leave these pits.
Look around you, you know that's
his only chance.
Tears begin to stream from Svetlana's eyes, she kisses
Vladimir on the forehead before she shrinks, defeated as she
reluctantly hands her child to Gurig; who walks to the
passenger side and places the baby into a waiting car seat.
He then slowly returns, carrying the silenced pistol in his
left hand.
I knew that it would come to this.
Just tell that heartless skellum
that he cannot escape his past
Gurig, still icy and stoic, lifts the pistol and fires three
rounds, killing Svetlana instantly.
Opening credits commence as several wide framed winter shots
of the hub are shown, Columbus Avenue, Dorchester, Castle
Island, Cambridge. VIGNETTE: BOSTON, MA.


A large brass sign reads THE BILK WING. PATRICK BILK sits in
the densely populated room, under a sign that displays a lit
cigarette with a line drawn through it. Bilk is dressed in a
hand tailored three-piece suit with a black silk tie and
pristine alligator shoes. He stands just shy of six feet
tall. His face is round, tinted red, the result of an empty
flask of whiskey. His brown hair combed back; he crosses his
ankle over his knee before retrieving a pack of cigarettes
from his suit pocket. He knocks the pack against his palm,
thumbing out a cigarette before lighting it. He then slowly
inhales the smoke, pausing before exhaling through his
nostrils. Enter FEMALE NURSE.
                       FEMALE NURSE
Mr. Bilk, are you ready to meet
your son?
Bilk stands up before stamping the cigarette out on the top
of the trashcan. The nurse then leads him down the hall to
the maternity ward, where KATHLEEN BILK sits up in a bed,
                       KATHLEEN BILK
Your sister and BUCKY are in
another ward, TOMMY beat Jackson
here by two and a half hours.
BUCKY GARRITY and Patrick Bilk sit on imported leather
chairs in front of a large slate fireplace, each with a
glass of neat whiskey in their hand.
You know I don't like to make
issues, Patrick.
                       PATRICK BILK
I know you don't, Buck.
With that said, I don't want Tommy
to have to grow up the way we did.
                       PATRICK BILK
Believe me, he'll have it better
than we ever did, that's for
goddamn sure.


No, I mean I don't want him to
become a crook like us.
Patrick Bilk looks unconvinced.
I want Tommy to be able to leave
his house every morning without
having to look over his shoulder.
I think that he deserves more than
that. He should be able to make an
honest living, and not have to
worry about some piece of shit,
half ass wiseguy with a chip on
his shoulder. Ya know what I mean?
                       PATRICK BILK
I understand what you're trying to
say, Buck, but we can bury any
mutt dumb enough to fuck with our
flesh and blood.
It's not just that, I don't want
Tommy to grow up with the lure of
greed that comes with dirty money.
Don't get me wrong, I am eternally
indebted to you for taking me in
all those years ago and giving me
a means to become successful; but
I want more for my son.
It is a bright New England day, a moderate CROWD gathers
around a downtown office building, they begin to clap as a
large sign is exposed: GARRITY HEALTH INSURANCE. Patrick
Bilk stands alongside a beaming Bucky, as the new business
celebrates its grand opening.
                       PATRICK BILK
      (VOICE OVER)
I knew Bucky's intentions were
legitimate. He had grown tired of
the bullshit and nightmares
associated with the darker aspects
of our business. He wanted a legit
job and a meager paycheck; I
facilitated the former. Garrity
Insurance was a sure thing; it
inherited 350,000 clients from my


                       PATRICK BILK (cont'd)
labor union on opening day alone.
I couldn't let Bucky live like a
Bucky Garrity sits in a study, lit only by the fireplace. He
grips a tall glass of neat whiskey, taking a long swill
before a deep sigh. He begins to look out the window,
drifting miles away, to a different time.

Bucky's black car is parked on a Southie street outside of a
large apartment complex. Bucky Garrity sits in the driver's
seat, Patrick Bilk the passenger. Bilk reaches into his coat
pocket and retrieves a black, snub nose thirty eight caliber
revolver, a brass PB professionally attached above the brown
handle. Bilk appears to take special care when handling this
gun, as if it holds some sentimental value. He checks the
loaded chambers before snapping them back in place. Bilk is
surly drunk and in a particularly dangerous mood.
What do you need that for? It's
only one mutt landlord we're
dealing with here.
                       PATRICK BILK
It's the guy who doesn't carry a
gun that tends to need one the
Patrick Bilk and Bucky walk down a long hallway with
dilapidated walls, the floors showing the results of heavy
flooding from burst pipes. The men stop at the last
apartment on the right, Bilk begins to slam his fists
against the door, denting the wood with his knuckles.
                       PATRICK BILK
Chinn, open the goddamn door
before I kick it off the hinges!
Several lathes are turned before the door opens. CHINN
stands at the other end. He is a short Asian man with a
penciled mustache, thinly layering his upper lip. Bilk and


Bucky push their way into the surprisingly well-furnished
apartment. The room smells of diesel fumes, from two heaters
sitting in the corner of the room.
Bilk, why you here? You know what
time it is?
                       PATRICK BILK
Don't worry about that, ya fucking
mutt. You should be worried about
what I'm gonna do to you for
running a slum like this in
Southie; subjecting my people to
this fucking dump.
I've done everything I can for
those people!
                       PATRICK BILK
Bullshit! You can afford all this
nice shit but can't spring to have
the heat fixed in the dead of
Patrick Bilk puts his foot through the screen of the large
black and white television set, sparks begin to fly out.
Bilk then grabs Chinn by the collar.
                       PATRICK BILK
I'm having a hard time believing a
word out of your fucking mouth.
What's to stop me from dragging
you outside and beating the living
piss out of you?
Bilk, you piece of shit! I give
you protection money for years,
for what? I see no protection. You
come in my house, scare my wife,
destroy my things!
                       PATRICK BILK
You're coming with me!
Bilk grabs Chinn and leads him out of the apartment before
he begins a brutal beating. Chinn then spits in Bilks face.
Bucky turns to Bilk as if to stop him, yet it is too late.
Bilk reaches int his coat pocket and retrieves his pistol,
firing three rounds into Chinn's chest.


What are you some kind of maniac?
There's gotta be at least eighty
people on this floor alone.
                       PATRICK BILK
Grab a carpet from inside that we
can wrap the little bastard in.
I'll pull the car around.
Bucky enters the apartment and starts picking up a carpet. A
small CHILD enters; he looks wearily to Bucky, who stops in
his tracks at the sight of him. Bucky stands silently
looking at the child for several seconds before he reaches
into his pocket and retrieves a piece of hard candy. Bucky
then hands the candy to the child.
Go find your mother.
Bucky drives his black luxury sedan down a windy back road.
He looks to Bilk, who leans against the window breathing
lowly, sound asleep.
Bucky pulls the car into the Bilk Construction yard and
drives down the open dusty lot, before reaching the edge of
the sand pits. Bucky parks the car and nudges Bilk, who
wakes with a yawn and a stretch.
                       PATRICK BILK
We're here already…that was fast.
That's because you slept the whole
way, ya surly bastard.
Bilk exits the car, walks to the trunk and pops it open. He
reaches into the trunk before throwing the carpet-wrapped
corpse over his shoulder.
                       PATRICK BILK
At least he's a small bastard.
Patrick Bilk walks over to the edge of the pits and drops
the body down. He then begins to dig the shallow grave.
                       PATRICK BILK
This is the best way to get rid of
any baggage, much easier than


                       PATRICK BILK (cont'd)
digging in the frozen ground.
Reminds me of when we were kids in
the Cape, digging them deep holes,
just to fill them up again.
Yeah, just like building a
sandcastle, you sick fuck.
YOUNG JACKSON AND YOUNG TOMMY, each just fifteen and yet to
grow into themselves, ride bikes down a rural New England
road on a bright summer day, each dressed in a T shirt and
shorts. Young Jackson already has the look of a gangster,
his eyes dark and menacing. Naive Tommy is lanky with bad
skin. They park their bikes under a large tree adjacent to a
sprawling reservoir. The area is remote, yet not entirely
remote. Jackson takes off his backpack before retrieving a
familiar black snub nosed thirty eight revolver with a a PB
etched on the handle. He looks over the gun as Tommy appears
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Holy shit! Where'd you get that?
My old man gave it to me, it was
really important to him for some
reason, he didn't say. I guess it
got him out of some hairy
                       TOMMY GARRITY
You mean it got him into a bunch
of shitty situations?
                       TOMMY GARRITY
I don't really like guns, my dad
always refused to keep them
What the fuck are you talking
about, Tommy? Bucky and my old man
went shooting all the time back in
the day.


Jackson then lifts the pistol; he thumbs the hammer back and
looks down the cross hairs, he fires a round, a metallic
PING follows as the round strikes an empty soda can.
You gonna take the shot, or what,
                       TOMMY GARRITY
I'm no skirt; it's just that my
dad would kill me if he found out.
What's Bucky gonna do, check your
hands for gun powder residue? You
watch too many goddamn movies,
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Fine, let me see it then.
Jackson hands the gun to Tommy who nervously takes aim with
the pistol before taking a shot, his eyes lighting up
immediately after.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Holy shit, that was wild.
That wasn't the first time you
shot a gun, right?
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Yeah, I told you my dad didn't
keep them around.
Jackson shakes his head sardonically before a curious YOUTH
on a bmx bike approaches he and Tommy.
Were you guys just shooting?
Jackson motions for Tommy to hand him the pistol. Tommy
obliges, handing the gun over. Jackson lifts the pistol and
aims it directly at the YOUTH, thumbing back the hammer. The
Youth timidly lifts his hands, immediately beginning to
shake. Jackson keeps the gun aimed directly at the Youth's
face, his finger on the trigger that is primed for a soft


What the fuck is it to you,
What are we on a date? Get the
fuck out a here before they find
you floating face down in the
The Youth gets back on his bike and hurriedly peddles away;
Jackson begins to laugh like a maniac.
Watch this, Tommy.
Jackson points the thirty-eight in the air and fires a
round. The Youth panics and the bike begins to sway before
he goes down hard, wiping out face first in the gravel.
Jackson laughs like a maniac as Tommy remains quiet.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (voice over)
It was early on that I began to
notice just how different Jack was
from the other kids our age; he
was from another time. My uncle
brought him along for his first
extortion run on his thirteenth
birthday, it was Jackson's
confirmation. While the rest of us
kids were in class, Jack was
learning the ins and outs of an
extensive criminal syndicate. Jack
loved being a gangster, he was a
Jackson and Patrick Bilk corner a man in a smoky room.
Jackson lifts his thirty-eight and pistol-whips the
terrified BAR OWNER repeatedly.


Jackson sits at a corner table that is covered with tall
piles of hundred dollar bills, within Benders, an
establishment owned by his family. Benders is a dark and
smoky bar, with an overtly Republican Irish theme. Jackson
thumbs through a thick roll, counting the bounty from
another score.
Patrick Bilk, Jackson and JIMMY KELLY stand in wait. A truck
approaches and stops at a red light, Jackson steps onto the
cab and lifts his pistol. The driver raises his hands before
Jackson leads him out.
                       PATRICK BILK
      (voice over)
Jackson was just starting to wet
his beak. He was still a kid; he
had a lot to learn. JIMMY KELLY
and I took him under our wing
though. Jimmy was an incredible
earner who would seamlessly pull
off major jobs. Jimmy lived by
percentages and never ignored
variables; whether it was his
bets, the vig or the chance of a
lingering patrol vehicle being in
the area. Jimmy never slept, he
figured that it was time wasted
that could have been spent
cultivating our next score.
JIMMY KELLY stands at the fully stocked bar at Bender's Pub.
The room is dimly lit; the walls are black and layered with
IRA propaganda posters and baseball memorabilia. He smokes a
cigarette before he reaches into his hand tailored
three-piece suit and retrieves an envelope overflowing with
crisp hundred dollar bills. Patrick Bilk enters; they hug
briefly before Jimmy hands Bilk the cash.
                       PATRICK BILK
      (voice over)
Jimmy's an elite earner; he's
definitely the guy you want around
when you need to bury a problem.
He made his bones the day after
his 21st birthday.


HINDER, a Norseman wearing a cheap suit, sits behind a desk.
He reaches frantically for his desk drawer before his hand
is pierced by a razor sharp letter opener. Jimmy Kelly then
punches him with a devastating overhand right. Hinder falls
to the floor before Jimmy and Bilk begin to stomp on him
repeatedly. Jimmy then reaches into the desk and retrieves a
357 revolver.
This what you were looking for, ya
dumb fucking krout bastard?
Jimmy fires three deafening shots into the small man's chest
with the 357.
A tall and strong Vladimir Baronty wears short jet-black
hair and homemade hemp clothing. He toils in the field as
the sun slopes below the horizon; he stops and wipes his
      (voice over)
There has never been a more
repugnant or corrupted entity than
capitalism. It makes me sick to
think of those corporate pigs
profiting from the blood of the
proletariat, greed the only
motivation in their vacant chests.
We toil in the fields while they
line their pockets with the fruit
of our labor. My uncle Shamus had
made no secret of my origins and
exactly what had happened to my
mother. He often reminded me that
I was an embarrassment to the
State Senator and entrepreneur; a
bastard son destined to live out
my days as a meager farm hand.
What Shamus does not understand
however, is that my father's pain,
unlike my own will not be left to
fester through the years; it will
be quick and deadly.


