eight millimeter
written by
Andrew Kevin Walker
5/06/97
first
INT. MIAMI AIRPORT, TERMINAL -- DAY
Amongst the weary tourist families and solitary businessmen
sits TOM WELLES, middle-aged, hair neat, suit crisp and
gray. He's eating crackers from a cellophane package,
sipping soda from a paper cup, watching an ARRIVAL GATE.
AT THE GATE
PASSENGERS arrive: the paunchy, graying men of First Class
leading the pack, except for a handsome YOUNG REPUBLICAN
poster boy hurrying along.
ACROSS THE TERMINAL
Welles gets up and FOLLOWS...
EXT. MIAMI AIRPORT, CURBSIDE -- DAY
Welles comes outside, squinting in the sun, moving down the
sidewalk, looking back over his shoulder...
The Young Republican is lead to a waiting LIMO by a DRIVER.
Welles moves to the nearby TAXI STAND...
INT. TAXI -- DAY
Welles gets in, turning in his seat to watch behind.
CAB DRIVER
Where to?
Welles keeps watching, sees the limo pull away and pass.
WELLES
Follow that limousine. Don't get
too close, don't let it get too far
away. Just keep with it.
CAB DRIVER
You kidding?
WELLES
Nope.
The cab set in motion. Welles takes out cigarettes,
lighting one, takes out a small NOTEPAD and makes notations.
CAB DRIVER
Uh, listen... you're not supposed to
be smoking in here. I'm sorry,
that's company policy...
WELLES
How about this... every cigarette I
smoke, I give you five dollars?
CAB DRIVER
Okay... okay, yeah, that'd be good...
EXT. MIAMI BEACH, "GOLD COAST" -- DAY
In front of an Art Deco hotel, the driver opens the
limousine door and the Young Republican steps out.
ACROSS THE STREET
Welles watches from inside the double-parked taxicab.
EXT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY
Not exactly four-star. "AD LT MOVIES EVERY ROOM."
INT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY
Welles is asleep on the bed, full dressed, hands folded
across his stomach, snoring lightly, sweaty.
INT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE, RESTAURANT -- DAY
Welles sits alone at the bar, eating a sandwich, bored. He
watches some fuzzy ESPN on the t.v., looks at his watch.
EXT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY
Welles walks across the parking lot, gets into his RENTAL
CAR, starts it and drives away.
EXT. MIAMI BEACH DISCOTHEQUE -- NIGHT
Young Republican and a GAUDY WOMAN exit the disco, MUSIC
THROBBING out from the doors behind them. They join hands,
drunk, heading to the street, looking for their limo.
DOWN THE STREET
Welles is seated in his parked rental car, raises a CAMERA
with TELEPHOTO LENS: whir, CLICK, whir, CLICK, whir, CLICK...
Welles lowers the camera, letting out a yawn.
INT. AIRPLANE, COACH -- NIGHT
The familiar DRONE of flight. Welles is shoehorned into his
aisle seat, using tiny utensils to eat his tiny meal.
An OLDER WOMAN arrives in the aisle. Welles picks up his
tray, closes his tray table, unbuckling his seatbelt,
struggling to get up... finally successful, balancing his
tray, letting the woman in to the window seat.
OLDER WOMAN
Thank you.
Welles nods, forcing a smile, sitting back down. He returns
to toiling over his miniature supper.
EXT. HARRISBURG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- NIGHT
Welles' AIRPLANE ROARS down with a SCREECH, landing lights
gleaming. The airport is small, relatively isolated.
TITLE: Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
INT. HARRISBURG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- NIGHT
Passengers arrive. Welles is with them, searching the few
PEOPLE waiting in the terminal hallway. Welles smiles...
Welles' wife, AMY, smiles when she sees him. She's plain
and pretty, holding one hand on a BABY STROLLER beside her.
Welles comes to her, embracing her, appreciating her.
AMY
Welcome home.
WELLES
Do you know how much I missed you?
They kiss, but Amy pulls away, sniffs him.
AMY
What's this... have you been
smoking... ?
WELLES
Smoking? I'm not smoking.
AMY
Your clothing reeks of it.
WELLES
You know, Amy, I've been sitting
around in bars and everywhere
following this guy... I mean, is
this what I get first thing? Before
you even "hello," you accuse me... ?
AMY
I'm not accusing you...
WELLES
Well, I'm not smoking, okay?
AMY
Okay, I believe you.
WELLES
We've been all through that. I've
been on my best behavior.
Welles bends to the stroller, picks up his infant daughter,
CINDY, and hoists her in the air, overjoyed.
WELLES
Hello, pumpkin-head, did you miss
me? I sure missed you...
He kisses the happy child, holding her in one arm.
WELLES
Let's get my bags and get the hell
out of here.
Welles pulls Amy close and kisses her again, leads the way.
Amy follows, pushing the stroller.
AMY
How's the detective business?
WELLES
Business was fine. I'll tell you
what, you couldn't pay me enough to
live down there.
AMY
You better not be smoking, that's
all I can say.
WELLES
Honey, I'm not, please...
Amy takes Welles hand, smiling at him.
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BEDROOM -- NIGHT
Welles and Amy make love in the darkness. Standard,
missionary position sex, little passion. They slow to a
finish, uneventfully, holding each other. Their breathing
quiets. Their daughter CINDY can be HEARD CRYING elsewhere.
Welles kisses his wife again, rolls off of her and sits on
the edge of the bed. Amy covers herself.
AMY
I love you.
WELLES
I love you.
He looks towards her in the dark. He gets up, gets a towel
from the bathroom and wraps it around him.
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BABY'S ROOM -- NIGHT
Cindy's crying. Welles enters, goes to lean into the crib.
WELLES
What's all the trouble, Cinderella?
What are you crying about, huh?
He lifts and cradles Cindy, comforting her.
EXT. HARRISBURG CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING --DAY
A small city of moderate architecture facing the Susquehanna.
INT. OFFICE -- DAY
An old money office with windows over the river. A well-to-
do POLITICIAN looks unhappily through PHOTOS on his desk.
Welles sits by the Pennsylvania state flag, watching.
PHOTOS show the Young Republican and Gaudy Woman in Miami:
leaving the Art Deco hotel, the Discotheque, a restaurant...
WELLES
Your son-in-law dealt with the dry
cleaning franchise during the day,
saw that woman every night.
(clears his throat)
The specifics are in the report, and
information about the woman. It's
unpleasant, I know. I apologize...
POLITICIAN
None too discreet, is he?
WELLES
No, sir, he is not.
