PARTMENT - NIGHT
Staley's at his desk. Albert and DEPUTY TOWNSHEND sit directly in front of him. Staley examines Albert's copies of the photos.
ALBERT
He's not thinking clearly.
STALEY
The man's distraught. You would be too if your son was abducted.
Staley rises from his chair, circles the desk.
STALEY
Don't worry about it, Albert. I'll take care of this.
AT THE DOOR
Staley watches Albert disappear down the hall. He motions to BOWER, one of his henchmen.
STALEY
Get in here.
IN THE OFFICE
Staley picks up the phone.
STALEY (ON PHONE)
Get the Governor.
INT. BEDROOM, GOVERNOR'S MANSION, BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA - NIGHT
EDWIN BROUSSARD, half-dressed, telephone pressed to his ear, pulls open the drawer on an huge, ornately carved mahogany dresser. He's 60, tanned, regulation political-cut grey hair. Media friendly. He searches the drawer for a moment, shuts it and tries another.
BROUSSARD
(calling out)
Mabel! Where are my cuff links?
(into the phone)
What do you want, Staley?
He listens a moment. Irritation turns to concern.
BROUSSARD (ON PHONE)
Alright, listen. Stay on top of this. You're to keep me apprised, every day. You got that?
Broussard hangs up. He shuffles through the drawer, closes it.
BROUSSARD
(calling out)
Mabel!
MABEL, the Broussards' maid, enters.
MABEL
They're in the top drawer, sir.
Broussard opens the drawer, rifles through the items inside, including a REVOLVER. He finally spots his cuff links, grabs them and slams the drawer shut.
INT. DINING ROOM, GOVERNOR'S MANSION - NIGHT
A formal dinner. The ELITE of Louisiana politics, dressed in their finest, line either side of an enormous dining table, twenty feet long and covered in white Irish linen and bone china. Broussard's at the head of the table. He motions to Mabel.
BROUSSARD
Mabel, will you get Chloe?
He taps his dinner knife against the side of a crystal water goblet.
BROUSSARD
Ladies and gentleman. Please, could I beg your attention for a brief moment?
The guests pipe down.
BROUSSARD
I just wanted to thank you all for being here tonight on the occasion of Barbara and my fifth wedding anniversary.
Polite APPLAUSE.
BROUSSARD
It wasn't that long ago that... well, many of you around this table tonight... you were there. You know. I never would have made it without your love and support. For that, I am truly grateful.
Silence.
BROUSSARD
I have two more people to thank, of course, the most important in my life: my new wife, Barbara --
Broussard takes BARBARA's hand, lifts her to her feet.
BROUSSARD
(to his wife)
New? After five years, I guess I should stop calling you that.
Guests LAUGH.
BROUSSARD
And, of course, my step-daughter, Chloe. Here she is.
CHLOE, 12, appears at the dining room entrance. Broussard escorts her to the head of the table.
BROUSSARD
Chloe's birthday is next week. But I've gotten a little gift I want to give to her tonight.
Broussard reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out a tiny square box. He presents it to Chloe.
BROUSSARD
Go on, sweetheart. Open it.
Chloe removes the box lid, reaches inside. She lifts out a gold chain. At the end, a pendant holding a sizable blood red ruby.
BROUSSARD
Show it to our guests.
Chloe holds it up. The guests APPLAUD.
BROUSSARD
(to Chloe)
Turn it over.
On the back, engraved in gold:
"DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL"
Broussard removes the necklace from his stepdaughter's hand, places it around her neck.
BROUSSARD
(whispers)
It's beautiful on you.
He kisses her cheek.
BARBARA BROUSSARD
Come on, darling. It's time for bed.
BROUSSARD
I'll take her up.
Broussard grasps Chloe's hand. She pulls away.
BROUSSARD
(to the guests)
She's a little shy.
Broussard escorts Chloe from the dining room, into the foyer and up the staircase.
