A CASE STUDY OF PRURIENCE
Based on true data points
An Oklahoma woman finds herself widowed during the 2007-2009 housing market collapse.
INT. TULSA POLICE STATION. SUMMER 2008. MORNING.
Officer Hugh manuevers through a busy office. Phones ringing everywhere. He enters an office where Chief and several seated others await the morning brief.
OFFICER HUGH
Chief- what the hell?
CHIEF
Alright gents- appears our daily is getting a little upgrade. Lucky us, the NSA wants to flip the bill to run an experiment with our department. Each day we’ll be reframing our understanding of crime in Tulsa based off provided facts. For example, did you know that...(reads) There is a direct correlation to heat and crime? During the summer months of the year, crime rises, on average, 810% globally...
OFFICER HUGH
Chrissakes. We don’t have time for this shit.
CHIEF
...insights like this and having our officers apply “big data” to broaden our “holistic” understanding of the community, should ultimately make us more “effective”...fuck’s sake. Let’s get to it.
Chief clicks a remote. A house appears on a projector.
INT. MIDDLE CLASS HOME.
Dramatization. A family of four is praying over a dinner table when Trevor Minor, a middle-aged man wielding a hammer, enters and bashes at the father’s head.
CHIEF (V.O.)
On August 12, 2007, Trevor Minor, 42, Tulsa resident, murdered his neighbors Charlie Hint and two children and moved into their home.
INT. GARAGE.
An injured Rebecca Hint squints her eyes and chokes on a gag as light enters the garage through a door. Minor tosses a body on a pile. Hint sobs as he unbuckles his belt.
CHIEF (V.O.)
It’s unclear how long Minor kept the mother Rebecca Hint alive. Signs of abuse were evident.
EXT. MIDDLE CLASS HOME PORCH.
A census taker rings the doorbell and looks in through the blinds to see Minor on the floor.
CHIEF (V.O.)
Minor was found dead one year and one month later by a census taker, having consumed more than half a bottle of bleech. He lived his last two months starving, disconnected, and in the dark.
Dark light bulbs. Empty pantries. An open refrigerator. A toilet boil without the tank lid and a cup on the seat. A clogged bathtub with putrid water and a dirty ladle.
CHIEF (V.O.)
The utilities had been disconnected for four months and two days. Food and water in the house were consumed, including the water in the toilet tanks and a partially filled reserve in the bathtub.
Photographs of the body and case files. Photographs of his family with Uncle Jeremy circled, two prostitutes, and the gagged and bound Rebecca Hint.
Minor’s penis size measured 3.2” flaccid and 5.8” erect. Total number of sexual partners: 4: a series of rape between the ages of 12-14 by his uncle Jeremy Minor, two prostitutes, and the later victimized Rebecca Hint.
The sound of a remote switches the images into a nursing home.
INT. NURSING HOME. HALLWAY. NIGHT TIME.
A skeleton-costumed Leslie Gareth carries a tray of treats towards a rec area. A smiling nurse and doctor take a treat from her tray as they pass.
OFFICER (V.O.)
On October 31, 2007, assisted living attendant Leslie Gareth, 39, another Tulsa resident, poisoned two doctors, six nurses, and 14 residents with Halloween candies on a wing of the Emerald Homes Retirement Center.
INT. A RESIDENT’S ROOM.
Gareth loots the room.
CHIEF (V.O.)
Gareth looted the rooms of 14 residents before being apprehended by security guard Kenneth Bradley. Weighing approximately 253 lbs., Bradley did not consume a fatal dose of the poison. Gareth’s cause of death: asphyxiation.
Bradley props himself on the doorway. Snot, tears, and foam stream down his face. He grabs and strangles her to death.
CHIEF (V.O.)
Bradley was awarded worker’s comp along with a check for $2,500 for heroism, nearly the exact amount Gareth owed in past due credit cards.
Bradley holds up a check while his photograph is taken.
CHIEF (V.O.)
Gareth had done the math, and on her $6.50 per hour salary, would never be able to surmount the interest accruing on her credit card while paying for cost of living.
CHIEF (V.O.)
Her breasts measured Cup A, 28” band size, 24” under bust, 29” over bust. Pubic region unshaved. Sexual partners: estimated 20-30. Two exhusbands and six years of brief promiscuous liaisons. One abortion.
Photographs of the body and case files. Photographs of Gareth with her exes and security footage of her at a local bar.
The sound of the remote switches the projector image again.
CHIEF (V.O.)
On February 19, 2008...
An alarm clock buzzes, jolting Grace, middle-aged, upright.
GRACE
Bobby! - I slept through the alarm.
Her hand hits the buzzer.
JUMP CUT TO:
Focus on a feathered keepsake next to a framed photograph of smiling Grace, husband Bobby, and their son Cayden, 8, as she briefly emerges from the bathroom, brushing her teeth.
GRACE (CONT'D)
(Calling) You boys better be making breakfast.
JUMP CUT TO:
She takes her pills and fastens a “GRACE” name badge onto her blouse, stopping short of entering the kitchen.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Bobby! Cayden? Where the heck are y’all? (To herself) I swear.
She goes to the kitchen table. Several torn letters and a turned over bottle of whiskey.
GRACE’S POV.
She reads the words “DEFAULT” and “FORECLOSURE” in large red letters next to “PAST DUE: $27,855.55.”
GRACE (CONT'D)
What in the world-
INT. KITCHEN.
A breeze pulls her attention towards the ajar front door.
EXT. FRONT STOOP.
In the street, Bobby is sitting in an idling car. He turns his tear-stained face towards her for a moment but doesn’t quite seem to register her.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Bobby?
The car eases forward as Grace makes her way to intercept it.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Bobby. BOBBY.
She picks up her pace, but the car matches her speed, slowly overtaking her. Grace slips and wobbles over a thin chain that unwinds through the window, trails the car, and rattles on the concrete.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Stop. Stop the car.
She pounds on the driver’s side window. Bobby adjusts the tightening chain wrapped around his neck.
GRACE (CONT'D)
BOBBY. Please. Stop the car. BEAT. No. NO, DON’T, GOD NO.
The car tears off down a steep hill towards a 4-way intersection. The lenghening chain upends Grace. She traces the line to a nearby streetlight.
GRACE POV.
Nearing the bottom of the hill, the car jolts at full speed, swerves, and crashes into multiple cars in the intersection.
CHIEF (V.O.)
Robert “Bobby” Fields committed suicide in response to inflated mortgage rates. His suicide by selfdecapitation led to the subsequent deaths of six innocent people...
EXT. RISING OVERHEAD SHOT OF THE CITY OF TULSA.
Multiple reporter voices overlap while bulletpoints build.
REPORTER (V.O.)
An Oklahoma man in Tulsa today committed suicide...
SCATTERED TEXT: In 2008, there were 48,344 reported suicides in the US. More than 10 million Americans lost their homes. 1,004,171 private individuals went bankrupt. Oklahoma is 69,899 square miles. The population of OK is: 3,957,000. There are 1,749,464 single family residences in OK. The median value is $136,800. Owner-occupied housing per unit rate is 65.6%. Divorce rates raised to 56%. 64% of Americans report having cheated at least once on their spouse or significant other. The average male has 22 sexual partners. The average female has 15.
FADE aggregate text into title: ‘I. A Case Study in PRURIENCE.’ FADE title into subbullet: “a. SHELTER.”
EXT. GRACE’S HOUSE. MORNING. FOUR MONTHS LATER.
The sound of moaning. A skinny cowboy resets his oversized 10 gallon hat as he crosses the lawn and knocks on the front door. The door opens.
INT. GRACE’S HOUSE. FOYER. SLOW TRACKING SHOT.
The moaning intensifies. The door opens and Duane leads the cowboy past a row of men seated patiently in a smokey living room. The sound of a door closing.
INT. BEDROOM.
Closeup of John, 53, watching a homeless woman as she digs through a trashcan at the house across the street. The blinds flash momentarily before a neighbor appears from the front door and begins shouting at her.
JOHN
Shameful. This used to be a community, you know. People looked out for one another.
The homeless woman doesn’t give up her pursuit and instead doubles down by throwing trash at the homeowner who retailiates with items from the porch.
JOHN (CONT'D)
Ya try to do good. Keep yer head on straight. Ignore the bad and keep on pushing the good.
The homeless woman charges the homeowner who retreats and slams the front door closed.
JOHN (CONT'D)
Rack my brain inside and out for the answer. There’s got to be something I can do, anything, to make things right.
He slams a palm on the dresser and exhales deeply. A glass keepsake encasing a feather breaks.
JOHN (CONT'D)
Mmmm! Sorry about that.
Grace rises from his crotch and spits his cum into an empty glass. He readjusts and attempts to clean up. She holds out a hand to stop him.
GRACE
S’alright.
She extracts the feather from the broken glass and affixes it’s leather strap to her hair. He lights a smoke for both of them. She joins him in watching the homeless woman bang on the front door across the street.
JOHN
Strange times. Strange people.
GRACE
Mm-hm.
JOHN
What is one man supposed to do anyways. Keep yer head down, swim in yer lane.
GRACE
Help starts at home.
JOHN
You’re working. You’re making money.
She gargles some cheap vodka and slumps onto the bed, exposing a breast through her bathrobe.
GRACE
I’m barely scraping by, John.
A knock at the door. Duane pokes his head shielding his eyes.
DUANE
Hate to interrupt, time is time.
John thinks for a spell.
JOHN
Duane. You and your Gracie here. You two looking for more work?
DUANE
Could be. Doing what?
JOHN
I’ve been playing with an idea. It’s worth a year of free rent.
He scribbles on a magazine.
GRACE
We’ll do it.
DUANE
Hey now.
GRACE
We’ll do it.
Duane softly closes the door behind him.
DUANE
It depends.
JOHN
I’ve got four renters not making ends meet for months now. Need to get them out.
DUANE
Like, kick them out of their houses?
JOHN
The job pays because I don’t want to know how it’s done. It pays because someone else does the work.
GRACE
One year rent and half a year in cash.
DUANE
Now hold on.
JOHN
Alright.
Deal.
GRACE
They shake hands. John exits.
Duane sits on the bed next to Grace and takes a pull from the bottle. He then hands the bottle to her. She takes a pull from it. They watch the homeless woman together.
DUANE
Do what now? Kick out John’s renters?
GRACE
Might do us good. Get some fresh air.
He attempts to cover her exposed breast. She flaps it open.
DUANE
I don’t know. BEAT. You’ve got customers.
GRACE
Last two.
DUANE Four.
GRACE
No rest for the wicked.
DUANE
Suppose we could use a little pick me up.
Duane digs in his pocket and drops an assortment of pills onto the bed. Their hands pick a few each and down they go.
He opens the door. Grace pulls him close as the waiting men and skinny cowboy look up from their phones, magazines, etc.
GRACE
(Quiet) Hey. Not the boy.
Her world becomes electric, cloudy, distorted.
GRACE (CONT'D)
One moment fellas...got... to... grab some...cigarettes...
She enters the kitchen and rests on the island. Her eyes grow heavy and the blinks grow longer and longer until...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. BEDROOM. MOMENTS LATER?
CLOSE SHOT.
The feather in Grace’s hair bounces back and forth on her face as a blurred figure fucks her from behind.
MALE VOICE (O.C.)
I’m going to spit on your back. OK?
Grace closes her eyes. Sound of a man spitting.
MALE VOICE (O.C.) (CONT'D)
I’m going to pull it out and cum in your mouth, OK?
Her eyes snap open. Her knuckles clench white on the sheets.
EXT. LOWER CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD. 1ST DILAPEDATED MILL HOUSE. AFTERNOON. THE NEXT DAY.
TEXT: Bill and Barbara Miller. 342 Valley Crest Lane, Tulsa, OK. JUNE 22, 2008.
Seated in a rusted truck, Grace rubs her bloodshot eyes. Duane digs at his nails.
GRACE
Not getting cold feet are you?
DUANE
Huh? Uh-
The playing radio rolls in and out of audibility as Grace undoes her belt.
GRACE
Look he’s leaving now.
Bill exits the house, gets into his car, and leaves. Barbara watches from the window and closes the blinds.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Alright, let’s go.
EXT. DIVE BAR PARKING LOT. MOMENTS LATER.
They tail Bill’s car into a dive bar parking lot. He parks, exits, and enters the bar.
Grace opens the glove box and removes a 1/5 of vodka. She attempts a genuine laugh and takes a hit of the vodka. She laughs again, haughtily. She drinks again and checks herself in the mirror. She tussles her hair and puts on lipstick.
Duane tries for the bottle after she hits it a third time.
DUANE
Ok- that’s good.
She chugs.
INT. DIVE BAR. MOMENTS LATER.
Grace enters the bar laughing and stumbling.
GRACE HAPPY MOTHER FUCKING TUESDAY!
MEDIUM SHOT.
The bar is mostly empty, save several solitary men around a bar. She plops herself next to Bill who perks up.
BILL
You’re in a good mood.
CLOSE SHOT.
She turns to Bill. Her eyes widen. Her lips part. She smiles.
EXT. DIVE BAR. AN HOUR LATER.
Grace stumbles out the front door fumbling to light a smoke.
GRACE
(Shouting) And make mine a double, you stingy fuck.
The door closes. She hocks a loogie and jogs sideways to the car.
DUANE
Get it?
She sways uncontrollably and lifts a cell phone.
GRACE
Does a pope... shit in the woods? Where- where- gimme, gimme.
Duane lifts a mirror with several lines of cocaine on it. She topples through the passenger window to snort them. Pause.
GRACE (CONT'D)
The hell you doing, go, go...
EXT. LOWER CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD. PARKED CAR. TEN MINUTES LATER.
GRACE’s POV.
A cell phone sways out of focus in Grace’s hand as she tries to dial a number.
NPR (RADIO)
I mean, listen, let’s look at the state of things here today. The average person can’t handle a $500 bill. The average bank account is $3,000. And get this- if we gave a lump payout of say, $10k the average american, do you know what they said? 9/10 would buy a car. Not pay their rents or mortagages...
Duane shuts off the radio.
DUANE
You alright?
She looks down the open hands in her lap and tries to focus. Her hand waivers to hit the ‘Call’ button.
DUANE (CONT'D)
You got this?
Grace facepalms Duane’s face away.
BARBARA (CELL)
Hello?
GRACE
Yes- I need to speak with Barbara Miller of 342 Crest Valley Lane.
BARBARA (CELL)
Who is this?
GRACE
My name is Nancy Holmes, and I’m an emergency dispatcher at Regional Memoral. It is imperative I speak with Mrs. Miller.
BARBARA (CELL)
Yeah, I’m her. What is it?
GRACE
Your husband Bill Miller has been in a serious accident, ma’am. He’s in critical in the emergency room.
BARBARA
Who are you-
GRACE
Ma’am. Ma’am. Did you hear what I just said? Your husband is in our emergency room.
BARBARA
Oh my god. I’m coming. I’m coming right now.
GRACE
Do you need directions?
BARBARA
No, no. You’re a drive but I know where you are. Thank you.
Duane smiles. They watch Barbara run out her front door. She reaches her car and pauses. She pulls her cell phone from her pocket and makes a call.
The cell phone in Duane’s hands rings.
DUANE
That paranoid bitch. (Cell) Hello?
BARBARA (CELL)
Who is this?
DUANE
My name is...Duane Rogers. I’m an EMT at Regional.
Grace rolls her eyes.
BEAT.