Jackson sits at a large oak desk in the corner of his
spacious and well furnished bedroom, a large Irish Flag is
the only thing decorating the walls. Jackson is 18, he has
filled out, no longer a lanky teenager. He has wide
shoulders and carries with him a heavy presence. He looks
intently over a large bulleted spread sheet that consists of
his daily bets. Just then the door swings opens and Patrick
Bilk enters the room, cavalier as he approaches Jackson.
                       PATRICK BILK
Hey, Jack-- ya busy?
Not really, what's up, pop?
                       PATRICK BILK
Your ma sent me up to tell ya that
dinner will be ready in twenty
minutes, and she'll knock your ass
silly with a frying pan if you're
late for Wednesday night dinner
                       PATRICK BILK
So have you been taking good care
of that piece that I gave you a
while back?
Yeah, I still don't understand why
you didn't give me the 1911. The
forty five is a much nicer round
than a 38 -- packs way more punch,
at least.
                       PATRICK BILK
Jack, I gave you that gun because
it was really important to me --
to our family.
You said that before, what do you
mean by that?
                       PATRICK BILK
It doesn't matter, I'm just saying
be smart with it, it was given to
me by someone that was really
important to me when I was a kid.


The day is dark and dismal, limousines line the both sides
of the street as MEN in dark suits and WOMEN in black
dresses walk up the tall stone steps and into the church.
      (voice over)
My aunt Mary Ellen passed away
when Tommy and I were eighteen.
Tommy took it hard, he was
inconsolable for weeks, but I
wasn't going to let him dwell on
the fact.
An eighteen year old Tommy lay in bed at twelve noon
listening to music. He is lanky with bad skin, skateboard
pictures and baseball memorabilia layer the walls. The phone
RINGS several times before Tommy picks it up off the hook.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (into phone)
      (other line)
Tommy boy, you need to get out of
bed, ya bum. You're going to
brunch at a local dago joint with
the old man and me.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (into phone)
I don't know, Jack, I kinda feel
like laying low today.
      (other line.)
Fuck that noise, just be ready in
twenty minutes.
It is brunch in the traditional Italian restaurant. The room
is not particularly busy yet some tables and booths are
occupied. Patrick Bilk, Jackson and Tommy sit at a corner
booth, under a large framed picture of Naples.


                       PATRICK BILK
So, Tommy, are you holding up all
right? I haven't seen you since
the services.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
I guess I'm ok, Uncle Pat, but I
do miss her.
                       PATRICK BILK
We all do.
Jackson had been distracted by the menu; he now puts it
Where is that pudgy broad? I need
a drink.
A bleak looking WAITRESS moves across the room before
stopping at their table with a notepad in her hand.
What can I get for you, fellas?
                       PATRICK BILK
Can we get a round of whiskey
The bar doesn't open until two
                       PATRICK BILK
I'm sure Anthony would make an
exception. Why don't you tell him
that Paddy Bilk is here and wants
a round of whiskeys -- you know
what, I'll have a word with the
greasy bastard myself.
Patrick Bilk stands up and walks down the hall and into the
The poor fuck is probably in the
                       TOMMY GARRITY
I feel bad for anyone in his


So anyways, remember those girls I
was telling you about?
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Which ones?
The rich ones from the North End.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
I don't know if I'm really up to
Nah, fuck that, we're meeting up
with these broads tonight. I hear
Becky is real fucking wild.
The ornery Waitress drops off the drinks before Patrick Bilk
exits the kitchen; the sleeves of imported collared shirt
are rolled up, his arms are slightly wet and he appears
somewhat out of breath as he sits down at the booth.
                       PATRICK BILK
The fucking mutt thinks he'll get
a pass because he owes shylocks
and bookies all across town. When
did being a goddamn degenerate
gambler become an excuse?
I see you collected.
                       PATRICK BILK
I told the prick he could give me
the money or bob for New England
lobsters in a boiling pot -- I
always collect, one way or
APRIL, and BECKY escort Jackson and Tommy. April, the
shorter of the two wears a dark blue dress, while Becky
wears a dress just shy of her knees. Ever dapper Jackson
leads the group past a long line of PATRONS and to the host
station. The HOST stands at the booth, wearing a pressed
tuxedo and a wide grin.


Mr. Bilk; your table is ready, as
      (voice over)
I could tell the goddamn moment we
sat down that Tommy didn't stand a
chance. He was smitten in seconds;
he was always into that romantic
                                         CUT TO:
The two couples eat desert before Becky, visibly drunk
whispers into Jackson's ear.
We should get out of here soon.
Yeah, they'll be fine.
Tommy and April walk down the beach hand in hand, the night
is clear and the sky is riddled with stars, the moon almost
                       TOMMY GARRITY
The moon is amazing tonight.
It's really nice, thank you for
taking me here.
Tommy pauses slightly, before he kisses April. Tommy's cell
phone begins to RING; he reaches into his suit pocket and
retrieves a bulky black phone. He listens for a few moments.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (into phone)
I'm kinda busy; can't you give me
a little while? What was that…oh
shit, yeah I'll leave in a minute.
Tommy hangs up the phone.
Was that Jack?


                       TOMMY GARRITY
Yeah, I guess your friend Becky
left him naked and penniless at
the Radson hotel.
That sounds like Becky.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
You knew? Ha -- yeah, believe me,
you didn't have to warn Jack; he
loves that wild shit.
Tommy walks down the hallway until he reaches suite 406. He
knocks on the door, several seconds pass before the door
opens. Jackson stands at the other end half naked, a towel
wrapped around his waist, Tommy laughs at him as they turn
to exit the hotel.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Can we talk about that getup?
Yeah, that broad was wild, a real
freak and kind of a choker -- I
think I'm into her.
A taxi pulls up to the curb, across the street from a
building. Vladimir Baronty exits the cab and hands the
DRIVER a crisp fifty dollar bill
Thank you, Comrade.
Vladimir crosses the street and begins to ascend the
exterior staircase of the Farmer's Union of Colorado.
Vladimir enters the Union Headquarters and walks down the
long marble hallway of the old stone building until he
reaches a double oak door. He opens the door and enters a
large room with tall ceilings and a long cherry oak table
occupied by several MEN in hand tailored suits. The most
prominent among them is the UNION CHIEF; he is a tall bald
man with thick framed glasses. The room collectively turns
to Vladimir, as a thick silence overtakes the room.


                       UNION CHIEF
Son, what are you doing here? This
is a closed session.
I am Shamus Baronty's nephew,
Vladimir. Shamus was unable to
attend this meeting due to
complications from lymphoma
treatments. I would like to take
his seat within your council.
                       UNION CHIEF
Son, we do not allow sit ins for
absent members.
I implore you, sir, I am not a
mere farm hand. I am well educated
and could bring insight, as well
as first hand knowledge of worker
relations to the council.
The Council Men talk lowly amongst themselves for a few
                       UNION CHIEF
I guess we can allow a sit in, but
just this one time.
Thank you, gentlemen.
The men shuffle their respective papers before A MUSTACHED
DELEGATE begins to lament.
                       MUSTACHED DELEGATE
Anyways…Johnson, over in Denver,
uses all kinds of illegal Mexican
help, Immigration services never
even checks the working papers of
any of his guys. With the money
he's saving with the illegal labor
he's able to slash his prices, I
can't compete.
                       DELEGATE II
I agree. It's men like Johnson
that are causing our profits and
crop production to fall. Is there
any way we can pay our seasonal
workers a lower wage to


                       UNION CHIEF
No, the majority of our seasonal
help are already at the federally
mandated minimum.
                       DELEGATE II
There has to be a loophole.
Vladimir is visibly upset with the overt greed.
Enough of this! You men call
yourselves farmers, this I assure
you, you are not. A day will come
when the workers will rise, and
when they do, you will be the
first to face evisceration.
Patrick Bilk sits at his desk, Jackson sitting across from
him, each dapperly dressed as usual.
                       PATRICK BILK
So that's Boston by two and a
half, and make sure to collect
from that fat fuck Andy, he's two
weeks behind on the vig.
Martin from Newton owes me ten k
from last nights ball game.
                       PATRICK BILK
That's your book. Cover my bets
first, then collect from Martin.
Jackson fixes his tie before walking up a narrow staircase
and coming to a stop in front of a large metal door at the
top of the stairs. Jackson raps on the door with three heavy
fists before a metal sliding peephole opens.
                       BRUNISH MAN
      (other side)
What do you want?
It's Jack, I'm here to collect
from Marty.


                       BRUNISH MAN
You're here to collect from Marty?
Alright, kid...
The heavy door is opened; Jackson enters the room to find
MARTY sitting at the table, surrounded by several SURLY MEN
as well as two large ARMED GUARDS. MARTY places several
chips on the table, ignoring Jackson.
Fucking forget about it,
Freddy...you're fucked.
                       BRUNISH MAN
Marty, this kid over here says he
needs to collect from you.
Which kid?
Fuck you, Marty! You know damn
well who I am, so pay up you
archaic fuck!
The balls on this kid, you can
collect when you get done with
puberty…get him the fuck out of
The ARMED GUARDS forcefully escort Jackson outside of the
room before beating him savagely. They throw him into the
street and close the door behind them. Jackson sits up and
brushes himself off. He is bloodied, yet out of instinct he
had protected his face during much of the beating. He stands
up and reaches into his coat pocket retrieving his black 38.
He attempts to open the door, when he finds it's locked he
begins to slam his fists hard and yell in frustration.
Patrick Bilk sits in his basement study reading a book on
American History. He hears the upstairs door open quickly
and shut loudly. He closes his book before Jackson comes
bounding down the stairs all beat up and bloodied.
                       PATRICK BILK
What the fuck happened to you?


That cocksucker Marty had his
goons rough me up when I went to
collect, I'm gonna kill that
fucking mutt!
                       PATRICK BILK
Easy, Jackson, you can't just up
and whack a guy. That's how dumb
fucks operate and you know where
that gets them, locked up in Bay
So what are you suggesting, just
taxing the fucking guy after he
disrespected me like that?
                       PATRICK BILK
I'm just saying you haven't even
made your bones.
There's no better time; you can
put in a call to VINCENT.
Patrick Bilk sits in quiet thought for a moment.
                       PATRICK BILK
I don't know, Marty's a good
earner; his book has a lot of
money on the street…but I can't
give him a pass for disrespecting
you like that. Just listen to
Vincent, believe me, he'll make it
VINCENT pulls up to the curb outside of Marty's bookie shop
and parks. Vincent is an Italian man with dark features and
slicked back hair, he wears an all black three piece suit.
Vincent is stoic and soft spoken, his dark Sicilian eyes
only elude to the macabre acts he has taken part in though
the years. Vincent turns to Jackson, who sits in the
passenger seat.
Everything we need is in the


The two men exit the car and approach the trunk. The night
is dark as the rain begins to come down; the streets are
fairly empty, as most move quickly and keep their heads down
as they try to get out of the steady rain. Vincent stops a
disheveled TRANSIENT as he stumbles by, a half empty bottle
of blue mouthwash in his right hand.
      (to Transient)
Hey, buddy.
Yeah…what is it, sir? What can I
do ya fir?
I've got a crisp fifty for ya if
you go upstairs and place a bet on
the ballgame, but you gotta
remember how many guys are up
And you'll give me fifty dollars?
I'll make it a hundred, but hurry
it up.
The Transient shakes his head before Vincent hands him a
hundred dollar bill. The Transient then walks across the
street and into Marty's bookie shop.
You're gonna trust some liquored
up hobo? The fucking guy probably
saw three of you and you're going
to rely on him for an accurate
A menial task for a hundred
bucks...a bum will deliver every
                                         CUT TO:
The Transient exits Marty's bookie shop, crosses the street
and approaches Jackson and Vincent.
There's a fat man, and three other
fella's with guns up there.