POLITICIAN
He's an imbecile. I tried to warn
my daughter, but what can you do?
The politician shakes his head in disgust. Welles rises.
WELLES
The um... you'll find my invoice in
the envelope. If that's all...
POLITICIAN
Yes, Mister Welles, thank you.
WELLES
Certainly, Senator. If I can ever
be of further assistance.
Welles leaves, glances back, shuts the door.
EXT. HARRISBURG STREETS -- DAY
Welles drives his plain Ford past the CAPITAL BUILDING.
EXT. HARRISBURG, BRIDGE -- DAY
Welles' car crosses the Susquehanna, leaving the city.
EXT. WELLES' HOUSE, BACKYARD -- DAY
Sunny day. Welles wears tan khakis, T-shirt and fishing
cap, mowing his lawn with his ROARING lawnmower. Welles'
yard is modest, surrounding his modest split level suburban
one in a neighborhood of similar homes and similar yards.
Welles turns the lawnmower, stopping to mop his brow. One
of his neighbors is repainting a back porch. The neighbor
waves. Welles waves, resumes mowing.
INT. BOWLING ALLEY -- NIGHT
MUSIC'S LOUD. League Night. Every lane full. Welles is
with his team in BOWLING SHIRTS. Welles hoists his ball,
preparing to bowl. He takes three steps, releases...
Down the lane, PINS SCATTER. One pin remains standing.
Welles balls up his fists and curses, walks back towards his
rowdy, mocking teammates. He shouts back at them, laughing,
grabbing his beer and drinking, waiting at the ball return.
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT
Dinner. Welles and Amy eat at the kitchen table with Cindy
in a high chair. Amy feeds Cindy between bites. Welles is
still in his league shirt.
AMY
You think you'll have time for the
water heater this weekend?
WELLES
Sure. I'll call the guy.
AMY
You're not using the same guy who
tried to fix it?
WELLES
I'm not using him again for
anything. He was worthless.
(eating)
You have bridge here Saturday?
AMY
Betty's out of town so we're playing
next week.
Welles nods, eating. He watches Amy feed Cindy. The PHONE
starts RINGING. Welles goes to answer it.
WELLES
(into PHONE)
Hello. Yes... could you hold on a
minute...?
Welles hands the phone to Amy, pats Cindy's head as he heads
downstairs, through the LIVING ROOM...
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, OFFICE -- NIGHT
Welles enters his well kept OFFICE, turns on a light at the
desk. The room is filled with FILE CABINETS and shelves of
BOOKS, hundreds of PHONE BOOKS and a COPY MACHINE. Welles
picks up the phone and cups the receiver.
WELLES
(shouts upstairs)
Okay, I've got it.
(into phone)
Hello... sorry, I was switching
phones. It's a pleasure to make
your acquaintance, Mrs. Christian.
(listens)
Yes. Yes, I understand... tomorrow
evening should be fine...
Welles listens, clears space on his desk, taking notes.
EXT. CHRISTIAN COMPOUND -- DUSK
A huge OLD WORLD MANSION is situated at the center of acres
of Pennsylvania forest and vast gardens. Welles' car heads
down a long tree lined drive, to the dark mansion.
INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, HALLWAY -- NIGHT
Welles follows a BUTLER down a long hall.
INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, LIBRARY -- NIGHT
The butler shows Welles in, shuts the door.
Towering SHELVES of BOOKS are serviced by ladders. Far
across the room, an old, sad woman, MRS. CHRISTIAN, sits
waiting with a tall, thin, sinister ghoul of a LAWYER.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Mister Welles. You're very prompt.
WELLES
I try to be.
Welles crosses towards them. It takes a while.
MRS CHRISTIAN
I appreciate your coming on such
short notice.
Mrs. Christian holds out her hand and Welles takes it.
MRS CHRISTIAN
This is Mister Longdale, my late
husband's attorney.
Welles shakes Longdale's limp hand, looking him over.
WELLES
Uh huh, pleasure.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Apparently Mr. Longdale has
something he feels he simply must
say before you and I speak.
LONGDALE
Yes, I do have something to say. I
insisted on being here as soon as I
heard Mrs. Christian contacted you.
WELLES
I'm listening.
LONGDALE
As Mr. Christian's attorney and one
of the executors of his estate, it
concerns me that a meeting of this
sort should take place without my
being asked to attend.
WELLES
Of what sort?
LONGDALE
You are a private investigator?
WELLES
That's right.
LONGDALE
Well, whatever reasons Mrs.
Christian has for engaging the
services of a private investigator,
I should certainly be a party to.
But, since she feels differently, I
can only go on the record as having
expressed my adamant disapproval.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Yes, how theatrical. So you've gone
on the record, and now perhaps you
should just be gone.
Longdale's irritated, but has no choice. He walks away.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Have a pleasant evening.
(to Welles)
Will you have tea, Mister Welles?
WELLES
Thank you.
Mrs. Christian begins pouring tea from the service on a
table. Welles watches Longdale exit.
WELLES
He's odd.
MRS CHRISTIAN
He's a lawyer.
(offers tea)
Please, sit, here...
Welles accepts a dainty tea cup and saucer, taking a seat.
MRS CHRISTIAN
I've spoken to friends of mine and
my husband's, in Harrisburg, in
Lancaster and Hershey. Asking about
you. I must say you have friends in
influential places.
WELLES
I've been privileged to provide
services for people I admire.
MRS CHRISTIAN
You are highly recommended. Praised
for your discretion... your strict
adherence to confidentiality.
Welles nods, sipping tea.
MRS CHRISTIAN
As you know, my husband passed away
recently. Two weeks ago now.
WELLES
My condolences.
MRS CHRISTIAN
His passing has left me with...
something of a dilemma. A terrible,
terrible dilemma.
WELLES
I'll do whatever I can to help.
Mrs. Christian studies Welles.
INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, MR CHRISTIAN'S OFFICE -- NIGHT
Mrs. Christian and Welles enter. This office has been lived
in for a lifetime. Giant DESK. AMERICAN FLAG. Walls
covered in old b+w PHOTOGRAPHS and ACHIEVEMENTS. A large,
baked enamel sign nailed up, "CHRISTIAN STEEL."
MRS CHRISTIAN
His inner sanctum.
Welles looks up at the OIL PAINTING over the fireplace: MR.
CHRISTIAN, a powerful, old man, posed with a dark, teeming,
industrial landscape behind him.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Not many people have been inside
this room.
Welles examines PHOTOS of Mr. Christian visiting various
STEEL PLANTS, COAL MINES and ground-breaking ceremonies,
shaking hands with WORKMEN, with POLITICIANS.