BARBARA (CELL)
Duane? Who? How did you get this phone?
DUANE
I’m sorry, ma’am, I was riding in the ambulance with your husband as we drove him in and I still have a few of his... personal... effects.
BARBARA (CELL)
Oh. Okay. Thank you. I’ll be there shortly.
DUANE
Yes, ma’am. Stay strong. He’s a fighter.
Barbara’s car drives away.
GRACE
Used your real name? Ok. Quick now.
Grace fumbles at the door handle and spills out onto what should be concrete but turns out to be...
EXT. MILLER’S BACKYARD.
...a patch of flowers. Her head bobs as she tries to figure out what she’s doing in the bed until her hand emerges from the soil holding a screwdriver and screw.
She holds the screw up to the door and twists it into place finishing the faceplate. Duane appears from inside.
DUANE
(Hushed) Front door’s done. I’m going to start making the boxes.
GRACE
Grace tests the new door handle. She enters the home and helps herself to a beer in the fridge.
DUANE
(Calling from the bedroom) What in the actual fuck, Grace. Get in here. MATCH CUT TO:
She enters a bedroom and sees Duane throwing handfulls of personal effects into open cardboard boxes. She goes to the bathroom and opens the vanity. Several pills bottles. The vanity closes and all the boxes are sealed and the room is virtually packed, save a mattress and dresser.
GRACE
We make quite the team.
Duane checks his watch.
DUANE
It’s been 22 minutes. They have to know by now.
GRACE
Game face?
He lifts his shirt, revealing a pistol.
DUANE
I’m ready.
CUT TO:
EXT. SPEEDING CAR THROUGH LOWER CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD. LATER.
Barbara slams on her breaks to stop from hitting a wall of cardboard boxes blocking the driveway. Bill, still drunk, pulls up the rear and get out of his car.
WIDER SHOT.
The couple spot Duane and Grace watching them from inside. They storm the house, shouting threats and curses.
INT. MILLER FOYER.
DUANE
God dammit, they aren’t fucking leaving.
EXT. MILLER HOUSE.
Neighbors start to appear around the neighborhood.
INT. MILLER HOUSE.
GRACE
Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
Grace lifts Duane’s shirt and takes his gun.
EXT. MILLER HOUSE.
The front door opens. Grace brandishes the pistol.
GRACE
Back the fuck up!
BILL
You whore, I’llShe points it at Bill.
GRACE
Shut your fucking mouths. This is my house. You don’t pay bills here. Go ahead and call the cops, you’ll see. Now get your shit and get the fuck out of here.
Pause. Bill and Barbara don’t know how to call her bluff. They turn to collect their things. Grace waves the gun around the neighborhood.
GRACE (CONT'D)
What the hell are you lookin’ at like you pay your bills. Go on, get back inside.
INT. MILLER HOUSE.
Grace closes the door behind her and exhales deeply. She pounds on the door with a fist.
DUANE
Good lord. Beat. We’ve got to get out of here.
GRACE
I’ll say... We’ve got work to do.
DUANE
What? Grace. We’re in deep shit, we need...
GRACE Quit.
DUANE
Excuse me?
GRACE
Quit then. I’ll give you a cut for one house. Go on.
Duane doesn’t move. Grace holds up a finger and takes a deep slug of vodka.
GRACE (CONT'D)
What I thought.
EXT. LOWER CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD. 2ND MILL HOUSE. LATER.
TEXT: Max Fontaine. 60 Fairmont View, Tulsa, OK. JUNE 23, 2008.
NPR (RADIO)
So we’ve got wages that have stagnated, literally stagnated, for 50 years. FDR predicted technology would decrease the number of hours of a workweek, and now, here we are, working longer hours for essentially much less. Gas is up 150%. So are education, medical, and housing. But pay remains the same.
Duane turns off the radio.
GRACE
How does that fuckin thing keep getting on.
DUANE
Something ain’t sitting right.
GRACE
Mm-hm.
DUANE
We ain’t these kinds of people, Grace.
GRACE
Quit being a pussy and read me Max’s number.
He pulls a piece of paper from a manilla folder.
DUANE
Max Fontaine. Remember he’s divorced. 52.
DUANE (CONT'D)
Worked construction for the Mills, ranch hand for a while.
She nods, pauses, dials the phone number.
GRACE
Alright. (Phone clicks) Yeah, Max, this Max?
MAX (CELL) Who this?
GRACE
Yeah, Max, how ya holding in there. This is Betty, down over at Sharpton Construction. You heard of us?
MAX (CELL)
Yeah I know you.
GRACE
Got your name from a fella said you used to do some good work before all them fucking spics came to town.
MAX (CELL)
That so.
GRACE
Yessir. Any who, we need another set of hands for a project. Pays good, about six weeks straight. Can you handle that amount of work?
MAX (CELL)
I’m $75 a day.
GRACE
You drive a hard bargain, but that works, that works fine. You handling your booze? Can’t have no accidents.
MAX (CELL)
I’m good.
GRACE
Alright. We need you to come down and sign some paperwork. You know where we are?
MAX (CELL)
I know it. That’s the far side a’ town.
GRACE
We’ll pay for your gas and a half a day if you come now.
MAX (CELL)
Deal.
She hangs up. They watch Max saunter out the front door and into an old truck.
DUANE
I’ll be.
Duane snorts a line and passes it to Grace. She blows the line and pulls from the vodka. A shudder ripples through her, forcing her to close her eyes and grip the door. When they reopen,..
INT. FONTAINE HOUSE. LIVING ROOM.
..she’s gripping a bannister and vomitting on the living room floor. Something catches her eye. She kneels to inspect her vomit.
DUANE
For fuck’s sake...
Grace rummages through her puke and pulls out an arrowhead.
GRACE
It’s nothing.
They lift a heavy box together and walk it out to a wall of boxes in the driveway.
DUANE
And exactly what if he don’t take kindly to us packing his shit and asking him to...
He gestures a fly off into the night.
DUANE (CONT'D)
You’re going to pull my gun on him too?
They reach the front step as a Max pulls into the driveway.
MAX
(Shouting) Hell y’all think you’re doing?
DUANE
Shit, shit.
Grace pulls the gun and holds it to her side. Max stops abruptly.
GRACE
EVICTION. YOU’RE TOO FAR BEHIND. GET YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK ON.
MAX
Fuck you, bitch. I’ll call the cops. I know my rights.
GRACE
Call ‘em then you, dumb mother fucker. See how far that gets you.
Neighbors appear in their blinds and front porches. Grace waves the gun across the block.
GRACE (CONT'D)
MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS.
MAX
This ain’t right.
GRACE
Sorry, Max. It’s just the way it is.
Something in her voice catches him. He smiles.
MAX
It was you, wasn’t it. You pretended to be them.
Duane shifts nervously. Max shakes his head.
MAX (CONT'D)
They gave me a job- for more than what I ask.
DUANE
Wow. Congrats, man.
GRACE
Yeah, congrats.
Max exhales.
MAX
So you get me a job and take my home. Some trade.
GRACE
We both know you weren’t ever paying back that debt.
MAX
Still. It don’t sit right. Beat.
GRACE
I’ll suck your dick.
MAX Pardon?
GRACE
You go peacefully. I’ll suck your dick.
MAX
I want to take one last look to make sure you got everything too.
Grace nods and hands the gun to Duane.
GRACE Deal.
INT. FONTAINE HOUSE. LIVING ROOM.
TRUCK SHOT.
Duane, seated, eyes the ceiling. The pistol rests it on his thigh. He drinks his beer. The shot reaches the backside of Grace on her knees. Max smokes a cigarette.
FADE OUT/IN:
EXT. UNKNOWN MILL HOUSE. THE FOLLOWING MORNING.
TEXT: Unknown. 4550 Turnbelt Ave. Tulsa, OK. June 24, 2008.
Grace stops working on the door to lurch sideways and vomit across the front porch. She wipes her mouth as a shadow passes behind her. She turns to see she’s amidst a thick fog, and an old woman has stepped forward to approach her.
OLD WOMAN
Am I on the list too?
Grace returns to installing the lock.
OLD WOMAN (CONT'D)
It hasn’t been so long.
GRACE
I- I’m sorry, miss, I can’t help you.
OLD WOMAN
Tell them we’ll do better. We all want to do better.
Grace side eyes the woman and realizes that many people, on their respective porches, a few milling in the street, and hiding behind curtains, are watching. A shadowed figure wearing an indian headdress moves out of view.
GRACE
I’ll be.
OLD WOMAN
You’ll tell them. We’ll pay. We’ll pay it all back.
GRACE
I don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talkin’ about, lady.
She tries the handle, and it works. A medium sized rock hits her in the head. The shock of being hit jolts her head forward into the front door. Her hand feels the knot and blood is splotched on her fingers.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Mother fucker!
OLD WOMAN
Then you’ll tell the devil when you get there.
GRACE
LADY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IN TARNATION YOU’RE TALKIN’ ABOUT.
The old woman, holding several stones in a hand, steps back a foot and pauses. She launches another rock that nearly misses Grace’s face and bangs against the door.
GRACE (CONT'D)
(To herself) I ain’t never beat no old woman to death but today’s a new day.
Grace moves to attack. Two more stones from radical different trajectories strike/miss her. A few more people have appeared in the fog.
GRACE (CONT'D)
You all go on!
Stranger behind the old woman hurls another. More stones follow. GRACE covers her face, scrambles to get inside the house,...
INT. UNKNOWN HOUSE.
...and slams the door shut. Her momentum backpedals her onto a small rug, which slips underneath her like a banana peel.
Duane unfolds another cardboard box.
DUANE
Easy now.
GRACE
Did you... Those mother... Throwing...
Duane looks up. She stands and adjusts her clothes.
GRACE (CONT'D)
I’ll start in the back room.
She crosses, extracting whiskey and some pills from Duane’s back pocket.
DUANE
Maybe you should take it easy.
GRACE
“Maybe you should...” Maybe you should mind your own god damn business.
Loudly chewing the pills and chugging out her exit, Grace bumps into the door frame as she enters the back room and...
EXT. PARSONS HOUSE. AFTERNOON. LATER.
TEXT: Jim Parsons. 13 Cherry Blossom Road. Tulsa, OK. June 24, 2008.
...finds herself twirling to a seated position on the lawn of a larger, two-story yellow house.
GRACE
...last... one?
She peers over her shoulder at Duane.
DUANE
Praise Jesus. One more and we get paid.
GRACE
John’s worth more than what he said. You let me handle our payout.
Grace dials a number and gets the disconnected line message. Duane scrolls through his phone.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Un-uh.
DUANE
This one was the question mark. Used to be a nice family of four here, two boys. Wife stepped out, maybe took the kids. Husband Jim stopped answering calls about six weeks ago.
GRACE
Could be hanging from the rafters.
Duane looks around the neighborhood. Grace sees a shadowed figure move across the blinds.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Did those blinds just-
DUANE
Whassthat?
WIDE SHOT.
They mount the porch. Grace pulls at the eviction notices stapled to the door.
Duane rings the bell. Pounds on the door.
GRACE
Jim- Jim you in there? We’re coming in.
INT. PARSONS HOUSE. FOYER.
Light spills into the still, dusty interior of the foyer as the front door opens, exposing Duane and Grace’s silhouettes.
Duane enters slowly and reels backwards, covering his nose.
DUANE
Jesus- is that gas?
He tries the light switch to no avail.
GRACE
Jim- Jim you here, buddy? You’re behind eight months, we gotta get something going here pal.
Grace pinches her nose and enters. She inspects a crooked picture of the family (Jim, a wife, and two boys) hanging on the wall. She straightens it.
DUANE
I’ll take the front. You get started on back.
The picture changes to Grace and her family. It holds momentarily, swings, drops, and breaks on the ground.
GRACE
Nah, I’ll take the front.
DUANE
Remember who’s in charge.
GRACE
Yeah, me.
DUANE
Bitch. We’re going to have a nice long talk after this is done.
GRACE
Funny.
INT. DINING ROOM
Grace steps lightly into the dining room and quickly moves to open a nearby window. She breaths in the fresh air from outside, pushes past the dining room door, and leaves to...
INT. KITCHEN
...enter the kitchen. She tries the lights. They don’t work. She tries the back door, unlocks it, but it doesn’t budge.
GRACE
Duane- I can’t get the door. Duane?
Grace walks back to the dining room door, and now it too won’t open. She knocks and coughs roughly. She rubs her forehead and eyes. The thick gas makes her head lull.
GRACE (CONT'D)
DUANE. That ain’t funny. Come open this door. Duane?
WIDE SHOT.
Shadowed figure stirs behind Grace who spins to confront the noise. She finds that the room has lost all discernable qualities of a kitchen, save an island counter top amidst giant bay leaves, a stool, and the seated shadow figure.
Shadowed figure appears to be crying.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Jim- that you? You alright?
Grace moves through the ether.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Jim-
SHADOW BOBBY (Sniffling) I tried to do right. You know I tried don’tcha baby?
As she moves to the counter, her husband Bobby is revealed.
GRACE
It’s ok. You’re ok. Why don’t you help me open this door. (Beat) Bobby?
SHADOW BOBBY
I loved you so much. Now I’m transparent. I’m nothing.
Grace chokes back tears.
GRACE
Bobby. Why’d you have to go on leavin’ me.
SHADOW BOBBY
I’m sorry, Gracie. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.
GRACE
Then you ask me. You’ve got to TELL me what’s going on, you...
She coughs uncontrollably. Her vision blurs.
DISSOLVE TO:
Bobby again pulls the car away from a screaming Grace who pounds on the window.
GRACE
BOBBY. Please. Stop the car. BEAT. No. NO, DON’T, GOD NO.
GRACE’s POV.
Through the window she spots her son Cayden, 8, looking terrified in the passenger’s seat.
GRACE (CONT'D)
BOBBY, NO! Cayden- get out of that car right now.
TRACKING SHOT.
Grace chases the car down the hill. Her slippers fly off as we hear not too far in the distance the sound of many cars colliding and glass breaking.
She makes her way through the wreckage, passing several disoriented people who struggle to walk. A man, leaned against a wheel, holds his bleeding head in his hands.
She reaches Bobby’s car and opens the front door. His decapitated body slumps over, spurting blood onto her robe. Leaning in she finds the interior completely encased in blood, no child, and a small hole through the passenger’s side of the windshield.
She stands erect. We see a small mass in several pieces, out of focus, lightly convulsing on the pavement in front of the car. People have gathered.
WIDE SHOT.
Steam and car exhaust blur the scene of terrified onlookers watching Grace sob as she rocks her dead child.
SMASH TO:
INT. KITCHEN.
Shadow Bobby is gone, and in his place, renter Jim, a balding, middle-aged man with glasses and holding both hands outward placatingly, attempts to soothe a momentarily possessed GRACE.
JIM
MA’AM. Are you alright? You can’t be here. You have to get out.
Grace pulls a butcher’s knife from a block and stabs Jim.
GRACE
(Sobbing) I SAID STOP IT, GOD DAMMIT, STOP THE CAR BOBBY.
Duane enters and puts his hands on his head. Jim stumbles and slumps behind the island counter and onto the ground.
DUANE
Holy shit. What’ve you done?
Grace comes to and wipes her brow.
GRACE
I...I... Duane?
DUANE
Oh fuck. You fucking killed him.
GRACE
Duane?
Oh man.
DUANE
GRACE
I...don’t know what happened.
