{"id":9764,"date":"2016-10-22T12:28:02","date_gmt":"2016-10-22T21:28:02","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"-0001-11-30T00:00:00","modified_gmt":"-0001-11-29T15:00:00","slug":"","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/?p=9764","title":{"rendered":"[Movie Script]187"},"content":{"rendered":"
187\n
                by\n
\n
          Scott Yagemann\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
       REVISED SHOOTING DRAFT\n
\n
         November 4, 1996\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY\n
\n
    Rev. 7\/10\/96\n
\n
\n
                             1   8   7\n
\n
\n
1   EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN SKYLINE - BROOKLYN BRIDGE - MORNING    1\n
    RUSH HOUR\n
\n
    ON a pair of black Dexter penny loafers diligently\n
    pedaling an old Schwinn mountain bike. ADJUST ANGLE now\n
    to meet the bicyclist...\n
\n
    He's African-American. Anywhere from 33 to 40. Wears\n
    wire-rim glasses, a fresh white oxford shirt, creased\n
    slacks and a solid green tie. An unobtrusive figure, at\n
    once familiar and yet undiscerning. The type you'd pass\n
    on a sidewalk and never even notice. He's TREVOR GARFIELD.\n
\n
    ADJUST ANGLE FURTHER now to reveal the upper promenade\n
    bike path and a dramatic view of Lower Manhattan behind\n
    him. Morning sun glimmers off the Trade Center towers.\n
\n
    Trevor's shadow skitters along the wooden path, 160 ft.\n
    above the East River.\n
\n
    A fat briefcase, strapped to the back of his bike, rocks\n
    back and forth as he pumps the pedals.\n
\n
    FROM ABOVE now a sweeping view of Trevor, alone on the\n
    bike path, a speck, suspended above a sea of rush hour\n
    traffic on the bridge below.\n
\n
\n
2   EXT. ATLANTIC AVENUE (BEDFORD STUYVESANT) - MORNING         2\n
\n
    A wrought-iron train trestle covered with graffiti shakes\n
    as an \"EL\" TRAIN ROARS overhead. Trevor races parallel\n
    with it along Atlantic Avenue. Every city block becomes\n
    more and more rundown.\n
\n
\n
3   EXT. ROOSEVELT WHITNEY HIGH SCHOOL (BEDFORD                 3\n
    STUYVESANT) - MORNING\n
\n
    A cyclone fence frames the stalwart face of the old\n
    three-story administration building. Ubiquitous gray\n
    patches of paint fail to cover where taggers have most\n
    recently left their marks. The ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL, a\n
    black man with a booming voice, barks at late-comers who\n
    are about to be tardy...\n
\n
                            ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL\n
                     (clapping his hands)\n
              ... Let's go, people! Tardy lock-\n
              out starts in one minute! Get\n
              your butts in gear! One minute,\n
              people! Move it!\n
\n
                                                  (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  2.\n
\n
3    CONTINUED:                                                      3\n
\n
     SUPERIMPOSE:    ROOSEVELT WHITNEY HIGH SCHOOL -\n
                     OCTOBER 1994\n
\n
     The Assistant Principal, attention diverted, doesn't even\n
     notice Trevor as he enters on his bike and races down the\n
     sidewalk in front of the school. With all the prompting,\n
     students still don't seem to be in much of a hurry.\n
\n
\n
4    OMITTED                                                         4\n
\n
\n
5    INT. RWHS \"A\" BUILDING - MAIN ENTRANCE                          5\n
\n
     ... as Trevor squeezes through the doorway past students\n
     being processed through card readers and metal detectors\n
     and turns down the main hall.\n
\n
\n
6    INT. RWHS - MAIN FLOOR                                          6\n
\n
     With a glance over his shoulder, Trevor hops back onto\n
     his bike and pedals it down the middle of the corridor.\n
     STRAGGLING STUDENTS either ignore him or look at him\n
     like he's insane.\n
\n
                                STRAGGLING STUDENT\n
                         (as Trevor passes)\n
                  ... No ridin' bikes in 'a hallway,\n
                  stoo-pit.\n
\n
\n
6A   INT. STAIRWELL                                                  6A\n
\n
     As Trevor reaches the end of the main corridor... and\n
     steers his bike down the stairs.\n
\n
\n
7    INT. RWHS - BOTTOM FLOOR                                        7\n
\n
     Trevor coasts skillfully down the stairs and emerges\n
     onto the bottom floor of the school. He pedals away\n
     toward the other end of the corridor.\n
\n
\n
7A   EXT. TREVOR'S CLASSROOM                                         7A\n
\n
     A crowd of 10th graders loiter outside Trevor's room.\n
     Seeing him coming, they stir to life with a flurry of\n
     taunts. Trevor chooses to face all dissension with a\n
     smile.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                               3.\n
\n
7A   CONTINUED:                                                  7A\n
\n
     As Trevor hops off his bike and unlocks the classroom\n
     door, he notices two lovers making out in the hallway...\n
\n
                                VOICE IN CROWD\n
                  ... Yuh late, Garfield.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (catching his breath)\n
                  ... No, bell hasn't rung yet.\n
                  Okay, let's get inside. C'mon.\n
                         (as they file\n
                          into the room)\n
                  ... Morning, morning. Rise and\n
                  shine.\n
\n
     TWO STUDENTS make passing comments...\n
\n
                                AUGGIE\n
                         (shaking his head)\n
                  ... You one crazy-ass nigga, G.\n
\n
                                TYWAN\n
                         (a quarter stuck\n
                          in one ear)\n
                  ... Damn skippy.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Thank you for sharing, Auggie.\n
\n
                                TYWAN\n
                         (provoking Auggie)\n
                  ... Auggie doggie.\n
\n
                                AUGGIE (O.S.)\n
                  Fuck you, Tywan. Yer mama's a\n
                  gangsta-rapper.\n
\n
     Trevor offers a pleasant greeting to the two lovers.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  'Scuse me, you two... this isn't\n
                  the Playboy Channel.\n
\n
     Trevor enters the room, but ducks his head back into\n
     the hall.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  'Morning, Juanita.\n
\n
8    INT. RWHS - TREVOR'S CLASSROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION          8\n
\n
     Walls are covered with assorted science posters.\n
     Styrofoam nuclei dangle from the ceiling. Trevor\n
     unstraps the fat briefcase from his bicycle and sets\n
     it on a metal stool next to his desk...\n
                                                   (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                   4.\n
\n
8   CONTINUED:                                                          8\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                        (enthusiastically)\n
                 Let's get started. August and\n
                 Tywan, you pass out the books.\n
                 Thank you, gentlemen.\n
\n
    Auggie and Tywan don't budge.\n
\n
                                TYWAN\n
                 Whas up wit' your car, G?   Yer\n
                 Pinto blow up?\n
\n
    The majority of students aren't even paying attention.          A\n
    group in the back is already starting a card game.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                        (good-natured smile)\n
                 No, I don't own a Pinto, Tywan.\n
                        (addressing the class)\n
                 Okay, can I have everyone's\n
                 attention?\n
\n
    No response, but it doesn't phase Trevor.         He removes\n
    the front wheels from his bike.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 The purpose of the bicycle is to\n
                 demonstrate the principle of\n
                 centripetal force. That's the\n
                 opposite of the force we studied\n
                 yesterday, which was...\n
\n
                                 VOICE IN THE CROWD\n
                 Magnum force.\n
\n
    Hoots and laughter.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 Centrifugal force... Centripetal\n
                 force is where the acceleration of\n
                 a body moving in circular motion\n
                 is directed toward its center by an\n
                 opposing force, thus creating\n
                 momentum that constrains the body to\n
                 its circular path. Like a gyroscope.\n
                        (sees nothing\n
                         but yawns)\n
                 It's better if I show you. Here,\n
                 Tywan, you be my helper.\n
\n
    Tywan and Auggie are busy talking in the corner.        They\n
    still haven't passed out the books.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              5.\n
\n
8   CONTINUED:    (2)                                               8\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                 Tywan?   Come on.\n
\n
    Tywan, solidly built like a Rodin bronze, saunters over.\n
\n
                               TYWAN\n
                 Whad-up, G?\n
                        (to rest of class)\n
                 Hey, shut up! Y'all too damn\n
                 loud, man!\n
\n
    Class quiets but only marginally.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 I need you to demonstrate\n
                 centripetal force.\n
                        (removes briefcase\n
                         from stool)\n
                 Here, have a seat.\n