WELLES
Pittsburgh?
MRS CHRISTIAN
Mostly. That's where he started his
empire building.
(looks up at portrait)
He was a good man. Notorious as an
eccentric, but that was something he
cultivated. He wanted to be
legendary.
WELLES
He succeeded.
MRS CHRISTIAN
We were married forty-five years.
Hard even for me to imagine. We had
our troubles. There were plenty of
places for him to be other than
here, but he was always loyal to me,
and I to him. I loved him deeply.
Welles waits.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Do you carry a gun, Mr. Welles?
WELLES
I wear a gun when I can tell a
client expects me to. Other than
that, there's never any reason.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Just curious.
Mrs. Christian crosses to take down a PICTURE, revealing a
WALL SAFE. The safe is ajar, burnt and scarred, broken into.
MRS CHRISTIAN
My husband was the only one with the
combination to this safe. I knew
about it, but as far as I was
concerned it was none of my
business. Not till now, that is.
WELLES
You hired someone to open it. I'll
bet the lawyer loved that.
MRS CHRISTIAN
There was nothing he could do. My
husband left everything to me.
(looks at safe)
I prevented anyone from seeing the
contents. I felt these were my
husband's private things. I
didn't... I didn't realize...
WELLES
Do you want to tell me what you
found?
MRS CHRISTIAN
Cash, stock certificates, and this...
She takes something from her pocket, puts it on the desk: a
plastic bag containing a short 8MM FILM on a plastic reel.
MRS CHRISTIAN
It's a film... of a girl being
murdered.
WELLES
I'm afraid I don't...
MRS CHRISTIAN
This is a movie showing a girl being
murdered. She's sitting on a bed,
and a man rapes her... and he begins
to cut her with a knife...
(pause)
I only watched what I could.
Welles picks up the film, looks at it.
MRS CHRISTIAN
I didn't know what to think. I
can't tell you how horrible it's
been, to know this belonged to my
husband. To know that he watched
this... this atrocity. But, I can't
go to the police...
WELLES
Mrs. Christian... please, will you
sit down a moment?
(leads her to a chair)
I want you to listen carefully.
What you're talking about is a
"snuff film." But, from what I
know, snuff films are a kind of...
urban myth. Like, red light
district folklore. There's no such
thing, I can assure you.
Mrs. Christian shakes her head.
WELLES
Please, believe me. This is
probably a stag film. Simulated
rape. Hard to stomach, and it might
seem real, but there are ways of
making it look realistic... fake
blood and special effects...
MRS CHRISTIAN
No.
WELLES
If you were to study it you'd see
the camera cutting away... you'd see
the tricks they can play...
MRS CHRISTIAN
I'm telling you it's not that.
WELLES
I'm sure it is.
(smiles)
It's probably something your husband
was given as a bad joke. More than
likely he never even watched it.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Will you watch it and see for
yourself?
WELLES
Of course. But, I'm certain it's
nothing to worry about.
INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, DINING ROOM -- NIGHT
An 8MM PROJECTOR faces a wall. Welles looks back to Mrs.
Christian in the doorway. Mrs. Christian leaves, shuts the
door. Darkness. Welles turns on the projector and sits.
The PROJECTOR CLATTERS, shooting bright images...
ON THE WALL: FLASH FRAMES, over exposure, then... the grainy
FILM is HAND HELD, constantly in motion, showing a skinny
GIRL, 16 or 17, in a negligee, sitting on a bed in a
nondescript room with little furniture. Looks like a hotel
room. We only ever see three walls. The once beautiful
girl looks worn, drugged, dark circles under her eyes,
staring blankly. The CAMERA'S tungsten SPOTLIGHT casts
long, shifting shadows as the camera moves, but the girl
still stares oblivious. The bed is wrapped in PLASTIC and
DUCT TAPE. The floor is covered by PLASTIC SHEETING...
Welles watches, crossing his arms, already uncomfortable.
ON THE WALL: a door opens behind the girl, looks like a
bathroom, and a MASKED MAN enters.
The Masked Man wears a garish, Mexican WRESTLING MASK with
eye holes and a mouth. The mask covers his entire head.
He's naked except for red shorts, his body scrawny, oiled,
pale. The man goes to stand in front of the girl. He seems
to be saying something to her, but the film is silent and
the ONLY SOUND is the PROJECTOR'S LOUD sprocket hole
CLATTER. It's all one long take. The CAMERA MOVES to favor
the girl...
Welles sits straight in his chair, wary.
ON THE WALL: Masked Man raises his open hand and SLAPS the
girl, knocking her back on the bed...
Welles grimaces.
ON THE WALL: Masked Man pulls the girl back to a seated
position. The girl's like a rag doll, face reddened, eyes
closed, but she remains upright. Masked Man uses his thumbs
to open her unseeing eyes. He touches her mouth with his
fingers, presses his lips to hers. Then, Masked Man backs
away, leaving frame, till the CAMERA MOVES to find Masked
Man standing at a table with THREE large BOWIE KNIFES laid
out. Masked Man runs his fingers over the blades...
Welles rises slowly, still watching.
ON THE WALL: Masked Man selects a huge Bowie knife and moves
back towards the girl...
Welles crosses his arms tight, disbelieving, fearful.
WE WILL NEVER SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN THE FILM, but Welles
does. In the flickering, reflected light, Welles backs
involuntarily away from the horrible images, holding his
fist to his mouth, breathing hard.
Welles keeps backing away, till he's backed against a wall.
The PROJECTOR'S CLATTERING. Welles is sickened, sweating,
still watching, till he finally shuts his eyes.
INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, ADJOINING ROOM -- NIGHT
Silence. Mrs. Christian sits waiting, troubled.
The door to the dining room opens and Welles enters from the
dark, visibly shaken. Mrs. Christian watches him, her
sorrow now shared.
WELLES
You... you need to go to the police.
MRS CHRISTIAN
I told you I can't, not yet.
WELLES
You don't have any other choice.
MRS CHRISTIAN
(stands, shakes her head)
No. For me to live with the ruin of
my husband's name, I need know that
whoever did this will be punished.
If you can find them, I will take
their names to the police. I'll say
my husband confessed on his death
bed. I'll say I didn't have courage
to come forward at first...
WELLES
It won't work like that.
MRS CHRISTIAN
Any evidence you collect can be
given to the police later,
anonymously. I've thought about it
and there's no other way. If you
can't find them... if the only thing
that comes from this film is that
this is all my husband will be
remembered for, well I can't let
that happen. I'm telling you I
won't. If there's no chance that
poor girl's memory can be served,
then I'll just have to spend my last
days trying to forget her.