Vincent hands the Transient a crisp hundred dollar bill.
God bless ya, brother.
I don't know about that. Now get
the fuck out of here, spend some
of that cash on a decent meal.
The Transient stumbles away. Vincent and Jackson, who are
both wearing leather gloves, walk to the back of the car.
Vincent pops the trunk and retrieves a Kevlar vest, handing
it to Jackson, who takes his suit off before donning the
vest. Vincent retrieves a silenced nine-millimeter pistol
and hands it to Jackson, who racks the slide and thumbs the
safety; the hammer clicking back in place. He puts the
pistol in a shoulder holster and re-dons his suit. Vincent
retrieves two silenced forty five caliber pistols, which he
holsters before closing the trunk.
Vincent and Jackson walk up the narrow stair case and come
to a stop at the metal door. Vincent slams on the door three
times before the peephole slides back with a BRUTISH MAN
standing on the other side.
                       BRUNISH MAN
I'm looking to place a bet on the
weekend series.
The door is unlocked, they enter the open room; Vincent
immediately walks to a strategic position at the corner,
against the wall. Jackson approaches a visibly drunk Marty,
his face red from vodka drinks. Once Marty notices Jackson
approaching, he begins to relent.
You're a persistent little fuck
huh…yeah maybe we can work
something out.
It's too late, Marty.
Jackson fires three quick shots into Marty's chest. Vincent
pulls out his dual 45's and fires several double tapped
shots, taking the three guards out with ease. Jackson then


slowly approaches the table and pushes Marty's corpse over,
it hits the ground with a THUD; blood begins to pool around
Jackson's feet.
Look for a hide, there's gotta be
one here somewhere.
Yeah, we might as well squeeze
some goddamn cash out of this.
Jackson begins to comb through the room until he finds an
oddly placed painting of a night scene. He moves it aside
and finds an antique safe with a key latch.
Where do you suppose he'd keep a
Check around his neck.
Jackson turns the corpse over and pulls off a gold necklace,
with a small key beside an Italian horn. He then walks over
to the safe and places the key in. He finds over two hundred
thousand dollars inside, as well as a collection of gold
Do you think it would be a bad
idea to take the coins? They do
look pretty rare.
Exactly, the cops could trace
those things in a second.
We know that smelter in Otis.
It's not worth it. Grab the cash
and let's get the fuck out of
Vincent and Jackson sit at the table counting the plentiful
spoils from the murder/robbery.


Two hundred and seventeen grand,
not bad.
So what's our take?
We're throwing your old man forty
percent, so that leaves just over
$65,000 a piece.
Forty percent? His take is only
thirty percent, thirty five, max.
This heist was different, your old
man wanted to make sure we got the
corpulent fuck's entire book.
What the fuck do you mean by
heist? This was about the
Yeah, he took that into
consideration, but this went
deeper than mere disrespect. Marty
owed your old man over three
hundred grand; he was just waiting
until word came in of a cash
He took that into consideration...
fuck that, he lied to me.
Jack, you've got it all wrong.
Just give me my take, this is
fucking bullshit.
Vincent gathers the cash and puts it in a black vinyl bag,
handing it to Jackson.
                                         FADE OUT


Patrick Bilk sits at his desk, smoking a cigarette with a
neat whiskey by his side. A seething Jackson enters the
room, glaring directly at his father.
                       PATRICK BILK
What's got you all hot and
You acted like you were doing me a
favor with that bookie, saying
that he was a good earner. It was
all bullshit!
                       PATRICK BILK
So what, who gives a shit? Marty's
gone and you got sixty-five k out
of it. I don't see the problem.
Yeah, but I still played the tool;
you shouldn't have lied to me.
                       PATRICK BILK
Jackson, I'm glad you made your
bones right, but it's time to grow
up. You need to understand that
what we have here is bigger than
you, for the time being at least.
You're learning fast, but you
still have to listen to me.
Police tape surrounds the night old crime scene.The FORENSIC
CREW take pictures while the BALLISTICS CREW works inside. A
black Crown Victoria pulls up to the curb. Detective PETER
KNAVISH exits, he is a tall man with wide shoulders wearing
a dapper suit and a thick mustache. He ducks under the tape
and enters the building.
KNAVISH walks though the metal doorway and enters the scene.
His partner DETECTIVE NITE, a stocky man with blond hair,
jots down notes as the BALLISTIC SPECIALIST works close by.
So what do ya say, Detective


                       DETECTIVE NITE
The fat guy lying on the floor is
Marty DeAngelo, a known bookie
from the area. The other fellas
have yet to be identified.
I know who the fat fuck is…I'm
asking, what does the scene tell
                       DETECTIVE NITE
This is a bookie establishment,
and bookies get robbed all the
time. The safe is wide open, so I
figure it's just a botched
What about the gold coins? Why
would the suspects loot the safe
but leave them behind?
                       DETECTIVE NITE
They look rare; maybe they thought
it'd be too risky.
                       DETECTIVE NITE
Exactly, they wanted this to look
like a botched robbery, a real
smash and grab job…but this reeks
of personal. I mean they had to
bring enough firepower to take out
the fat fuck and the guards before
they could even make a move.
Detective Knavish walks over to a female BALLISTICS
SPECIALIST, who is finishing collecting evidence.
How are you, Ms. Santeria?
                       BALLISTICS SPECIALIST
I'm fine, Detective, thank you.
What have you found so far?
                       BALLISTICS SPECIALIST
There were three different pistols
used in the murders. A
nine-millimeter and two forty five


So there were three shooters?
                       BALLISTICS SPECIALIST
No, the angle and trajectory of
the shots clearly indicate that
there were only two gunmen.
So the guy with the 45's he's an
ace, right. All three victims were
taken out with ease; a couple of
well placed double tapped rounds
before they could even reach their
pieces. It's clear to me that this
goes deeper than a smash and grab.
It wasn't really about the money;
someone was out to kill the fat
Detective Knavish's cell phone begins to RING; he glances at
the screen before a wide smile comes over his face.
      (into phone)
Patrick, yeah I'll stop by later.
Jackson sits on the couch drinking a neat whiskey. The
doorbell RINGS, Jackson stands up and approaches the door.
He opens it to find Detective Knavish standing at the other
side of the door.
Uncle Pete...
How are ya, Jackson?
Same old shite.
Is your father around?
Yeah, he's drinking in the
Peter Knavish walks down the stairs and into the basement,
where he finds Patrick Bilk sitting at the bar reading a


newspaper, whose headline reads: ARSON AT FARMERS UNION.
Bilk lowers the paper and greets Knavish with a smile and a
                       PATRICK BILK
It's about goddamn time you
stopped by.
Tell me about it. You know the
fucking clowns in brass have me
jumping through all kinds of
goddamn hoops.
Bilk hands Knavish an envelope stuffed with hundred dollar
                       PATRICK BILK
Nah, I meant these are starting to
get thick.
Knavish accepts the envelope, concealing it within his suit.
                       PATRICK BILK
So what's new in the murder
Same morbid shit; I was at a
quadruple homicide when you called
                       PATRICK BILK
Who's the corpse?
Martin DeAngelo, just some fat
fuck bookie, and a couple of his
                       PATRICK BILK
From the North End?
You know him?
                       PATRICK BILK
I know he's way in the red with
that polak across town.


Chessniski came by my office last
week for a sit down. He was
lamenting that Marty was in the
red to him over fifty grand and
couldn't make the weekly vig. He
wanted me to whack Marty and take
over the book; I told him to take
care of his own dirty work.
He asked you to kill DeAngelo?
                       PATRICK BILK
Not in so many words.
That's interesting, I'll check up
on that.
Jackson descends the staircase and enters the basement and
immediately makes his way over to the fully stocked bar and
starts to fill his glass with an expensive Irish whiskey.
      (to Jackson)
You staying out of trouble, boyo?
Just like your old man.
Jackson enters the room to find Becky lying in his bed,
wearing black lingerie, her once curvy body now thin and her
bright eyes sullen.
Why don't you eat something, for
Christ's sake?
I'm not really hungry.
You're never hungry anymore. Why
aren't you eating?


I ate a lot of that big dinner
your mom cooked for us.
Becky, that was two days ago,
don't tell me you haven't eaten
since then.
I've been picking here and there.
Jackson looks her over, suspicion in his eyes.
What's the matter with you, are
you doing coke again?
No, Jack, I told you, I quit. I
haven't touched the stuff since
we've been together.
Is that right?
Becky pops off her black bra.
Yeah, I promise, baby…now come
over here.
Becky begins to kiss Jackson's neck. He looks troubled at
first, yet eventually gives in to lust.
Jackson pulls up in his black luxury sedan; he exits and
approaches the door and presses the door bell. He stands for
a prolonged period of time before the door opens. APRIL'S
MOTHER, a short, miserable looking woman stands at the other
side, a stern look on her face.
                       APRIL'S MOTHER
What do you want, gangster?
Mrs. Valerie, I'm sorry to show up
unannounced like this; is it
aright if I talk to April for a


                       APRIL'S MOTHER
Fine, you can talk to her, but
just for a second, ya hood.
                                         CUT TO:
Jackson enters the home and walks to Aprils first floor
room. He knocks on the door, April answers and is surprised
to see him.
Jack, what are you doing here?
Hey, April, you know I'd usually
have more class than to just drop
in like this; but I really need to
talk to you about something.
Yeah sure, come on in.
Jackson enters the small room, before they both sit down.
It's Becky, I think she's all
fucked up on cocaine again.
Well what?
I promised I wouldn't say
Come on, April, out with it
Well, ok, Jack…you're right; she's
pretty deep into coke now. She got
into it again about a month ago
when this guy we know from the
club gave her a free bag.
Who's the guy?


I just know that his name is
Jackson stands up and starts to leave the room.
Oh, Jack, I don't want you to do
anything because of what I said.
Don't worry about it, April;
she'll be fine.
Tommy stands at the end of the driveway, patiently waiting
for Jackson. He looks nervous, yet is unaware of what the
night has in store for him. Tommy continues to wait before
Jackson's green sedan pulls up and parks, Tommy getting into
the passenger seat.
Jackson drives down the rural Massachusetts road, with Tommy
still in the passenger seat.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
You took the jag, nice.
It has the most trunk space.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Jack, I need to tell you
something, it's about Becky.
I'm aware that she's geeked out of
her mind, your girlfriend
confirmed my suspicions earlier.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Well she's not just buying from
that David guy anymore, she's been
spending a few nights a week at
his loft.
Jackson's expression remains stoic.


It was bound to happen; she's a
junky now and that's just what
she'll be for the rest of her
goddamn life. Fuck her; it's just
another reason that this David
mutt has to go.
Tommy begins to feel the weight and severity of the
situation, his movements reflecting his inner most anxiety.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Where are we headed?
We have to stop by my place for a
few things.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
What things?
The automatic garage door ascends and Jackson pulls the
green luxury sedan in. He steps out of the car and walks to
the corner of the garage. He retrieves a plastic tarp, which
he then lines the trunk of the car with. Jackson then
retrieves a shovel and a bag of lime, placing both items in
the truck, while Tommy remains motionless in the car, almost
Jackson pulls into Benders Pub and backs the car to the rear
fire exit. He pops the trunk and exits the car. He gently,
slowly lowers the trunk until it rests on the taillights.
Jackson then walks to the open car window and leans in
toward Tommy.
Go inside and have a drink, I'm
going to wait for CECIL to get
Tommy enters the pub to find it scarcely populated. He
passes the local BARFLY before choosing a secluded stool. He
looks up the long bar to see ADRIANA, the head bartender.
Adriana is a stunningly beautiful brunette woman of Eastern


European descent. She stands barely over five feet tall, her
dark features objectively captivating. She moves fluently
down the bar, serving shots and mixed drinks. Tommy is taken
aback by her, clearly anxious with her presence. She notices
droll Tommy and approaches him with a warm smile.
Hey, how are you, Tommy boy?
                       TOMMY GARRITY
I'm okay I guess, you?
Not bad, just working a lot;
where's Jackson?
                       TOMMY GARRITY
He's waiting for someone outside.
Jackson enters the room with CECIL, a black man dressed in a
dapper white suit with matching white alligator loafers. The
two men sit at a corner booth.
So the mutt agreed to meet you
here tonight for the bunk deal?
Jack, you know I haven't been
around those cats since I got out
the game.
I know; you were smart enough to
get out before you ended up
sleeping next to Mr. Chinn.
You always feel compelled to
remind me of that don't ya, you
fucking Irish prick.
Adriana approaches the booth with a tray of drinks, flashing
Jackson a sweet smile.
Hey, Jackson, where've you been?
Hey, sweetheart, I was just about
to head over there to see ya.
Adriana hands Jackson a neat double whiskey.