\n
    Tywan sits and Trevor hands him the upside-down bicycle.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 Okay, hold the bike steady with\n
                 your knees. That's it. Seat\n
                 positioned against your chest.\n
\n
    Tywan glances over at Auggie and starts to laugh.\n
\n
                               TYWAN\n
                        (to Auggie)\n
                 Shut up, foo.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 Okay, now crank the pedals and get\n
                 that back wheel spinning about\n
                 180 R.P.M.\n
\n
                               TYWAN\n
                 Whas up wit' dat?\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                        (coaxing him along)\n
                 You'll see. Be patient.\n
\n
    A skeptical Tywan starts to crank the pedals, but he's\n
    not pedaling hard enough.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 ... Put some muscle into it.\n
\n
    Tywan cranks the pedals harder now. Trevor back-pedals\n
    over to the textbook shelf and randomly selects a\n
    physical science book (but doesn't open it).\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
    1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                6.\n
\n
8   CONTINUED:    (3)                                            8\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 ... Keep pedaling. Harder.\n
\n
    A paper airplane sails past an oblivious Tywan. He\n
    cranks harder and harder until he's sweating ham juice.\n
    Now, he impales Trevor with a befuddled squint.\n
\n
                               TYWAN\n
                        (incredulous)\n
                 Whas up? I tol' you you was\n
                 crazy, man.\n
\n
    A thin smile of confidence from Trevor now...\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 Now tilt the wheel to your right.\n
\n
    Tywan does and immediately the wheel pulls him to the\n
    right, causing the stool to slowly spin on its axis.\n
\n
                               TYWAN\n
                        (eyes wide like\n
                         a little kid)\n
                 Aw, damn. I'm spinnin'.   Lookit\n
                 me, Auggie!\n
\n
    Trevor flickers a smile as Tywan's spinning starts to\n
    draw the attention of the rest of the class.\n
\n
    Now Trevor refers to the physical science book in his\n
    hand. Smile on his face immediately fades.\n
\n
    INSERT: Physical science textbook. In magic marker.\n
    The large number 187 has been scrawled across every\n
    page. Trevor flips through the book. He checks the\n
    front page to see who it belongs to.\n
\n
    Juxtaposed to Trevor's distracted state, the class is now\n
    focused on Tywan's achievement...\n
\n
                               CLASS\n
                        (attempting unison)\n
                 ... Tywan, Tywan, Tywan.\n
\n
\n
9   INT. RWHS - \"A\" BUILDING - MAIN CORRIDOR - SECOND            9\n
    PERIOD\n
\n
    One of the fluorescent lights overhead flickers. The\n
    place is deserted except for a custodian who pushes a\n
    cresting wave of trash ahead of his broom. Now Trevor\n
    heads up the north stairwell at the far end of the\n
    corridor. He clutches the desecrated physical science\n
    book. A student slides down the banister past him.\n
\n
                                                            7.\n
\n
10   OMITTED                                                      10\n
\n
\n
11   INT. COUNSELING OFFICES - WAITING AREA                       11\n
\n
     A PUERTO RICAN WOMAN prods a group of gangbanger wanna-\n
     bes. Two of the teens hover over a Sony Walkman, sharing\n
     the earphones.\n
\n
                             SECRETARY\n
               Okay, fellas, off the table. Put\n
               the Walkman away. I said put it\n
               away...\n
\n
     A 10th grade counselor's office opens and a student\n
     emerges. Trevor walks directly in.\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
               Walter, I need to speak with you.\n
\n
     WALTER (Anglo; 52) is a disheveled middle-aged counselor.\n
     A lifer. He chews on an empty smoking pipe as he glances\n
     through a student \"cum\" (cue-mm).\n
\n
                             WALTER\n
                      (preoccupied)\n
               I'm pretty busy right now,\n
               Garfield. What is it?\n
\n
     Trevor sets the book down on Walter's desk and nervously\n
     adjusts his glasses.\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
               Could you open it, please?\n
\n
     Walter opens the book.\n
\n
                             WALTER\n
                      (a weary look\n
                       of disgust)\n
               Don't suppose this kid cares about\n
               our budget crisis?\n
                      (shuts the book)\n
               Have the textbook room charge him\n
               for the book.\n
\n
     Walter snaps the book shut and looks up at Trevor.\n
     That's all?\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
               One-Eight-Seven is a penal code\n
               number for murder, Walter.\n
               Means the same thing as T-O-S.\n
               'Terminate On the Spot.'\n
\n
                                                    (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              8.\n
\n
11   CONTINUED:                                                     11\n
\n
                                 WALTER\n
                         (piqued)\n
                  For chrissake, I know what it\n
                  stands for. Look, kid probably\n
                  heard it in a rap song. Doesn't\n
                  mean anything.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... The book belongs to Dennis\n
                  Broadway. He's a known gangster,\n
                  Walter -- a 'Five Percenter.'\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                  Garfield, if I had a dollar for\n
                  every time a student threatened\n
                  faculty... Don't you think you're\n
                  overreacting a little?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (suppressing\n
                          trepidation)\n
                  Did you tell Dennis Broadway he\n
                  was getting a fail from me?\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                         (stymied)\n
                  I have legal access to those\n
                  files.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  He's a transfer from Nixon High\n
                  School, isn't he?\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                         (becoming defensive)\n
                  Look, I'm not obligated to track\n
                  you down every time a transfer\n
                  student comes through here. You\n
                  want confidential information\n
                  like that, come look it up in his\n
                  cum (cue-mm).\n
\n
     Trevor exhales a sigh of resignation.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Do you have him on a contract?\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                  If he gets through the semester\n
                  without a fail then he gets to go\n
                  back to Nixon, so what?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... and be with his homeboys.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              9.\n
\n
11   CONTINUED:    (2)                                             11\n
\n
     Walter's caught between a rock and a hard place.   His\n
     instincts lean toward self-preservation.\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                  So he blew his opportunity. Now\n
                  he has to learn to live with the\n
                  consequences.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I don't think this kid's ready to\n
                  deal with the consequences. I\n
                  think he wants me dead.\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                  Relax, has nothin' to do with you.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I should have been told, Walter.\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                  Hey, I'm on your side, Garfield,\n
                  but my hands are tied. Kid has a\n
                  right to his privacy... Know what\n
                  your problem is? You're an\n
                  idealist.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  What's wrong with that?\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                  You only see what you wanna see,\n
                  that's what's wrong. On one hand\n
                  you think someone's trying to kill\n
                  you. On the other hand you\n
                  actually believe kids are paying\n
                  attention in your classes.\n
\n
     Trevor resigns himself to the fact that he's come to\n
     the wrong person for support.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (collecting himself)\n
                  Never mind. It's not a problem.\n
\n
                                WALTER\n
                         (an empty promise)\n
                  Tell you what, as soon as I get a\n
                  chance I'll summons the kid.\n
                  Promise.\n
\n
     Trevor's bemusement holds us.\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                              10.\n
\n
12   INT. RWHS \"A\" BUILDING - MAIN CORRIDOR - MORNING            12\n
\n
     Trevor retraces his steps back up the empty corridor as\n
     the passing BELL RINGS. Within seconds the corridor is\n
     teeming with teenagers.\n
\n
     Into SLOW MOTION now. MANEUVERING THROUGH the crowd to\n