Welles sits, rests his head in his hands.
WELLES
I deal in divorce cases. Corporate
investigations...
MRS CHRISTIAN
You've found missing persons before.
WELLES
Nothing remotely like this.
MRS CHRISTIAN
I know what I'm asking. Your
compensation will be appropriate to
the risk. You'll need cash to buy
information, and I'll provide it.
(pause)
I feel responsible, Mr. Welles.
(pause)
You saw what he did to her.
Welles stands, torn apart and uncertain, looks back to the
dining room where the projector sits idle.
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BABY'S ROOM -- NIGHT
Cindy is sound asleep in her crib.
Welles is seated near, staring at his sleeping child.
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BEDROOM -- NIGHT
Welles digs in piles of SHOEBOXES and BOOKS on the floor of
his cluttered closet, finds what he wants: a LOCK BOX.
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT
Welles twists the lock box dial's combination, opens the box
to reveal his GUN, HOLSTER and CLEANING SUPPLIES. Welles
takes out the gun, cleaning it. Amy watches.
WELLES
This is the mortgage. This is
Cindy's college money.
AMY
I understand.
WELLES
Sometimes you can't know what I'm
doing. It's better that way.
AMY
I know.
WELLES
It's a missing persons case... a
long shot. I'll give it two months,
two months at most, then I'll be
back. We'll take a vacation.
AMY
Why the gun?
WELLES
I'm not gonna need it. I won't even
wear it. It's a precaution.
(cleaning gun)
Don't worry about me.
INT. WELLES' HOUSE, OFFICE -- NIGHT
Welles looks through one file cabinet. He pulls out a FILE.
It contains all sorts of POLICE ARTIST SKETCHES. Welles
finds one of a TEENAGE GIRL with dark hair, looks at it.
Welles positions the sketch on his COPY MACHINE, hits copy.
EXT. WELLES' HOUSE, DRIVEWAY -- MORNING
Welles loads BOXES and a SUITCASE into his car's back seat.
Welles puts the lock box in the car's trunk, in a hiding
place beside the spare tire. He places a brown BRIEFCASE on
top, covers them both with carpet. He closes the trunk.
EXT. PENNSYLVANIA TURNPIKE -- MORNING
Little traffic. Welles' Ford races down the highway.
EXT. CLEVELAND CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY
City skyline, overcast. Looks like rain.
TITLE: Cleveland, Ohio
EXT. CLEVELAND STREETS -- DAY
Welles' car moves slowly in a not-so-great neighborhood.
Welles leans forward, peering through the windshield...
An APARTMENT BUILDING'S crooked SIGN lists "WEEKLY RATES."
INT. WELLES' ROOM, CLEVELAND -- DAY
Dingy room. Welles locks the door, puts the chain on. His
suitcase and boxes are on the bed. He begins unpacking,
taking a PHOTO ENLARGER from one box and an 8MM PROJECTOR.
INT. WELLES' ROOM, BATHROOM -- DAY
The developer's on the toilet. DEVELOPING PANS are on the
floor, developer bath, stop bath and fixing bath, with
BOTTLES of CHEMICALS and packages of PHOTO PAPER. Welles
uses tape and ALUMINUM FOIL to black-out a window.
INT. WELLES' ROOM -- DAY
Pizza box on the bedside table. Welles' suits hang in the
closet. Welles sits facing a small REEL TO REEL on a desk.
He wears white gloves, handles the 8MM FILM, careful to hold
it by the edges, holding it up to the light, squinting.
Welles puts in a magnifying EYEPIECE, leaning close...
WELLES' P.O.V. THROUGH MAGNIFYING LENS: studying the first
few inches of exposed film, coming upon TINY LETTERS printed
just below the sprocket holes: "SUPRAlux 544."
INT. WELLES' ROOM, BATHROOM -- DAY
RED BULB in the light socket. Welles threads the 8MM FILM
into his enlarger, still in white gloves.
He flicks the enlarger on, projecting a sideways IMAGE down
onto the enlarger's baseboard, FOCUSING... it's the girl
sitting on the bed, early in the snuff film.
Welles makes an adjustment to the enlarger's lens; framing
tighter on the girl's face, REFOCUSING.
INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT
Welles comes out of the makeshift darkroom, holding a PHOTO
of the girl. He props the photo up on a dresser, stands
looking at it. Sad girl, staring forward.
Welles goes to pick up his CELLULAR PHONE, dials.
WELLES
(into phone)
Hello, honey, it's me.
(listens)
I'm fine, how are you?
Welles listens. He turns to look at the girl's photo.
FADE TO BLACK:
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING, MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE -- DAY
Nondescript. "U.S. Resource Center for Missing Persons."
INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, OFFICES -- DAY
Small. Cubicles. Employees work phones and computers.
BULLETIN BOARDS are covered in FAMILY PHOTOS, Polaroids and
familiar "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" missing person/children POSTERS.
IN ONE CUBICLE, Welles opens his billfold, shows his
identification: a laminated "LICENSED INVESTIGATOR,
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania", with WELLES' PHOTO...
The DIRECTOR of the center, a tired looking official in
bifocals, studies the card. Welles sits.
DIRECTOR
What can I do for you, Mr. Welles?
WELLES
Call me Tom.
DIRECTOR
Alright, Tom.
WELLES
What I'd like, very simply, is
access to your archive. And, now I
understand this isn't something you
normally do for private citizens...
DIRECTOR
There are reasons for the way we do
things here.
WELLES
Absolutely. Of course I'll abide by
whatever decision you make, but I'd
appreciate if you'll hear me out...
The director sits back in his chair.
WELLES
Few days ago, I was contacted by a
couple living in Philadelphia, a
doctor and his wife. What happened
was they picked up a young girl
hitchhiking off 81, which heads into
Philadelphia, started up a
conversation with this girl, she
looked homeless, seemed about
eighteen maybe. They convinced her
to let them buy her a meal in the
city. Nice kid, mature, didn't have
much to say, but they got a sense
she's a runaway, so all through
dinner the doctor's working on her,
trying to convince her that at the
very least she should pick up a
telephone. Not surprisingly, she
ate her food, excused herself...
(snaps fingers)
That's the last they saw her. The
reason they came to me for help, the
reason I'm coming to you, is we had
a friend of mine in the department
work up a sketch...
(shows the POLICE ARTIST
SKETCH he photocopied)
They want to see if I can I.D. this
girl, somehow pass along a message
to let the parents know the kid's
alive, doing alright.