DUANE
Oh fuck, it looks like we broke in here to rob and kill the fucking guy.
GRACE
The gas leak. It...I... Beat.
Let’s wipe up a majority of the blood, douse him, burn the rags in a different room, burn everything. John can collect the insurance.
DUANE
I-..you’re insane. So now I’m an accomplice to murder and an arsonist now?
She slowly places the knife on the countertop.
DUANE (CONT'D)
Well, whatcha got to say to win me over?
GRACE
We burn it all. Cover our tracks. Sell the car.
DUANE
I told you this was no good. You fucking psychopath.
GRACE
It don’t help to lose control.
They don’t move. BEAT.
DUANE
I’m leaving.
GRACE
Just- just help me move his body into the garage.
Pause.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Please. That’s where he’d do it.
DUANE
Then that’s it. We’re done.
Grace nods and points at Jim’s feet. Duane rounds the kitchen counter.
She pretends to reach for Jim’s arms and rises with the revolver aimed at Duane. She fires two rounds into his chest.
CLOSE SHOT.
Grace runs a hand through Duane’s hair.
GRACE
Shhh. It’s ok, baby. Easy now, honey. It’s going to be alright.
CUT TO:
INT. PARSONS’ HOUSE. GARAGE. NIGHT. HOURS LATER.
Grace prods Jim and Duane’s entangled bodies, with her foot. She tosses a match and flames explode upward...
EXT. PARKED CAR. LATER.
...and light Grace’s cigarette. She watches several neighbors standing idly around the blaze begin to disperse at the sight of flickering blue lights. The flames fill her eyes.
Officer Wells emerges from his car and inaudbly and ineffectively tries to corral people for a statement.
From a distance, Wells spots Grace’s car pulling away and waves a hand at her.
WELLS (OUTSIDE THE CAR)
(Calling) Hey- hold on a minute.
They make momentary eye contact as she pulls away. He mouths something in her rear view. Her bloodshot eyes close...
INT. COLLEGE DORM. BATHROOM. 10 YEARS EARLIER.
TEXT: b. FOOD.
...and reopen to the inside of a dormatory toilet bowl.
ROOMMATE (OFF CAMERA) (On the phone) I think my slut roommate is pregnant. ... She’s been throwing up all morning... I already asked for a switch, Mom.
Roommate crosses by the ajar bathroom door and out the front door. Grace fingers the roll of toilet paper, wipes her mouth dry, and towels off the tears in her eyes. She holds a phone up to her free ear.
GRACE
Ok, she’s gone.
DAD (CELL)
Don’t you listen to that cunt, Gracie Jean. Professors make good money. Hell, I was surprised you’d even made it to college. This is a blessing, girl, you hear me? You got a meal ticket.
GRACE Yessir.
DAD (CELL)
You’ve got to think for two mouths now. You hear me? You’re living for two. That means you do what it takes no matter what and damn the rest.
GRACE
Yes, daddy.
INT. CLASS AUDITORIUM.
JUMP CUT TO:
Professor flips through a slide with the label “Anthropology 101” at the bottom.
PROFESSOR
Ok today we’ve covered a fair amount of ground. Collectivistic versus Individualistic.
He pauses to gauge the class’ attention, spots Grace as she spreads her legs under her desk.
PROFESSOR (CONT'D)
Can someone give some examples of individualistic countries and three attributes?
Student raises a hand.
STUDENT
America, Germany, and South Africa are individualistic. We focus on individual rights... uniqueness, and self-reliance.
PROFESSOR
Good. How about collectivistic?
Another hand from Student 2.
STUDENT 2
China, India, and Ecuador are collectivistic. They don’t see the individual. They’re more like cogs, interdependent. And, um, they prioritize together in solidarity over an individual’s goals.
PROFESSOR
Very nice. Which is better? Call it out, go nuts, be an individual.
Various students shout “America,” “Individualistic,” and “Collectivistic.” Grace raises her hand.
PROFESSOR (CONT'D) Yes?
GRACE
Neither. They both belong on a scale. Go too far either way, and it topples over.
PROFESSOR
Very interesting. SO. Three pages, next week, support your argument. Which is better? Individualistic, Collectivistic, or do you favor...
Professor points to Grace.
GRACE Grace.
PROFESSOR
Grace’s middle of the road approach? Then after next week get your minds wrapped around studying for finals. Have a great weekend.
They pause together as the class gathers up their belongings.
INT. ANTHROPOLOGY OFFICE DOOR. A SIGN FOR OFFICE HOURS.
Students pass down the hallway. A low rustle of moaning and activity is barely audible from outside the door.
INT. ANTHROPOLOGY OFFICE.
Grace pulls up her panties and readjusts her skirt.
PROFESSOR
You were late again.
Grace laughs.
PROFESSOR (CONT'D)
Something funny?
GRACE
Pause.
Nu-uh.
You okay?
PROFESSOR
GRACE Mmhm.
PROFESSOR
Grace. Beat. What?
GRACE
I’m pregnant.
PROFESSOR
I, ah-. Huh. It’s me? (Exhales) Wow.
GRACE
(Tears welling) Daddy says I can’t get an abortion.
PROFESSOR
Ok. It’s ok.
Professor gets up and goes the window and rubs his forehead.
GRACE
What’re we going to do?
PROFESSOR
We...ah..fuck.
Grace rises and lightly trips around a chair. Several papers fall off the desk. She bends over to pick them up and...
EXT. QUITO, ECUADOR. NEAR A HOTEL. EVENING.
...picks up an opened map off the ground.
PROFESSOR
Grace! Come on, you’ve got to keep up.
Grace brushes off the map and folds it into a manageable square. She bumps into a local.
GRACE
Perdoname senor.
LOCAL No hay problema.
GRACE
Perderia la cabez si... no fuera por mi cuello. (I’d lose my head if it weren’t for my neck)
She gestures to her neck. Local laughs.
LOCAL Yo tambien, yo tambien.
Grace rejoins the other students: Jennifer, David, and Sara.
PROFESSOR
Keep your things packed. We’ll only be in the city for the night. Tomorrow morning, 7am sharp, we meet here ready to roll. Everyone clear?
Sounds of consent.
PROFESSOR (CONT'D)
Alright. (Smiles) Let’s check in and maybe see about a margharita?
INT. HOTEL ROOM. LATER.
Grace sits on the bed, lays back, and stretches out. A knock sounds at the door.
GRACE
(Calling) It’s open.
Professor enters.
Heya.
She spreads her legs.
Hey you.
PROFESSOR
GRACE
PROFESSOR
Travel bug bit you good.
GRACE Mm-hm.
PROFESSOR
I’m going to run to the store to buy some last minute odds-and-ends. You need anything?
GRACE
(Pointing her foot) Just that.
PROFESSOR
Oh my. Hold that thought. I’ll be back in an hour or so.
He exits. Grace walks to the window and spots the other students at an outdoor patio.
EXT. CAFE OUTDOOR PATIO ACROSS FROM HOTEL.
CLOSE UP.
Mouths eating and drinking.
JENNIFER
I’ll bet she’s fucking him.
DAVID
He’s definitely fucking her.
SARA
Isn’t that steriotype just completely ironic by now? I mean, will there always be a percentage of teachers that have to fuck their students?
WIDE.
The group mulls it over when and Jennifer turns her head to notice Grace standing there.
GRACE
(Small wave) Hola. She sits.
DAVID
(Spanish) I for one am not going to cater to someone who didn’t get here on their own merit.
SARA
(Spanish) I’m not putting her name on my dissertation.
JENNIFER
(Spanish) I just don’t want her getting in my way.
GRACE
(Spanish) I can watch after myself.
Jennifer smiles.
JENNIFER
So your Spanish isn’t half bad. How about your working knowledge on midcentury Taromenane customs?
SARA
Or their history with the Achuar?
DAVID
Because that’s what Erik’s thesis is on. You know. The guy who you replaced after you fucked our teacher.
Grace blushes and turns her attention to the street. She notices professor in the La Pharmacia window across the road.
WIDE ZOOM.
Professor moves through the aisles.
JENNIFER (O.C.)
But to be fair... Erik isn’t exactly the brightest crayon.
A pharmacist approaches Professor.
SARA (O.C.)
Did you ever notice he keeps rehashing the same bullshit talking points over and over?
Professor makes a ‘pregnant’ gesture around his stomach.
DAVID (O.C.)
‘Did you know that the Achuar and the Taromenane actually share land without mixing tribes?’
The pharmacist nods, and they disappear down an aisle.
SARA (O.C.)
‘There’s something to be learned here.’
CLOSE SHOT.
Grace turns back.
JENNIFER
God that’s the worst. Just tell me what it is you want me to learn, fuck.
INT. HOTEL ROOM. NIGHT.
Professor and Grace collapse panting onto the bed.
PROFESOR (Smiling) Dios mio.
Grace pats his forearm.
GRACE
You did good, kid, ya did good.
He laughs and goes to the bathroom. The shower turns on.
PROFESSOR (O.C.)
I’d like to spend the night telling you how wonderful you are, but we’ve got such a day tomorrow.
GRACE
That’s fine. Just pencil it in for later.
He pokes his head out.
PROFESSOR Deal.
We hear the shower curtain draw back. Grace rises quickly to rummage through his bag.
CLOSE SHOT.
Her hands dig through the bag, revealing a pill bottle hidden in a side pouch. The label is in spanish.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Grace pulls a pencil and paper from the hotel desk and copies the words. She replaces the bottle and hides the paper in her bag.
She enters the bathroom.
GRACE (O.C.) Room for one more?
EXT. OLD JEEP. MORNING. FOLLOWING DAY.
OVERHEAD.
A jeep crosses the divide between a sweeping plain and the Amazon jungle. The road goes from highway to dirt. The canopy above is so dense that the light filters day back into night.
CLOSE JUMP CUTS.
Jennifer eats a banana. Sara tosses a handful of peanuts into her mouth. David chews gum. Professor bites an apple. Grace’s mouth is agape in shock of the sudden changes in their surroundings.
INT. JEEP.
Sara consults a map.
SARA
Looking good. Pretty straight forward from here. Maybe another hour or so.
EXT. JUNGLE. LATER.
Jeep doors close. They exit, stretch, etc.
PROFESSOR
I can’t wait to see the Curaca again. You won’t believe how vivid their Guyaberas are up close.
The group circles Professor.
PROFESSOR (CONT'D)
Couldn’t hurt to go over the plan again. We hike it from here, upstream for 5-6 miles. Our intention is to stay the full two months, so pay close attention to signals. Follow their lead. We’re here to observe, document, and present on the hopes of building a lasting relationship. I know you know this butALL Smile!
PROFESSOR
(Smiling) Yes. Smile. They’re an extremely affable group.
Professor makes an on-and-on gesture.
We’re here to celebrate life. Nothing is more meaningful than the experiences we create with one another.
EXT. JUNGLE. LATER.
Professor examines some markings on a nearby tree. It is a rough outline of the skulled face with sharp teeth.
DAVID
Looks similar but-
PROFESSOR
Looks recent.
JENNIFER
I’ve seen that partial sun shape before but I don’t remember where.
David takes a picture.
SARA
Yeah. I don’t know.
PROFESSOR
Ok. Let’s press on.
EXT. VILLAGE ENTRANCE.
Sara pushes a large leaf out of her face, and it snaps back. She coughs and swallows.
GRACE
You ok?
SARA
A bug just flew into my mouth. She makes a face.
SARA (CONT'D)
Didn’t catch it in time, swallowed it whole.
Professor points.
PROFESSOR
There! See the smoke?
A light trail of smoke can be seen over a series of trees roughly 100 yards ahead of the group.
GRACE
We must be-
GRACE’S POV.
Her eyes tilt from the top of the tree line and towards the foliage ahead where she notices a camoflauged figure has been standing there watching them between two trees.
WIDE SHOT.
Grace gasps in surprise.
JENNIFER
What?
She nods. Professor hesitates. He snaps to, smiles, and moves forward in front of the group.
PROFESSOR
Hola! Hola, amigo!
Villager #1 steps out of the treeline and approaches him.
CLOSE SHOT.
Professor makes a big wave and extends a hand to greet Villager #1 who regards the extended hand and slowly offers his own. They shake.
Professor attempts to let go. Villager 1#’s grip tightens. They lock eyes, and Professor holds up his open hand in an “I surrender” pantomime.
PROFESSOR’S POV.
He turns to the group to chuckle, but his gaze meets their faces filled with abject horror.
WIDE SHOT.
Turning back, Professor watches Villager #1 remove a hatchet from his belt and raise it mid-air above their wrists. Panic enters him as he tries to retract his arm. Several whooping tribesmen step forward, encircling the research team.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Professor shouts, scrambles, and loses his footing in an attempt to kick himself away. He writhes on the ground in futility. Villager #1 hacks at his wrist, severing the hand from the arm in several blows.
CLOSE SHOT.
Grace turns to run and finds the gaps behind her have tightened to nearly a close.
GRACE Cannibals.
EXT. VILLAGE. NIGHT.
Fire dances on Grace’s paralyzed face. She is nude, bound, and sideways on the ground. David, Jennifer, and Sara are bound, sobbing next to her.
We hear screaming. Pleading, unabashed, coarse screaming.
GRACE’S POV.
Professor is tied like a roasted pig and dangled over a fire.
PROFESSOR
HELP ME, YOU FUCKING CUNT. HELP. GET FREEEEEAGGGHHHHHHHHHHH.
Villager #2 saws off Professor’s big toe, the only remaining toe on his right foot, and wiggles it in the air. He pantomimes gobbling it up before tossing it to nearby dog to the amusement of the other tribesmen.
MEDIUM SHOT, CLOCKWISE 360’ ROTATION.
The dog retrieves the toe and disappears off-camera in Grace’s direction.
Night turns to day as the rotation continues. Grace vomits. David, Jennifer, and Sara lay catatonic. We enter the cooking area to see the charred, headless remains of Professor.
Day into night as we finish passing the cooking area and its partial view of Professor’s head on a spit. Grace goes into shock, having a clear panic attack at the sight below her bound feet. David is drug, pleading and screaming, past Jennifer and Sara. His body is hoisted upsidedown onto a leanto, which resembles a deer cleaning setup. The view continues past the cooking area as Villager #3 presses a knife into David’s stomach, spilling his entrails.
Night into day as we pass motionless Grace. Idle villagers appear to be loitering around as Sara is raped. Jennifer spits and curses in spanish. Villager #2 steps forward to bludgeon her in the head with a rock.
Day into night as a large cauldron is carried into the cooking area. Villagers fill it with water. The fire underneath is lit. Grace shouts and sobs at the sight before her. Jennifer is missing from her spot. Sara cries.
SARA
Get a hand free and kill me, Grace. My wrists are broken. I can’t.
Sara surveys above her.
SARA (CONT'D)
There’s a broken spearhead by your feet. I’m begging you. Grace.
Night to day, the cauldron is tipped over. Vicerea, bones, and the boiled remains of Jennifer litter the ground.
We hear urgent, indistinguishable whispering exchanged between Sara and Grace.
Day to night, three villagers are deciding between the two remaining women. They slowly pass Grace to Sara. We hear Sara scream, cursing them, off-camera. The view passes Grace. Sara is lifted by the three men, twisting and contorting herself in every way imaginable. Villager #1 grips SARA by her hair to hold her head still as Grace suddenly appears in the frame to slit Sara’s throat.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Her body limps lifelessly in the Villager #1’s hands. Grace sticks the spearhead into his eye and steals the knife from his waistline as he staggers backward in pain. Villager #2 drops his portion of Sara’s body, causing momentum to pull Villager #3 stumbling towards Grace who plummets the knife into his chest. Villager #2 faces off with Grace who struggles to maintain balance with bound legs.