     DISCOVER DENNIS BROADWAY (16). About ten paces behind.\n
     His Snoop-Dogg Afro frames a gold earring and a pair of\n
     deep-set eyes filled with vitriol. Oblivious of Dennis,\n
     Trevor presses on toward the north stairwell.\n
\n
     VARIOUS SHOTS OVERHEAD and THROUGH crowd as the gap\n
     between Dennis and Trevor narrows. Every facial\n
     expression, every blink of an eye, all magnified a\n
     hundred times.\n
\n
     Broadway's right hand is wrapped in a dirty white\n
     handkerchief as he reaches into the front pocket of his\n
     baggie Solos and pulls out a block of wood with a\n
     ten-penny nail imbedded in it.\n
\n
\n
13   INT. RWHS - AT NORTH STAIRWELL                              13\n
\n
     Trevor's heavy eyelids blink as he slowly glances up into\n
     a parabolic mirror on the wall. A silent, paroxysmal\n
     terror registers on his face.\n
\n
     In a parabolic mirror, the blurred image of Dennis\n
     Broadway, pushing hard toward a conclusion now.\n
\n
     BACK TO SPEED as Dennis explodes forward, body blocking\n
     Trevor from behind, pinning him against a wall and\n
     sending the \"187\" textbook flying.\n
\n
     He rams his weapon into Trevor's back.\n
\n
     In a SERIES OF RAPID-FIRE CUTS, filtered sunlight\n
     shimmers off the sharpened nail as it slashes downward.\n
     A barrage of stabbing motions, tearing at cloth and\n
     flesh. Trevor's backward flailing arms are ineffective\n
     in blocking the frenzied stabfest. Downward slashing,\n
     again and again... 10 times.\n
\n
     Aftermath. As quickly as it began it's over. Dennis\n
     Broadway slams open an exit door and is gone. Students\n
     scatter like cockroaches. An eerie stillness lingers.\n
\n
     Trevor Garfield is lying on his back now in a pool of\n
     blood; black plastic framed glasses in pieces on the\n
     floor; lifeless arms spread out at his sides.   His\n
     rheumy, unblinking eyes stare upward into infinite space.\n
     Breathing is the major focus of his concentration now as\n
     we SLOWLY MOVE IN ON his face. HOLD and now...\n
\n
                                                               11.\n
\n
14   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE (SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA) -                     14\n
\n
     SUPERIMPOSE: LOS ANGELES - SAN FERNANDO VALLEY,\n
     SEVENTEEN MONTHS LATER\n
\n
     It's a tiny one bedroom house in the East San Fernando\n
     Valley. A chain-link fence surrounds the perimeter and a\n
     large olive tree shades the neatly-mowed front lawn.\n
     And in the back there's a wooden tool shed that borders\n
     a narrow alley.\n
\n
\n
15   INT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM                               15\n
\n
     In the predawn light a terra cotta angel stands guard\n
     over a bookshelf.\n
\n
\n
16   INT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - BEDROOM                                   16\n
\n
     Stillness. Now the PHONE RINGS. A shape in the bed\n
     stirs. A desk lamp flickers on, illuminating the phone.\n
     Trevor's hand reaches for the receiver.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Morning...\n
\n
                                 SUB UNIT (V.O.)\n
                   'Morning, Mr. Garfield. This is\n
                   the Sub Unit. Are you available\n
                   for work?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (clearing his throat)\n
                   ... Yes, uh huh.\n
\n
                                 SUB UNIT (V.O.)\n
                   There's a science class in the\n
                   Valley at John Quincy Adams. It's\n
                   a four day assignment. Teacher's\n
                   name is Eskander.\n
\n
\n
17   INT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - TREVOR'S PRAYER - SERIES OF SHOTS         17\n
\n
     We hear what God hears over the following...\n
\n
     A)   IN SHOWER\n
\n
          Trevor hangs his head under a torrent of soothing\n
          water.\n
\n
     B)   TREVOR\n
\n
          Ceremoniously, he irons a shirt... and polishes his\n
          shoes, a broad scar shows across the back of his hand.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1    8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                 12.\n
\n
17    CONTINUED:                                                      17\n
\n
      C)   ANOTHER ANGLE\n
\n
           His pressed slacks and tie hang meticulously over a\n
           chair as he gets dressed.\n
\n
      D)   CRUCIFIX\n
\n
           Now Jesus Christ looks down on Trevor from his crucifix\n
           on the bedroom wall.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR (V.O.)\n
                          (kneeling bedside)\n
                   ... If you're listening, God,\n
                   please help me today. All I ask\n
                   is a chance to do my job... t'do\n
                   the job you put me here to do in\n
                   the first place.\n
                          (prayerfully now)\n
                   Please help me accept those things\n
                   I cannot change... and give me\n
                   strength to change those things I\n
                   can.\n
                          (beat)\n
                   ... This is me, Trevor, God.\n
                   Amen.\n
\n
\n
18    EXT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS H.S. (SAN FERNANDO VALLEY) -             18\n
      \"A\" BUILDING - MORNING\n
\n
      Traffic bottle-necks as students cross in front of cars,\n
      and big yellow L.A.U.S.D. buses pull in. The green lawn\n
      is scattered with students (about 65% Hispanic).\n
      Compared to the scarred, institutional look of Roosevelt\n
      Whitney, the face of John Quincy Adams is unblemished.\n
      (This is your own backyard, not the inner city)\n
\n
      Sagging pants (Dickies, Ben Davis) and oversized jackets\n
      (County Bens, Duke, Georgetown) are represented. The\n
      different socio-economic and ethnic groups stick with\n
      their own kind; the IHPs (Individual Honors Program), the\n
      taggers, the Gangbangers, the Asians, the Armenians...\n
\n
\n
18A   EXT. JQA PARKING LOT                                            18A\n
\n
      Anglo boy, Stevie Littleton, gets out of his mom's Lexus\n
      in the school parking lot and walks towards school.\n
\n
\n
19    INT.\/EXT. TREVOR'S '64 RAMBLER AMERICAN - FACULTY               19\n
      PARKING LOT DRIVEWAY\n
\n
      Trevor sits behind the wheel of his Rambler.      Watches a\n
      passing parade of students with detachment.\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                 13.\n
\n
20   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - \"A\" BUILDING ENTRANCE - FEW           20\n
     MINUTES LATER\n
\n
     Trevor, fat briefcase in hand, crosses the front lawn.\n
     He's not the same Trevor we met back in Bedford-\n
     Stuvyesant. Withdrawn, guarded, he manufactures a\n
     cautious smile at students in passing.\n
\n
     Trevor now approaches VICTOR SIFUENTES, a young plain-\n
     clothes narc, who intermittently wands students with a\n
     metal detector at the front doors. FAVOR a kid now who\n
     wears a baseball cap with an emblem on the crown that\n
     says \"Fucd.\"\n
\n
                               VICTOR\n
                 ... Baseball cap, give it up.\n
\n
     The kid grudgingly reciprocates, handing over his cap.\n
\n
                               VICTOR\n
                        (stopping Trevor now)\n
                 Hold it, please.\n
\n
     Trevor produces his blue employee card.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 I'm a substitute.\n
\n
                               VICTOR\n
                        (pointing)\n
                 Okay, you want the Main Office,\n
                 straight ahead. Check in with\n
                 Mrs. Ford.\n
\n
\n
21   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - \"A\" BUILDING\/MAIN CORRIDOR -          21\n
     BEFORE FIRST PERIOD\n
\n
     Trevor wanders up the crowded corridor. Along with his\n
     briefcase he now carries a sub folder that contains a\n
     homeroom roster, lesson plans and seating charts.\n
\n
     A sporadic row of teachers, like weary sentinels, stand\n
     outside their classrooms.\n
\n
     TEACHER #1 is an insipid woman in her mid-forties.   She's\n
     overweight and wears too much make-up.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 ... 'Scuse me. I'm lost. I'm\n
                 looking for Bungalow...\n
                        (checks homeroom roster)\n
                 ... eighty-six.\n
\n
                                                   (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 14.\n
\n
21   CONTINUED:                                                        21\n
\n
                                TEACHER #1\n
                         (pointing)\n
                  All the way out, next to the\n
                  parking lot. Last bungalow on the\n
                  left.\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                  ... Thank you.\n
\n
                                TEACHER #1\n
                         (fatalistic)\n
                  Good luck.\n
\n
     Her comment weighs on him as he resumes his winding path\n
     through the bustle of students headed for first period.\n
\n
\n
22   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - MAIN CORRIDOR\/CLASSROOMS -               22\n
     TREVOR'S POV\n
\n
     Glancing through open doorways. Observing the inner life\n
     of various classrooms in passing... sees students watch-\n
     ing TV, teacher ignores them.\n
\n
     INTERCUT WITH:\n
\n
\n
23   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - CLASSROOM #2                             23\n
\n
     ANGLO MALE, 39, slouching behind his desk, attempting to\n