DIRECTOR
Why not go to the N.C.I.C. or
N.C.M.E.C.?
WELLES
I figured you share information.
DIRECTOR
We do.
WELLES
For whatever reasons I thought you
might be more receptive.
DIRECTOR
Why don't they come to me?
WELLES
This doctor and wife, they're nice
people, but they don't want to get
too involved. They're not trying to
have the parents come looking for
the girl either.
You and I both know sometimes, not
often, but sometimes there's real
reasons why a kid'll run.
Molestation, whatever. Besides
that, the girl's probably eighteen,
so she's legal.
DIRECTOR
I'm not so sure about this.
WELLES
They're putting themselves in place
of this kid's parents and thinking
they'd want to hear their girl's
okay, even if that's all they hear.
DIRECTOR
I can give you my card, if your
clients want to call me...
Welles accepts a CARD, disappointed.
WELLES
They were pretty clear they didn't
want this coming back on them.
DIRECTOR
Well, that's all I can do. Sorry.
Welles looks at the director, stands, hangs his head.
WELLES
Who knows... maybe she's already
given her parents a call, right?
Welles leaves.
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING, MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE -- DAY
Welles comes out the front doors, pissed.
WELLES
Fuck.
He tears the card in half and drops it as he heads for his
car. After a moment, the director comes out after him...
DIRECTOR
Excuse me... Tom, hold on...
Welles looks back, walks back, glances down...
makes sure he stands on the torn card, hiding it underfoot.
DIRECTOR
Listen, maybe I can help after all.
Why don't you come on back in...
we'll see what we can do.
INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY
Director leads Welles into this RESEARCH ROOM, a small
library with long tables, old COMPUTERS, lots of FILE
CABINETS and CARD CATALOGS. Secretaries tend to the files.
DIRECTOR
This is it. It's not much.
(points at computers)
We've got less than five percent on
computer and we lose that funding in
December. I'll have someone show it
to you anyway. Other than that, I'm
afraid it's the wet thumb method.
Welles looks to the many, many file drawers.
DIRECTOR
Files are mostly by state and year
of disappearance. We try to keep
the children and adults separate.
No eating or smoking in here, but
there's a coffee machine in the hall.
WELLES
Any good?
DIRECTOR
It's horrible, but it'll be your
best friend after a few days. I
hope you realize what kind of long
shot you're chasing after.
WELLES
You're gonna be seeing a lot of me.
You're sure you don't mind?
DIRECTOR
It's good what you're doing.
The director puts out his hand. Welles looks, shakes.
INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE
ON A COMPUTER SCREEN: files open and close -- PICTURE after
PICTURE of a MISSING CHILDREN, mostly teenagers, each with
physical description, age, date of disappearance, etc. Lost
souls, although these are posed portraits, high school
yearbook photos and vacation photos, so the children are
mostly smiling, happy and healthy. But, all "MISSING."
Welles works the computer keyboard and mouse...
ON THE SCREEN: the FACES of TEENAGERS, boys and girls, one
after the other, MISSING... MISSING... MISSING...
INT. CLEVELAND PUBLIC LIBRARY -- DAY -- MONTAGE
Welles searches the SHELVES of the LIBRARY. He begins
taking down various books...
"Motion Picture Photography." "Film Stocks and Physical
Characteristics." "Super 8 Filmmaking."
INT. CLEVELAND PUBLIC LIBRARY -- LATER -- MONTAGE
In Welles' notepad: "SUPRAlux 544."
Welles sits paging through technical photography books.
INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE
Welles has the 8MM FILM threaded through the projector. He
turns the CLATTERING projector on and sits, watching.
ON THE WALL: FLASH FRAMES, then... the skinny GIRL in a
negligee, sitting on the bed. The CAMERA'S SPOTLIGHT casts
long shadows. The girl stares, oblivious...
ON THE WALL: a door opens behind the girl, looks like a
bathroom, and the MASKED MAN enters, wearing the ghastly
WRESTLING MASK. The man goes to stand in front of the
girl. He seems to be saying something. The FILM halts.
Welles sits forward, hand on the projector. He's seen
something. He PLAYS the FILM in REVERSE...
ON THE WALL: the Masked Man walks backwards, away from the
girl, backwards into the bathroom, door shutting...
Welles stops the projector, not taking his eyes from the
image. He ADVANCES the film FRAME BY FRAME...
FRAME BY FRAME... as the bathroom door opens, and the Masked
Man enters... FRAME BY FRAME... as the Masked Man moves
forward... door closing behind him... STOP...
FREEZE FRAME: a THIRD MAN is reflected in the bathroom
mirror. Grainy and blurred, but he's in the room with the
girl, standing there, captured in the mirror in this one
brief instant just before the bathroom door closes.
Welles walks to take a closer look, studying the almost
ethereal image of the Third Man.
EXT. CLEVELAND STREET CORNER -- DAY -- MONTAGE
Welles is in a PHONE BOOTH, feeds many quarters into the
phone, waiting, looking at his notepad.
WELLES
(into PHONE)
Hello, Mrs. Christian? Tom Welles.
Here's where we stand. I checked
the film stock and it's called Supra-
lux 544. The company that made that
stock discontinued it in '92...
(listens)
Yeah, about five or six years ago.
Anyway, do what you can to dig up
your husband's old financial
records, look for anything out of
the ordinary...
INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE
Welles is back at the computer, alone, drinking coffee.
ON THE COMPUTER: endless PHOTOS of MISSING CHILDREN.
The PHONE CALL CONTINUES in VOICE OVER:
WELLES (V.O., cont)
Nobody really uses eight millimeter
film anymore, so we can assume there
are reasons our guys did. First,
they could develop it themselves if
they had any sort of expertise.
Obviously, this isn't the kind of
movie you can just drop off at the
one-hour photo...
INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE
Welles just stands, staring at the PHOTO of the GIRL.
WELLES (V.O., cont)
Second, the film that went through
the camera is what we've got.
There's no negative. Unlike video,
it wasn't meant to be duplicated.
No reason for them to risk having
more than one copy of their murder
floating around...
INT. CLEVELAND BAR -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE
Local bar. Welles sits drinking with the archive's
director, talking, smiling at something the director said.
WELLES (V.O., cont)
There don't seen to be many
fingerprints on the film itself, but
I'm going to have to be careful to
leave them intact...
INT. MISSING PERSON ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE
Welles is tired, unshaven. He's moved on to the physical
files, at one table, looking through HUNDREDS of MISSING
PERSON BULLETINS. Secretaries tend to other files.