Grace inhales and dives, knife first, toward Villager #2.
CUT TO BLACK.
EXT. DEEP JUNGLE. LATER.
GRACE’S POV.
Eyes open. A ray of light penetrates the jungle canopy, illuminating a small group of birds. A shudder. Leaves and branches sway in the breeze.
CLOSE SHOT.
A shaman inspects the Professor’s prescription bottle from la pharmacia and shakes its contents.
WIDE OVERHEAD.
A circular opening amidst thick jungle. Grace, wearing tribal makeup and clothing, is bound to a crude table, arms above her head. The back of shaman’s head looms over her crotch.
GRACE’s POV.
We see the birds above more closely. A second, longer shudder, eyes opening and closing. Grace sobs silently.
CLOSE SHOT.
Shaman leans up from her crotch. They hold something between two fingers but it isn’t clear. Shaman raises a hand.
SHAMAN POV.
Shaman’s examines the bulb Grace’s severed clitoris between two fingers.
GRACE’s POV.
Her body pulses. The birds fly off.
OVERHEAD.
Villager #1 fucks Grace. There’s a line. Grace passes out.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. VILLAGER TENT. TWO DAYS LATER.
Grace jolts awake. She checks her arms, legs, and face. Her hands slowly move between her legs. She lifts the loin clothe and gasps in horror at what she sees.
EXT. VILLAGE CENTER.
Grace erupts out of the tent and freezes. Villagers stop milling about to study her.
GRACE’s POV.
A little boy playing with a dog. Two elders seated around a fire eye. Villager #1 messes with his new eye patch.
MEDIUM TRACK SHOT.
Female villager #1 approaches Grace and pulls her by the arm. She is led to a circle of women who nurse children, stitch clothing, and peel vegetables and fruits. Female villager pushes Grace to a seat. Female villager #2 hands Grace a mortar and a bowl of plantains. She mimics grinding. Grace slowly takes a plantain and starts to work. Female Villager #2 nods and says something to the other women, who laugh.
CUT TO:
EXT. VILLAGE CENTER FIRE. NIGHT.
GRACE’s POV.
Villagers converse, eat, and watch the fire.
CLOSE SHOT.
Grace inspects the contents of her bowl with her fingers.
GRACE’s POV.
Several villagers observe Grace.
CLOSE SHOT.
She lifts a piece of meat to her mouth and chews.
GRACE’s POV.
Villagers watch.
CLOSE SHOT.
She eats rapidly.
GRACE’s POV.
Female villager #1 makes a comment to several appreciative nods and smiles.
CLOSE SHOT.
Grace lifts the bowl high to finish the last drops.
CUT TO BLACK.
EXT. VILLAGE. TWO MONTHS LATER.
TRACK SHOT.
Grace exits a tent and turns to fasten the flap, partially revealing a sleeping villager inside. She massages her belly, which is beginning to show the very early stages of her pregnancy, and exchanges polite nods with several villagers. Elder villager #1 and #2 touch her shoulders affectionately in passing. Shaman embraces her cheeks and rubs her stomach.
Little boy runs to Grace and pulls her hand. She pretends to be a monster, and he giggles and runs away.
EXT. VILLAGE. STREAM.
Grace kneels at a stream and washes her face. She drinks several handfuls of water. She vomits. Female Villager #2 appears and gently rubs Grace’s back.
FEMALE VILLAGER #2
Hierbas. En el matorral. Vamos.
GRACE
Vale.
EXT. OUTSIDE THE VILLAGE CENTER.
A mass of large bay leaves ruffle. Female Villager #2’s head pops up through the foliage.
FEMALE VILLAGER #2
Ah! Aqui!
Female Villager #2 holds a bright yellow plant high above her head. Grace smiles and whoops.
GRACE’S POV.
Her hands push a large bay leaf from her view. A lady bug is on her hand.
CLOSE SHOT.
The ladybug walks across the top of her hand. It flies to the jungle floor. Following its flight path, Grace notices something inorganic shimmers on the ground. She digs and reveals a key fob. Dirt smears away revealing ‘Jeep.’
CLOSE SHOT.
Female Villager #2 sings as she carries a handful of yellow plants through thick foliage.
FEMALE VILLAGER #2 (CONT'D)
Eyyy, guerrera! Mucho...
Female Villager #2 finds Grace who turns, holding the keys in her hand. Pause. The smile leaves her face. She inhales deeply as if to shout and...
JUMP CUT TO:
EXT. DEEP JUNGLE. 20 MINUTES LATER.
...Grace races and fights her way through jungle foliage. A horn blares in the not-too-far-off distance.
EXT. DEEP JUNGLE. HILL.
She runs down the slope of a hill. It’s too steep, and she slams into a tree at the base, knocking the wind out of her and spinning her around.
EXT. DEEP JUNGLE. AN OPENING.
WIDE SHOT.
She stops, panting, to pause at the edge of a clearing.
CLOSE SHOT.
Grace surveys the treeline.
GRACE’s POV.
Nothing moves.
CLOSE TRACKING SHOT.
She dead sprints towards the jeep. She crosses the fifty yards of field and reaches the driver’s side door. She unlocks and opens the door.
A spear passes through the driver’s door window, shattering the glass. Grace screams and turns.
WIDE SHOT.
Villager #1, wielding a knife, is running at full speed towards her.
CLOSE SHOT.
She jumps into the driver’s seat. The ignition turns. She floors it. The tires skid as the jeep lurches forward. A hand smashes the window before barely pulling off. She sobs.
EXT. JUNGLE ROAD.
OVERHEAD SHOT.
The jeep returns across the partition between jungle and paved road.
INT. JEEP.
Grace cries, punching her fists on the steering wheel.
MATCH CUT TO:
INT. PERUVIAN HOSPITAL ROOM. DAY.
Doctor slams a chart closed.
DOCTOR
Te sientes mejor hoy? (You’re feeling better today?)
Grace nods.
DOCTOR (CONT'D)
Bien, enviare a una enfermera para que te vigile mas tarde. (Good. I’ll send in a nurse to check in on you later.)
GRACE Medico? (Doctor?)
DOCTOR Si?
GRACE
Que es... Miso-posotol? (What is...)
DOCTOR Pardon?
Grace takes a notepad and pen from a side table. She writes, tears off the sheet, and hands it to Doctor.
DOCTOR (CONT'D)
No, no, senora. Es demasiado tarde para eso. (No, ma’am. It’s too late for that)
GRACE
Para que? (For what?)
DOCTOR
Misoprostol. Es un medicamento del mercado negro para abortar. Muy peligroso. (Misoprostol. It’s a black market drug for abortion. Very dangerous.)
Doctor touches Grace’s shoulder.
DOCTOR (CONT'D)
Eres afortunado. Un poco de budin te animara. (You’re fortunate. A little pudding will cheer you up.)
Doctor exits. Grace pulls the wheeled food tray to the bed.
GRACE’s POV.
The spoon maneuvers around a bowl of pudding, revealing Professor’s big toe.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Grace vomits over the side of the bed towards a trashcan. She falls off the bed and onto all fours.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. GRACE’S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. PRESENT DAY. NIGHT.
John and Grace are seated opposite one another. He holds a brown bag in his lap.
CLOSE SHOT.
JOHN
Shouldn’t your pimp be here.
GRACE
I ain’t got no pimp.
John hands her the bag.
JOHN
Half a year.
GRACE
And a year free starting now.
JOHN
And a year free starting now.
Grace nods and rummages through the bag. John looks around.
JOHN (CONT'D) What did-
Grace looks up. John smiles.
JOHN (CONT'D)
(Changing his mind) What’re you going to do now?
GRACE
World’s my fuckin’ oyster, innit.
JOHN
I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.
GRACE
You do that.
EXT. TULSA STREETS. MORNING.
Rows of homeless surrounded by liquor bottles, beer bottles, and trash. A shop owner chases a thief stealing two cases of water from a convenient store. Two prostitutes argue and fight after one throws a cup of liquid in the other’s face.
TEXT: c. WATER.
INT. GRACE’S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. ONE MONTH LATER.
Two blue collar men play on their phones in the living room waiting for their session. A radio is playing “Coconut” loudly. The kitchen counter is littered with wrappers, beer cans, and liquor bottles. Grace ‘risky business’ slides across the kithchen floor topless in her socks, wobbling to stop. Her hips gyrate to the beat. She sings along halfheartedly.
EXT. OUTSIDE. STREET.
A man idles in a car with the windows rolled down outside the house. The blaring music is lightly audible from the street.
INT. KITCHEN.
Grace pours tequila and orange juice over ice in a blender. She takes a swig from a beer, whistles appreciatively, and adds it to the blender.
GRACE
“DOCTOR! Ain’t there nothin’ I can take?”
She presses a button and rests her head on the blender.
EXT. DRIVEWAY.
A small man approaches the front door. He pauses, recollects himself, and continues on.
INT. KITCHEN.
RADIO ANNOUNCER
That was “Coconut” by Harry Nilsson, reminding us...
Grace drinks from the blender.
RADIO ANNOUNCER 2
Not to mix clear with dark?
Radio announcers share a laugh. Grace mock laughs with them as she lights a cigarette.
RADIO ANNOUNCER
I know I’ll bet getting one...or two... or five after my shift. O’Grady’s will be hosting another happy hour from 5-9...
A knock at the door.
EXT. GRACE’S HOUSE. FRONT DOOR.
The man shifts from one foot to another. He remembers to take off his cowboy hat and holds it in both hands.
INT. FOYER.
The two clients wince as Grace slides into the foyer holding the blender, loses control, and falls.
EXT. FRONT DOOR.
The door opens. She is covered in liquor smoothie.
GRACE WHAT.
INT. BEDROOM.
CLOSE SHOT.
The sound of a beer bottle opening. Curtis, a nervous middleaged Indian man, avoids eye contact.
CURTIS
They’re always there. Every day. I can’t run my business...
Grace stands over him, guzzling a beer.
GRACE
You want something to drink?
CURTIS
Water, kindly.
She opens a second beer, pushes it onto him, and sits in a chair. Villager #1 and #2 stand sentry behind her.
Curtis fidgets with the bottle.
GRACE
You shy or somethin’?
CURTIS
I don’t know why I came, IHe rises.
GRACE
Easy, Curt. So a crew of blacks are holding up yer store. That about the long and the short of it?
Grace inhales her cigarette. He nods and sits.
GRACE (CONT'D) (Blowing a ring) So what do you want me to do about it?
CURTIS
I was told...our ‘mutual acquaintance’...ah...told me that you were...a creative. I’ve never been good at thinking outside the box. Run the business. Keep the shelves stocked. That’s all I know, ma’am.
GRACE
Call the cops.
Curtis shakes his head.
CURTIS
I did. I do. They leave for a day, come back, it gets worse and worse. They’re drunk all the time, harassing my family, stealing from my store. Threatened to kill me if I call again.
GRACE
He nods.
How many?
CURTIS
Sometimes two. Sometimes 8-10. They’re gang-affilliated. Hoover Crips.
GRACE
You got security cameras?
GRACE (CONT'D)
What kind?
CURTIS
Four old sony’s. 480p, no audio.
GRACE
Where?
CURTIS
Outside the front door on the corners? They’re dangerous, ma’am. All carrying.
GRACE
How much?
CURTIS
Did you hear what I said?
GRACE
To get them to go away- how much?
CURTIS
$3000.
GRACE Five.
CURTIS
Ma’am, I don’t make that kind of money...
GRACE
Four.
He relents. Grace finishes her beer and slides onto the carpet. She crawls between his legs. Curtis stands.
CURTIS
What are you doing?
GRACE
Liability reasons. Think of it as a handshake.
CURTIS
I would never. I can’t. I have a family.
Grace shrugs.
GRACE
Then I can’t trust you. There’s the door.
CLOSE SHOT.
Curtis covers his face in shame.
WIDE SHOT.
The standing backside of Curtis covers most of Grace while she fellates him.
CLOSE SHOT.
Grace runs a finger around her lips.
MATCH CUT TO:
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. AFTERNOON. LATER.
CLOSE UP.
Her mouth makes a loud gulp and “Ahh.”
EXT. STREET SIDE.
A car pulls off onto a highway shoulder.
INT. CAR.
Grace finishes her beer. She slouches forward and rests her arms and head onto the steering wheel. She idly tosses the empty bottle onto the floorboard.
GRACE’S POV.
The sound of bottles clinking together. In the distance, four large African American men laze about, drinking on a stoop in front of the convenient store. Two play catch with a tennis ball.
INT. CAR.
Grace digs around the bottles in the passenger floorboard and retrieves a notepad. She takes notes.
GRACE
Intersection... bout (hiccup), sixty-seventy steps in.
CLOSE SHOT.
She closes an eye to see better.
GRACE (CONT'D)
There’s the cameras. Few fellars, playin, b-ballin.
INT. CAR.
Grace tosses the notepad to her right. Turns on the radio.
GRACE
All in a hard day’s work.
RADIO ANNOUNCER 1
Before we get back to your favorite hits, little reminder.. Flannerty’s ...be popping off tonight. Happy hour, all night, come wet that (hiccups) whistle.
RADIO ANNOUNCER 2
(Drinking) I’m already there.
RADIO ANNOUNCER 1
Me too! Now here’s something to get us all in the mood.
The sound of beers opening, cheers. LMFAO “Shots” plays through the following scenes.
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. EVENING.
The sound of a bottle opening. Grace’s car swerves over the curb and cuts off an on-coming car, horn-blaring.
CUT TO:
INT. DEPARTMENT STORE.
Sony cameras, a Hawaiian shirt, chips&candy, and several bottles of liquor move on a checkout counter conveyor belt. Grace winks at a store clerk.
CUT TO:
INT. GUN STORE.
A scan gun rings up a box of ammunition, an extended magazine, and a pistol. Behind the register, a Gun shop owner points to “Mandatory Background check” sign and takes a swig of a beer. Grace leans her cleavage across the counter, and they go to the back.
JUMP CUT TO:
Grace reenters. She tosses a fan of bills on the counter, collects the gun and supplies, and leaves.
CUT TO:
INT. GRACE’S HOUSE. KITCHEN.
Liquor pours carelessly over three shot glasses. A bottle crushes a pill. The powder sprinkles into the shots.
EXT. GRACE’S HOUSE. ROOF.
WIDE SHOT.
Grace jams a Sony camera under a roof tile while balancing on a step ladder. The ladder gives out, and she falls into some bushes.
CAMERA POV.
She paces out steps. The little village boy runs past her. She waves her arms in the air from a distance. She points left and right. Opens and closes her mouth. She attempts a cartwheel.
INT. GRACE’S HOUSE. KITCHEN.
She inspects the footage on a laptop, rewinding and playing back the video of her with her arms raised and waving about. She closes the laptop. The music stops abruptly.
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. AFTERNOON. THE NEXT DAY.
The sound of a minibottle opening. Grace stumbles down the sidewalk, dropping a mini-bottle and catching herself on a street sign post. Several cars pass. She pulls a handful of pills from her pocket and closes an eye to survey the contents.
GRACE POV.
Her hand, holding several different colored pills, wobbles. She thumbs through them.