     read a newspaper but distracted by an offstage commotion.\n
\n
                                CLASSROOM #2 TEACHER (ANGLO MALE)\n
                         (erupting)\n
                  ... Sit down. I come back there\n
                  and you're gonna be sorry.\n
\n
     INTERCUT WITH:\n
\n
\n
24   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - CLASSROOM #3\/COMPUTER LAB                24\n
\n
     On the opposite side of the corridor... we can hear\n
     Ellen Henry's voice before reaching her doorway. All\n
     brightness and light, full of enthusiasm...\n
\n
                                   ELLEN (O.S.)\n
                         (like,    a buzzer;\n
                          times    up)\n
                  ... EEEEgghh!     Wrong. William,\n
                  you know this.     C'mon, how do you\n
                  find the pound    sign? What's the\n
                  fastest way?\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                            15.\n
\n
24   CONTINUED:                                                   24\n
\n
     Now we see her through the doorway. ELLEN HENRY (TEACHER\n
     #3). She's thirty, Anglo, and non-tenured. At the front\n
     of the class ten students stand linked together, arm-in-\n
     arm, in a human chain. WILLIAM (15) sits behind a computer\n
     in the front row struggling to decipher the problem...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (playfully)\n
                  You're not thinking.\n
                         (a major clue)\n
                  How 'bout Binary search.\n
\n
     William remains puzzled. The chain of students delight\n
     in chiding him. \"C'mon, Beavis!\"...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (the answer)\n
                  You split them!\n
\n
     Ellen attempts to bisect the impulsive chain of students\n
     with a double-handed karate chop. Fickle chain that they\n
     are, they resist.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (amused)\n
                  ... Very funny.\n
\n
     Now a SLOW MOTION fleeting moment as she catches Trevor's\n
     passing gaze and openly smiles at him.\n
\n
\n
25   INT. MEN'S BATHROOM                                          25\n
\n
     Trevor rinses his face at the sink as Victor Sifuentes'\n
     head speaks to him from above one of the heavily\n
     graffitied stalls in b.g.\n
\n
                                VICTOR\n
                  So who yuh here for?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Eskander.\n
\n
                                VICTOR\n
                         (zipping up,\n
                          exiting)\n
                  Aw, man, you got bungalow\n
                  duty.\n
\n
\n
26   EXT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - BUNGALOWS - MORNING                 26\n
\n
     On a MEANDERING COURSE, MERGING with Trevor now.\n
\n
                                                    (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                16.\n
\n
26   CONTINUED:                                                       26\n
\n
     Increasing evidence of tagging, and bands of wandering\n
     students, indicate a higher degree of disorder the\n
     further one gets from the Main Office.\n
\n
     FROM ABOVE NOW, like Algernon and his maze, Trevor\n
     negotiates his own path deeper and deeper into the\n
     configuration of bungalows.\n
\n
     ... And Trevor's trepidation. Eyes discerning every\n
     passerby. His PULSE AUDIBLY RACES, senses heightened.\n
\n
     SHIFTING INTO SLOW MOTION AGAIN... And the reverberating\n
     SOUND of a SPRAY PAINT MARBLE as Trevor rounds a corner\n
     and comes face to face with three tag-bangers concealing\n
     spray paint cans inside their oversized jackets. One of\n
     the taggers locks eyes with Trevor as he passes, a slow\n
     premonitory burn. The tagger has a \"skin tight\" (pelon)\n
     hair cut and a string of black rosary beads around his\n
     neck. A barcode tattoo on the back of his neck identi-\n
     fies BENNY.\n
\n
\n
27   EXT. UTILITY SHED AND VICINITY - MORNING                         27\n
\n
     ... Behind the bungalows, adjacent the delivery gate.\n
     Meet DAVE CHILDRESS, a forty-something ditto-head.\n
     The residual effects of a hangover linger as he sneaks a\n
     cigarette before first period. He wears a faded Hawaiian\n
     shirt and Huarache sandals. An old military tattoo\n
     emblazons his left forearm. As he crushes out his\n
     cigarette, something catches his eye.\n
\n
\n
28   EXT. UTILITY SHED                                                28\n
\n
     ... Thru a chain-link fence we see a handful of cholo-\n
     types loitering around the shed.\n
\n
     Childress investigates.    As he approaches the fence...\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                         ... Hey, ese(s)?!\n
\n
     Homeboys scatter in all directions, some hop the chain-\n
     link fence, others scurry out a narrow gate behind the\n
     shed. Childress weighs an amused smirk. Now out of\n
     nowhere a gangbanger lurches from the shed, buttoning\n
     his sagging Dickies and tripping over his own feet. He\n
     scrambles out the back gate and is gone.\n
\n
     Childress, curiosity piqued, now enters the compound\n
     through a tear in the fence.\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                 17.\n
\n
29   INT. UTILITY SHED - MOMENTS LATER                              29\n
\n
     As Childress pokes his head inside he discovers...\n
\n
     Rita Nartinez, seventeen... braless. A niobium belly-\n
     ring piercing her navel. She pulls a dark blue sweat\n
     shirt on over her head. Glances up at Childress. Masks\n
     her shame with a defiant smirk.\n
\n
     (Behind the heavy eyeliner and baggy pants of a chola,\n
     Rita's really nothing more than a little lost girl.)\n
\n
                               CHILDRESS\n
                        (knowing full well)\n
                 What the hell's going on here,\n
                 lil' sister?\n
\n
\n
30   INT. BUNGALOW \"84\" - MORNING                                   30\n
\n
     Trevor flicks on the lights, exposing bare, colorless\n
     walls and closed venetian blinds. His breathing's\n
     slightly labored as he sets down his briefcase. His back\n
     faces the mob of students that trickle in now as he takes\n
     a surreptitious hit off an inhaler. Almost instantly his\n
     breathing returns to normal.\n
\n
     Now he shuts his eyes and prepares to conjure up the\n
     dormant enthusiasm he used to have. Takes a deep\n
     cathartic breath. Now he digs a file folder out of his\n
     briefcase, opens it, selects a dispatch and approaches\n
     the blackboard.\n
\n
     BELL RINGS as he picks up a piece of chalk... and begins.\n
     First he writes his name in the corner of the blackboard.\n
     Now he moves to the center of the blackboard and begins\n
     to write per the file folder in his hand...\n
\n
     \"GLIS WAS VERY FRAPPER.    SHE HAD DENARPEN FARFIE'S\n
     MARDSEN...\"\n
\n
     No one pays much attention.    Back still facing the\n
     class...\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 ... Before taking roll, I'd like\n
                 to prove a point.\n
\n
     Now one or two students begin to notice the\n
     indecipherable gibberish he is writing on the board...\n
\n
                                                     (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               18.\n
\n
30   CONTINUED:                                                      30\n
\n
                                 BARSEK\n
                         (Armenian; a disparaging\n
                          laugh)\n
                  'Farfie?'\n
                         (cholo-like)\n
                  Whad up, Farfie?\n
\n
     Trevor mentally blocks out the salvo of grunts, groans\n
     and expletives. With each subsequent stroke of the chalk\n
     he is exorcising his demons...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... It's not important what... or\n
                  who... 'Farfie' is.\n
\n
     Turning to face the class now...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Yuh wanna play, yuh gotta stay.\n
                  Have a seat, please.\n
\n
     A handful of students take their seats.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (pacing now)\n
                  The point I'd like to make is\n
                  this... Anyone here can be a\n
                  scientist.\n
\n
     ... a grudging buzz of confusion.\n
\n
                                ASIAN GIRL\n
                         (sotto; puzzled)\n
                  ... What's he talking about?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  ... A scientist is like a\n
                  detective. He investigates data.\n
                  He scratches the surface of things\n
                  he doesn't understand to see\n
                  what's underneath.\n
                         (pointing to blackboard)\n
                  ... Things like this. Okay, who\n
                  wants to read?\n
\n
     Barsek (the class clown) breaks in...\n
\n
                                BARSEK\n
                         (standing up)\n
                  I'll do it.\n
\n
     Trevor quiets a harmless barrage of, \"Bart,\" \"sit down\"\n
     and \"Armenian Power sucks\"...\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               19.\n
\n
30   CONTINUED:    (2)                                               30\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  Come on, we don't need disrespect.\n
                  Let 'im do it.\n
                         (to Barsek)\n
                  What's your name?\n
\n
                                   BARSEK\n
                  Barsek.\n
\n