WELLES (V.O., cont)
It's okay for yours and your
husbands fingerprints to be on the
film, but you'll have to use me as
a middleman if you go to the police.
That way I don't have to explain why
my prints are on it...
INT. WELLES' ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE
Welles sits with the PROJECTOR ON, watching the film again.
WELLES (V.O., cont)
There were three men. Two are
obvious; the man in the mask and the
man running the camera, but I caught
a glimpse of a third man in a
mirror. It's nothing that can be
used for identification, but he was
there, watching...
ON THE WALL: Masked Man touches the girl's mouth, presses
his lips to hers. Masked Man backs away, leaving frame,
till the CAMERA MOVES to find Masked Man standing at a table
with THREE large BOWIE KNIFES laid out...
Welles notices something, puts the projector on FREEZE FRAME.
WELLES (V.O., cont)
So, there were three. They would
have kept it small, wouldn't have
let anyone in on it they didn't have
to. That's all for now... except,
I feel I should tell you... with
this looking like it happened at
least five or six years ago...
Welles walks to the frozen IMAGE on the wall. It shows the
Masked Man's hands in frame, fingering the blades.
WELLES (V.O., cont)
Well, it's not very likely we'll
ever find out who this girl was.
(listens)
I will, I'll keep trying. Goodbye.
V.O. PHONE CALL ends with the SOUND of the PHONE HANGING UP.
ON THE WALL: there's a DARK SPOT on Masked Man's hand, on
the arch between his index finger and thumb. Grainy and
hard to make out, but looks like a small TATTOO.
INT. WELLES ROOM, BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- END MONTAGE
Welles has the 8MM FILM threaded into his photo enlarger,
projecting the IMAGE we just saw down onto the baseboard.
He re-frames, CLOSER ON the masked Man's hand, REFOCUSING...
the black spot is a little clearer, looks like a small STAR
tattoo on the back of Masked Man's hand.
INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY
Welles sits hunched over the card catalog, still unshaven,
drinking coffee, flipping through smaller PICTURES of
MISSING CHILDREN in one drawer, one by one by one...
Welles rolls his neck. He looks to see the archive's
director in the doorway. The director nods, leaving.
Welles gets back to it, stooped over the catalog.
FADE TO BLACK:
TITLE CARD: three weeks later
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING, MISSING PERSON ARCHIVE -- DAY
In the lot, Welles gets wearily from his car, smoking. He
tosses the cigarette, gets a Thermos off the front seat.
INT. MISSING PERSON ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY
Welles pulls out a card catalog drawer labeled "North
Carolina 1992," flipping through picture cards. The FACES
of TEENAGERS: a happy BOY with blue eyes... a red headed
GIRL with freckles... a ruddy faced BOY... a pretty GIRL
with a ribbon in her hair... a black GIRL in a pink dress...
a blonde haired BOY with curly hair...
Welles furrows his brow.
He backtracks to the pretty GIRL with the ribbon in her hair.
Welles sits straight. He reaches into his pocket, hands
shaking a little, takes out and unfolds the PHOTO he printed
of the girl from the snuff film. It's her.
Welles compares the two pictures. She's prettier in the
card catalog photo, but it's her.
Welles can't believe it, looks around. Secretaries at other
files don't even know he's there. Welles pulls out his
notepad, scribbling down INFORMATION off the card...
Writing the girl's name: "Mary Anne Matthews."
EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY -- NIGHT
Welles, car races past, alone on the dark freeway.
EXT. FAYETTEVILLE CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY
Another small city. Blue skies above.
TITLE: Fayetteville, North Carolina
EXT. PUBLIC LIBRARY -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY
Suburban library. Kids play hop-scotch in the parking lot.
INT. FAYETTEVILLE LIBRARY, MICROFICHE ROOM -- DAY
Welles works the MICROFICHE MACHINE, scrolling through old
issues of the LOCAL NEWSPAPER, finds an ARTICLE headlined
"Search Continues for Local Teen."
There's a PICTURE of the GIRL, Mary Anne Mathews; the same
picture Welles found in the Missing Person Archive.
Welles reads the article, writing on a LEGAL PAD.
TIME CUT:
NEWSPRINT SCROLLS past on the MICROFICHE MACHINE, till...
"No Leads in Girl's Disappearance." Same picture.
The date at the top: "July 12, 1992."
TIME CUT:
NEWSPRINT BLURS past... stops on a page of OBITUARIES.
Top of the page: "September 4, 1993."
CLOSE ON: "Mathews, Robert Steven, 1948-1993."
"Dead in an apparent suicide, Robert Mathews was discovered
yesterday morning in the basement of..."
EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE, FAYETTEVILLE SUBURB -- DAY
A tree-lined street of poor, boxy homes. Welles' car parks
in front of one HOUSE with a neglected lawn.
IN THE CAR
Welles, clean shaven, picks a CLIPBOARD with a file folder
and his legal pad on it, thumbs pages. He drums his
fingers, opens the glove compartment, pulls out the car's
registration, other papers and "Jiffy-Lube" service reports,
uses them to pad the file.
Welles takes a BOTTLE of COLOGNE from his pocket. He
considers it, opens the bottle, applies cologne to his neck.
EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE, FRONT PORCH -- DAY
Welles knocks, clipboard in hand. A sad, middle-aged woman
answers, MRS. MATHEWS, looking through the screen door.
MRS MATHEWS
Yes... ?
WELLES
(smiles)
Hello, Mrs. Mathews, my name's
Thomas Jones, I'm a state licensed
investigator...
Welles holds up his identification only long enough for Mrs.
Mathews to see it looks official.
WELLES
I've been hired as an independent
contractor by the U.S. Resource
Center for Missing Persons as part
of an internal audit. If you have
any time over the next few days, I'd
like to make an appointment to ask
some questions about the
disappearance of your daughter.
MRS MATHEWS
I don't understand, who are... ?
WELLES
I'm sorry, let me explain, the
R.C.M.P. is a support organization
and archive, not unlike the Center
for Missing and Exploited Children
in Washington. I'm sure you've
dealt with them before?
MRS MATHEWS
Yes, but...
WELLES
These volunteer organizations are
sort of interconnected, functioning
hand in hand with law enforcement.
The R.C.M.P. brought me in to review
their investigations...
(holds up clipboard)
... fact-check their records, see if
there's anything they missed,
anything they should be doing
different. I'm here for a few days,
before I head back up to Virginia.
These reports go to the Justice
Department eventually. I spoke to
your F.B.I. contact a few days ago,
uh...
