Chapter One
"Judas"
INT. HOLDING CELL -- DAY
This is Sam Burke. He has a likable face, a trusting face. Today he is about to do a bad thing.
He sits at a table in his cell. A shabby, ugly shit-hole. Two chairs. No air.
Across from him stands AGENT NORTON. Late twenties. Eager. Might still be sporting the same haircut he had when he was twelve.
AGENT NORTON
All you need to du is sign this form saying you're willing to testify in court against Chandler Allen Price. Also known as 'Oakes' and by his long time alias 'Cobb'. You sign, we protect you. You sign, we can protect your family, Sam.
They slide the papers over to him, pen clipped to the top. Sam sits there staring down at it, silent as he possibly can be.
He glances around the room, the walls starting to close in. The stress getting caught right there in his throat. A sigh escapes his lips as he leans forward.
He has known Cobb all these years. He's broken bread with the man. This decision that he makes today, well, that changes everything.
It's a do-over. A chance to fix everything, especially his tattered relationship with his daughter Morgan.
It's a chance to go wherever and not worry that someone will recognize him as he goes to get breakfast that morning. Sam is hesitant, but he lifts the pen up and presses it to the paper.
Agent Norton sits back and smiles before looking over to the two way mirror on the far wall. The man's lips speak on their own. "We got him" they say "We got him".
AGENT NORTON
You made the right choice, Sam
SAM
Let me be clear. I don't give a shit what happens to me. You just make sure my daughter is taken care of.
AGENT NORTON
She will be. Now, wipe the scowl off your face and be grateful that you're not going to spend the rest of your days wasting away in a cell in some dark corner of the earth.
Sam reaches into his jacket, removes a pack of smokes and shakes one loose. He lights up right there in the room even though there's a "No Smoking" sign hanging on the door.
SAM
I'm not grateful for you and your deals. I'm just a piece of shit and I'm backed into the corner. Cobb took care of me when I had nothing else and I'm only taking this deal because I know what Cobb will do if you don't get him on the first try.
Norton stares hard, then, finally departs from the room leaving Sam alone with his thoughts. He takes a long drag on the cigarette then flicks it into the corner.
His head loosely falls back until he's staring wide eyed at the ceiling.
SAM
What the fuck did I just do?
Chapter Two
"The Quiet Things No One Knows About"
A door opens in the darkness. We hear a chair dragging across the concrete floor. Some papers rustle. Someone clears their throat.
"Let's start again from the top shall we?"
"Fine."
"John Black?"
A sigh is heard.
"I think they made a movie about him. It was called Radio. The man is seriously mentally deficient or struggling to understand what is real and what isn't. Seriously, what type of idiot lets himself get owned by another man? What type of man lets himself face the levels of depravity that he has?"
"Okay, stop. Erase that last part please. I'm sorry, but let's be honest shall we? No one cares about John Black. That angle isn't interesting."
"Okay."
Papers rustle again. A cough is heard in the distance. The click of a tape recorder.
Recording...
Let's talk. Just you and I. Can we?
You're my biggest adversary. There's no denying that.
You're right you're not ready to see the light. Though I never said you would be ready to.
The difference between you and I is that you've been conditioned to believe things are one way.
Yes, there are shades of gray, but a man like you is not as special as he thinks.
You're a coward.
A man who hides behind a sharp tongue and a polluted mind because if he saw what he truly was he wouldn't have the stones to face the world.
I never said I was one of the good guys.
But I know when someone is corrupt and when someone has been compromised and because of that I have to put you down like the old dog you are.
Because the story doesn't change. There's no happy ending where you have a change of heart and become the white knight.
You're too old and bitter and the best thing for you would be for you to go lay under the porch and let it all end.
But you can't can't.
You're too stubborn.
Too bent on proving to everyone you're the best.
You wear your failures as trophies like that's supposed to deflect what you are.
A failure.
A MidCarder.
A hated man.
Take a bow now.
Because let's admit it, you're egotistical enough to know this is about you. You're listening to this tape and knowing that it sounds very much like you.
The truth hurts, but it will not set you free, my friend.
You're not free.
Never have been.
You're obsessed with being the favorite. You're the ugly step-child that gets forgotten about and throws a tantrum because at the end of the day he just needs to know someone is paying attention.
But it eats away at you knowing that no one cares.
No one has ever cared.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
So I'm sorry to inform you that your kingdom has fallen.
Chapter Three
"Young Liars"
INT. THE RUSTY NAIL BAR -- NIGHT
Full of smoke. The clink of glasses, the rumble of drunken conversation.
At the corner of the bar sits what appears to be a very lonely man. In front of him is a glass of scotch, almost empty.
His name is ANGELUS.
A few heads turn. A YOUNG WOMAN has just entered the bar.
Her name is SOMMERSET O'NEAL. She’s in her late twenties. She’s a stylish woman with beautiful ebony skin, needless to say she’s out of place here.
A MAN, late thirties, five o’clock shadow, gives Sommerset the once over as he makes his way into the bathroom. She responds with a subtle smile as she walks by.
She sidles up next to Angelus at the bar. He crunches on some bar popcorn and glances up as Sommerset sits down next to him.
A BARTENDER comes over.
Do you have a menu?
The bartender reaches under the bar and hands a menu over to her.
Another scotch, friend?
Please.
The bartender refills Angelus’s empty glass. He glances over, taking her all in. He thinks it over then he passes her the bowl of popcorn.
So what’s a glass of that run you?
Pardon?
That scotch. What’s a glass of that run you?
I don’t know to tell you the truth. Whatever it is, it’s worth it.
He sips his drink.
One hundred and seventy dollars a glass.
Same reason I’m eating dinner here instead of at a table or at home. (to the bartender.) I’ll have the meatloaf, extra mash.
Yes, ma’am.
Are you... a...(lowers voice) ... professional?
A professional? You think I’m a hooker?
Normally beautiful women like yourself do not approach strange men they don’t know in a bar.
The only thing I do professionally is work in a third tier bank. I come here every Tuesday for the meatloaf. I just... thought you looked lonely. I like lonely men.
That’s very unfortunate for you.
She moves closer to him.
So... other than drinking alone at bars... what do you do, professionally?
I... own my own business... paper company. Just flew in from Chicago.
Well, that sounds very exciting. Why don’t you buy me a glass of that scotch and tell me more about it?
Not much to tell. We are thinking about maybe branching out soon.
You're right. That's boring. Maybe you should make up something interesting, even if it's not true, and we can pretend we're playing characters.
He smirks.
Okay.
You start.
I am here to find a man who killed the woman I loved.
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