You really should more often.
Adriana and Jackson lock eyes for a quick moment. Adriana
then turns and walks back to the bar, passing Tommy along
her way. Tommy approaches the booth and sits down.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
She's a ten...it's a no brainer,
Jackson ignores Tommy's remark, he turns to Cecil.
So this David prick will be here
in a few minutes. Let him have one
drink to cool his nerves before
you bring him down to the office.
When it's done we'll have Tommy
help us move the miserable
The color leaves Tommy's face; there is no denying the
severity of his situation any longer. Jackson goes
downstairs to the office while Tommy exits the bar and takes
a seat on an outside bench.
Tommy sits on the bench, burdened by fear and uncertainty. A
green sedan then pulls up to the curb in front of Benders,
the license plate reads: MOVER. DAVID GRAM, a portly man
with a goatee and mole on his cheek exits the car. He is
dressed in a tacky, sweat stained plaid suit. He walks past
the valet, neglecting to tip.
David enters and approaches the bar. Adriana is talking to
a friend across the bar in Russian. David waits for a moment
before rudely and excessively clearing his throat.
A tequila and a beer; you think
you can handle that?
Adriana ignores David, he begins to grow restless.


Hey, lady…Didn't you hear me? I
just ordered a drink; are you
Russian or retarded?
Adriana responds by cursing David out in Russian. She then
pours a shot of tequila and hands him a bottle of Mexican
beer. David Stands befuddled for a moment, before he
approaches Cecil at the booth.
I think that Russian broad just
told me to fuck off.
Forget it, man; let's just get
down to business.
What are you looking for?
How much skag could you get
I've got fifteen key sitting in my
trunk as we speak; all cut and
ready to go.
Let's go down to the office and
grab the cash.
Cecil leads David into the corner office. The room is fairly
small, a black safe is tucked in the corner. Behind a large
oak desk an office chair faces the other way, toward several
large surveillance monitors. The chair spins around,
exposing Jackson as the occupant.
Who the fuck is this kid?
Jackson stands up and slowly walks past the desk toward
You don't remember me, David, ya
fucking worthless drug mule. How
about my girlfriend Becky Ponte,


                       JACKSON (cont'd)
you remember her don't you?
Oh yeah, that little treat…she's
nice. Good work with that; too bad
she found a real man to meet her
needs…it's too bad for little
hoods that is.
An evil smile comes over Jackson's face.
I didn't think you could make this
any easier than it already was.
Jackson reaches in his coat pocket and retrieves his snub
nose 38 revolver. Jackson is upon David before he could
reach his gun. Jackson pistol- whips David several times in
the corner of his head, blood begins to spurt out onto
Jackson's suit. He continues to pistol whip David, cracking
his skull before throwing him to the ground. Jackson then
retrieves a black silenced nine millimeter from a shoulder
holster, he fires two rounds into David's chest, the acrid
smoke from the silenced pistol lingers for a moment before
dissipating. Jackson turns to Cecil, as David's blood
continues to run down his face.
Get Tommy, we need his help moving
this gluttonous fuck.
Cecil exits the room and walks up the stairs.
                                         CUT TO:
Cecil and Tommy open the door to find Jackson rolling the
large corpse onto a brown tarp.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
Oh my God, holy shit...
Jackson's expression grows stern.
Tommy, let's go! Give us hand for
Christ's sake.
Tommy stands frozen, before he reluctantly approaches
Jackson and helps him wrap the corpse in the tarp. Jackson
then strings a length of rope around the tarp and knots it.


Alright then.
Jackson, Tommy and Cecil then move the heavy dealer out of
the office and down the hall to the rear exit. They open the
door; the car is close, having been strategically parked
earlier. The men then put the corpse in the trunk before
Jackson closes it and turns to Cecil.
Take his car and bring it to that
chop shop on first-street. You can
keep the cash, but if there's any
skag in there, get rid of it.
Of course, Jack.
Just do what's right.
Jackson pulls the car to the corner of the sand pits. He
parks and steps out, stretching slightly before walking to
the open trunk. He reaches into the trunk and gets a long
handled shovel. He begins the laborious task of digging the
makeshift grave. A roll of thunder passes and the rain
begins to come down. Jackson looks to the sky, shielding his
face with his hand.
Goddamn It's really starting to
come down. Good thing I didn't
wear my blue suede shoes, huh,
Tommy sits frozen in the car, a desperate look on his face.
Jackson continues to dig for some time before he puts the
shovel down and approaches Tommy.
Hey, give me a hand with the
corpulant fuck.
Jackson walks down the street of an Irish neighborhood with
two bags full of liquor in his hands. The day is bright and
clear, late spring or early summer.


      (voice over)
I was able to duck Becky for a few
days, but it was just a matter of
time before she tracked me down.
Becky comes screeching down the street in her blue coup. She
slams on the brakes and skids to a halt, narrowly avoiding
Becky rolls down the window and gestures for Jackson to get
Come on, Jack, can we just talk?
I'd rather not.
Please, Jack, just for a second;
I'll give you a ride.
Fine, you can drop me off at
Becky accelerates, driving ten miles an hour too fast.
Jackson sits rigid in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.
Why haven't you been returning my
I could name some things.
You had me worried sick.
Is that right? Come on, Becky,
give it up already. I'd have to be
some kind of fucking retard not to
see that you're geeked out of your
skull. I know about you and that
worthless prick dealer too, so ya
might as well pull over!


Becky begins to speed up; she weaves the car in and out of
traffic, narrowly avoiding several head on collisions.
Take it easy, Becky, before ya
kill us both.
No, Jack. You can't do this...you
can't just throw me away! That's
what guys have always done to me;
they just throw me away when
they've had their fill.
Are you fucking kidding me? You
can drop that self-pity bullshit
right now. This is your fault, you
ran to that goddamn mutt behind my
back; for what, so you can be some
fucking sniveling addict? Pull
over, we're fucking through.
Becky is crying heavily; she attempts to make a late left
hand turn and loses control of the car, spinning out in the
intersection before harmlessly coming to a stop. Jackson
opens the door and runs away, dropping the bags of liquor in
his hurried escape.

Jackson lay in his bed sleeping off a wild weekend and a
nasty hangover. The phone RINGS several times before he
rolls over lazily and picks it up off the receiver.
      (into phone)
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (other line)
Shit, Jack; where've you been?
                                         CUT TO:


Jackson is surrounded by naked exotic dancers, he is fairly
drunk and laughing boisterously. A large pile of cash lays
on the table, as the strippers approach his booth like moths
to light.
A thoroughly intoxicated Jackson and an attractive STRIPPER
enter the apartment. They begin to make out heavily before
she tears the buttons off his Italian collared shirt before
pushing him down to the bed.
Jackson lay in bed with his eyes closed, the phone resting
on his ear.
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (other line)
Jack...you still there?
      (into phone)
Yeah anyways...why are you calling
me this early?
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (other line)
It's two thirty in the afternoon,
      (into phone)
Semantics...what do you want?
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (other line)
We've got our cousin Susie's
wedding this afternoon. You're
taking Adriana; remember?
      (into phone)
I do now...let's get something to
eat first, though; I'm fucking
                       TOMMY GARRITY
      (other line)
We can stop by that Italian joint
after we go to the Tailors.


      (into phone)
When are we meeting up with
A limousine pulls up to the curb. The door opens, Jackson
and Tommy step out, sharp in their black hand tailored
suits. Jackson is escorted by a truly stunning Adriana, a
real sight in her black dress and tall heels. Tommy takes a
modest April by the hand as they all walk up the stone
stairs and into the church.
Jackson and Adriana sit side by side in a center booth of
the Roman Catholic church. Jackson watches the wedding
ceremony, while Adriana's focus is upon him. She discretely
reaches for his hand; he looks into her eyes and realizes
for the first time that his stunningly beautiful date is
into him. Adriana then leans over and kisses him softly.
Catering tents are set up in the backyard; people stand
waiting for food, while others sit at tables eating,
drinking or smoking. Jackson holds Adriana close to him
before they kiss passionately.
Are you sure I can't get you into
that Russian vodka?
Nah, I never touch the clear
A Middletons, then?
There you go, sweetheart, always
top shelf.
Adriana exits to get the drinks. FREDDY DYLON approaches
Jackson. Freddy is of medium height and stocky, dressed in a
mediocre suit. He holds a think envelope in his right hand;
Jackson greets him briefly.


I stopped by that Koreans place;
ya know the dry cleaner that holds
the card games every Thursday
Yeah, did he make the vig this
Nah, he's still short.
Did you go over there and send an
overdue notice?
I haven't really had the time.
Then you make the time, Dylon. Do
you know what kind of message your
sending? These degenerate mutts
are just looking for a reason not
to pay.
You're right, Jack.
You know what I'm saying...shit,
Bucky Garrity holds his chest before he stumbles and falls
to the ground. Jackson approaches him quickly.
Somebody call 911...I think he's
having a heart attack!
Hundreds of MOURNERS gather for the funeral of Vernon
"Bucky" Garrity; a despondent Tommy stands between a stoic
Patrick and Jackson Bilk.
      (voice over)
Tommy was always kind of an
anxious kid; but he really took
Bucky's death hard. It wasn't long
before he became real distant,


                       JACKSON (cont'd)
morbid even. April really tried to
make it work, but she gave up on
him after a while, leaving Tommy
boy completely in shambles. I
moved in a week later to look
after him; and make sure he didn't
turn into Edgar Allen Poe or
Jackson and Adriana lay asleep in bed. The phone RINGS
several times before Adriana rolls over and flips on the
light; she then picks up the receiver.
Hello...oh hey, Jimmy, yeah he's
right here.
Adriana hands Jackson the phone, who keeps his eyes closed,
not entirely committed to consciousness.
      (into phone)
It's four thirty in the morning,
It is early morning, just after sunrise. Jackson pulls his
black sedan into the large open yard, parking in front of an
office trailer, where Jimmy Kelly stands in wait. Jackson
exits the car and approaches Jimmy.
So what's this big score?
Come on, Jackson, you know I
wouldn't pry you away from that
beautiful girlfriend of yours if I
didn't have something big.
Go on.
It's no cigarette hijacking we're
dealing with here, Jackson.
There's an armored truck coming
through Southie on Monday morning,


                       JIMMY (cont'd)
said to be holding around four
million dollars of laundered cash.
You know I can do this, Jimmy.
I do, and your old man gave the
nod as well.
It's about goddamn time you guys
let me in on the big scores.
We were just insulating you from
the heavy work until we were a
hundred percent certain you could
handle it.
I've been ready.
That may be; but two armed guards
always create a ton of variables;
it's not some hack driver or a
union guy looking to wet his beak
Who's coming on this one?
Just you, Vincent and me; Vincent
will lay down the spike strip.
We'll lead the guards out and
subdue em with flex cuffs. But no
bloodshed; I can't have it.
Who needs the heat?
That's another thing, one of the
guards is a real geriatric fuck; I
mean this guy's older than Moses.
We have to take it easy on him; I
don't want the archaic bastard
keeling over on us.


We'll be real subtle. So what,
after the job you want us to lay
low for a while?
Nah, I've already booked a flight
to St. Martin for us and the
So we're going to leave the
country the day after a
multi-million dollar heist? Seems
a bit conspicuous, doesn't it?
It's the same time share I have
every year, ya fucking jerk.
Jackson opens the door slowly, trying not to wake Adriana, a
notoriously light sleeper. He managers to close the door,
but wakes her when he tries to slip back into bed.
Yeah, baby?
Where did you go?
I just went to see Jimmy. I'm home
now, baby.
I missed you.
You know I love you, right, baby?
Sweet talker.
Adriana opens her eyes for the first time and looks into
Jackson's dark soul. She smiles warmly as they embrace and
kiss softly.


Robert Baronty sits at the center table of the posh
restaurant, accompanied by his youngest brother, HENRY.
I still don't understand why you
haven't re-structured your firm.
You're never going to get ahead
being a defense attorney for the
ignoble masses. I told you I can
make one call and you'll have an
office right next to the D.A.
You say the same thing every year,
Robert. I like working defense; I
would rather work with
crack-addled hoods than be in the
same room for even five minutes
with the blue-blooded pricks
you're speaking of.
A bit judgmental, Henry; I guess
you've never had a keen business
eye. That's why Father left you
off of the trust fund.
I never wanted his money. So,
Robert...how's your son?
Robert Baronty pauses for a moment.
Nigel, oh he's fine. Just
graduated top of his class from
Harvard; we're planning his
introduction to politics now.
Top of his class, huh? What was
that I heard about some plagiarism
They were just that, accusations.