     A wisp of gratification flickers at the corner of\n
     Trevor's mouth.\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                  Okay, Barsek.     Read.\n
\n
     (The following is read in fits and starts and accompanied\n
     by diminishing laughter and ridicule.)\n
\n
                                BARSEK\n
                  ... Glis was very frapper. She\n
                  had denarpen Farfie's Mardsen.\n
                  She couldn't galp a giberter for\n
                  Farfie. Instead she wharked to\n
                  plimp a mardsen binky for him.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Okay, anyone know what Barsek just\n
                  said?\n
\n
     ... A unanimous \"No.\" Trevor can see the light at the\n
     end of the tunnel now. He's back in the zone.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  That's alright. You don't need to\n
                  understand something to answer a\n
                  few simple questions about it.\n
                  Every one of you is capable of\n
                  decoding data. Watch.\n
\n
     Trevor writes question #1 on the board...\n
\n
              1. WHY WAS GLIS FRAPPER?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... Why was Glis Frapper?   Can\n
                  anyone tell me?\n
\n
     The Asian Girl, into it now, tentatively raises her hand.\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                            (pointing at\n
                             Asian Girl)\n
                  Okay.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               20.\n
\n
30   CONTINUED:    (3)                                               30\n
\n
     Asian Girl's POV as she studies the first two sentences\n
     on the board.\n
\n
                                ASIAN GIRL\n
                         (slowly; cautiously)\n
                  ... Glis was frapper... because...\n
                  she had denarpen Farfie's mardsen?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (understated)\n
                  That's right. You got it.\n
                         (reactions all around)\n
                  Let's try another.\n
\n
     Trevor reads and writes question #2 on the board...\n
\n
              2. WHAT DID GLIS PLIMP?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... What did Glis plimp?\n
\n
     Before Trevor can finish writing the question, an\n
     unidentified voice blurts out, \"He plimped a Ho.\"\n
     Scattered laughter. Trevor grimaces, shakes his head.\n
     Now attempts to add the question mark at the end of the\n
     sentence but the chalk breaks, causing dissension.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                         (searching blackboard\n
                          ledge)\n
                  ... Hold on, hold on. Where's\n
                  your teacher keep the chalk?\n
\n
                                ASIAN GIRL\n
                  ... In the desk.\n
\n
     Trevor hastily rifles through the teacher's drawers.     A\n
     startling discovery abruptly halts his search...\n
\n
     CLOSER now INTO a brown paper bag Trevor has opened.\n
     Inside the bag is a .357 Magnum.\n
\n
     OFF Trevor's narrowing gaze, an offstage voice\n
     interrupts...\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS (O.S.)\n
                  ... Can I help you?\n
\n
     Trevor lifts his head to see Dave Childress standing in\n
     the doorway of the bungalow. Trevor shuts the desk\n
     drawer. You can hear a pin drop.\n
\n
     Childress piston-chews a wad of gum as he approaches\n
     Trevor.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                               21.\n
\n
30   CONTINUED: (4)                                               30\n
\n
                               CHILDRESS\n
                 Sorry I'm late. Had to handle\n
                 something. You a sub?\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                        (puzzled)\n
                 I thought this was Science.\n
                 Ms. Eskander.\n
\n
     Childress weighs a shit-eating grin as he glances at\n
     Trevor's name on the board.\n
\n
                               CHILDRESS\n
                 No. This is Dave Childress,\n
                 American History.\n
\n
     Some students brave a laugh at Trevor's expense.\n
\n
                               CHILDRESS\n
                 ... Don't know how to break it to\n
                 you...\n
                        (glancing at\n
                         Trevor's name again)\n
                 ... Garfield... but this is\n
                 bungalow 84.\n
\n
     Childress now places a patronizing hand on Trevor's\n
     shoulder and steers him toward the window blinds.\n
\n
                               CHILDRESS\n
                 See, you zigged when you shoulda\n
                 zagged. Course it's not your\n
                 fault someone jacked the number\n
                 off my door. Keep askin' Garcia\n
                 to fix it but all I get is 'nada.'\n
\n
     Childress draws the blinds on one of the windows exposing\n
     another bungalow across the way.\n
\n
\n
31   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - THROUGH WINDOW PANE                      31\n
\n
     ... In complete disarray. Students clutter the doorway\n
     as wads of paper intermittently zing past them.\n
\n
                               CHILDRESS\n
                 ... that mess over there, that's\n
                 Eskander's.\n
\n
     OFF Trevor's unflinching stare...\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  22.\n
\n
32   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - MORNING                                     32\n
\n
     The bungalow was originally designed for lab science:\n
     glass-encased cupboards, a caged white lab rat on a side\n
     counter, an 8' by 3' counter top (island) at the front of\n
     the room, including a built-in sink and butane gas valve.\n
\n
     Students crowd the opened windows on the far side of the\n
     room. The chaotic atmosphere centers around one\n
     student... Benny Chacon (18), the tagger we met earlier.\n
\n
     Trevor's back to square one. He struggles with\n
     trepidation as he steps into the doorway of the bungalow\n
     and hesitates.\n
\n
     A young black girl, LAKESIA STEWART (16), stands near the\n
     doorway. She cradles a realistic looking E.N.A.B.L. baby\n
     (Education Now And Babies Later).\n
\n
                                LAKESIA\n
                 You our sub?\n
\n
     Trevor takes a peek at the doll.\n
\n
                               LAKESIA\n
                 It's not real. We're studying\n
                 teen parenting in home-ec.' It's\n
                 computerized, so it cries and shit.\n
\n
     Crowd at the windows begins to disperse now, finding\n
     their seats, except for Benny who doesn't budge. Trevor\n
     approaches, gazes out the window, eyes sizing up the\n
     situation.\n
\n
\n
33   EXT. BUNGALOW #86 - TREVOR'S POV - TEXTBOOKS                    33\n
\n
     Scattered on the blacktop between the parking lot fence\n
     and bungalow #86 are 35 science textbooks.\n
\n
\n
34   INT. BUNGALOW #86                                               34\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                        (addressing Benny;\n
                          without prejudging)\n
                 You know how the books got\n
                 outside?\n
\n
     Benny plays with the black rosary around his neck.\n
     Responds with mock ignorance.\n
\n
                               BENNY\n
                 No speaky Engless.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                  23.\n
\n
34   CONTINUED:                                                         34\n
\n
     Class erupts with laughter.      A wad of paper sails past\n
     Trevor and out the window.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  You speak Spanish, Mister... Whas\n
                  yer name?\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  Garfield.\n
\n
                                 BENNY\n
                  ... You speak Spanish, Mister G?\n
                         (as Trevor ignores\n
                           the question)\n
                  Eh, G... know what dat means when\n
                  a homeboy calls you 'G'? Dat means\n
                  gangster, homes. You a gangster,\n
                  maestro?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  No, I'm not a gangster.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  Would you please do me a favor and\n
                  pick up the books?\n
\n
                                 BENNY\n
                         (righteous\n
                          indignation)\n
                  Andate a la mierda.\n
                         (more laughs)\n
                  I ain't pickin' dat shit up.   You\n
                  go pick it up.\n
\n
     Benny now finds a seat.      Trevor follows him.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  What's your name?\n
\n
                                  BENNY\n
                  Cesar Chavez.    Don't you recognize\n
                  me?\n
\n
     Class laughs. Trevor refers to the seating chart (inside\n
     the sub folder) in his hand but Benny's not sitting in\n
     his proper seat. Benny indicates a 2\" by 3\" monitoring\n
     device strapped to his ankle...\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  See dis? I'm already on house\n
                  arrest, homes. Ain't nothin' more\n
                  you can do to me.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  24.\n
\n
34   CONTINUED:    (2)                                               34\n
\n
     Suddenly three students across from Benny (the other\n
     three taggers we saw earlier, Cesar Sanchez, Stevie\n