Welles pretends to look for the name on a Jiffy Lube page...
WELLES
What was the name... ? I've got it
here somewhere...
MRS MATHEWS
Neil... Neil Cole.
WELLES
(pretends he found it)
Right, Agent Cole told me he'd call
and let you know to expect me. He
didn't call?
MRS MATHEWS
No.
WELLES
(looking on legal pad)
Well, I'm following up on your
daughter, Mary, height; five four,
weight; hundred ten pounds, brown
eyes, blonde hair. Born April 24,
1976. Missing June 11th, 1992. A
runaway, that's how she's listed.
Is this information correct... ?
Mrs. Mathews stares, nods.
WELLES
I'm sorry, I know this isn't easy.
Is there a more convenient time... ?
(looks at watch)
Can I buy you lunch, would that be
alright?
Mrs. Mathews looks him up and down.
EXT. DAIRY QUEEN RESTAURANT -- DAY
Welles and Mrs. Mathews eat at a PICNIC TABLE on the patio.
WELLES
It's very important you don't let
this raise your expectations. It's
not going to effect any ongoing
efforts. All I'm saying is, please
know, I'm not here to create any
false hope.
MRS MATHEWS
They hired you. You're like, a
private detective?
WELLES
That's exactly what I am.
Mrs. Mathews chews, staring off into the distance.
MRS MATHEWS
I didn't think there were private
detectives anymore, except on TV.
WELLES
You probably expect me to be wearing
a trench coat and a hat. Drinking
whiskey, chasing women and getting
beaten up by guys with broken noses.
Want to know what it's really like?
It's sitting in a car and staring at
a hotel window for three days
straight, pissing in a plastic
bottle, pardon me, because some guy
thinks his wife's cheating on him.
Glamorous, huh? And the guy who
hired you, he has a hair-lip,
dandruff and crooked teeth, and you
could have told him the minute you
laid eyes on him his wife's
cheating, and you don't blame her.
Mrs. Mathews smiles.
WELLES
It's refreshing to actually sit down
and meet someone face to face,
someone nice like you.
Welles smiles. Mrs. Mathews takes out a cigarette. Welles
lights her, joins her in smoking, refers to his clipboard.
WELLES
So, she didn't leave a note? She
never gave any indication where she
might go, before she left?
MRS MATHEWS
No.
WELLES
She just seemed... depressed... ?
MRS MATHEWS
She didn't seem herself. For months
there never was any way to get her
to talk about it. One night we went
to bed... the next morning she was
gone. She took some clothes.
WELLES
What was she running from?
MRS MATHEWS
I don't know.
WELLES
If there's anything you feel
uncomfortable talking about, tell
me, but I have to ask. Your
husband... he committed suicide?
MRS MATHEWS
Yes.
WELLES
September 4th, 1993. About a year
after Mary disappeared.
MRS MATHEWS
We were divorced by then. Things
fell apart... he was living with a
friend...
WELLES
Why do you think he did it?
MRS MATHEWS
It got to be too much for him.
WELLES
You have to forgive me, but in these
circumstances... with your
daughter...
(pause)
Were there any indications of... any
sort of abuse?
MRS MATHEWS
There wasn't anything like that.
The police and the FBI people asked,
but there wasn't anything happened
like that, never. My husband... his
heart broke when Mary left...
WELLES
I didn't mean to...
MRS MATHEWS
You try going through what we did.
Bob couldn't take it, that's all.
Christ, there's times when it still
seems like I can't either.
WELLES
I had to ask. I apologize.
MRS MATHEWS
No one knows what it's like. You
can't even imagine how much it hurts.
Welles is miserable. A few CUSTOMERS walk past, looking at
Mrs. Mathews. She tries not to notice then noticing.
MRS MATHEWS
People remember me from the news.
(pause)
Can you drive me back now?
WELLES
Of course.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, MARY'S ROOM -- DAY
Mrs. Mathews enters. Welles follows.
This was the girl's room, exactly as she left it -- POSTERS
of ACTORS on the wall, many STUFFED ANIMALS on the pink
sheets of the carefully made bed. Perfectly preserved.
MRS MATHEWS
This is her room.
Welles looks around, uncomfortable.
Shelves have PICTURES of MARY with female friends, a
collection of CERAMIC FIGURINES of CLOWNS and ANIMALS.
MRS MATHEWS
The police made a wreck of it, but
I put it back exactly how it was.
Just how she likes it.
Welles takes a few steps into the room, looks down at a DESK
where there are SIX brightly wrapped GIFTS.
MRS MATHEWS
Those are for her birthday. One for
every year she's missed. They'll be
waiting for her when she comes back.
Welles is nearly overwhelmed by sadness, struggling to hide
it. He backs to the door, looks at his watch...
WELLES
I... I shouldn't take anymore of
your time. Maybe we can finish
tomorrow. I'll call tomorrow...
MRS MATHEWS
Okay.
EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE -- DAY
Welles escapes to his car, climbing in. He starts it up...
IN THE CAR
Welles drives, tears welling up in his eyes. He has to pull
over and park, wiping his tears, fighting for composure.
INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT
Welles has unpacked. He's on the bed, on his CELLULAR...
WELLES
(into phone)
You should be able to take a shower
and still have hot water left, honey.
(listens)
Call him back and tell him I said
so. The goddamn thing's still under
warranty.
(listens)
I'm okay. It's hard here. It's
hard.
(listens)
I've got a lead I have to follow
through. To be honest, I don't
think I'm going to get very far.
I miss you. I love you.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, KITCHEN -- MORNING
Welles sits at the kitchen table. Mrs. Mathews makes
coffee. The home's decor is cheap and flowery.
MRS MATHEWS
We weren't religious. We never
forced religion down her throat,
like I've seen some parents do to
their kids. We never made her go to
church. But, after Mary was gone,
that's when I got religious.
Mrs. Mathews brings two cups of coffee, sits.
MRS MATHEWS
Doesn't make much sense, does it?
When everything's happy, when life's
fine and you have every reason to
believe there's a God, you don't
bother. Then, something horrible
happens... that's when you start
praying all the time. That's when
you start going to church.
WELLES
We're all like that.
MRS MATHEWS
Are you religious?
WELLES
No.
MRS MATHEWS
You should be.
Mrs. Mathews drinks coffee, stares into the cup.
WELLES
I've got what I need for my report.
There is... there is one thing that
bothers me though.
MRS MATHEWS
What?
WELLES
It's not really my place, but it's
not easy for me to set aside the
private detective part of me either.