Fair enough, but are you sure you
want to bring the boy into that
realm? Do you really think he's
Whether or not he's ready is
inconsequential. He's a Baronty,
by name alone he has the means to
achieve any office. You'll see;
this is just the beginning.
I don't know, Robert...I don't
share your confidence in the boy.
Fortunately, your opinion holds no
weight in either the corporate or
political spectrum. My son will
carry on my legacy in more than
name. He will sit atop Washington
one day while you are still
defending degenerates and drug
Henry slowly stands up before he places money on the table.
I had forgotten how much of a
visionary you are, Robert.
Adriana pulls up to the front of the hotel in a black SUV,
Jackson the passenger. He kisses Adriana goodbye and steps
out, grabbing a black duffel bag from the back seat; Adriana
exits the car and stops him as he turns toward the hotel.
Whatever you do, just be careful,
I'll see you tomorrow night. Don't
worry, baby.
                                         CUT TO:


Jackson enters the lobby of the up scale hotel and casually
approaches a pretty FEMALE EMPLOYEE standing behind the
Hey, how ya doing, hun? I have a
reservation under John Jameson.
                       FEMALE EMPLOYEE
Of course, Mr. Jameson, you're
staying in room 406.
I always make sure of it; for the
legend himself.
Oh, you mean Ted Williams?
Smart girl, the man was a veteran
of two wars and still set records
on the ball field.
Jackson enters the large hotel suite to find Vincent and a
sleep deprived Jimmy standing around the table, where
several blueprints are laid out.Vincent pours three tall
glasses of whiskey as they take a seat at the table.
You realize this one is different,
right, Jack?
Of course, Jimmy.
You're a natural earner; you've
been nothing but good for business
since your old man first brought
you around. That being said,
you've never been a part of
anything like this before.
What are we bringing for arms?


Vincent acquired some 1911's from
the military surplus; but remember
we can't act like a bunch of
fucking cowboys on this one. Let's
go over the layout one more time.
Jackson and Jimmy stand in wait in the early morning,
dressed in black suits with black ties, their faces
concealed behind ski masks. Jackson scans the row of
unoccupied cars before he looks up and spots a raven that
circles above before landing on a telephone wire. Jackson
regains his focus, while Vincent is hunkered down behind a
blue postage box just up the street. The armored truck
approaches, slowly trudging along. Vincent stands up and
lays the spike strip across the street; the truck passes by,
all four tires blow out with a loud BOOM, before the truck
comes to a screeching halt.
An ELDERLY GUARD sits at the drivers seat, while the YOUNG
GUARD is in the passenger.
                       YOUNG GUARD
Jesus, Sal, what did you hit?
                       ELDERLY GUARD
All four tires went, something is
going down.
                       YOUNG GUARD
You're being paranoid; no one
would fuck with us, I own this
The Young Guard steps out of the truck, while the Elderly
Guard reticently exits from the other side. Vincent takes
The Young Guard by surprise and strikes him in the head with
a baton several times. The guard goes down slowly, seemingly
unconscious. Jimmy walks over to the other side of the truck
and points his gun at the elderly guard.
Put your hands up! And keep it
nice and slow, old timer.
Jimmy takes the Elderly Guards revolver and empties the
chamber, the bullets tinging as they hit the ground. Jimmy
then throws the pistol toward a storm drain and proceeds to


bind the Elderly Guards hands in front of him with flex
Just lean against the truck and
breath slow, I don't want you to
have a heart attack, buddy.
Jackson approaches the back of the truck; he opens the doors
with the keys he had acquired from the seemingly knocked out
guard. He finds large canvas bags filled with crisp hundred
dollar bills bound with cellophane. Jackson gazes intently
at the stack, admiring the money far too long: three loud
shots ring out, Jackson is struck by two rounds to the chest
fired by The Young Guard who cut his binds and being quite
large, had managed to wrestle past Vincent and reach a
25-caliber pistol concealed in an ankle holster. Vincent
immediately responds by knocking out The Guard with the
baton, nearly cracking his skull. Vincent then re-zip ties
The Guards hands together and turns to Jackson, who is lying
on the ground, struggling to catch his breath.
You alright, any get through the
Nah, they just knocked the breath
out of me something vicious.
Jimmy looks at his watch with concern on his face.
He's fine, let's go!
Vincent gives Jackson a hand getting up before the three men
proceed to move the heavy bags of currency from the truck to
the waiting van; a time consuming task given the nature of
the heist. Once they are done loading the van they close the
door and drive off, just as the sun just begins to peak up
from the Boston skyline.
Vincent is driving the van; Jimmy is in the passenger seat
as Jackson sits in the back next to the tall pile of canvas
money bags.
That took way too much fucking
time! Almost five minutes, the
cops could have been there in


                       JIMMY (cont'd)
three…or two even!
Don't forget that Jack took two
bullets for you little score here.
How'd that hack get free anyways?
He had a knife in his other
sock…and you said you didn't want
either of the hacks to die, so I
took it easy on the prick. But he
had a skull like a fucking
concrete block. Honestly, I've
never seen anything like it.
Jimmy relents.
You doing okay, Jackson?
I'm fine.
Vincent pulls the stolen van to the back of the lot, behind
a large black SUV. The men get out and transport the
numerous canvas bags, a significant score by any standard.
Once the men complete transporting the stacks into the large
SUV, Vincent retrieves a Molotov cocktail. He lights the
incendiary device and throws it into the window; within
thirty seconds the van is engulfed in flames, just before
they drive away in the black SUV.
Vincent, Jackson and Jimmy sit around a square oak table
that is completely covered by tall stacks of hundred dollar
bills. Jackson is red faced, drunk off top shelf Irish
whiskey. Jimmy has a smile from ear to ear, as he admires
the millions of dollars on the table. Vincent takes a swill
from a glass of grappa and laughs along with Jimmy. There is
a KNOCK at the door. Vincent immediately retrieves a
silenced nine-millimeter and thumbs off the safety. He
approaches the door at an angle before he glances at a video
monitor, displaying a feed of the other side of the doorway.
Vincent smiles and lowers his gun. He opens the door to find


Patrick Bilk standing at the other side, a look of concern
on his face as he enters the room.
                       PATRICK BILK
Everything go alright?
Yeah, but there was a little
glitch in the job: one of the
guards pulled a 25 caliber out of
nowhere and was able to get a few
rounds off.
                       PATRICK BILK
Anybody get hit?
Jackson took a couple to the
chest; but they didn't make it
past the kevlar.
Patrick Bilk approaches his son with a worried look.
                       PATRICK BILK
You alright, Jackson?
I'm fine. That fucking gorilla
only had a .25 caliber; with the
vest it was no big deal.
                       PATRICK BILK
Thank God. You know I don't like
putting you on those hazardous
You know I can handle myself; that
was nothing.
Jack was real stand up back there;
I'd take him along for a sensitive
job anytime.
                       PATRICK BILK
So let's see the score.
They walk back into the living room; Bilk's eyes light up at
the sight of the money.


                       PATRICK BILK
Goddamn, would you look at
that...some drinks, boyos?
Adriana is laid out on the bed, reading a real estate
textbook. Jackson enters the room holding two large duffel
bags, which he places next to the bed.
Hey, beautiful; how was your day?
You're drunk already? It's only
four thirty.
We had cause for celebration.
Did you drive home?
Of course not, baby. I'm better
than that; I took the limo.
Adriana stands up and approaches Jackson, embracing him
tightly. Jackson reels back slightly in pain; Adriana takes
a step back and looks to Jackson with a look of concern.
What happened?
Don't worry, baby; just
complications at work.
Are you alright?
I'm fine; none of them made it
past the vest.
Adriana is taken aback for a moment.


It doesn't matter; do you want to
see what I earned today?
I guess.
Jackson unzips one of the duffel bags and unloads a
staggering amount of money onto the bed; crisp stacks of
hundred dollar bills, overflow onto the floor. Jackson has a
smile from ear to ear; he gestures for Adriana, who stands
in thought for a moment; a touch reticent before she finally
embraces Jackson and kisses him deeply.
Are you home for the night,
Yeah, and I had your shifts
covered at Benders so we can get
ready for our trip.
Adriana perks up a bit.
Our trip?
Yeah, Jimmy got us all tickets to
St. Martin; you deserve the time
I've always wanted to see the
Virgin Islands.
Adriana kisses Jackson again before she gets up and goes
into the bathroom. Jackson waits until he hears the sound of
bath water running before he reaches into his suit and pulls
out an impressive engagement ring.
Patrick Bilk sits behind the desk in the makeshift office.
He looks over a tall stack of papers when there is a KNOCK
at the door. Vincent enters the office, dressed in an all
black three piece suit.
Is it a bad time?


                       PATRICK BILK
Not at all, Vincent.
You wanted to see me?
                       PATRICK BILK
Let's take a walk in the yard.
Vincent and Bilk exit the office and walk down the dimly lit
construction yard, each lighting a cigarette.
                       PATRICK BILK
Thanks again for staying back; I
know Jimmy got you a ticket.
It's not a problem, Patrick.
                       PATRICK BILK
I know how a weekend of boozing in
the Carribean could be appealing.
We still have a job to do.
                       PATRICK BILK
It turns out that our situation is
more serious than we originally
In what sense?
                       PATRICK BILK
The Hack's been going out to the
pubs every night, running his
mouth about a big job that's going
to help him retire. He gets a few
fucking long island ice teas in
him and the prick wants to tell
the world about it.
So we have to silence him?
                       PATRICK BILK
We'll call him over here tonight
and lay him down in the yard.


Patrick Bilk and Vincent stand outside of the office trailer
smoking cigarettes. A white sedan pulls up and parks next to
the trailer. The tall HACK exits; wearing a cheap suit and a
large smirk.
Fellas, I knew we could pull it
                       PATRICK BILK
Let's get a drink to celebrate.
The men walk past a large excavator, the Hack leading the
way. Vincent lags behind, he then pulls out a silenced nine
millimeter and thumbs off the safety. He fires a set of
double tapped shots into the back of the Hack's skull,
dropping him instantly. Vincent begins to walk back to the
office before Bilk stops him.
                       PATRICK BILK
Where you going?
To get a shovel.
                       PATRICK BILK
Fuck that; I say we use the
excavator. If you feel like
digging the hole by hand, be my
The large white and black, checkered floored banquet room is
full of tables, occupied by various blue blooded big
BUSINESS MEN and corporate FAT CATS dining on fillet minion
and caviar, accompanied by their respective WIVES. Robert
Baronty sits at the head table with his portly wife, EVETT,
who is stuffed into an ill-fitting dress. Baronty stands up
and begins to tap his spoon against a glass of champagne.
Ladies and Gentlemen, at this time
I would like to congratulate my
son Nigel on his nomination for
Mayor of Boston. A goal of which I
am positive he will achieve…where


                       BARONTY (cont'd)
is my son?
The CROWD collectively looks throughout the room, with no
sign of Nigel. Baronty's face becomes increasingly red with
each passing moment. Smerley approaches him and whispers
into his ear. Baronty then steps away from his table and
approaches the bathroom, frantically knocking on the
door.Inside the bathroom NIGEL BARONTY leans over and snorts
a long line of cocaine. Nigel is tall and lanky, wearing a
black tuxedo and three thousand dollar loafers. He wipes the
residue from his nose before there is another KNOCK at the
                       NIGEL BARONTY
What is it?
Son, we're all waiting; I am about
to make a toast in your honor.
                       NIGEL BARONTY
I'll be out in a moment, father.
Kathleen Bilk and Adriana sit at a table eating lunch. They
both are wearing shades and sun dresses; it is a beautiful
spring day.
Mrs. Bilk...
                       KATHLEEN BILK
Call me Kathy, sweetheart.
Okay, Kathy, I just wanted to
know, did you ever worry about Mr.
Bilk; you know, before you were
                       KATHLEEN BILK
All the time, honey.
I just find myself constantly
worrying about Jackson, especially
at night. I never know where he's
been or what he's been doing; he
doesn't tell me anything.


                       KATHLEEN BILK
What are you worried about, dear?
I guess I kind of feel like I
don't have any control over what
happens in our lives.
                       KATHLEEN BILK
Let me tell you something,
sweetheart; something that will
help you sleep better at night.
You can't control the Bilk men.
The more you try to control them,
the more they do whatever the hell
they want. And when it comes to
enlightening you to the details of
their everyday lives, forget it.
You'll be kept forever in the
dark…but don't worry, honey; it's
always for your own good.
So you're saying I'm just going to
have to accept the fact that I'm
never really going to know what's
going on in his life. I thought
that you could always tell the
person you loved anything, no
matter what.
                       KATHLEEN BILK
I'm sorry, honey, just understand
that our guys are different than
everyone else; you have to take
the good with the bad. Believe me,
the good things will always
outweigh the bad.
I don't know; I'm just not used
all this. I mean I love Jackson
with all my heart; I know I want
to be with him for the rest of my
life. I just don't like being all
by myself every night worrying
about him while he's out doing God
knows what.


                       KATHLEEN BILK
Adriana, sweetheart; you're going
to be fine. You're an amazing
girl, believe me you have nothing
to worry about.
Thank you, Kathy, I just hope that
I can be a good wife to Jackson.
                       KATHLEEN BILK
Believe me, sweetheart, he's lucky
to have you.
Jackson and Patrick sit at the bar in the basement, talking
over pints of dark beer.
                       PATRICK BILK
So the big day is vastly
approaching, huh?
That it is.
                       PATRICK BILK
We're going to have a nice Irish
ceremony, right?
I don't know about that.
                       PATRICK BILK
What do you mean?
Adriana's ma is hell bent on
having a Jewish ceremony.
                       PATRICK BILK
I guess that's fine, as long as we
can have an Irish reception.
So you're saying a Jewish wedding,
followed by absurd amounts of
                       PATRICK BILK
You got it, son.