GRACE (O.C.)
Eenie meanie you... not you, moe... mmhmm, you too, joe.
WIDE SHOT.
We see Grace is around the corner from the convenient store where five men loiter on the stoop. She takes and crunches a couple of pills, accidentally drops a few, bends over to retrieve them, and straightens herself. She ties her hair back. She slaps herself hard. She does it again and shudders. She pounds her chest and face with closed fists.
REAR GRACE TRACKING SHOT.
She rounds the sidewalk and into the entrance of the parking lot, stopping to hold a hand high in the air.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Yoo-hoo, boys!
Sixty yards away, Gang leader and Gang Members #1-4 turn to look.
GANG LEADER
(Calling) Sup bitch?
GRACE
(Calling) Sup faggot. Just wanted to make sure the CVS is that way?
She extends her whole arm and points clearly in the direction of the four way intersection. Gang Leader stands.
GANG LEADER
Fuck’d she just say?
GRACE
(Calling) I just figured I’d shop at a store where there weren’t so many niggers laying about.
Gang Leader approaches, thirty yards now, with crew in tow.
GANG LEADER
Are you out yo fuckin’ mind, bitch?
Grace steps back and holds her hands high in surrender.
GRACE
Do you fucking retards know where the CVS is or not?
Gang Leader stops 10-15 feet short of Grace. Beat. He smiles.
GANG LEADER
Tell me I’m on TV right. She’s fucking around, right?
GRACE
You got me. New show, big niggers, small dicks.
Various reactions.
GRACE (CONT'D)
You gone whip it out for me or tell me where the god damn CVS is, you fucking cuck?
Gang Leader lifts his shirt revealing a pistol.
GANG LEADER
For real. You shouldn’t be talking to people like that.
GRACE
Good thing you ain’t a person. You’re nothing. Bet all you apes gotta carry those things around to make yourself feel big.
Gang Members #2 & #3 lift their shirts revealing guns.
GANG LEADER
Get the fuck out of here.
Grace plants her feet and puts her hands on her hips.
GRACE
Stupid fucks. Good for fuck all. Your parents wish they never had you.
As Gang Leader places a hand on his gun’s grip, Grace unholsters a pistol from her lower back, raises it, and fires two rounds into Gang Leader’s chest.
She swivels left. Gang Members #1-3 reach for their guns. Gang Member #4 runs.
She fires two rounds into Gang Member #1 who falls. She hits Gang Member #2 as his gun jams and he attempts to pull back the slide. Gang Member #3, far right, fumbles to loosen his gun from his sweater and realizes it’s too late.
As her sights turn to and fire on Gang Member #3, he has pivoted to attack her bare-handed. The shot lands ambiguously into him as he lands a hay-maker squarely on the bridge of her nose. Both collapse.
OVERHEAD.
The gun skids several yards across the pavement.
WIDE SHOT.
The bedlam subsides. Gang Leader sputters blood. A few customers, Curtis, and Gang Member #4 look on in the blurred distance of the background.
Pause. Grace starts, slowly.
OVERHEAD SHOT.
She groans and rolls onto her back. A hand rises to touch at the splattered blood across her face and broken nose. She closes her eyes.
CLOSE SHOT.
She turns her head to the unmoving Gang Member #3.
GRACE POV.
Gang Member #3 lies still. She peers down at her legs and nudges him with her foot. Her eyes return to his face. His eyes are open and returning her stare.
OVERHEAD SHOT.
They spot the gun laying several yards above their heads.
CLOSE SHOT.
GRACE (CONT'D) Don’t let me get it.
GANG MEMBER #3
I won’t.
OVERHEAD SHOT.
Grace and Gang Member #3 explode from inertia to a frenzy of crawling across the concrete. Their hands reach the gun simultaneously. Their bodies draw together as they try to claim the weapon. The gun disappears in the tangle. Two shots ring out. They fall apart.
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. STOOP. SECONDS BEFORE.
CLOSE SHOT.
Gang Member #4 jumps at the shots. The surrounding customers and Curtis run inside the store.
GANG MEMBER #4 POV.
In the distance, the bodies separate.
CLOSE SHOT.
Gang Member #4 cautiously crosses the parking lot.
GANG MEMBER #4 Jamaal. Jamaal.
He stops several yards away and it’s too late. Using Gang Member #3’s body as a rest, Grace rolls and fires three rounds into his chest.
JUMP CUT TO:
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. STOOP. MOMENTS LATER.
Grace drops the pistol outside and enters the store. She crosses by the paned windows and passes several customers down an aisle. She opens the fridge, removes a 40 oz. beer, and turns back. She exits and sits on the stoop.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Villagers in partial view surround Grace. Customers congregate at the window. She lifts the 40 oz. to her mouth and pauses. It’s one drink too many.
A motherly woman and her son exit the store. She nods to her son who brings Grace a water. Motherly Woman takes the 40oz. away and holds up a wet wipe. More customers tend to her, replacing the Villagers with Okies.
CLOSE SHOT.
Moterly Woman goes to clean Grace. Grace resists. Motherly Woman persists. Grace subsides.
She takes a large gulp of water. Her eyes droop, and...
FADE TO BLACK.
EXT. TULSA STREET. NIGHT.
Dozens of homeless people congregate under a bridge. Several shadowy figures attack, kicking and punching an unsuspecting person sleeping in a park. A homeless woman moves down an empty road like a zombie. A tweaker’s eyes dart to and fro at a billboard.
TEXT: d. SLEEP.
INT. OFFICER WELLS’ RESIDENCE. BEDROOM. MORNING. NEXT DAY.
Caleb, 6-7, hums, sings, and talks indiscernable nothings to himself.
WELLS POV.
An eyelid lifts open to the blurry world and closes. Caleb giggles.
CLOSE SHOT.
He uses a finger to lift open Wells’ left eyelid and lets it flop closed. The hand pulls his mustache. The man stirs awake.
WELLS
C’mon boy-o, don’t mess with another man’s stache.
Caleb bounces up and down.
CALEB
(Whispers) Get up, get up.
WELLS
Just a few more minutes.
CALEB
Momma says breakfast is ready and there’s gonna be words if you waste any more your time lying around in bed all day.
WELLS
Did she now?
CALEB
Mmhmm. Says I can have your pancakes too if you don’t come down in a hot five.
Wells smiles.
WELLS
Does that mean I get to eat yours if I beat you there.
CALEB
Nooo!
INT. WELLS' RESIDENCE. KITCHEN.
Wells enters and collapses into a chair. Mrs. Wells is cooking and bouncing a crying baby.
WELLS
You tell this one he could have my flapjacks.
CALEB
Tell him, mom!
MRS. WELLS
I can neither confirm nor deny my involvement pertaining to jacks, cakes, or any other breakfast pastries.
WELLS
I see. So does that mean someone is guilty of bending the truth?
CALEB.
Un-uh!
WELLS
Permission to tickle the culprit?
Mrs. Wells turns.
MRS. WELLS
Permission granted.
Caleb squeels.
INT. FOYER.
Mrs. Wells walks Wells to the front door.
MRS WELLS
Another long one?
He nods, sighs.
MRS. WELLS
Just how long do they think they can keep you all going on these shifts?
WELLS
Not an easy one to sugar coat, I’m afraid. Busy year. You name itit’s happening somewhere.
MRS. WELLS
Ok. Ok.
They kiss. She hands him a thermos.
JUMP CUT TO:
EXT. DRIVEWAY. OLD CIVIC.
Wells waves to Mrs. Wells who closes the front door. He pulls a small 1/5 from the glovebox, pours some whiskey into his thermos, and swishes it around.
INT. POLICE STATION.
Wells enters. He approaches a semicircle of cops who are creating a commotion at something.
WELLS POV.
A 32” television plays the surveillance tape from the convenient store. A grainy, low-res image shows two crawling bodies and a brief flash.
OFFICER HUGH (O.C.) Here we go, here we go. This is the best part.
On screen, Gang Member #4 walks towards the bodies.
OFFICER HUGH (CONT'D) Wait for it...
Gang Member #4 is jolts and falls. Cops cheer, applaud.
MEDIUM SHOT.
WELLS What is this?
OFFICER HUGH
Stand your ground out by that Paki’s convenient store on 5th. Woman asks the wrong guys for directions-
RANDOM COP
You mean those mother fuckers didn’t help the wrong woman.
OFFICER HUGH
Yeah, at any rate, a few Crips go to intimidate her, one reaches for his gun, and before you know itOfficer Hugh gestures toward the TV.
WELLS
She kill them?
RANDOM COP
All four of ‘em. Good fuckin’ riddance.
OFFICER HUGH
Check it out.
WELLS POV.
The tape rewinds and plays from Grace making big gestures. She holds her hands up in defense. Gang Leader makes an obscured movement. Grace fires.
CLOSE SHOT.
Wells bobs his head in surprise.
WELLS POV.
Gang Member #3 punches Grace, and they fall. More commotion from the cops.
RANDOM COP (OFF CAMERA) That’s the best part right there.
CLOSE SHOT.
WELLS What’d she want?
OFFICER HUGH (O.C.)
Directions to a CVS.
MEDIUM SHOT.
WELLS
Why- she’s at a convenient store already.
OFFICER HUGH
Prescription, maybe, I dunno.
WELLS
Huh. Seems...
OFFICER HUGH Aggressive?
WELLS Yeah.
OFFICER HUGH
I hear ya. It’s odd. There were plenty of witnesses though. Save the last guy-
WELLS POV.
A repeat showing of Gang Member #4 falling.
OFFICER HUGH (CONT'D)
I’d have blown his brains out too after all that.
WELLS
Where is she now?
OFFICER HUGH
(Smiles) In chief’s office.
WELLS She is?
OFFICER HUGH
(Shrugging) She’s not on trial here. Hell, she’s going to be a hero. Chief’s in there shaking her hand right now.
WELLS
I’ll be.
OFFICER HUGH
Yup. You look like shit by the way.
WELLS Get fucked.
OFFICER HUGH
Fuck your mom.
Wells sits at his desk.
WELLS POV.
At the back of the bureau, Grace exits Chief’s office. They shake hands. Several officers cheer, applaud.
CLOSE SHOTS.
Wells furrows his brow as Grace and Chief pass by his desk. They make eye contact again. He recognizes her.
Grace exits.
Wells approaches Chief who doesn’t stop walking.
WELLS
We’re letting her go?
CHIEF
It’s too god damn early, Wells.
WELLS
You talk to the owner of the convenient store?
CHIEF
You look like shit.
WELLS
Where’d she get the gun?
CHIEF
Guy thinks he’s Columbo.
Random Cop snickers.
WELLS
It’s just all very convenient.
Chief rolls his eyes.
CHIEF
Do us all a favor... don’t have any more kids. Now get the fuck out of my station.
EXT. POLICE STATION.
Wells jogs to meet Grace’s car as she pulls out of the parking lot. She rolls down the car window.
GRACE Yessir?
WELLS
Ma’am? Ma’am. Hot damn, it really is you. Had to see you for myself, come offer you my appreciation.
GRACE
Ah, that’s mighty kinda yah, partnur. Now if you don’t mind-
WELLS
I was wondering-
GRACE
I already told y’all everything there is to tell.
WELLS
It’s just- twice in two weeks. Must be a lot for you.
GRACE
What’re you talkin’ about?
WELLS
Recognize you from the house fire on Grayson. I was the officer who responded that night. They found two bodies inside.
GRACE
I don’t know what you’re saying, fat shit.
WELLS
Well...ah..I...
GRACE
I ought to be getting along.
WELLS
Where to this time?
Beat. She blows out the bloody tissue in her nose.
GRACE
Where to this time?
Grace shakes her head, laughing as she drives away.
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. COP CAR. MORNING.
Wells idly watches porn on his phone.
WELLS POV.
The last customer leaves the store and gets in their car. WIDE SHOT.
Wells finishes the last of his drink and crosses the parking lot, giving a brief survey of the red tape and outlines. He enters.
INT. CONVENIENT STORE COUNTER.
Curtis watches the news coverage of his convenient store on a small TV. Headline “Tulsa Woman Stands Her Ground, Locals Cry Hero” superimposes local interviewees. The door chimes.
CURTIS
Hi, welcome...
Curtis turns and straightens up.
CURTIS (CONT'D)
Oh, hello officer.
WELLS
She is somethin’, ain’t she.
CURTIS
It’s a miracle she’s alive.
WELLS
Say that again.
CURTIS
What can I help you with? Y’here to clear out the crime scene?
WELLS
Uh, yeah. Yeah. Gotta grab some cones and the tape and all that.
CURTIS
Can I offer you a drink or-?
WELLS
That’d be mighty kind a ya, actually. Let me just...
He fills up his coffee mug.
WELLS (CONT'D)
Must come as a bit of a relief to ya.
CURTIS
How do you mean?
WELLS
Well those pieces of shit must’ve been driving you nuts and all.
CURTIS
Not losing any sleep over it.
WELLS
‘D hope not. You know we tried, right?
He lays down a $20.
Pardon?
CURTIS
WELLS
I responded to one of your calls about eight months ago. No stash.
Wells uses a finger to cover his mustache.
CURTIS
Okay, sorry, I recognize you. Water under the bridge.
WELLS
Hell we all knew about this place being a gang hangout. Regular topic around the office. Threatened those boys to no end.
CURTIS
We all have our limits.
WELLS
(Nodding) Isn’t that the truth.
CURTIS
It’s on the house.
WELLS
Nossir. How much money you’ve lost, I can’t imagine.
Curtis takes the $20.
CURTIS
Thank you for saying that.
WELLS
Not in the least. Out of curiousity, you know her?
CURTIS
Sorry?
WELLS
The woman. She come in here often?
CURTIS
Can’t say I remember. Get a lot of people passing through here.
WELLS
Never met her before?
CURTIS
Can’t say I had.
Pause.
WELLS
I’ll let you get to it then.
Wells exits. Through the paned glass, Curtis watches him clean up the cones and red tape.
EXT. GUNSTORE. LATER.
The squad car pulls into the busy parking lot.
POLICE CALLCENTER (RADIO)
Attention all cars: Active shooting, possible homocide on State and Fir. Calling all units in the area...
Wells turns down the volume.
INT. GUN STORE.
CLOSE SHOT.
Gunshop Owner shakes his head.
GUNSHOP OWNER POV.
A fax from the DOJ has denied Grace’s gun purchase. The emboldened red words read “DENIED”...,” “INSTITUTIONALIZATION AT ST. JOHN’S,”...”SUBSTANCE ABUSE.”
Attention turns to a monitor which playsback the security footage of Grace giving Gunshop Owner a blowjob.
Clerk enters.
CLERK
Boss, got a cop wants a word.
GUNSHOP OWNER
Sure, one second.
GUNSHOP OWNER POV.
A mouse clicks and drags a folder labeled “April 2008” into the trash can.
He pauses.
GUNSHOP OWNER POV.
The mouse selects every folder and moves them to the trash can. It clicks “Empty Trash Can.”
MEDIUM SHOT.
Gunshop Owner appears from the backroom and moves behind the counter.
GUNSHOP OWNER (CONT'D)
Can I do you for, officer? Got some beauty 1911s in earlier this week you might have an eye for.
WELLS
Got a gun registered to a...
Wells consults a notepad.
WELLS (CONT'D)
A ‘GRACE FIELDS.’ Purchased from this store.
GUNSHOP OWNER
Alright. Something the matter?