     Littleton and Paco) stand with bold impunity. All are\n
     17. Cesar has a buzz-cut, Stevie's an Anglo speed freak\n
     with a runny nose and a bleached one-clip haircut (roots\n
     showing) and Paco, a Latino.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Sit down, please.\n
\n
     Cesar, Stevie and Paco ignore Trevor and walk out of the\n
     bungalow. Their departure is accompanied by a tumultuous\n
     outburst of catcalls and whistles.\n
\n
                                 LAKESIA\n
                          (peeking Benny's\n
                           hold card)\n
                  Mr. G, those guys that jus' walked\n
                  out aren't even in here this\n
                  period.\n
                          (pointing to Benny)\n
                  And this fool's name is Benny\n
                  Chacon.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                         (whirls in his seat)\n
                  Shut yer mouth, hood rat! School\n
                  girl bitch!\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  Okay, Benny.   That's enough.\n
\n
     Benny turns his wrath on Trevor now.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  Hey, you ain't no real teacher.\n
                  Fool, you're nothin' but a sub.\n
                  T'ink yer so cool... You mus' be\n
                  'Mr. culo.'\n
\n
     Scattered laughter. Trevor closes the sub folder and\n
     just looks at Benny.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (a cool curiosity)\n
                  Why do you wear a rosary?\n
\n
                                 BENNY\n
                          (reacting)\n
                  Ain't none a' yer damn business.\n
                  To put God on me, okay? Why don't\n
                  you jus' go sit down and read yer\n
                  newspaper. Wanna-be, mother\n
                  fucker.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 25.\n
\n
34   CONTINUED:    (3)                                                 34\n
\n
     Trevor just stands there, studies Benny.       A palpable\n
     beat.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  Are you done?\n
\n
     There is dead silence as Benny stares Trevor straight in\n
     the eye. Trevor stares right back.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  Jus' gimme a referral.    Shit.\n
\n
     Trevor turns and calmly walks back to the island counter,\n
     searches and finds a referral slip in one of the drawers,\n
     fills it out...\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                         (cool deliberation)\n
                  For future reference, anyone who\n
                  disrupts a class, or in any way\n
                  infringes on the rights of others\n
                  to get an education, is subject to\n
                  disciplinary action.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  When I'm here, ladies and\n
                  gentlemen, I expect to be treated\n
                  decently...\n
                         (walks back\n
                           to Benny)\n
                  ... hopefully in an atmosphere of\n
                  mutual respect. This classroom is\n
                  our sanctuary, yours and mine.\n
                  Respect it.\n
                         (handing Benny\n
                           the referral)\n
                  For your information, I am a real\n
                  teacher.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  Whatever you say, Opie.\n
\n
     Benny has a smirk on his face as he sashays past Trevor\n
     with the referral slip.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Okay, who would like to help me\n
                  pick up the books?\n
\n
     Benny, a self-aggrandized exit, crumbles the referral\n
     slip and tosses it at Trevor, hitting him square in the\n
     back.\n
\n
     Like a reflex, Trevor whirls and ducks.        Students laugh\n
     at his heightened reaction.\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  26.\n
\n
34A   EXT. JQA - FACULTY DINING ROOM                                  34A\n
\n
      We see kids at an armored Coke machine.      PAN OFF machine\n
      to see kids at lunch.\n
\n
\n
35    INT. JQA - FACULTY DINING ROOM - LUNCHTIME                      35\n
\n
      Trevor sits by himself, lost in stirring a bowl of soup.\n
      He observes a talkative clique of teachers at the far end\n
      of the table, including Teacher #1.\n
\n
      Now Dave Childress sits down, disrupting Trevor's\n
      solitude.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  How goes the battle, Garfield?\n
\n
      Dave bites into a messy sandwich as he skims the front\n
      page of a newspaper that someone left behind.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  D'juh get that binky marsden farfied?\n
\n
      Trevor doesn't say a word. Just keeps stirring his soup\n
      ... Now notices Ellen Henry as she enters and joins the\n
      food line.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Know what I think? I think that\n
                  Chacon punk's the one who opened\n
                  your bungalow this morning.\n
                         (another bite)\n
                  Eskander doesn't know how to lock\n
                  a window.\n
\n
\n
      TREVOR'S POV - ELLEN AND CASHIER\n
\n
      The cashier (Armenian girl, 15) is one of Ellen's\n
      students. As Ellen pays for a sandwich...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  ... Come by the lab after school,\n
                  we'll work on it...\n
\n
\n
      BACK TO TREVOR AND CHILDRESS\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Want some advice?\n
\n
      Trevor slides Dave a glance.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               27.\n
\n
35   CONTINUED:                                                      35\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  First homeboy that gives you the\n
                  slightest bit of trouble... send\n
                  'um tuh Larry Hyland. He's their\n
                  counselor. Right off the bat, yuh\n
                  have to sacrifice one. Let 'um\n
                  know who's boss. Show some balls.\n
                         (as Trevor nods)\n
                  And don't look for support from\n
                  the administration. Most of 'em\n
                  haven't been in a classroom in ten\n
                  years. They don't know shit. I\n
                  got tenure and I'm still out here\n
                  in the damn bungalows. I should\n
                  be in the 'A' building with a nice\n
                  air-conditioned room.\n
                         (sarcastically)\n
                  You met Garcia yet? The principal?\n
\n
     Trevor shakes his head as Ellen Henry takes the empty\n
     seat at the end of the table, smiles at Trevor.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Ah!  New blood!\n
                         (extends a hand)\n
                  Ellen Henry, computer science.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Trevor Garfield.\n
\n
     As they shake right in front of Childress' face he can't\n
     help noticing the mean scar on the back of Trevor's hand.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Nice scar yuh got there.\n
\n
     There's something familiar about this sub.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Ever sub here before?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  First time.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                         (curiously)\n
                  What about permanent?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I taught seven years in the\n
                  Bedford-Stuyvesant section of\n
                  Brooklyn. Roosevelt Whitney High\n
                  School.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                28.\n
\n
35   CONTINUED:    (2)                                                35\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Roosevelt Whitney? Didn't some\n
                  teacher get stabbed to death there\n
                  last year?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Actually, he survived.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  No, it was on 'Sixty Minutes.' Some\n
                  gangbanger stabbed this guy with a\n
                  ten-penny nail like a dozen times\n
                  in a hallway and...\n
\n
     Childress looks from Trevor silently stirring his soup\n
     down to the scar again... and now it hits him.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Jesus Christ, you're him.   It was\n
                  you.\n
\n
     Ellen blanches.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                         (awestruck)\n
                  Holy shit, Garfield. When was\n
                  that? December before last? No,\n
                  it was fall.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  October 27.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Whadda schmuck. I'm sittin' here\n
                  givin' advice to a man with a\n
                  purple heart.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                  Excuse me...\n
\n
     Inexplicably, she gets up and leaves. As Trevor watches\n
     Ellen go, Childress slides closer to him.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                         (sotto)\n
                  Lemme tell yuh somethin'. In my\n
                  book you're a fuckin' hero. Damn\n
                  straight.\n
\n
     Trevor slides a look back to Dave as he eats his soup.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... Getting stabbed doesn't make me\n
                  a hero.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                29.\n