Jackson and Adriana stand hand in hand at the center of the
room. Adriana is beaming in her elegant white dress. She and
Jackson step on the ceremonial glass wrapped in a cloth
napkin before they kiss. The synagogue is packed with
FRIENDS and RELATIVES, as well as several influential and
high profile GUESTS; they all clap as the happy couple
solidifies their bond.
Jackson and Adriana lay in their bed watching a 1950's era
movie when the doorbell rings several times in rapid
Who could that be at this hour?
I don't know.
Jackson reaches into the bedside drawer and retrieves a
forty-five-caliber pistol; he then walks downstairs. He
opens the front door to find Patrick Bilk at the other end.
What the fuck are you doing here
in the middle of the night?
                       PATRICK BILK
You fucked up!
What are you talking about?
                       PATRICK BILK
Outside, now!
Jackson and Patrick Bilk stand on the back porch; they each
light a cigarette before Bilk starts in, noticeably
                       PATRICK BILK
I just talked to Knavish. He told
me that lackey of yours WALLY just
got pinched for heroin, with
intent to distribute. That little
rat has been dealing h under your
nose for months now. He's facing


                       PATRICK BILK (cont'd)
thirty years -- you know he's
looking to turn states evidence.
That fucking mutt is just dying to
cut a deal! What the fuck is wrong
with you? Why would you keep a
goddamn rat like that around?
I just gave him a few errands to
run. He doesn't know shit; I made
sure to keep him insulated from
                       PATRICK BILK
Yah, well he's a major liability.
I feel like shit for even talking
to the little rat. He'll disappear
tonight; you can count on that.
Jackson enters his and Adriana's master bedroom; he goes
directly into the walk in closet. Adriana then puts her book
down and gets out of bed.
Who was at the door?
My father.
What did he want at this hour?
I have to go out for a little
But you said that you were in for
the night.
I know, something came up.
You promised that you would stay
home more nights now that I'm


I wasn't planning to go
out…besides you're only at three
months; come at me like that when
you're farther along.
Jackson then walks into the closet and gets dressed. He
retrieves his black forty-five again and pulls the slide
back slightly, confirming the live round is in place he
thumbs the safety on and conceals the pistol in his
Jackson waits impatiently in the parking lot of the diner,
leaning on his black sedan. He smokes a cigarette slowly
before headlights emerge from the distance. A rusty beat up
station wagon pulls up to the curb and parks. The lights
turn off and WALLY exits, he is a tall lanky man in his mid
twenties. He is unkempt and appears to be several days
removed from a shower.
I called you a half an hour ago,
what the fuck took you so long?
Sorry, Jack, I got caught up.
Let's go already.
Jackson's black sedan pulls into the gravel driveway and up
to the cabin. The car parks, Jackson and Wally exit the car
before Jackson pops the trunk. Wally starts to walk towards
the cabin while Jackson stays behind and approaches the rear
end of the vehicle. He reaches into the trunk and retrieves
something. He closes the trunk and begins to slowly approach
the unsuspecting Wally. A black wooded baseball bat slides
down Jackson's hand until he grips the handle firmly with
both his hands. He then swings the bat, striking Wally in
the leg, shattering his kneecap. Wally goes down and begins
to hold his injured leg and cry out in pain.
You fucking eunuch piece of shit!
Did you think I wouldn't find out
that you were pinched for moving
H? Did you really believe you'd


                       JACKSON (cont'd)
make it to trial alive?
      (in agony)
Jack, you've got it wrong. I was
just stringing the cops along
until I could scrounge up enough
cash to disappear…I'd never rat on
you or your dad; I swear.
I've heard enough of your
With that said, Jackson swings the baseball bat several
times, crushing Wally's skull. A messy murder, blood spatter
covers Jackson's face and white collared shirt. After
several devastating blows Jackson walks back to the trunk of
the car and retrieves a shovel. He begins to dig a shallow
grave under the glow of the headlights.
Jackson enters the room to find a blanket and pillow laid
out for him on the couch. He walks over to the fully stocked
bar and pours a tall whiskey drink. He then sits down and
quickly gulps half of the straight whiskey down before
taking two Valium and putting on an oldies record.
Jackson lays asleep on the couch when he is jolted awake by
a loud THUD. He sits up and is shocked to see a darkly
silhouetted figure of David, the murdered dealer, staring at
him with sullen blackened eyes. David then turns and slowly
walks into the bedroom where Adriana lay sleeping. Jackson
begins to walk towards the bedroom, yet his movements are
slowed and the room is slightly distorted. Jackson reaches
into waist band and retrieves a black forty-five caliber
pistol, he then opens the door and enters the room to find a
dark ENTITY sitting at the edge of the bed dressed in a
black three-piece suit, black hair slicked back, his eyes
blackened and morbidly alluring. Jackson thumbs the hammer
back on the gun and points it toward the Entity.
Get the fuck out of here before I
whack you!


You're going to kill me, with
Jackson looks down in horror as his gun melts in his hand
and trickles to the floor.
Who are you?
I am among the fallen, the
banished one.
What have you done with Adriana?
Don't worry, Jackson, I cannot
touch her. She has not forfeited
her soul as you had long ago.
Jackson backs up, a rare look of utter terror on his face.
I wanted to make my presence
known, less you forget the
inherent consequences of your
The Entity stands up and begins to slowly, methodically
approach Jackson. He extends his arms, which unnaturally
reach out several feet before they grip Jackson by the
                                         CUT TO:
Jackson is jolted from sleep, he is still on the living room
couch, drenched in sweat and short of breath. He sits up and
nervously looks around the room, before standing up and
walking to the master bedroom. He opens the door slightly
and confirms that Adriana is safe, sleeping soundly.
Robert Baronty strains to remove a stain from his Italian
silk necktie before his intercom BUZZES.
      (into intercom)


      (from intercom)
Mr. Jones is here to see you, sir.
      (into intercom)
Send him in.
JONES enters the room; he is a tall man in a hand tailored
dark suit with thick hair of pure silver. He and Baronty
shake hands before they begin to discuss business.
Yes, it turns out that the
majority of Fontana's funding
comes from a Boston gangster that
hides behind the facade of a
legit entrepreneur. The hood's
name is Patrick Bilk. This guy's
big time, he has a construction
company that spans six states and
also serves as the shadow head of
the largest labor union in New
Well then we'll just have to take
out this Bilk. You cut the head
off the snake and the pieces will
fall into place. It's that
simple…I'll put in a call to some
associates of mine in the I.R.S.
and F.B.I.
Patrick Bilk sits in his office looking over blue prints
when his business partner GORDON enters the room visibly
Pat, we've got a problem...
                       PATRICK BILK
What is it?
The Fed's are here, they've got
warrants and subpoena's; they're
demanding documents.


                       PATRICK BILK
A small army of F.B.I. AGENTS and STATE TROOPERS converge on
the scene with undercover cars and patrol vehicles, the yard
is quickly illuminated with blinking red and blue.
      (voice over)
After all of the trouble the feds
went through all they found was
two hundred and eighty grand in
the safe at Benders. They went
hard after the old man for murder,
racketeering, extortion, and tax
evasion. The only charge that held
water was the tax evasion --
Vincent and I paid a visit to the
only hack dumb enough to be a
state's witness to the other
Vincent drives a black sedan with Jackson in the passenger
seat. They are both dressed in hand tailored black suits and
dark shades
So where does this fucking stool
pigeon live anyways?
Jersey City.
Jersey...what a fucking dump.
I tend to avoid it when I can.
I wouldn't even have heard about
it if not for those books on the
Yeah, that guy was a sick
fuck...feeding people alive to


You've gotta admit it though, it's
a hell of a way to make a guy
disappear; no evidence at all. Do
you think we could find those
caves in Bucks County for this
Vincent laughs slightly.
Nah, we don't need to get fancy
with this guy. We'll just grab him
at his house and bring him to that
piece of land that your old man
told us about.
Alright…but I still think those
caves would be a good idea for
some other time.
Vincent's black sedan pulls up to the coda sack across the
street from the home of the STATE'S WITNESS. Vincent points
to the home.
That's the place.
How do you want to go about this,
just bust in and grab him?
Nah, this guy's a real booze
hound, he goes to the same shitty
hole in the wall bar every night
around nine.
Jackson glances at his watch.
We'll just wait it out then.
The front door opens and the STATE'S WITNESS steps out onto
the porch, closing and locking the door behind him. He is a
lanky bald man wearing a tan sweat suit and thin-rimmed gold


glasses. He steps down the porch stairs and begins to walk
toward his car; Jackson approaches him calmly.
Excuse me, sir, I'm a little
lost…do you know how to get to
                       STATE'S WITNESS
Yeah, you see you just have to...
Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that I'm
terrible with directions. Do you
think you could tell my buddy
that's driving?
                       STATE'S WITNESS
I guess...
The State's Witness approaches the driver's side of the
sedan before Jackson pistol-whips him several times in the
back of the head; the man falls to the street unconscious.
Vincent and Jackson then quickly load him into the plastic
layered trunk and drive off.
We are in rural country now, Vincent's black sedan pulls up
next to a white picketed fence before he and Jackson exit
the vehicle and approach the trunk.
Let's get the miserable prick in
there so we can get the fuck out
of Jeresey.
The two men pick up The State's Witness and begin to carry
him to the fence.
                       STATE'S WITNESS
Not gonna...not gonna talk.
What's he saying?
Forget about it...you fucked him
up something terrible.


They carry the man over the fence and into a wooded area,
stopping in a clearing between two trees before heaving the
man to the ground.
I'll go grab the shovels, go ahead
and finish the miserable prick
Vincent begins to walk back toward the car. Jackson reaches
into this suit and retrieves a black 45; he thumbs off the
safety and fires five rounds into the chest of the State's
Witness, effectively silencing his incriminating tales.
Patrick Bilk sits across from his lawyer, JONATHAN SHENKEL
who is glancing over some paperwork. He then turns his
glance upward before taking off his reading glasses.
That's the best we can do while
still keeping things quiet.
So one year is the best we can
hope for?
It's a federally mandated
sentence; but no worries, I'll get
you into a real cushy resort
somewhere upstate.
                       PATRICK BILK
As long as we keep things quiet.
Patrick Bilk sits at his desk looking over a financial
contract when there is a KNOCK at his door.
                       PATRICK BILK
Come in.
An eight month pregnant Adriana enters the room.
                       PATRICK BILK
Take a seat, hun.


Adriana takes a seat in front of Bilk's desk.
Thanks for sending the limo over
for me.
                       PATRICK BILK
I wouldn't want my daughter in law
to have to drive around when she's
so close to having my grandson.
Thank you again.
                       PATRICK BILK
When are you due?
Two weeks.
                       PATRICK BILK
That's great; has Jackson been
getting everything you need?
Yes, he's been great; all of you
                       PATRICK BILK
I'm glad to hear that; but I
called you down here this
afternoon because I wanted to
offer you something -- how would
you like to own and operate
Benders pub? After you have the
baby of course.
You really want to give me
                       PATRICK BILK
Yeah, you've brought nothing but
good luck to this place since
you've been working here, you
deserve it.
Thank you so much for the
opportunity; I will do my best.


                       PATRICK BILK
I know you will, sweetheart; this
place will make a killing with you
in charge.
Adriana signs the paperwork which effectively transfers
ownership of Benders to her.
Jimmy enters the room visibly upset. He holds a white letter
in his right hand; His wife DIERDRA approaches him.
What's wrong, James?
It's a letter from the District
Attorney. I've been subpoenaed to
testify against Bilk. They're sick
in the fucking head if they really
believe I'd ever rat on Patrick.
Jimmy, you know they will throw
you in prison.
The case is hollow without my
testimony; I'll go away until the
lawyers can get the new charges
thrown out.
Are you sure?
Yeah, it'll be six months, max.
I hope you're right.
It will keep things quiet if I get
contempt and wait it out.