WELLS
She’s the gal on the news.
He gestures at the TV.
GUNSHOP OWNER
No kidding. Maybe I should call the media and try to get a plug.
Wells looks at the cameras.
WELLS
When’d she purchase it?
GUNSHOP OWNER
Have to look at my records. Not too long ago.
WELLS
Long enough for a background check.
GUNSHOP OWNER
‘Course. We always do our due diligence.
WELLS
Let me see it.
Gunshop Owner shuffles.
WELLS (CONT'D)
Something the matter?
He folds his arms.
GUNSHOP OWNER
There’s a nicer way a’ askin’.
WELLS
Are you refusing to cooperate in an on-going investigation?
GUNSHOP OWNER
It’s an investigation now. For what crime?
WELLS Murder.
GUNSHOP OWNER
Clearly, but-
WELLS
Go get the paperwork.
Gunshop Owner shrugs.
GUNSHOP OWNER No.
WELLS
Excuse me?
GUNSHOP OWNER
I said “No.”
WELLS
Do you know what obstruction of-
GUNSHOP OWNER
I know what’s what. Now this here’s a store that tries to make money. And time is money. So if you ain’t buying and you don’t have a warrant, then...
Gunshop Owner shrugs.
WELLS
There’s a nice way of doing things.
GUNSHOP OWNER
Fuck your nice. I got a family to feed, roof to put over their damn heads, and I don’t need this shit today. Woman’s a hero in my opinion.
Cheers from nearby customers boulster his indignation.
GUNSHOP OWNER (CONT'D)
In fact, get the fuck on out. I know my god given rights. Go on. Get fucking riding, cowboy.
Pause. Wells leaving.
WELLS
(Over his shoulder) I’ll be back.
GUNSHOP OWNER (Calling) No you won’t.
EXT. TULSA STREETS. EVENING. LATER.
Protestors in the streets. Teenagers run away after looting a brick and mortar. Lines of tired people outside a “State Welfare Office.”
INT. POLICE STATION.
CLOSE SHOT.
Wells’ head droops. He falls asleep at his desk. A loud BANG springs him awake.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Chief drags a chair loudly to his desk and sits.
CHIEF
Easy fella. I was coming to apologize for my attitude from earlier.
WELLS
Sir, it’s alright, I-
CHIEF
I was. Then come to find out you were in the area when that shooting on Fir was going on.
CHIEF (CONT'D)
Now I see you counting sheep at your desk. And christ man,...
He sniffs.
CHIEF (CONT'D)
That’s clearly whiskey. So you’re drinking too.
Wells adjusts himself, looks for notes.
WELLS
Sir, I took some initiative to look into the gang shooting.
CHIEF
Gang shooting?
Beat. Chief looks to the heavens.
CHIEF (CONT'D)
WELLS. You’re suspended.
Wells starts. Chief stops him.
CHIEF (CONT'D)
I don’t want to hear it. Look I get it, you’ve got a new kid. It’s a lot to take in. But you’ve become more of a liability than an asset.
WELLS
Something isn’t right, sir. That convenient store manager, he’s-
CHIEF
Wow. Ok. Look me in the eyes.
CLOSE SHOT.
CHIEF (CONT'D)
The only reason your suspension is with pay is because I pity you. You’re right, man, we can’t go endorsing some wild vigilantism, but holy fuck. Wake up. Look around you.
WELLS Yessir.
CHIEF
Take this time to reflect. Come back to reality.
WELLS Yessir.
CHIEF
Go home. And do not touch that gang shooting case again. The dynamics are... beyond our limitations. Understood?
WELLS
Mmhm.
Wells lays his head down on the desk and rocks it back and forth. He closes his eyes...
FADE TO BLACK.
EXT. WELLS' RESIDENCE. EVENING.
...and when they open, he is staring at his front door.
INT. FOYER.
Wells enters. In a flurry of activity, a dog jumps on his legs. Caleb runs around him. Mrs. Wells with screaming baby hands him bills.
INT. BEDROOM.
In bed, he stares blankly out the window.
MRS. WELLS (O.C.)
Plumber says there’s a backup all the way out to the main.
WELLS Mmhm.
MRS. WELLS (O.C.) Quoted us an arm and a leg too.
WELLS I’ll bet. She enters.
MRS. WELLS
You alright?
WELLS
Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.
He yawns and falls asleep until...
FADE TO BLACK.
A loud wail pulls him from a deep sleep. The baby monitor on the nightstand lights up red with the newborn’s cries.
INT. BABY’S ROOM.
Wells finishes changing the baby. He puts the child back into the crib and lies on the floor.
OVERHEAD SHOT.
Lying on his back, he extends and arm and gentle rocks the crib and his eyes close until...
FADE TO BLACK.
Caleb jumps on his chest.
CALEB. Daddy!
WELLS
Caleb, god dammit, daddy was sleeping. You can’t jump on me like that.
Caleb freezes. His face contorts and emits a rising cry.
WELLS (CONT'D)
Oh buddy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, honey. You caught daddy by surprise...
OVERHEAD SHOT.
Wells, still on his back, extends his opposite arm to rub Caleb’s back and closes his eyes...
FADE TO BLACK:
INT. WELLS' RESIDENCE. FOYER.
And reopens them pulling away from a kiss with Mrs. Wells.
MRS. WELLS
Stay safe.
He crosses the front door threshold.
MRS. WELLS (CONT'D)
Jimmy-
He pauses with his back to her.
MRS. WELLS (CONT'D) Don’t you raise your voice like that to my son again, you hear?
He doesn’t turn around. He nods slightly.
EXT. DRIVEWAY. OLD CIVIC.
The civic backs out of the driveway.
EXT. SUBURBS. OLD CIVIC.
It pulls up to a four-way stop.
CLOSE SHOT.
Wells rests his head on his hand. He doesn’t know where to go.
The civic pulls forward.
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. MORNING. MOMENTS LATER.
The car parks across the street from the store.
WELLS POV.
Customers come and go. Cars pass. He closes his eyes...
FADE TO BLACK.
EXT. CONVENIENT STORE. AFTERNOON.
The distant, obscure sound of people yelling back and forth wakes him. He checks the time. It’s 12:34p. He rolls down his window.
WELLS POV.
A drug addict paces back and forth, gesturing impatiently at to Curtis who is trying to get into his car.
CURTIS (DISTANT)
I said ten minutes. Just relax. Ten minutes.
Curtis gets in his car and pulls out of the parking lot. Wells puts his car in drive and follows him.
EXT. GRACE’S HOUSE. OLD CIVIC. LATER.
Wells watches as Curtis exits the driveway and climbs back into his car. The time is 12:36. He scribbles it and the license plate down in his notepad. His eyes close.
EXT. GRACE’S HOUSE. OLD CIVIC.
A door slams nearby and Wells awakens. A large burly man stands at the front door. The door opens, and the man enters. Wells notes the time: 5:32p. His phone rings.
MRS. WELLS (CELL) You headed home?
WELLS Twenty more.
MRS. WELLS (CELL) Ok, see you soon. Love you.
WELLS
Love you.
He hangs up and searches his contacts. He dials a number.
WELLS (CONT'D) Hey Hugh.
OFFICER HUGH (CELL) Wells.
WELLS
Can you run a plate for me?
OFFICER HUGH (CELL) $50.
WELLS Huh?
OFFICER HUGH (CELL) You’re suspended with pay while I’m at work for pay and you want me to pull a favor for you for whatever it is you shouldn’t be doing. $50.
He tapes the phone on his forehead.
WELLS Ok. $50. F355G29.
OFFICER HUGH (CELL) Nicholas Lambert. Oh I know him. He owns that mom and pop over by the new supercenter.
WELLS Clothes?
OFFICER HUGH (CELL) Some. Little of everything. Poor guy can’t be doing too well with the department store being right there.
WELLS
Uh-huh.
OFFICER HUGH (CELL) Why’dya ask?
WELLS I dunno.
OFFICER HUGH (CELL) It’s $50 either way. BEAT. Wells?
He hangs up. The front door opens. Nick Lambert reappears awkwardly. He moves briskly, zips his fly, furtively glancing left and right at the street, and gets into his car.
WELLS POV.
Can’t keep his eyes open. They close again and...
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. WELLS' RESIDENCE. BABY'S ROOM. NIGHT.
OVERHEAD SHOT.
Wells on his back, bloodshot eyes, screaming baby on his chest.
INT. CALEB’S BEDROOM. MORNING.
Caleb gets out of bed and moves into the hall...
INT. HALLWAY.
...where he peaks his head into the baby’s room. No one is there, so he jumps into the parent’s room doorway. No one is in bed, but the shower is on, so he turns and continues...
INT. KITCHEN.
...to find Wells standing over a fire.
CALEB Dad!
Wells snaps too.
WELLS
Ah, dammit! Dammit!
Mrs. Wells rushes in.
MRS. WELLS What in the world-
Wells throws the pan into the sink and douses it.
WELLS Breakfast, everyone.
INT. FOYER.
Mrs. Wells kisses Wells on the cheek.
MRS. WELLS Jim..
WELLS
It’s ok. I’m ok.
MRS. WELLS I-...Alright, then.
EXT. TULSA STREETS. OLD CIVIC. MORNING. More protests. Trash fires. A thief steals a woman’s purse.
EXT. SHOPPING PLAZA.
Old civic passes a “SUPERSTORE GRAND OPENING” banner and stops in front of the “Tulsa General Store.”
INT. TULSA GENERAL STORE.
Wells enters.
NICHOLAS
Howdy, officer. Can I do you fer?
WELLS
Like to get a coupla words if you don’t mind.
NICHOLAS
Sure thing.
WELLS
Know this woman?
Nicholas blinks at the sight of Grace’s photograph.
NICHOLAS
Nossir.
WELLS
You know it’s illegal to lie to an officer of the law, right.
He shrugs. Beat.
WELLS (CONT'D)
I saw you at her house yesterday, Nick. What’d she say to you?
Nicholas opens his mouth. He closes it.
WELLS (CONT'D)
I’m worried someone is going to get hurt, Nick.
Tears well in Nicholas’ eyes.
WELLS (CONT'D)
This woman murdered four people. Whatd’ya think she aims to do next? What’d she say, Nick.
Nicholas shuffles and averts his gaze. Chuckles.
NICHOLAS
That store. It’s going to ruin my life. I’ve got kids.
EXT. SUPERSTORE. SOMETIME LATER.
Grace exits the car and pulls out a heavy backpack from the back, nearly bumping into a young mother and her two children.
GRACE
Watch yer fuckin step. She staggers towards the entrance.
INT. DEPARTMENT STORE.
A shopping cart bumps into Grace.
SUICIDE NOTE (V.O. FEMALE VOICE) To whom it may concern, I’ve lost too much to care any more.
SHOPPER
(Smiling big) Pardon.
She grabs a cart and ambles down an aisle.
SUICIDE NOTE (V.O. MALE VOICE)
I ain’t worth a damn. I offer nothing. I am lost in a sea of scared and lonely people.
She pauses midway through an aisle and pulls out a few pills from her pocket, halfway raising them to her mouth. They fall scattering on the ground. She slaps her face but nothing gives. She places the backpack in the shopping cart.
SUICIDE NOTE (V.O. FEMALE VOICE) (CONT'D)
I am the by-product of your collective actions. I am a necessary reminder:
Grace looks around, opens the bag. There’s a red gas can.
SUICIDE NOTE (V.O. MALE VOICE) (CONT'D) Go fuck yourself.
She shakes her head.
GRACE (TO HERSELF) Fuck it all.
WELLS (O.C.)
Whatcha got there.
Grace doesn’t move.
WELLS (CONT'D) Easy.
Wells rests a hand on his gun.
GRACE
I ain’t got to tell you shit.
WELLS I don’t care.
She nods. GRACE Typical.
She laughs, then cries.
INT. DEPARTMENT STORE ENTRANCE.
A pair of black boots stride through the automatic doors.
Young mother with the two children gabs with store employee. They pause their conversation and turn their heads as a figure approaches.
Horror crosses their faces. Muted screams follow as the figure raises a shotgun and points it in their direction. Store employee is blown away, viscera and blood erupting from her neck and upper torso. The shotgun sways left and explodes young mother.
CUT TO:
INT. DEPARTMENT STORE AISLE. MOMENTS EARLIER.
Two shotgun blasts ring through the department store. Wells draws his pistol and points it at Grace.
WELLS What the fuck.
GRACE
(Coming to) I don’t know, I don’t know what that is.
More shots ring out and screams build throughout the store. Two teenagers appear between shopping lanes and collapse as they are shot in the back.
TRACKING SHOT.
Grace recoils with Wells. They simultaneously crouch and squat their way to the end of the aisle.
CLOSE SHOT.
GRACE (CONT'D) I’m carrying.
She lifts her shirt and hovers a hand over her gun. He nods. She draws her pistol.
WELLS POV.
Peeking between grocery store aisles, figure rushes into view between the checkout lines and aisles and drops the shotgun. He swings a strapped automatic rifle into his arms and checks the barrel. A trapped clerk makes a screaming dive with scissors and is gunned down en route.
CLOSE SHOT.
WELLS Flank.
Grace nods.
ABOVE AISLES WIDE SHOT.
Figure fires and pandemoniam ring out through the store. Glass shatters somewhere. Wells follows the figure parallel along aisles.
Several shoppers run as a group from their hiding spot and towards the front exit. The automatic tears through them. A young man screams in agony and attempts to drag himself the rest of the way.
WELLS POV.
Outside the paned windows, a vigilante wielding a revolver appears, failing to hide himself well. The gunman reloads and tracks him. Wells glances wide to see Grace who has appeared at the far end of the store with her sights aimed towards the gunman.
CLOSE SHOT.
Wells breathes deeply. His shaking hands pull back the slide. He nods to Grace as the gunman raises his rifle.
WELLS (CONT'D)
(To himself) This is your moment, Jim. You can do it.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Wells rises, steadily walking towards and holding his firearm in line with the gunman who shoots and executes the vigilante through the windows.
The first three rounds land short, ascending on a line with the gunman. The fourth and fifth rounds clip him in the hip and side of his bulletproof vest. The jolt brings the gunman face-to-face with Wells along with his rifle, which spreads a chain of bullets across him. Blood spurts from Wells’ exposed shoulder and right leg, leveling the man. CUT
CLOSE SHOT.
GRACE is frozen.
GRACE POV.
The gunman leans on an aisle, drops the automatic, and withdraws a handgun. He hops towards Wells. We hear faint desperate murmuring and pleading.
MEDIUM TRACK SHOT.
The gunman raises his pistol.
GRACE POV.
The two exchange indiscernible dialogue. Wells becomes visible for a moment to spot Grace hesitating. She could move now but chooses to stay.
MEDIUM TRACK SHOT.
The gunman executes Wells. Grace emerges from her hiding spot. She fires and hits the gunman’s lower torso and legs. His body folds backwards.
They exchange fire. The gunman fires blindly and is lucky to catch her in the stomach. Grace lands her remaining rounds into the mass of body and armor. CUT
The gunman is sprawled on his back, spurting blood. Grace appears, standing over him. She kicks off his helmet, revealing the young skinny cowboy from her brothel.
CLOSE SHOT.
Skinny cowboy smiles.
SKINNY COWBOY Do it.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Grace fires a round into his kneecap. He screams. She fires a round into his other kneecap. He screams again. She shakes her head and looks up to the sky.