\n
35   CONTINUED:    (3)                                                35\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                         (disregards\n
                          Trevor's comment)\n
                  So what'd they give the kid?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  They put 'im upstate in a facility\n
                  until his twenty-first birthday.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  That all? They shoulda caned the\n
                  bastard. Like they did that kid\n
                  in Singapore. Remember?\n
                         (recollecting)\n
                  President of Singapore had a few\n
                  choice words. Use to have it\n
                  memorized... He said something\n
                  like, 'When a state of increasing\n
                  disorder and defiance cannot be\n
                  checked by the rules... then new\n
                  and sometimes drastic rules have\n
                  to be forged to maintain order.'\n
                         (slides Trevor\n
                          a glance)\n
                  'The alternative is to surrender\n
                  order to chaos and anarchy.'\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  So why do you still teach?\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Same reason as you, Garfield -- for\n
                  the paycheck.\n
\n
\n
36   EXT. BUNGALOW #86 - AFTERNOON (SIXTH PERIOD; NEXT DAY)           36\n
\n
     The windows and blinds are shut now.\n
\n
\n
37   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - CLOCK ON WALL - CONTINUOUS ACTION            37\n
\n
     is inching toward the top of the hour.\n
\n
     Closing their books and loading their knapsacks, the\n
     students talk and pay more attention to the inexorable\n
     march of time than to Trevor writing on an overhead\n
     projector.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Okay, someone tell me the\n
                  difference between the central\n
                  nervous system and the lymphatic\n
                  system?\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   30.\n
\n
37   CONTINUED:                                                       37\n
\n
     Rita Nartinez (the chola from the \"utility\" shed) sits\n
     near the front of the class. She wears her usual heavy\n
     eyeliner and a new nose ring.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (obscenely)\n
                  Mr. G, you gotta nice butt.\n
\n
     Class erupts. Rita enjoys the attention.        Trevor turns\n
     and looks at her squarely.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  You seem to be an expert on\n
                  anatomy, Miss --\n
                         (checks roster)\n
                  -- Nartinez. Central nervous\n
                  system and lymphatic system.\n
                  What's the difference?\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                  ... Uh...\n
\n
     Trevor doesn't expect anything remotely close to the\n
     right answer.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                  It's like the central nervous\n
                  system, that's your brain and\n
                  spinal cord, and the lymphatic\n
                  system, that's the stuff in your\n
                  blood that fights diseases.\n
\n
     A beat.   Trevor looks up at her.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Very good.\n
\n
     Trevor notices Cesar Sanchez writing on his desk.      Stevie\n
     cranes his neck to observe. Paco snoozes.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Cesar.\n
\n
     Cesar throws back his head and jerks both hands from his\n
     desk top. Trevor walks up the aisle.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  You writing on your desk?\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                31.\n
\n
37   CONTINUED:    (2)                                                37\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (coolly)\n
                  You see anything in my hands?\n
                         (displaying his\n
                          empty palms)\n
                  I don't think so.\n
\n
     Trevor looks down at the tagging on Cesar's desktop. In\n
     one corner are the letters K-O-S, and below that the word\n
     \"cartoon.\"\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  K-O-S, what's that? That a\n
                  tagging crew?\n
\n
     Cesar shrugs with a big grin.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Cartoon... Is that you, Cesar?\n
                         (off no response)\n
                  'K-O-S' has something to do with\n
                  your friend Benny?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  ... Dawg. You're a sucker. K-O-S\n
                  stands for 'Kappin' Off Suckers.'\n
                  Don't disrespect my homeboy, Benny.\n
                  He don't like it. He don't like\n
                  you.\n
\n
     Trevor dismisses Cesar's comments.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Do me a favor, Cesar. Go get a\n
                  paper towel from the counter and\n
                  wipe off your desk.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  And Mr. Littleton, please oblige\n
                  me and turn that tagger shirt\n
                  inside-out.\n
\n
     Stevie wears a fusion T-shirt emblazoned with a giant\n
     spray can.\n
\n
                                STEVIE\n
                         (refusing)\n
                  Hyland said it was okay, Sucker.\n
\n
     Neither of them budge. Momentous deliberation. Now the\n
     BELL RINGS and the classroom empties in a matter of\n
     seconds. Cesar stares daggers at Trevor as he exits.\n
\n
     Rita hangs back, the last one to leave.      She doesn't want\n
     anyone to see her talking to Trevor.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              32.\n
\n
37   CONTINUED:    (3)                                              37\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (self-conscious)\n
                  Don't pay no attention to them.\n
                  They jus' tryin' tuh fuck wit'\n
                  you, Mr. G. I mean play wit' you.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  Sorry I said you had a nice ass.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (a pensive beat)\n
                  ... Apology accepted.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (in her own defense)\n
                  I ain't no school girl.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  God forbid anyone should think\n
                  that.\n
\n
     Rita flickers an awkward smile, turns and exits. The\n
     class empties and Trevor is left staring at the empty desks\n
     where Benny and Cesar sat... WHACK -- Trevor's reverie is\n
     broken by a BASKETBALL smashing against the side of the\n
     bungalow.\n
\n
\n
     POV - OUT THE WINDOW\n
\n
     A group of boys grin mischieviously at the reaction they\n
     get from Trevor... continue smashing the ball against\n
     bungalows.\n
\n
\n
     TREVOR\n
\n
     shifts his gaze from them to the venetian blinds framing\n
     the window... to the clock over his desk.\n
\n
\n
38   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - CLOSE ON VENETIAN BLINDS - LATER           38\n
     (AFTER SCHOOL)\n
\n
     as they open -- revealing the clock -- and just as\n
     suddenly close. TILT DOWN to find Trevor working the\n
     cords to the blinds he's rigged over the timeplace.\n
\n
     A FAINT KNOCK breaks his spell as he glances up to\n
     discover Ellen Henry standing in the open doorway.\n
\n
                                   ELLEN\n
                  May I come in?\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                             33.\n
\n
38   CONTINUED:                                                    38\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                  Yeah...\n
                         (points at her)\n
                  ... Ellen.\n
\n
                                   ELLENA\n
                            (pointing back)\n
                  Trevor.\n
\n
     He sees her looking quizzically at the blinds he's rigged\n
     over the clock.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (explaining)\n
                  I'm making time a reward instead\n
                  of a distraction.\n
\n
     Impressed, Ellen peruses the room now with a benign gaze.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Clever... Listen, I wanted to\n
                  apologize for jumping up like I\n
                  did at lunch. I was just feeling\n
                  a little weird...\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                  It's alright.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  For what it's worth, Dave\n
                  Childress thinks you walk on\n
                  water.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Is that a good thing?\n
\n
     Ellen flickers a grin, point taken.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  I think it takes a lot of\n
                  courage to go back into a\n
                  classroom after something like\n
                  that.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Not if the only thing you ever\n
                  wanted to do was teach.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (smiles)\n
                  Now you see, there's our\n
                  predicament.\n
\n
                                                     (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  34.\n
\n
38   CONTINUED:    (2)                                               38\n
\n
     WHACK -- the noise pulls Ellen's attention out the\n