Jackson looks over complicated Union documents. He appears
sleep deprived and exhausted, dressed in a black suit, his
tie unfastened and his collar undone. He grabs a near by
whiskey bottle and pours a neat drink before quickly gulping
it down.
Patrick Bilk, Jimmy Kelly and Detective Peter Knavish sit at
a secluded outdoor picnic table drinking neat whiskey from
plastic cups.
So the prick hacks giving you any
                       PATRICK BILK
Nah, we make sure they all keep
their beaks wet.
With what they make, I'm not
surprised at all.
So what brings you all the way out
here, Detective Knavish?
I just received some information
from a very legitimate source.
                       PATRICK BILK
Go on.
You won't believe me if I tell
                       PATRICK BILK
Out with it already, you fucking
ball buster you.
Okay, it turns out that your
recent pinches were connected to
the upcoming Boston Mayoral


                       PATRICK BILK
Come again?
I knew you wouldn't believe it. I
had a word with my buddy in the
DA, he said that the investigation
was opened at the direct request
of a very influential corporate
fat cat, turned State Senator,
Robert Baronty.
                       PATRICK BILK
Baronty, from Burtonn Enterprises?
Yeah, that's the guy.
                       PATRICK BILK
Why would this guy want me
pinched, I've never even done any
business with him?
His son is running for mayor in
the upcoming election.
                       PATRICK BILK
And he found out our union backs
Fontana's campaign.
That's his angle.
                       PATRICK BILK
I'll kill the prick with my bare
Let's be realistic here, Patrick,
the guy's a State Senator.
                       PATRICK BILK
I know…we'll work something out
for this guy; we'll just have to
get creative is all.
There's something else I wanted to
talk to you about.
                       PATRICK BILK
What's that?


It's about Jack; his name's come
up in a few missing person cases,
and a murder scene.
                       PATRICK BILK
So he's getting sloppy.
In more ways than one, he's been
hitting the bottle a little too
hard in your guy's absence.
                       PATRICK BILK
He's still young and it's a huge
responsibility running our thing
on your own. I had to do it when
my old man was deported back to
Ireland, and I was younger than
Jack at the time.
I still chock it up to his youth.
I took lead on the cases so we can
make sure that Jackson's role
remains just a rumor.
                       PATRICK BILK
Yeah, the conspiracy case should
be thrown out soon anyways, so
it's just a matter of time before
Jimmy's back in Southie.
Jackson corners a visibly shaken BALD MAN. Jackson holds a
black forty five in his right gloved hand
I'm tired of you treating me like
a fucking chump.
                       BALD MAN
I'll have the money...all of it by
next week; I swear.
Jackson does not reply verbally, he fires three deafening
shots into the man's chest, killing him instantly. He then
holsters his gun before approaching the liquor cabinet,


choosing a fresh bottle of rare whiskey before calmly
exiting the room.
Adriana sits at the table, her makeup running from recent
tears. The door opens and Jackson staggers into the room,
the nearly empty liter of whiskey in his right hand.
Did you drive home?
You know I'm better than that;
I've been having the limo drive me
Why are you drinking so much?
I've always drank.
Never this much; something is
happening to you, Jackson and I
don't like it.
Jackson staggers over and takes a seat; he then takes a
swill of whiskey before he responds.
It must be easy for you to sit
there in judgment. You've always
been this innocent little girl,
shielded from all that is dismal
and dark. You have no idea what my
life is like, the constant
pressure or the incessant
nightmares that remind me of just
how fucked my soul is.
Jackson, I'm your wife, we're
supposed to share our lives
What do you want from me?


I need you to be here for Brian
and I.
I am here.
No, you're not. I can't be around
you when you are like this and
neither can your son. I've already
packed my things.
So you're leaving?
I love you, but we can't stay when
you're this self-destructive; it
is no way for a son to see his
Tears begin to flow down Adriana's cheeks. She hugs Jackson,
an emotional embrace. She then exits the room leaving a
surly Jackson all by himself. He smashes the bottle against
the wall and overturns the table.
Jimmy Kelly pulls up in his black foreign sedan. Dapper as
ever, he steps out of the car and walks to the front door.
He rings the bell and waits patiently for some time before
the door opens and Adriana stands at the other end.
Hey, Jimmy, what are you doing
I'm sorry to show up here
unannounced, Adriana; you know I
have more class than that. It's
just that I'm worried about
We all are; the last few months
have really changed him.
I know; I'm not trying to make
excuses for Jackson. He has to
clean his act up; but you should


                       JIMMY (cont'd)
understand the stress he's been
under trying to run everything
while his father and I have been
away, it's a daunting task to say
the least.
I understand that he's been under
a lot of stress lately, but he's
become so dark. I thought I could
always make him happy, but I'm not
so sure anymore.
We both know that if anyone can
keep Jackson happy, it's you. He's
just got to get out of this slump,
and now that I'm out I'll make
sure he keeps the drinking in
I hope you can, Jimmy. I love
Jackson with all my heart, but I
can't have our son around him when
he's like that.
Will you and Brian come home if
Jackson cleans up his act?
Yes, I'm his wife; we made that
bond for a reason, I just wanted
him to realize what he's becoming.
I'll go over there now and get him
cleaned up.
Jimmy Kelly opens the door and walks into Jackson and
Adriana's home. He looks around and calls Jackson's name
once before entering the kitchen and finding a disheveled
Jackson passed out on the linoleum floor. Jimmy approaches
him before nudging him with his shoe. Jackson makes a
grunting noise before Jimmy kicks him harder, waking him
from his drunken slumber.


What the fuck…oh, Jimmy, you got
Yeah, last night…Jesus, kid, they
weren't kidding about you; you
look like shit.
Adriana left a week ago.
Can you blame her? Come on and get
yourself put together.
Jimmy Kelly and Jackson sit at a corner booth of the nearly
empty diner. Jackson is clean cut now, and in a pressed
suit.A WAITRESS freshens their coffee's before walking back
into the kitchen.
So you gotta tone down the
drinking. It's not only bad for
your marriage; it's also no good
for business, we can't have it.
I know, Jimmy. It was just a
bender at a bad time, I'm focused
Good, cause we have some heavy
work coming up. It's not only
about business on this one.
Your old man and I just got word
that our federal cases were linked
to the upcoming mayoral election.
What the fuck are you talking
about, Jimmy? I mean maybe it's
me; I'm still a little fucked up;
but I'm having a hard time
following you here.


I'll explain everything later, but
we need you to stay sharp for this
one. Your old man gets out in two
months; we have a lot of
logistical shit to work out in the
I'm all in on this one, Jimmy; you
don't have to worry about that.
Good, because we goddamn need you
to be. It's no peasant we're
dealing with here; the guy's a
state senator.
Patrick Bilk and his wife Kathleen enter the home to find it
decorated and full of close friends and family. The room
enthusiastically greets the newly freed Patrick Bilk,
Jackson hands him a tall glass of neat Irish whiskey, a
beaming Adriana at his side.
Welcome home, pop; here's some top
shelf hooch like you couldn't get
in the can.
                       PATRICK BILK
You kidding me, Jackson, I was
drinking Middleton's the entire
time. I had a hack smuggle a fresh
bottle every week in his lunch
Welcome home, pop.
Jackson and Patrick Bilk then enter the study and sit down,
away from prying ears. Patrick Bilk turns on a record and
the two begin to speak freely.
I bet you enjoyed your time in
there, living like a king away
from ma.


                       PATRICK BILK
True, I wasn't living like the
rest of those pricks; but that's
not going to stop me from getting
back at that cock sucker Baronty
for siccing the feds on me.
Jimmy told me about that; how are
we going to get back at the prick?
It would bring a lot of heat if we
off'd this guy.
                       PATRICK BILK
Nah, we're not going to kill this
guy, not yet at least. We're going
to hit this prick where it hurts
him the most.
His son?
                       PATRICK BILK
Nah, his wallet; Jimmy and I have
something all planned out. This
guy's looking to run thirty
million dollars through the wash,
but we're going to make sure his
greedy hands never touch it again.
This guy's laundering money;
doesn't he have billions in the
bank? Why is he risking it all for
thirty million? That's fucking
change to him.
                       PATRICK BILK
He's just a greedy heartless prick
is all.
I'm in.
                       PATRICK BILK
The money arrives at the harbor
two weeks from Friday.
Who's coming on this one?


                       PATRICK BILK
The less we bring into this the
better. It's going to be you,
Jimmy, Vincent, Cecil and me on
the heist with Dylon as the
It's a big score.
                       PATRICK BILK
Yeah, but it's not about the money
as much as it is the principle.
This prick's considered himself
untouchable his entire life
because of his blue WASP blood,
we'll just have to prove
Jackson sits at the bar drinking with Freddy Dylon. It is a
Tuesday night, and the crowd is thin.
I can't believe you would even
consider questioning the fact that
Ted Williams is the greatest
Boston hitter off all time; it's
Don't forget that Babe Ruth played
for Boston.
Thank God that curse is irrelevant
now; screw those New York fuckers.
An attractive BRUNETTE WAITRESS approaches Jackson.
                       BRUNETTE WAITRESS
Hey, Jack, there's a guy that
wants to talk to ya.
I'm kind of busy here.
                       BRUNETTE WAITRESS
He said his name is Vladimir


Jackson's attention narrows.
                       BRUNETTE WAITRESS
Jackson stands up and approaches the corner booth were
Vladimir sits, nursing a glass of water, dressed in all
black, hand crafted wool clothing.
She said your name is Baronty?
Like Robert Baronty?
He is my father.
I thought he only had that one
prick son Nigel?
That is what he ensured the world
would believe. You see I know that
you have reason to ill Baronty; I
want to help you.
Freddy Dylon approaches Jackson, ignoring Vladimir entirely.
Shit, Jack, I forgot to tell you;
I stopped by that Korean dry
cleaner, the one that has the card
games every Sunday night.
He's short again.


Then go over there and collect for
those games. Tell him that he's
getting another point added to his
vig; this isn't the first time
this prick's been late.
Vladimir's expression grows stern. He begins to glare a
Jackson, pure resentment in his eyes.
Enough of this! You are clearly
driven solely by money. You are no
better than that heartless swine!
Vladimir stands up and quickly exits the bar. Jackson stands
bewildered for a moment before Dylon inquires.
What was that about?
Nothing, let's get another drink.
The driver's getting here by
eleven thirty tonight.
What, you gotta get in for the old
ladies curfew?
Fuck you, you're not married; you
have no idea what it's like.
Patrick Bilk walks alongside Vincent in the secluded corner
of the construction yard.
                       PATRICK BILK
Like I said before, we're not
looking to complicate things, but
I understand that casualties can't
always be avoided; when we get in
there, open up on one of the
guards with the Thompson. We'll
start grabbing and zip tying the
other ones while they're still
shook up from the noise.
So there are six guards total?


                       PATRICK BILK
Yeah, once you take out the first
one the rest should fall into
Adriana lay on the bed reading a Russian novel while Jackson
gets dressed in a white shirt and black tie.
Gary's drawer was short again last
That's the third night in a row,
Yeah, about a hundred and fifty a
The little prick is robbing you
Really, you think so? Gary is such
a nice guy.
Nah, he's a sniveling little
rodent that's skimming the drops.
We don't know for sure; those
short tills could just be
Doubtful...hey, baby, you know I'm
working late this weekend, right?
Yeah, your father already told me
about your business trip to
It's just an overnight thing, I'll
be back Sunday afternoon.


I'll enjoy the quiet.
Yeah, Brian never cries as long as
we have those chocolate bars.
Jackson and Dylon walk down the hallway toward the office.
They approach the door marked private, when Jackson attempts
to turn the handle, the door is locked, this irritates him
to no end.
That little prick, locking my
fucking door.
Jackson begins to slam on the door with heavy fists.
Gary, open the goddamn door!
Some time passes...
This fucking guy…he's prolly
cleaning out the safe as we're
standing here.
The door opens and GARY stands sheepishly at the other side,
a nervous expression on his face.
Let's have a word inside.
I was just looking over some
That's what we have to talk about.
Jackson and Dylon push their way into the room, Jackson
closing the door.


As long as you've worked here
you've never had an even till.
You're always short. Did you
really think the fact that you're
robbing Benders blind would pass
by unnoticed; like I'm some inept
Are you calling me a thief?
Why sugarcoat it?
Your wife must have screwed up the
numbers; I've never taken a dime
from this place.
Hey, jagoff, Adriana knows how to
count -- just admit what you did.
It was prolly that stupid bitch
that fucked up the numbers!
A calm, yet morbid demeanor comes over Jackson. He picks a
paperweight up from off the desk and slowly corners Gary.He
strikes him several times in the head with the heavy marble
paperweight, cracking his skull. Gary falls to the ground,
curled into a broken mess, blood quickly begins to pool
around him.
Holy shit, Jack, you fucked him up
pretty bad.
Is he breathing?
Dylon approaches Gary who lies crumpled up on the floor; he
then checks his pulse.
Nah, he's gone.