SKINNY COWBOY (CONT'D) DO IT!
A boot presses the boy’s face profile with the ground. His body protests.
GUNMAN
She fires.
MEDIUM SHOT.
Grace wobbles backwards several steps and collapses.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM. MORNING. SIX DAYS LATER.
TEXT: e. LOVE.
“LOVE” is crossed out and replaced with “FAME.”
CLOSE SHOT.
Francene, middle-aged, texts furiously. Grace shifts.
FRANCENE
There she is. Welcome back, sleeping beauty.
GRACE
Where am I?
FRANCENE
St. Francis Memorial.
Grace feels herself.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
Yup. Still in one piece.
GRACE
What’s...
Pause. Francene nods.
FRANCENE
What’s. Beat. Did you know the world record for sleeping is 11 consecutive days? 17 year old young man kept himself awake for 11 days. Second place goes to a British hypnotist at 8 days.
GRACE
Admirable.
FRANCENE
11 days, can you imagine. Staying awake I mean. The sleeping part is easy. Funny how ‘it all’ balances out.
GRACE
Don’t think I catch your meaning.
MEDIUM SHOT.
The room is adorned with get well cards, flowers, etc. Francene leans back and holds up a piece of candy.
FRANCENE
How long do you think you’ve been lying there?
GRACE
I dunno.
FRANCENE
Oh come on, be fun, play along. Take a guess.
GRACE
Three days?
FRANCENE
Francene throws her the candy.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
I was -this close- to calling the world records folks to get nab you second place, and here you go and ruin it all by waking up.
Grace smirks, unwrapping the candy.
GRACE
Sorry to disappoint.
Francene shrugs.
FRANCENE
Not going to ask me who I am or why I’m here?
GRACE
Wasn’t planning on it.
FRANCENE
You’re a charmer, huh. I like that. Who would expect anything less than fire from our little Annie Oakley.
GRACE
Your what?
Francene turns on the TV. “Annie Oakley” headlines, playback of b-roll, overlap the spanning week. She turns the TV off.
FRANCENE
You’re a bonafide hero.
Francene inspects Grace.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
Kinda thought I’d get a little more of a reaction.
Grace stirs.
GRACE
I think...I need a drink.
Her eyes well up with tears.
FRANCENE
Aw hun, I know. He deserved it. The man was a monster.
GRACE
She shakes her head, and Francene moves to comfort her.
FRANCENE
Ok, ok. Easy now. Take a breath and listen to me. As of today, there are two stories. One: a simple housewife loses her husband and son only to find herself fighting for her life at every turn.
GRACE
And the other?
FRANCENE
Is unconfirmable. Conspiracy nonsense. The beauty about me loveI don’t care. This world has always been mad. What matters is that I think you’re amazing. We need more people like you. Plus- you’re a book.
GRACE A book?
FRANCENE
Mmhm. A book. You like money? Big piles of money. Fuck you money.
Grace lays her head on her pillow and closes her eyes.
GRACE
Why not.
FRANCENE
Why not! So here here’s my pitch. If you follow me, I promise to show you how...
Francene furnishes a packet of paper. Grace signs.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
Oh. You don’t want to read it?
GRACE
Nope.
FRANCENE
Great. Great.
Francene hands Grace a check.
GRACE POV.
The check is for $50,000.
CLOSE SHOT.
Francene grins at Grace’s surprise.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
You don’t talk to anyone about anything without clearing it through me. Ok?
GRACE Ok.
FRANCENE
Serious now.
GRACE Ok.
FEMALE VOICE
Now repeat after me hun: Selfdefense is a human right...
GRACE
(Mimics) Self-defense is a human right.
FRANCENE
I did what anyone would have done.
GRACE
I did what anyone would have done.
FRANCENE
You’re fun. This is gonna be fun.
EXT. HOSPITAL.
JUMP CUT TO:
Francene rolls Grace out of the hospital. A crowd of people holding signs cheer. Reporters call her name.
FRANCENE
Y’all know the drill. Leave the woman be. You’ve got my number.
REPORTER
Just one statement.
Grace grips the wheels and pulls the chair to a halt.
REPORTER (CONT'D)
Why do you think the police have an active investigation open for you?
GRACE
They do?
REPORTER
What did Wells say to you?
GRACE
Look here, all you need to know is I don’t live up on some hill. I live down here. And down here, selfdefense is not only a right, it’s a requirement.
REPORTER
Millions of people have been waiting to hear your side of the story. Do you have anything to say to them?
GRACE
I want to believe that I did what anyone would’ve done. I mean. My god. What a world.
FRANCENE
That’ll do it, everyone. You all have my card.
They move through the crowd.
INT. FANCY OFFICE. STUDIO. NEXT DAY.
A photographer adjusts some lights. Grace and France enter.
FRANCENE
Hun, this might be uncomfortable but we need you to disrobe. I promise everything will stay...
Grace is already kicking off her pants and move to the lights. Photographer pauses and grins at Francene.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
Don’t look at me, do your god damn job.
A camera fires bursts shots.
FLASH CUT TO:
INT. FANCY OFFICE. CONFERENCE ROOM.
A large digital 3D image of GRACE, adorning a cowboy hat, boots, and chaps rotates on a monitor. A mouse clicks a button turning the hat into braids.
FRANCENE
Ah I like that. Cut the chaps too.
Another click. The pants disappear revealing GRACE’s bare legs and panties. Another click. Chaps to blue jeans.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
What about one of those...
She snaps her fingers.
GRACE Bluejean skirt.
Another click. A vintage bluejean skirt.
FRANCENE
What do we think, Fred?
An older man Fred strokes his mustache and considers.
FRED
I like it. Think it’ll be too on the nose?
FRANCENE
Irony is in, Fred. Our undecideds won’t feel threatened. Moderates love the throwback. And the saints... those retards like anything we do.
A light peal of laughter.
FRED
And your projections?
FRANCENE
So focus groups are through the roof. Solid street cred. No bullshit. Straight shooterliterally.
Another series of chuckles.
FRED Francene.
FRANCENE
We’re looking at 4-5 million connections. Increase of about.. 2.3 Million. 3 at the high end.
FRED Mmhm.
FRANCENE
It’s worth it, Fred. Let’s ride it out.
GRACE Plus I-
Grace pushes aside the assistant working the computer and clicks the mouse. The clothes disappear off the image, revealing her topless image.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Look at those tits. I mean c’mon.
FRANCENE
Soak it up, boys.
Genial appreciation and whistling. Fred smiles broadly and palms the table.
JIM
Sold! Welcome aboard, Grace. Anything you need, you let Francene here know.
Fred and the others exit.
CLOSE SHOT.
Francene leans in to Grace.
FRANCENE
Try not to talk over me during these things, ok?
GRACE
‘Course. Sorry bout that.
FRANCENE
It’s nothing.
She picks up her phone and starts texting.
GRACE
So, uh, what is all this for?
Francene looks up.
FRANCENE
Seriously? We’re caught in a war between opposing ideals. A multilateral offensive that seeks to strip the individual of their rights and subject them to various human rights crimes.
Pause.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
We’re selling guns.
GRACE
Ah.
FRANCENE Problem?
GRACE
Nah.
FRANCENE
Need anything?
GRACE
Coke?
A-Cola?
Grace cocks her head.
FRANCENE
SNORT CUT TO:
EXT. OUTDOOR GUN RANGE. SOCIAL MEDIA VIDEO.
GRACE
Hi everyone! What a blessed day! I’m here at Nick’s Shooter’s Paradise outside of Tulsa holding the infamous Remmington 1911 model used in the department store shooting. The fellas at NicksCamera flashes to two gun range employees.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Were nice enough to recreate the targets for me. Using this range and ones like it where custom scenarios can be created are a beneficial way for our veterans or anyone who’s undergone trauma to reduce PTSD. Here we go.
TRACKING SHOT.
Camera follows her through the course. She moves down cardboard aisles and fires on targets.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Woo! Alright, y’all. Stay safe out there. At the end of the day, ain’t nobody looking out for you but yourself.
INT. FANCY OFFICE. CONFERENCE ROOM.
SNORT CUT TO:
Francene holds up a check and a straw. A loud sound of snorting...
SNORT CUT TO:
INT. GRACE’S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM.
Carries us to the space configured for a television interview. Grace and a reporter sit opposite of one another.
REPORTER
What was going through your mind at that moment when you knew, you had to choose. You could turn and leave or push forward...
GRACE
I thought... god dammit. (Sorry). I thought, be the change. We’re in a pivotal moment in society, ya know. I’ve never felt held. By anyone. Ever. My husband... he...
She wipes a tear away.
REPORTER
Terrible story. I’m so sorry for your loss.
GRACE
When he did what he did, I asked myself. How hard was the fight? How hard is it to get up and say I exist, dangit. I deserve to live.
REPORTER
And that’s when you went to Wells?
GRACE
I saw Mr. Wells. I saw the gunman, playing judge and jury, and I said, I’ll fight for you. Kill me if you must. But at least I’m not going quietly...but I was too late.
REPORTER
GRACE. It’s been an absolute pleasure. Anything you’d like to say to your fans, the community,...America?
GRACE
Just- Keep fighting the good fight. The system is rigged against all of us, but that doesn’t mean it has to pit us against one another.
REPORTER (O.C.)
Very nice. We got it, everyone.
WIDE SHOT.
Everyone in the room is wearing nice tops, blazers, and no pants. Reporter snorts a line off a plate.
SNORT CUT TO:
INT. FANCY OFFICE. AFTERNOON.
Francene hands Grace a straw, but grips the check steadily. They speak quickly.
FRANCENE
‘The system is rigged against all of us?’
GRACE
No good?
FRANCENE
It’s borderline anarchist.
GRACE
Right, sorry. Sorry.
FRANCENE
It’s fine, I mean, it does work with our libertarian base, but those kooks will go for anything. Remember it’s the moderates we want.
GRACE Gotcha. Moderates.
Francene’s phone vibrates.
FRANCENE
Wow-wow-wee-woo. 18 Mother. Fucking. Million. Followers.
GRACE
18 million. Wow-wow-wee-woo.
Fred bursts into the room.
JIM
18 MILLION.
He holds up a rolled up $100 bill. Sniffing goes around.
SNORT CUT TO:
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD. AFTERNOON. A SOCIAL MEDIA VIDEO.
Grace walks up the middle of the street.
GRACE
Hey everyone, Blap, Blap! I’m on Sycamore Lane.
(MORE)
GRACE (CONT'D)
This road has 14 houses in default. 14 houses with 14 families. And I. Bought. THEM. ALL. Plus the street.
The camera points to people watching from their windows. She fires a couple of rounds into the air.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Come on out! Everyone come on out!
Back to Grace.
Total debts were passed off and folded into a package. Not to bore y’all with math, hold tight.
Text is superimposed.
GRACE (CONT'D)
14 houses averaged only $37,000 each in total debt. 14 times $37,000 is exactly: $518,000 (or half a million). Our good friends at Smith&Wesson found their combined debtors and offered $25,000 for each and PAID their mortgages. Left the titles in their names. These people don’t even know it...their homes are fully owned!
She knocks on a door. A nervous man Cliff answers.
CLIFF
Yeah? Oh my god, you’re- Honey!
GRACE
Is this the Webbers’? Cliff and JoAnn Webber?
Joann comes to the door.
CLIFF Yess’m.
GRACE
Well Smith&Wesson just paid your debt. The home is yours now.
Joann cries.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Plus a brand new 9mm to boot!
CLIFF
This can’t be...
Grace unholsters her gun.
GRACE
You better believe it!
Grace proffers some cocaine. Cliff and Joann exchange looks. He shrugs and takes a bump. They fire their guns into the air. Grace points the camera back at herself.
GRACE (CONT'D)
I’d like to see your banks and federal government do this-fuckingshit!
Likes and hearts and a unique “S” symbol filter through the live stream.
EXT. TULSA CITY.
A cop shouts at a vandal spraypainting a large “S” symbol on a building.
WIDE SHOT.
The cop races to the vandal and stops abruptly when he sees how many downtown buildings have been tagged with an “S.”
INT. FANCY OFFICE. AFTERNOON.
Francene holds two checks.
FRANCENE
I’d like to see your banks and federal government do this shit?
Grace, what the fuck.
GRACE
I got carried away.
FRANCENE
You think?! For the last time, you’re not anti-establishment. You’re pro-gun.
Grace thumps her head.
GRACE
Pro-gun, pro-gun...
Pause.
FRANCENE
Are you fucking with me?
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
Don’t fuck with me. I will pull the plug on this whole life, girl.
GRACE
I ain’t.
FRANCENE
Not. Stop pretending to be a hick around me too.
GRACE
I’m not. Beat.
FRANCENE
The ghostwriter is done with the meat of the book and needs to sit down with your parents to get your background. A chapter or two at the most. You want to set that up or-
GRACE
I will.
FRANCENE
Anything we need to know?
GRACE
No. I just... What if we did two books? The first one centered on this and the next on a deep dive.
FRANCENE
Oh I like that. Very good.
GRACE
Capitalize on the base.
FRANCENE
This one. She’s learning.
Fred collides through the conference room door.
JIM
ONE HUNDRED. FIFTY. MILLION.
Francene drops her phone. Fred howls. Francene howls. They all howl.
SNORT CUT TO:
EXT. ANOTHER LOWER CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD. SOCIAL MEDIA LIVE STREAM. ONE MONTH LATER.
People are lined up in the street watching Grace’s broadcast.
GRACE
See this street? Mine. Houses? MINE. You watch-I get PAID-I buy HOUSES-You FUCK-You get HOUSES. Now get over here, babycakes.
A middle aged woman Amy enters the frame.
GRACE (CONT'D)
What’s your name?
AMY
Amy.
GRACE
Amy- you want your house or do you want me to demolish it?
AMY
I want it!
GRACE
Alright you know the deal, Spin. Those. Wheels!
Amy spins a large wheel with addresses on it and another with sexual acts.
AMY
Oh please let it be Harry or Vince.
The first wheel lands on ‘455 Hillcrest Lane.’ The second lands on ‘Oral Sex.’ Cheers and applause.
GRACE
Uh oh, 455 Hillcrest. Who lives in that shithole?
An old woman approaches. Amy is upset.
GRACE (CONT'D)
You know the deal. 10 full minutes or to orgasm, whichever comes first. So. Amy. What’ll it be? Do you want your house... or do we demolish it?
Camera moves to a bulldozer that raises and lowers its arm. Streams of hearts and exclamation points pass through the social media feed. Amy’s neighbors begin to cheer her on.
AMY I’ll...I’ll do it.
GRACE
This stream comes with an 18 or older disclaimer. Contestants are free individuals choosing to perform sexual acts.
The camera swings to a police car and unhappy officers at the base of the neighborhood.
GRACE (CONT'D)
AND THIS IS PRIVATE FUCKING PROPERTY. PROCEED!
General cheers and hoopla. Amy goes down on the old lady.
GRACE (CONT'D)
You boys laugh, you’ll be buttfucking next mark my words. Let’s take a commercial break for some porn sites, gun commercials, and I dunno, whatever else those corporate shills are paying to...yadda yadda...
EXT. MASSAGE PARLOR. WEEKS LATER.
A contractor attempts to paint over a huge “S” that has been spraypainted on the side of the building.
TEXT: ‘f. Security & Safety’ is crossed out and ‘f. POWER’
INT. MASSAGE PARLOR. UNDERSHOTS.
Fred’s face pressed into the massage chair.