EXT. DAUPHINE HOTEL - NIGHT
Richard pulls his rental car to the curb in front of the hotel's front entrance, hands the keys to the valet.
INTERIOR HOTEL COURTYARD
He crosses a dimly lit courtyard, enters a darkened hallway.
IN THE HALLWAY
Just outside Richard's room, on the ground:
-- a tiny lit candle melted onto a dirty ceramic dish surrounded by a string of painted wooden beads and a half dozen old coins.
EXT. RIVERFRONT - DAY
Richard stands in a crowd of TOURISTS on a riverfront dock. In front of him, the "Creole Queen" blows steam from its stacks. Calliope music from the upper deck drifts over the crowd. Anxious PASSENGERS line up at the gangplank. BOWER watches Richard from a distance.
A SMALL BOY tugs Richard's sleeve.
SMALL BOY
Hey, mister.
He holds out a Creole Queen ticket.
RICHARD
No, thanks.
SMALL BOY
The woman told me to give you this.
The boy presses the ticket into Richard's palm, vanishes into the crowd.
AT THE BOAT
Richard walks up the gangplank with the other passengers. Bower pushes his way to the front of the line, follows Richard onto the boat.
EXT. CREOLE QUEEN - DAY
Richard ascends the stairs to the top deck. The place is crawling with tourists. Richard pauses at the railing, scans the riverbank. The boat glides through an abandoned industrial area. Up ahead, a dilapidated, graffiti-covered shed hugs the bank. The boat draws nearer. On the side of the shed, spray painted in large bright letters:
"STEVEN H."
The boat passes in front of the shed. Leaning against the door: Steven's baseball bat and glove. Richard shoots for the stairs. Bower takes off after him.
ON THE LOWER DECK
Richard forces his way aft, climbs over the back railing. He takes measure of the drop to the water below. The boat approaches a worn, ancient dock. Richard leaps, hits the dock hard and rolls. Bower makes it to the back railing, but it's too late. The boat pulls away from the bank.
EXT. SHED - DAY
Richard arrives. He's panting hard, sopped in sweat. He tries the shed door's knob. It's locked. He peers through a greased over window, can't see inside. He picks up Steven's bat, rams the door. The door disintegrates in front of him.
INSIDE THE SHED
The room's dirty, dingy. Along the back wall, a single rickety wooden table covered in a thick layer of dust. On top:
-- the remains of a candle burned to the wick surrounded by a string of wooden beads and old coins.
On the wall, just above the table:
-- The yellowed, ten-year-old front page of the Times-Picayune. The headline:
"DANIEL WELLS GUILTY!"
Just under the headline, Richard's picture. The paper's attached to the wall with a butcher knife through Richard's chest.
INT. BASEMENT, D.A.'S OFFICES - DAY
Albert walks down the hall, stops in front of a door marked "Archive."
INSIDE THE ARCHIVE
The room: yellowed linoleum floors below endless rows of fluorescent-lit metal shelves lined
with deteriorating manila- tagged cardboard boxes. The musty smell is overwhelming.
Albert stops at the clerk's desk. The CLERK, feet thrown on top of a banker's box, face buried in a Dr. Phil self-help paperback. He doesn't bother looking up.
ALBERT
Jesus Christ. What's that smell?
CLERK
Katrina damage. Room flooded. Five feet. No scratch for repair.
ALBERT
How do you stand it?
CLERK
You get used to it.
ALBERT
I'm looking for a case file.
CLERK
Year?
ALBERT
Ninety-nine.
CLERK
Outta luck, chief. They're long gone. Purged.
ALBERT
How about the Crescent City case?
That gets the clerk's attention. He peers over the top of his book, recognizes Albert. The feet fly off the box. He stiffens in his chair.
CLERK
Sorry, chief. I mean, Mr. Collier, sir. I didn't realize, uh, I didn't know it was you.
ALBERT
The files have been purged?