Shit, pull the car around. We'll
bring him to that plot of land
owned by that retired union guy we
know. No one will ever find him.
Patrick Bilk waits impatiently alongside Jimmy, Vincent and
Cecil in front of the office trailer.
                       PATRICK BILK
Where are those fucking kids?
Something must have came up.
Just then Jackson drives up in his black sedan, Dylon in the
passenger seat. They park and exit.
                       PATRICK BILK
About goddamn time...where the
fuck were you?
Sorry, something came up, and it
took longer then I expected.
                       PATRICK BILK
What came up? This is kind of
important here.
It was Gary. He said something
about Adriana and I kinda lost it;
got a little carried away...so
he's gone.
                       PATRICK BILK
You whacked Gary?
I didn't mean to, I just got so
worked up when he opened his mouth
about her.
You need to keep that temper in
check, Jackson.


                       PATRICK BILK
What did you do with the body?
I took him to that piece of land
out in Framingham, the one owned
by that retired union guy that's a
friend of ours.
                       PATRICK BILK
Are you sure no one made you?
Yeah, we took him out back, no one
was around.
                       PATRICK BILK
Alright then…whacked bartenders
aside, we have a lot to go over
tonight. This Baronty prick is
looking to land him some tax-free
assets, but this isn't about the
money. That cocksucker needs to
realize that he can go down,
regardless of his fat cat
political status. The cash we're
speaking of is thirty million
dollars in crisp minted hundreds
wrapped in neat cellophane
All right, now here are the
details, through my connections I
located Baronty's head of security
on this run, turns out that
naturally, the guy's got a price.
He handed me over the entire
security system manual, there's a
key sequence and everything. Now
I'll disable the surveillance grid
on the side of the building before
Vincent, Jackson, Cecil and
Patrick take the remaining guards
                       PATRICK BILK
It would be better if no one got
hurt; but our source tells me
we're dealing with a bunch of
retired cops. These guys are real
cowboys, trying desperately to
grasp on to the glory days of


                       PATRICK BILK (cont'd)
their time on the force.
What are we bringing for arms?
I'll bring a WWII Thompson sub
machine gun. You'll all carry 45's
with hollow points, it's a good
round, but these hacks will be
wearing body armor so if you have
to shoot, aim for the head.
                       PATRICK BILK
So just be ready for this weekend,
the money's coming in at 12:15
sharp Saturday night.
Jackson and Adriana lay on their bed watching television.
You know Gary didn't come into
work tonight.
Good, the tills will even out
Yeah I guess, it's still weird.
He's never even been late, for him
not to come in at all?
He was never late because he took
all the time he could to rob the
safe. He was a no good thief, I
fired him, we can hire Jimmy's
niece instead; she's a nice girl.
Oh, okay…so what movie are we
watching next?
Anything but the chick flick,
we'll do that one last.
The hard line RINGS. Adriana picks up the receiver.


      (into phone)
Hello...oh, yeah he's right here.
Adriana hands the receiver to Jackson.
      (into phone)
Yeah…what? All right I'll meet him
over there in an hour.
Jackson hangs up the phone.
You said it was going to be our
movie night?
My cousin Mickey flew in from
Ireland tonight. I've gotta go
meet him at Benders, but it's just
for a drink.
Adriana looks unconvinced.
One drink?
I mean he's my cousin, and I
haven't seen the guy in years.
Alright, but I know what you
consider one drink to be.
Jackson enters the pub to find his cousin MICKEY FLAHERTY
drinking alone at the bar.
Mickey, a tall stocky red faced Irishman dressed in an
Italian suit, approaches Jackson and gives him a quick hug.
It's been years; how have you
been, lad?


Good, yeah I'm married now with a
Hoy, Poppy told me about that,
sorry I couldn't make it to the
It's no problem, Mick.
So what's this job you've called
me in for?
All you have to do is drive and
we'll cut you in seven percent,
that's one point eight million for
your trouble.
It's no trouble at all.
So how are things back home in
Pretty class; still have to look
out for the English cunts though.
There can never be peace as long
as the Brits are on the Éire.
Two matching black vans pull up to the dock, the passenger
door of the second van opens. Jimmy Kelly steps out dressed
all in black, a ski mask conceals his face. He casually
walks beneath the shadows alongside the building until he
reaches the locked circuit breaker. He places a cloned key
into the lock and opens the box, flipping two of the
switches before jogging back over to the vans where he is
joined by Patrick Bilk, Jackson, Jimmy, Vincent, and Cecil.
The grid's out...Vincent, Jackson,
lead the way.


Jackson and Vincent slowly approach the entrance where GUARD
1 and GUARD 2 stand. Guard 1 leans over and takes a
cigarette from Guard 2, at that moment both Guards are
struck with taser prongs and filled with 50,000 volts of
electricity. They fall to the ground, Vincent and Jackson
then bind their hands and feet, disarming them before
Vincent retrieves a set of keys off of the unconscious Guard
2, opening the front door with the rest of the crew in tow.
Jackson and Vincent are the first through the door. GUARD 3
reaches for his pistol, Vincent opens fire with the
Thompson, Guard 3 is ripped to shreds by the barrage of
forty- five caliber rounds; GUARD 4 AND GUARD 5 stand
stunned for a moment.
Put your goddamn hands up or
you'll end up like him!
GUARD 4 immediately raises his hands, while GUARD 5 pulls
out his revolver and fires two rounds, both of which strike
Patrick Bilk in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Jimmy
Kelly returns fire with his forty- five, killing Guard 5.
Jackson binds the hands of the compliant Guard 4 with zip
ties before shocking him with a stun gun. Jimmy goes over to
check on Bilk.
Any pierce the armor?
                       PATRICK BILK
Nah, just get to the safe, now!
Cecil approaches the safe and begins the intricate key
sequence. Vincent turns to Patrick Bilk.
That was only five, you said there
would be six.
                       PATRICK BILK
I know, just start loading the
Vincent enters the safe to find Jackson, Jimmy, and Cecil
loading large square groupings of hundred dollar bills into
wheeled plastic mail bins, rolling them out of the safe as
they are filled.
Two minutes, thirty seconds.


We're almost done here.
Once finished, the men wheel the cash over to the exit and
out of the building the the getaway vans.
A metal door opens, the last remaining guard, SULLIVAN
enters through the fire escape door, carrying a rolled up
Hey, Bob, thanks for holding down
the fort while I pinched a
When Sullivan gets no answer, he walks into the next room
and finds Guards 3, 4, and 5, all dead except for Guard 4,
who lays unconscious.
Holy shit!
Sullivan walks over to Guard 4 and begins to shake him and
gently slap his face.
Bob, what happened? I was gone
five fucking minutes!
Guard 4 begins to gain consciousness, yet is still sluggish
from the shock of the stun gun.
                       GUARD 4
They...they went outside.
Get up! Let's get those bastards,
they killed Duke!
Sullivan helps Guard 4 up and cuts his binds. The men then
walk to the exit. They open the door to find Jackson loading
the last cellophane bundle into the back of the van.
Sullivan fires three rounds from his nine-millimeter,
striking Jackson as he turns. Two of the rounds hit him in
the bulletproof vest, while the third strikes him in the
shoulder. Before Jackson hits the ground, Mickey is out of
the driver's side with his gun drawn. He empties the clip,
killing both Guard 4 and Sullivan. Mickey then walks over to
Jackson and helps him up.


You alright, lad?
Yeah, it was a clean shot.
Good...in ya go.
Mickey helps Jackson into the van and closes the door behind
him. Mickey then hops back in the driver's seat and takes
Baronty sits at his desk, stewing with anger. Smerley stands
in nervous attention at his side.
It had to be an inside job.
I agree, sir.
Of course you do, because it's
goddamn obvious! They knew every
intimate detail of the security
system, how to bypass the
surveillance…the alarm,
They were wearing gloves, so there
were no latent prints; yet Gurig
did find some blood outside near
the rear exit.
Place a call to Dr. Monroe; have
him run the forensic tests first
thing in the morning. It is
important however that we keep
this whole thing quiet. Have Gurig
lay the two surviving guards down
in the pits tonight, next to the
Yes, sir.


Jackson and Adriana sit on their bed, Jackson's arm is
bandaged and in a sling.
So you leave for a business trip
and come back a day later with a
bullet hole in your arm? I mean
come on, Jackson?
It's part of my business, you know
that; and that's all you need to
know. I'd never compromise you and
our family by going into any
Exactly, you never tell me
I know, but it's only because I
love you, baby.
Alright then, tough guy…let's get
into something you can talk about;
what are we doing for Brian's
first birthday party?
He's one for Christ's sake; I
don't think we have to pull out
all the stops.
I still want to make it special
for him.
Alright, but please whatever you
do, no clowns…they creep the hell
out of me.
That's fair.
So no clowns, let's be clear on


I know, Jackson, you hate clowns.
Robert Baronty sits behind his desk, rigid and uneasy. The
phone begins to RING, he eagerly picks it up on the second
      (into phone)
                       DR. MONROE
      (other line)
Mr. Baronty, its doctor Monroe,
I'm sorry that it took so long,
but I've found a match for your
D.N.A. profile.
      (into phone)
Well...go on!
                       DR. MONROE
      (other line)
I didn't get any hits on the
Federal and State databases, but
on a hunch I ran it through the
New England Workers Union's
Medical database, and I got a hit.
      (into phone)
Who is it for Christ's sake?!
                       DR. MONROE
      (other line)
Your specimen belongs to a Jackson
Patrick Bilk.
Baronty remains quiet for some time.
                       DR. MONROE
      (other line)
Mr. Baronty, are you still there?
      (into phone)
Yes. Uh...good work, thank you.


                       DR. MONROE
      (other line)
You are quite welcome, Mr.
Baronty. I do have to ask, when
will I be receiving the check?
Baronty hangs up the phone.
Patrick Bilk sits at his desk within his posh office,
looking over paperwork when there is a KNOCK at his door.
                       PATRICK BILK
It's open.
An attractive RECEPTIONIST enters the room, dressed in brand
label business attire.
Sorry to bother you during lunch,
Mr. Bilk, but I forgot to tell
you. You've got a two o'clock
meeting with the representative
from Worchester.
                       PATRICK BILK
Yeah, I remember.
One more thing, there's a man here
to see you, he said he has an
                       PATRICK BILK
I make appointments during lunch
now? What's this guy's name?
Robert Baronty.
Bilk sits in quiet thought for a moment.
                       PATRICK BILK
Send him in.
The Receptionist leaves the room and closes the door behind
her. Bilk reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves a small
black 380 pistol; he racks the slide before putting his
hands under the desk. A few moments later Baronty enters the
room. Patrick Bilk remains calm and cavalier.


                       PATRICK BILK
Senator Baronty, to whom do I owe
the pleasure?
Skip the clever bullshit, Bilk! we
both know why I'm here.
                       PATRICK BILK
Actually, I'm still wondering what
dragged you away from your posh
Manhattan office or your sprawling
Hampton manor.
Don't treat me like a goddamn
fool, you lowly Irish bastard! I
want you to tell me what we both
                       PATRICK BILK
So that's why you came here, to
draw out some candid confession?
Give me back my money, or you'll
be buried in indictments!
                       PATRICK BILK
You can try and sic the cops on me
again, but I think you'll have a
hard time explaining to the IRS
the origin of said cash. It
doesn't matter anyways, I know you
already covered it up; there
wasn't so much as one word in the
paper. I'm sure it took you a
while to clean up that mess...it's
a shame.
You have no idea what you've
gotten yourself into, Bilk. I can
have you eviscerated with one
phone call.
                       PATRICK BILK
That's the main difference between
you and I, Baronty: I don't need
to make a phone call to end you.
Two large GUARDS enter and begin to escort an uncooperative
Baronty out of the room.


You're dead you goddamn Irish
Jackson pulls up in a black foreign coup. He parks and
exits, locking the door behind him. He takes three steps
toward the building before stopping dead in his tracks. He
scans the dark parking lot before continuing toward the
building. Suddenly, two large ASSAILANTS sneak up from
between two cars and grab Jackson.
What the fuck is this,
The large Assailants give Jackson a savage beating before
pushing him into a black van.
Jackson wipes the blood from his eyes before he looks up to
see Robert Baronty sitting across from him.
I know you…you're the fucking fat
cat senator that had my old man
Listen to me, you ignoble Irish
bastard, I know all about what you
and your father did. I'm only
going to ask you once, where's my
goddamn money?!
Jackson begins to laugh at Baronty, a sardonic maniacal
Did you really think that having
your goons rough me up would get
you anywhere? You're just like the
rest of them dumb fuck corporate
Jackson spits blood on Baronty's face before the goons drag
him out of the van and beat him mercilessly.


Adriana is sitting at the bar looking over the evening's
receipts when she hears someone struggling with the door.
She looks over as a bloodied and limping Jackson enter the
Oh my God, Jackson...
Adriana embraces Jackson and helps him over to a booth.
What happened to you? Are you
okay, baby?
I'm fine.
No you're not. Look at you; we
have to get you to a hospital.
No hospitals, it's nothing.
Adriana hands Jackson a towel, he i