FRED
150 million, Charlie. 2 million in Okla--ahhhh-oma alone. Don’t fuck around. You and I both know what that means.
CHARLIE
(Groaning) I’m not saying we don’t want her endorsement...
FRED
Need, Charlie. Need.
CHARLIE
I’m not saying we don’t want her endorsement. The governor is concerned about that amount of extremist rhetoric that comes with it and rightly so.
FRED Malarky.
CHARLIE
Side note: you should be too, frankly. The whole dang state is getting tagged in that...
FRED
I know, I know.
FRANCENE
Primaries are in the bag. General is coming up.
CLOSE SHOT.
Francene rolls over and props her arms under her head.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
What if over the next month, on a PAC-funded endeavor, you were to feed us aggressive talking points to support your message.
CHARLIE
I’m listening.
FRANCENE
The governor can’t be so plainspoken, so here’s what we do- Grace goes on the huge annual gun show circuit, selling her book and inciting the base with all the things our man can’t say directly.
Fred rolls over.
FRED
You’ll be running two very public campaign trails at the same time. Your conservative one and our...moderate one.
CHARLIE
Grace- you’re on board with all this?
OVERHEAD SHOT.
Grace is getting fingered under her towel by the masseuse.
GRACE
Does a tranny democrat butt-rape taxpayer dollars?
FRANCENE (O.C.)
We’ll work on the language.
CHARLIE (O.C.)
I dunno, she’s got a point.
Laughter. The masseuse watches Grace who shows no arousal.
GRACE
What? Don’t fuckin’ look at me. This dude thinks we’re in love over here.
OVERHEAD OF THE ROOM.
More laughter. Everyone is getting happy endings.
JIM
Yeah, don’t look at me either.
FRANCENE
Whore.
EXT. GUNSHOW PARKING LOT. MORNING. TWO MONTHS LATER.
People mill in from the parking lot. Guns and money pass hands between trucks. A “Don’t Tread on Me” flag. A “LBGT: Liberty, Beer, Guns, Trump” bumper sticker.
OVERHEAD SHOT.
The meandering line of people make a large, prominent “S”.
EXT. FRONT GATE.
Bodyguards push attendees aside as Grace and a rapidly texting Francene make their way through the crowd.
John leans on an unstable post. He coolly tips his hat.
INT. GUNSHOW BOOTH.
The entourage arrives at a booth. A fan bumps into a poster marketing Grace’s book Grace under Fire.
GRACE
Easy with that.
She points her index finger as a gun. The fan scambles to upright the poster and holds their hands high. Onlookers laugh and applaud.
JUMP CUT TO:
INT. GUNSHOW BOOTH. AFTERNOON.
A signed book closes and is passed to a fan. Francene taps away on her cell. The air is chilly between them.
GRACE
Let’s call it.
FRANCENE (Unmoved) 20 more.
GRACE
I said let’s call it.
Francene keeps texting. Grace tilts her head in her direction. Francene shows no effort in responding.
CLOSE POV.
A book drops in front of Grace.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Howdy partner. Who’s it to.
FRANK
Frank.
GRACE
Alright, Franky-boy.
Grace opens the book.
GRACE’s POV.
A note falls out of the sleeve. She picks it up. It reads “WE NEED TO TALK. 568.893.3345. S.”
Pause.
FRANK
Frank. With an ‘S.’
Francene glances up. Grace passes the book back.
GRACE
Funny. Don’t quit your day job.
Frank exits. Grace stands and exits the back of the tent.
FRANCENE
Alright everyone, hate to do it, but our Annie Oakley needs a break. Come back in an hour.
EXT. BEHIND THE TENT.
Francene enters under a flap. Grace staggers to finish chugging a beer.
FRANCENE
Bitch- 20 means 20.
GRACE
(Slow exhale) Don’t fucking talk to me like that. And stop calling me Annie-God-Damn-Oakley.
FRANCENE
Excuse me?
Let it go.
GRACE
FRANCENE
You know you have been a proper cunt these past two months.
GRACE
You ain’t exactly roses, lady.
FRANCENE
Jesus fuck woman. I’ve given you the world. The world. And you stick your damn nose up at me? Look at yourself for chrissakes.
Francene blows a line.
GRACE
Say one more word.
FRANCENE
Ooooh, what if I cross this line, huh?
She toes a line in the dirt with her boot. Beat.
GRACE
I’m serious. One more word.
FRANCENE
Or you’re-
Grace squares off with Francene, resting a hand on her holster. Francene balks at first, then steels herself.
FRANCENE (CONT'D)
Well. (Her voice breaks) I ain’t got all day.
Grace smirks, tosses the bottle, and reenters the tent, shoving past a shaken Francene.
INT. GUNSHOW BOOTH.
Grace, seated, is falling apart. She is having a hard time doing anything. A boy giggles. A book drops on the table.
GRACE
Yeah?
JOHN
Make it out to an old friend.
GRACE
(Flatly) John.
JOHN
In the flesh.
GRACE
Is that with or without an ‘H’?
JOHN
(Whispering) Make it out with three ‘O’s.
He smiles.
GRACE
Uh huh-
She writes “FUCK OFF” in big letters and signals to a security guard who escorts John away.
JOHN
Sure, you’re busy, I get it. We’ll catch up in a bit.
Francene enters.
FRANCENE
I gotta do something real quick. I’ll be back.
She exits.
Another book drops.
Uh-huh.
GRACE
MRS. WELLS (O.C.) Why was he following you? In the store?
GRACE
Huh?
Grace looks up to see Mrs. Wells.
MRS. WELLS
My husband. What were you two talking about in the store.
GRACE
I don’t know what th-
MRS. WELLS Tell me.
GRACE
There ain’t nothing to tell.
MRS. WELLS
I saw the footage. You paused. You got my husband killed.
Mrs. Wells lurches towards Grace, knocking the table and her chair somersaulting backwards. Grace draws her pistol.
MRS. WELLS (CONT'D)
DO IT. That’s what you want. MURDERER. FUCKING WHORE.
Crowds form. Cell phones raise. Security approaches.
MRS. WELLS (CONT'D) She killed my husband. In that department store shooting. Why was he there Grace? He was following her, and now she wants to kill me too.
GRACE
This woman... attacked me outta no where...I...
DAD (O.S.)
Gracie Jean!
Grace turns. Francene is with an old man, Grace’s dad.
FRANCENE
Grace. Are you the girl who got attacked by those cannibals all those years ago?
DAD
Gracie, baby, put down the gun. Your old man is here.
GRACE
I didn’t..she made me..
MRS. WELLS
She’s crazy, I knew it.
Grace steps backwards. Everything fades away except John, Francene, her dad, and Mrs. Wells. Her son Cayden appears.
GRACE
Cayden...baby...honey...I...
Grace takes another step back and an arm appears through the flap, seizing her hand. A single shot rings out. The crowd dives for cover.
EXT. BEHIND THE TENT.
Frank leads Grace by the hand through a dark, obscure crowd. The sea of people parts and hands reach out to touch her.
GRACE
(Crying)...what’s happening...
FRANK
You didn’t call.
GRACE
(Sobbing) My baby..why...what’d...
FRANK
You don’t realize how important you are, Grace.
GRACE
I’m not.
She begins to notice how everyone is watching her.
FRANK
We need you.
GRACE
You don’t. I’m messed up.
FRANK We do.
GRACE
For what?
INT. LARGE TENT.
Folding chairs, tables, and charts fill the tent. A giant “S” on a banner. Serious, contemplating conspirators engage in debate. A hush goes over the room as Grace and Frank enter.
FRANK
A revolution.
A man approaches. Grace sniffles dejectedly.
CORIOLANUS
Grace. My name is Coriolanus.
GRACE
Hi Corey.
CORIOLANUS Coriolanus.
GRACE
Corey-oleCORIOLANUS Anus.
GRACE Anus.
CORIOLANUS
Coriolanus. And we need you GRACE, more than you know.
GRACE
Okay.
CORIOLANUS
Our great state has been oppressed by the tyranny of federal governance for far too long.
GRACE
Oh.
CORIOLANUS
We need a symbol. Fierocity of Joan of Arc. The strong will of Qiu Jin. The tenacity of Leading Liberty Marienne. You.
GRACE
Me.
CORIOLANUS
That’s right.
GRACE
What do you need me to do?
CORIOLANUS
In a few moments, our Governor, the man you’ve been lobbying for these past few months, will be taking questions from the audience. We want you... to speak on our behalf.
GRACE
What do you want me to say?
CORIOLANUS
Ask him... whatever you want.
GRACE
Whatever I want?
CORIOLANUS
That’s it.
Frank leads Grace to the exit.
CORIOLANUS (CONT'D)
And Grace-
They stop.
CORIOLANUS (CONT'D)
Remember. It’s your world. Say...do... whatever you’d like.
EXT. GUNSHOW ARENA.
Grace is swept past a small line and banner with the Governor’s face that reads: “Make Oklahoma OK-ay” and up to security. The security officer waves his wand over Grace and her holster. The alarm rings and a red light flashes.
VILLAGER DRESSED AS A SECURITY OFFICER
Good to go.
GRACE
But what about-
VILLAGER DRESSED AS A SECURITY OFFICER
Good to go. Ma’am.
INT. GUNSHOW ARENA.
A huge open space, previously used as a rodeo, seemingly encompasses an untold thralling mass of Tulsa citizens. Everything is shadowed, save a bright light on the governor who stands center stage. There’s a spotlight on a concerned citizen at a lecturn to ask questions.
CONCERNED CITIZEN
Thank you, sir.
Citizen steps out of the light. Grace is lifted by unseen hands to the lecturn.
GOVERNOR
My goodness, is it? Grace! Grace under Fire, herself, everyone.
General applause and shouts rings out.
GOVERNOR (CONT'D)
Now we have never formally met, little lady, but there’s no time like the present. What can we do for you here today? And if you’re hear to ask for lighter gun laws, then you’ve come to the right place, right folks?
A lone cough.
GRACE
Sir. I don’t want to talk about guns.
GOVERNOR
Well that’s alright. What’s on your mind?
GRACE
What’s... on my mind.
Cayden takes her hand. She looks into her son’s eyes. Tears stream down her face.
GRACE (CONT'D)
My boy. He’s always on my mind. She stifles a sob.
GOVERNOR
Oh my. It’s alright. It’s okay.
GRACE
When the market flipped, my husband killed himself and took my son with him.
GOVERNOR
Grace. I’m so sorry.
GRACE
And I look at... I look at this state. The land around us. And I want to know, how do we not get to keep our homes? There’s no one else to put in them.
GOVERNOR
Grace. It’s complicated. There’s so many parties involved. Federal, state funding. Interoperability within the banking structure. The macro economics alone would take us all month to work through.
Grace looks at her open hand. Cayden is gone.
GRACE
Then I don’t want any of it.
GOVERNOR
I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but that’s just how it is. We’re setting up protective measure to ensure-
GRACE
Enough. Enough. I want out.
Governor chuckles.
GOVERNOR Sorry? Out?
GRACE
Of this conversation. This whole(Swirls her arms around) All of it.
GOVERNOR
There are other states and countries in this world, Grace. Could we get another question...
GRACE
No. You fucking used car salesman. Smooth talking piece of shit.
GOVERNOR (Waves) Alright that’s enough.
A broadcast camera emerges from the dark fog with an “On-Air” light.
GRACE
Put your own people out of their homes, families, out on the god damn street to die. To fight like dogs.
GOVERNOR Security.
GRACE
Making us tear each other apart for the right to live. Cannabalize ourselves. I want out. WE want OUT.
A loan voice shouts “SECEDE!”
GOVERNOR
Everyone calm down. Let’s not let this devolve into another separatist conversation. Society-
Grace looks into the audience. Weapons are drawn.
GRACE POV.
GRACE drops some pills on the lectern. She uses the butt of her gun to break them up.
GRACE
Ya know... you try and you try and no body listens.
She rails a line of a blue powder off the lecturn.
GRACE (CONT'D) BURN IT ALL. DEATH TO TYRANTS! SECEDE!
Grace raises her pistol. Half a dozen bodyguards appear on stage. Chaos explodes. Bullets fire to and fro. Agents fall one after another. A random audience member takes a bullet for Grace. Governor is shot and keels over.
EXT. TULSA STREETS. BANK. AFTERNOON.
A molotov cocktail flies through the lobby window of “National Bank.” Several gunmen pull men and women in suits from its front doors. They are lined up in the streets and executed.
EXT. OKLAHOMA CITY STREETS. CAPITOL COURTHOUSE. AFTERNOON.
A judge froths at the mouth and grips at a tassle wrapped around his neck as he is drug backwards through a grassy cistern. A woman screams as the rope around her neck becomes taut. She is hoisted squirming into the air. The yard is filled with people either hanged or being hanged.
EXT. OKLAHOMA CITY NEIGHBORHOOD. A STATE SENATOR’S HOME. AFTERNOON.
A senator hurredly beckons his family to get into the open car in the driveway. Several whistles. His wife screams. A mob with baseball bats close in on him as he waves his arms defenselessly.
EXT. STATE LINES. AN OPEN FIELD. AFTERNOON.
Grace smears red paint across her face and turns to face the throng of armed National Guards and Army men. Her horse gallops forward, revealing her exposed breasts and bandaged abdomen along with a larger and equally formidable line of Okie natives wielding weapons.
NATIONAL GUARD P.A. (O.C.)
Put down your weapons. Return to your homes.
GRACE
(Microphone) WE REVOKE YOUR LAWS. REMOVE YOURSELVES FROM OUR LAND.
NATIONAL GUARD P.A. (O.C.)
Put down your weapons. Return to your homes.
GRACE
YOU ARE OUT NUMBERED AND OUTGUNNED. REMOVE YOURSELF FROM OUR LAND.
INT. TENT. AFTERNOON.
The president smokes a cigar in deep contemplation.
PRESIDENT
If you damn fools want to shoot yourselves in the foot, then don’t let me stop you.
He strides to a table where Grace and two bodyguards await. He exhales deeply and signs a document.
PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
I’d say good luck, but I wouldn’t mean it. This is-
Grace spits in the president’s direction.
PRESIDENT (CONT'D)
You remember that for when your people start starving and you need my help.
GRACE
Get the fuck out.
INT. TELEVISION STUDIO. TWELVE YEARS LATER.
B-roll and voiceover of an evergreen news report. A graphic of the state of Oklahoma with the ‘barrel’ highlighted.
REPORTER (V.O.)
In an even more bizarre and stunning turn of events following Oklahoma’s secession from the United States- they’ve agreed to sell off the state’s ‘barrel’- over to Texas.
ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENTIST INTERVIEWEE
It was a rather ingenious move. Lower the population, center the footprint. The sale to Texas was a multi-year, multi-billion dollar deal. It now only funds but situates the state of Oklahoma as one large eco-farm.
A graphic overlays the state demarking large scale areas for: “COMPOST,” “WATER PROCESSING,” “LIVE STOCK,” “BASIC MATERIALS,” and “AGRICULTURE.”
ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENTIST INTERVIEWEE (CONT'D)
While the graphic is obviously generalized, the funding allows them to automate sustainability up to a point. Basic needs like water, food, and waste disposal run on a free, automated, deliverable system.
REPORTER
But at what cost? How has the culture shifted and what has happened to quality of life? For the first time recorded in over 10 years- I was able to secure an exclusive with Madam Grace outside the city of Tulsa.