See, I know a little about missing
persons. When kids run, they almost
always leave a note. It's guilt.
They want to say goodbye.
MRS MATHEWS
There wasn't one. The police looked.
WELLES
Do you think the police did a good
job?
MRS MATHEWS
I don't know. I think so.
WELLES
It is possible... and I know this
isn't something you want to hear.
Your daughter may have tried to hide
a note where she thought you would
eventually find it, but where she
knew your husband would never find
it. She might have wanted to tell
you something...
MRS MATHEWS
No. You don't have any reason to
think that...
WELLES
If the police focused their search
in her room, her belongings, well
that'd be only natural, but they may
have been looking in the wrong place.
Mrs. Mathews is getting upset.
MRS MATHEWS
How... how can you say that to me...?
WELLES
Will you let me look?
MRS MATHEWS
My husband never laid a hand on her.
She would have told me... she would
have told me...
WELLES
You're probably right, and I
probably won't find anything.
I don't have a right to ask this,
and you can kick me out of your
house if you want, but this is my
profession and there's a part of me
that can't let it go. Police are
just as human as you or I. They
could have missed something. They
probably didn't.
(pause)
Wouldn't you rather know?
Mrs. Mathews thinks about it, tortured, shakes her head sadly.
MRS MATHEWS
Go ahead and look if you want. I
don't care what you do.
Mrs. Mathews gets up and walks out of the room.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE -- SEARCH MONTAGE -- DAY
-In MRS. MATHEWS' BEDROOM, Welles looks through DRESSER
drawers, methodically, replacing everything as it was...
searches hat boxes and shoe boxes in a CLOSET... takes
BOOKS off SHELVES, fanning the pages, shaking them out...
-In a BATHROOM, Welles examines the contents of a MEDICINE
CABINET, examining old prescription bottles... opens
CABINETS under the sink...
-In the LIVING ROOM, Mrs. Mathews sits slumped in a chair,
staring at a soap opera on TELEVISION, a BOTTLE of scotch
on TV tray beside her, drink in hand.
-In the KITCHEN, Welles stands on a chair, searches high
CABINETS... looks through low CABINETS, on his knees, pulls
out pots and pans... fans the pages of COOK BOOKS...
-Welles stands in the doorway of MARY'S ROOM, just stares.
He takes a few steps back into the HALLWAY, looks up at the
ceiling. There's an ATTIC DOOR there. Welles reaches to
the door's handle, opens it, unfolds the portable stairs...
-In the small ATTIC, Welles uses a penlight FLASHLIGHT,
crouched under the low ceiling, looking through dusty BOXES
of PHOTOGRAPHS; old photos of a wedding, of grandparents...
Welles moves to pull back dusty sheets, finds a large
WICKER BASKET and broken BICYCLE underneath...
Welles opens the basket, takes out BLANKETS and QUILTS
in mothballs. He finds a wide VELVET BOX, takes it out,
opens its hinged lid to reveal a set of good SILVERWARE.
He touches the tarnished silverware, lifts out the top tray.
Underneath, resting on top of more silverware, is a DIARY.
Welles opens the DIARY, finds written: "Mary Anne Mathews."
Welles turns pages. The DIARY'S about half-full of
feminine, cursive handwriting. After the last written
page, a PAGE has been TORN OUT. Welles fingers the ragged
edge, flips through the blank pages till he comes to the
very last page, a GOODBYE NOTE. Welles sits and reads...
MARY'S VOICE (V.O.)
(emotionless monotone)
"Dear mom. If you're reading this,
it means I called you from
Hollywood, California and told you
where to find my diary. I don't
think I'll be able to tell you this
when I talk to you, so I'm writing
it down here. You know I haven't
been happy for a long, long time.
For a long time now dad's been doing
things I couldn't tell you. He's
been touching me and it's getting
worse. I can't stay anymore. I
know you and I haven't always gotten
along sometimes, but please don't
blame yourself. There isn't
anything you can do. I'm going to
make a whole new life in California.
Maybe someday you'll see me on TV or
in magazines. Don't worry about me.
Love, Mary Anne."
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, HALLWAY OUTSIDE MARY'S ROOM -- DAY
Welles shuts the attic door, takes the DIARY from his
pocket, hides it in his waistband at the small of his back.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, LIVING ROOM -- DAY
Welles enters. Mrs. Mathews looks up from the TV.
WELLES
You were right.
(pause)
I didn't find anything. I'm going
to run and get something to eat.
Are you hungry?
MRS MATHEWS
Yes.
INT. COPY SHOP -- LATE DAY
Welles uses a self-serve COPY MACHINE, flattening the DIARY
on the glass, photocopying the DIARY as quickly as he can.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
Welles sits picking at fast food in front of him. Mrs.
Mathews' food isn't even unwrapped.
She's numb from her drink, watching a GAME SHOW, smoking.
WELLES
Do you ever consider... do you
realize that Mary may never come
back?
Mrs. Mathews looks to Welles, looks back at the TV.
MRS MATHEWS
I think about it everyday. But,
every time the phone rings... every
single time, I still think it's her.
WELLES
It's been six years.
MRS MATHEWS
What am I supposed to do? Forget
her? Time heals all wounds, right?
(misery building)
She's all I think about, and I've
learned to live with that. But, you
want the truth... the real truth?
If I had a choice... if I had to
choose, between her being out there,
living a good life and being happy,
and me not knowing; never finding
out what happened to her...
(pause)
... or her being dead and me
knowing...
(pause)
I'd choose to know.
Mrs. Mathews stares into the TV, wipes tears.
Welles takes a deep breath and holds it. He watches her a
long moment, motionless. Finally he stands, voice unsteady.
WELLES
Excuse me, I have to use your
bathroom.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, HALLWAY OUTSIDE MARY'S ROOM -- NIGHT
Welles comes to the attic door, quietly pulls it open.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, ATTIC -- NIGHT
Welles uses his penlight, digs out the DIARY from the hiding
place in his waistband, replaces it in the box of
silverware, closes the box.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, MARY'S ROOM -- NIGHT
Welles enters, takes a PICTURE FRAME off one shelf, opens
the back and takes out the PHOTO of MARY from inside.
INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
Mrs. Mathews still gazes into the TV. Welles passes the
doorway, not looking in, heading to the front door, opening
the door and walking out...
Mrs. Mathews doesn't even notice, doesn't look up.
EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE -- NIGHT
Welles crosses the front lawn, not looking back, heading to
the street, getting into his car, starting his car, doing a
U-turn, driving away down the street.
01 . 02 .
03 . 04
CLOSE WINDOW
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