CLERK
Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. Not the Crescent City files, I mean. They've been artifacted.
ALBERT
What?
CLERK
Designated "historically significant." Well, as you of all people would -- obviously you can appreciate --
ALBERT
Where are they?
CLERK
Tulane, sir. All artifacted files have been donated to the Tulane History Department.
ALBERT
How about the Theron Wells case? Have they been...
(winces)
artifacted, too?
CLERK
Oh, no sir. We got them. That case is still open, technically. Officially unsolved. You want to see them?
INT. RICHARD'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Richard's on the phone.
RICHARD (ON PHONE)
...Steven's baseball bat and glove. There was another of those -- I don't know what to call them -- shrines with the candle and coins... I don't know. Any luck with the Crescent City files?
ALBERT (V.O.)
(on phone)
Bad news on that.
INT. LIBRARY, ALBERT'S HOME - SAME
Albert's at his desk, on the phone.
ALBERT (ON PHONE)
I was down there today, spoke with the archive clerk. I'm afraid all the files were destroyed.
INT. RICHARD'S HOTEL ROOM - SAME
RICHARD (ON PHONE)
Thanks for trying, Albert.
Richard hangs up. He rubs his temple with the palms of his hands. A KNOCK at the door. It's Willie.
RICHARD
What have you got?
Willie steps inside.
WILLIE
As I said, this isn't easy. It's going to take some time.
RICHARD
I don't have time.
WILLIE
Yeah, I know. Deadline.
Willie picks up a photo from the table:
-- a turn of the century chemist shop situated on a fashionable tree-lined boulevard populated by blacks only.
WILLIE
This one's North Claiborne Avenue. I've located the building. It's still there. Same company, too. What's so important about it?
RICHARD
I'm not sure.
Willie spots the wooden beads and coins on the table. He picks them up.
WILLIE
Where'd you get these?
RICHARD
They were at my door last night.
WILLIE
What the hell kind of research are you doing? That's voodoo shit. You shouldn't have moved them.
RICHARD
Why?
WILLIE
There's a woman I know. She can explain. I'll take you there in the morning.
Willie drops the beads and coins back on the table.
WILLIE
Don't worry about it. Most people around here, they just play that up for the tourists. Good for business, know what I mean? I don't believe in that shit.
EXT. DAUPHINE HOTEL - NIGHT
Willie exits, makes his way down the sidewalk. Bower watches from across the street.
EXT. DUMAINE STREET, FRENCH QUARTER - DAY
Willie leads Richard to an old weather-worn storefront. The sign above the door:
"THE NEW ORLEANS HISTORIC VOODOO MUSEUM"
INT. VOODOO MUSEUM - DAY
The place is cramped, the walls covered floor to ceiling with ancient, dust covered artifacts and paintings. Authentic stuff. But it's still a tourist trap. Richard and Willie stand in front of a glass counter filled with amulets and talismans alongside glass jars labeled "shark tooth," "pine tree sap" and "doves' blood."
Behind the counter, PRINCESS MONA, an elderly black woman dressed in a dark blue yaruba and head wrap. She examines the beads and coins.
PRINCESS MONA
These things surrounded a candle, you say?
RICHARD
Yes.
PRINCESS MONA
Where were they? On the ground?
RICHARD
One was. The other was on a table.
PRINCESS MONA
A candle, nothing else?
RICHARD
Yes.
Princess Mona shakes her head.
PRINCESS MONA
It's phony. Someone's playing with you, mister. Now if there were a sacrifice with it, a dismembered chicken, some other animal, then I'd be concerned. But this --
She tosses the beads and coins onto the counter.
PRINCESS MONA
-- it don't mean nothin'.
WILLIE
Thanks, Mona.
Richard wanders away from the counter, turns a corner, edges his way down a shoulder-wide passage and into a back room.
INSIDE THE BACK ROOM
It's dark, claustrophobic, crammed full of more voodoo junk. In the back corner, a dingy glass bowl filled with paper money and coins perched on top of a ratty wooden altar. Taped to the bowl, a handwritten note:
"LEAVE A PHOTO.
MAKE AN OFFERING.
PLACE A WISH OR CURSE."
Behind the altar, plastered to the wall, hundreds of small photos of every kind, placed over years, an inch deep. Buried within the photos, two eyes peer out. They're familiar to Richard. He moves in for a closer look.
WILLIE (O.S.)
(calling out)
Richard?
RICHARD
Back here!
Richard reaches in, pulls the photo away from the others.
THE PHOTO
-- Richard and Steven, from the back sleeve of Richard's latest book. Glued over Steven's head: a photo of Danny Wells's face, taken after his execution.
Willie and Mona enter.
PRINCESS MONA
Don't remove it. A bad outcome will result.
Richard tears the picture from the wall.
RICHARD
I don't believe in that shit.
EXT. NORTH CLAIBORNE AVENUE - DAY
Richard and Willie stand across a busy street from a large warehouse located below an elevated section of freeway. The sign on the warehouse:
"MORRIS CHEMICAL, INC."
It's the same location as the chemist shop in the old photograph, but the area's completely different now: dirty, noisy, industrial. All concrete and graffiti.
WILLIE
This used to be the best part of town for black folk. People would get dressed up, bring their families down here on Sunday after church just to stroll the avenue. Now look at it.
RICHARD
What happened?
WILLIE
The city fathers decided the best place to route the new interstate was directly over North Claiborne. And that was that. You know... progress.
Willie checks the traffic, hustles
across the street to Morris Chemical's front entrance. Richard follows.
INT. MORRIS CHEMICAL - DAY
Richard and Willie at the front desk. DORIS, 40s, approaches the counter.
DORIS
Can I help you?
RICHARD
Chandra Wells. You know her?
DORIS
I don't think so.
Richard shows her a picture of Chandra.
DORIS
That's Patty, Patricia Greene. She worked here, briefly. Excuse me a moment.
Doris disappears into a back room.
WILLIE
(to Richard)
What's Chandra Wells have to do with this?
Doris returns with her supervisor, DONALD, 50s, black.
DONALD
Doris says you're looking for Patty Green. You cops?
RICHARD
No, but it's very important that I find her.
DONALD
Yeah? Well, we'd like to find her, too. She's a thief.
RICHARD
She stole from you? Money?
DONALD
Not money.
RICHARD
When's the last time you saw her?
DONALD
She quit about a month ago. Just didn't show up one morning.
RICHARD
You have any information: address, phone?
DORIS
We can't give that out. How'd you like it if someone came into your place of business --
DONALD
-- Goddammit, Doris. Give the man the goddamn information.
Doris retreats to a file cabinet, jerks the drawer open, sifts through the files.
DORIS
I'll give him the goddamn address, but it ain't gonna do him much good.
She yanks out a single sheet of paper, returns to the desk, slaps it on the counter.
DORIS
(looks at Willie)
It's in the Ninth Ward.
DONALD
You know who you should talk to is Terrance. He's one of our drivers. He dated her.
(to Doris)
Is Terrance here?
DORIS
In the back.
DONALD
Would you call him up here, please?
Doris glares at Donald, picks up a microphone from the counter, hits the button.
DORIS
Terrance Bailey to the front desk.
Doris's voice echoes through the building.
RICHARD
(to Donald)
What did she steal?
DONALD
Drugs. Sodium thiopental, pancuronium bromide, potassium chloride.
DORIS
A "death pack."
DONALD
We supply the State penitentiary system with their lethal injection drugs. We package them together for a single execution. Makes it convenient for them. Like she said...
(smiles)
...a "death pack."
TERRANCE, 30s, black, enters. He takes one look at Richard, bolts out the front door.
EXT. MORRIS CHEMICAL - DAY
Terrance sprints for the back of the warehouse, Richard on his tail.
THE WAREHOUSE PARKING LOT
Terrance makes a beeline for his truck, jumps up onto the running board, yanks open the driver's door. Richard grabs Terrance from behind, rips him off of the truck, slams him into the pavement.
TERRANCE
Hey, man!
RICHARD
Where's my son?
TERRANCE
Your son? What are you talkin' about?
Richard pulls Terrance up by the collar, draws back, punches him hard in the jaw.
RICHARD
Where's my son, you piece of shit!
TERRANCE
Fuck you!
Richard pounds away on Terrance's face, out of control. Willie and Donald arrive. Willie pulls Richard away. Terrance turns his head, spits out a mouthful of blood and teeth.
TERRANCE
Crazy motherfucker!
Richard staggers back, grabs his hand. His knuckles swell.
TERRANCE
(to Donald)
Call the cops!
Donald dashes back toward the office.
RICHARD
(panting hard)
Where's my son?
TERRANCE
I told you, man. I don't know what you're talkin' about.
WILLIE
Then why'd you run?
TERRANCE
(to Willie)
Why you helpin' this man? You know what he did to the Wells boy.
WILLIE
What's that got to do with me?
Terrance stares daggers at Willie.
TERRANCE
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Richard looks around, stumbles over to a pile of used parts. He lifts up a large truck battery with both hands. It weighs a ton. He can barely hold it up as he carries it back to where Terrance is laying. Richard grinds his heel into Terrance's chest, holds the battery directly over his head.
RICHARD
I'll crush your fucking skull if you don't tell me where my son is. Now.
TERRANCE
(pleads to Willie)
I swear to God, man. I don't know what he's talking about.
A beat.
Willie grabs Richard's arm, pulls him back.
WILLIE
(to Richard)
He don't know anything.
Richard drops the battery to the pavement. It cracks the blacktop. Terrance instantly jumps to his feet and takes off.
INT. RICHARD'S CAR - DAY
Richard's driving. Willie's in the passenger seat.
RICHARD
What's the address?
WILLIE
Fuck the address! You want to tell me what's going on?
RICHARD
You don't need to know that.
WILLIE
I do if you want my help. Why'd you ask him where your son is?
Richard says nothing.
WILLIE
You know what, man? You can pull over and let me out. I'll take my money now.
RICHARD
Chandra Wells has my son. She abducted him. The photos, she sent them.
WILLIE
Why would she do that?
RICHARD
I don't know exactly. That's what I have to figure out.
WILLIE
What are the police doing?
RICHARD
I can't go to the police.
WILLIE
Why not? I'm sure your friend Staley would be glad to help.
RICHARD
He's not my friend. He's never been my friend. What's the address?
Willie takes a beat.
WILLIE
1602 Cove Street.
EXT. NINTH WARD - DAY
Richard and Willie stare down what was a lower middle-class residential block. Now it's a ghost town.
They slowly start down the street on foot. A lone HOMEOWNER, 30s, black, hammers on the frame of the one house being rebuilt. He eyes the two strangers.
Richard and Willie stop in front of a particular driveway, "1602" spray-painted on the pavement. The house is long gone. Only the concrete slab remains. The lone Homeowner comes over. He's got one hand behind his back.
HOMEOWNER
Can I help you gentlemen?
WILLIE
Maybe. We're looking for the folks who owned this house.
HOMEOWNER
What for?
WILLIE
It's a personal matter. Do you know how we could reach them?
HOMEOWNER
(shakes his head)
Can't help you, man.
RICHARD
We've got their check for the house.
HOMEOWNER
You from FEMA? --
The homeowner reveals a pistol from behind his back.
HOMEOWNER
-- 'Cau
se I'd like my check, too.
RICHARD
We're from the insurance company.
HOMEOWNER
Continental? 'Cause they owe me --
WILLIE
-- I'm afraid not. Family Home. Do you mind putting that gun away?
HOMEOWNER
Sorry. I keep it under my bed at night. For security purposes.
Richard glances at Willie like the man's crazy. Willie glances back.
WILLIE
I keep a claw hammer under mine.
HOMEOWNER
Police don't come down here. Gotta protect the community.
He raises the pistol, fires off a round between Richard and Willie, blows away a large rat.
HOMEOWNER
(grins)
Neighborhood Watch.
RICHARD
You sure you don't know where we could reach them? We'd really like to get this thing settled. Chandra Wells --
HOMEOWNER
-- Chandra? No, that's the daughter. You want the mother, Shirley. This was her house.
WILLIE
You know where she's staying? Maybe you have a number for her?
HOMEOWNER
No, but I bet I know where she'll be this afternoon.
EXT. CANAL STREET, NEW ORLEANS - DAY
The Canal line street car rattles to a halt at City Park Avenue. The end of the line. Shirley Wells steps down from the car, labors along the sidewalk, a small bouquet of flowers tucked under her arm. She turns a corner, enters through a white marble and iron gate. The sign above:
"LOUISIANA STATE CHARITY CEMETERY"
EXT. CEMETARY GROUNDS - DAY
Shirley stops at a particular crypt, kneels down, pulls a bunch of dead flowers from a marble vase, replaces them with the fresh ones. She rises, steps back. Carved into the crypt's face:
"Daniel Wells 1980-2011."
RICHARD (O.S.)
Mrs. Wells?
Shirley glances to her side.
SHIRLEY WELLS
What the hell do you want?
RICHARD
Your daughter. Where is she?
SHIRLEY WELLS
Why? You want to kill her, too? Leave me alone.
Richard grabs Shirley's arm.
RICHARD
You know where she is. You know she's got my son. Please.
SHIRLEY WELLS
Do you have any decency in you? Coming here, disturbing my son's grave?
Shirley tries to break free. Richard squeezes harder.
RICHARD
(angrily)
Where is she?
SHIRLEY WELLS
Let go! You're hurting me!
Willie pulls Richard away.
WILLIE
Are you crazy, man? Grabbing her like that?
He shoves him back against the crypt.
WILLIE
Go back to the car. Let me talk to her.
EXT. CEMETERY PARKING LOT - DAY
Richard leans against the trunk of a Drummond Red Maple, shaded from the scorching sun. In the distance, Willie helps Shirley Wells onto the street car. The street car pulls away, disappears down Canal. Willie makes his way back to Richard.
WILLIE
She doesn't know where her daughter is.
RICHARD
She's lying.
WILLIE
Maybe. Come on, I have to get back to Tulane.
(a beat)
She said something weird, though. She told me to ask you, "How's your stomach?"
Richard shoots up, scrambles for the car, jumps into the driver's seat. Willie climbs in the passenger side. Richard hits the gas.
EXT. CANAL STREET - DAY
Richard races down Canal, spots the street car. He pulls ahead of it, turns the wheel hard, hits the brakes. The car screeches to a halt, straddles the street car tracks. The conductor leans into the brake, stops short. The PASSENGERS are thrown forward.
ON THE STREET CAR
Richard jumps aboard, scans the rows of startled passengers. Shirley's not there.
RICHARD
(to the conductor)
The woman, where'd she get off?
CONDUCTOR
I don't know. Couple blocks back?
Richard vaults from the street car, hustles back up Canal.
RICHARD'S CAR
Willie moves into the driver's seat, throws the car into reverse, backs into the oncoming traffic. He slams it into forward, takes off after Richard.
ON CANAL STREET
Richard sprints to the corner, checks the cross street. No sign of Shirley. He tears for the next corner, checks both directions. Nothing. He collapses onto the curb. Willie pulls up, rolls down the window.
WILLIE
She's gone, man. Come on, get in. I need to get back to Tulane.
INT. HISTORY DE
Remembrance Photo: The Screenplay Page 9