     window where the boys play a rough game of BASKETBALL.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  I assume you've met Benny Chacon?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I have.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (absently)\n
                  Last week Benny and his tagging\n
                  crew had Ms. Eskander pinned in\n
                  the corner over there.\n
                         (pointing)\n
                  ... She's seven months pregnant\n
                  and he's tormenting her with a\n
                  broom handle... Can I help you\n
                  with those?\n
\n
     Trevor is trying to put some books on an upper shelf,\n
     but he's having trouble raising his arm high enough.\n
     Ellen sees he's in pain.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  No thanks.\n
\n
     She watches him struggle, then breaks the awkwardness.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  So anyway, Gloria kicks Benny...\n
                  and if the district construes it\n
                  as assault and battery on a\n
                  student, she's gone.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  They'd do that?\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                  In a heart beat. She's non-\n
                  tenured, they don't want to get\n
                  sued...\n
                          (with resignation)\n
                  Don't be surprised if she files\n
                  for stress leave by the end of\n
                  the week. Too bad, too. She's a\n
                  good teacher.\n
\n
     WHACK... WHACK... Outside, the kids continue to play.\n
     The late sun makes their violent shadows swarm over Ellen.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Can I ask you a personal question?\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                35.\n
\n
38   CONTINUED:    (3)                                                38\n
\n
     Trevor glances up.    Here's what she really wants to\n
     know...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (tentatively now)\n
                  Why'd that kid attack you?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Because I flunked him.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (sobered)\n
                  Is there any way you can see\n
                  something like that coming?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  When they say they wanna kill you,\n
                  you'd best take it serious. This\n
                  kid was an O.T. -- Opportunity\n
                  Transfer -- but nobody told me\n
                  until it was too late.\n
\n
     A beat.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Did you know Benny's an O.T.?...\n
                  In less than a year he's been\n
                  convicted of felony assault and\n
                  suspended twice. I even testified\n
                  against him as a character witness.\n
                  Now I get to see him every day in\n
                  homeroom. I'm stuck with him.\n
                  Condition of his probation is\n
                  that he stay in school.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  You talk to the principal?\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Many times... Three weeks ago,\n
                  Garcia calls Benny's mother in for\n
                  a conference, but she refuses to\n
                  show up. She's afraid they'll\n
                  deport her because she's illegal.\n
                  So she contacts the A.C.L.U. and\n
                  some attorney tells her she\n
                  doesn't have to come in.\n
                         (still can't\n
                          believe)\n
                  Garcia got cold feet and dropped\n
                  the whole thing.\n
                         (fear building)\n
                  This kid's threatening me and all\n
                  he's worried about is a lawsuit.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                    36.\n
\n
38   CONTINUED:    (4)                                                 38\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (intent now)\n
                  What'd Benny say to you?\n
\n
     Tears involuntarily well up in Ellen's eyes.     HOLD for\n
     an awkward moment as she collects herself.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  That he wanted to hurt me.   Real\n
                  bad.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Does he know where you live?\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  I think so. Someone's been phoning\n
                  me at night and hanging up... Two\n
                  weeks ago, my car was broken into...\n
                  And last Friday, I think he was\n
                  inside my house... But I can't\n
                  prove it.\n
\n
     The shadows of the basketball players rage inside the\n
     bungalow.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (bottom lip quivers)\n
                  ... I don't know what to do.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  You can quit.\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                  You didn't.\n
\n
     OFF Trevor's severe gaze...\n
\n
\n
39   EXT. LA RIVER OVERPASS - NIGHT                                    39\n
\n
     ... Trace the cold underbelly of the overpass. The glare\n
     of oncoming headlights flash overhead as we DISCOVER a\n
     tagging wall.\n
\n
     CLOSER now...\n
\n
     ... The wall is completely covered with graffiti. The\n
     centerpiece of the wall is a 5' by 10' multi-color\n
     \"placa\" that reads...\n
\n
                                      K.O.S.\n
\n
     ANGLING TO DISCOVER an Anglo tagger now as he defaces\n
     the \"S\" in K-O-S, covering it with his own piece.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/11\/96                                     37.\n
\n
39   CONTINUED:                                                         39\n
\n
     Suddenly the lone tagger feels a presence at his back.\n
     He freezes. Now slowly turns to see...\n
\n
     ... Benny, Cesar and Paco.\n
\n
     Merely shadows. Benny lights a blunt, illuminating his\n
     face. Passes it to Cesar...\n
\n
                                   TAGGER\n
                  Do I know you?\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                         (indicates tagging)\n
                  You should. You're fuckin' with\n
                  my piece, puto.\n
\n
                                TAGGER\n
                         (nervously)\n
                  ... You from K.O.S.? No shit?\n
\n
     Cesar and Paco burst into hysterical laughter which\n
     only manages to get Benny piqued.\n
\n
                                TAGGER\n
                         (panicking)\n
                  Look, I didn't mean nothin'. Lemme\n
                  fix it. I can fix it. Okay?\n
\n
     Cesar and Paco laugh harder.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                         (to Cesar)\n
                  Eh, shut up, mojado!\n
                         (to Tagger now)\n
                  Don't mess wit' me, whiteboy.    I'll\n
                  cap yer ass.\n
\n
     He pulls a .380 or a .25 automatic out of his pocket.\n
     Brandishes it at Cesar and Paco...\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  I said shut up! Shut the fuck up!\n
\n
     A BEEPER hooked on Benny's pants pocket BEEPS. Benny\n
     shuts it off. The Tagger sees his opportunity and makes\n
     a break for it. Without a second thought, Benny SHOOTS\n
     him in the leg. Tagger crumbles to the ground. Benny's\n
     really pissed now. Checks his beeper's glow-in-the-dark\n
     face for the message.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                         (reacting to message)\n
                  I don't have no time to put up\n
                  wit' 'dis shit!\n
\n
                                                          (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/11\/96                                38.\n
\n
39   CONTINUED:    (2)                                             39\n
\n
     Cesar and Paco attempt to subdue their laughter but\n
     fail...\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  You think it's funny?!\n
\n
     Benny lifts a pant leg.    Indicates his ankle monitor with\n
     the barrel of his gun.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  I don't call my P.O. in 15\n
                  minutes, I'm fucked.\n
\n
     Venting rage, Benny walks up the wounded Tagger and\n
     STARTS SHOOTING (one hand high near his face, shooting\n
     downward). Now he kisses the crucifix on his rosary like\n
     a sick, distorted affectation.\n
\n
                                BENNY\n
                  Dis is K.O.S.' neighborhood.\n
\n
     Cesar and Paco laugh even harder now, falling all\n
     over each other. Benny storms off. He marches past a\n
     street lamp and is swallowed up by the night.\n
\n
\n
40   EXT. L.A. RIVER - NIGHT                                       40\n
\n
     SUBJECT CAMERA FOLLOWING Benny. Oblivious that he's\n
     being followed, Benny walks at a steady pace. As we\n
     continue gaining ground on him, a SOUND UPCUT of\n
     TREVOR CALLING ROLL transports us to...\n
\n
\n
41   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - ON BENNY'S EMPTY DESK - NEXT MORNING      41\n
     (FIRST PERIOD)\n
\n
     Amid unresponsive cross talk:\n
\n
                                TREVOR (O.S.)\n
                  Sergio Arrellano... Blanca\n
                  Orantes... Andrew Blackwell...\n
                  Benny Chacon...\n
\n
                                LAKESIA\n
                         (chiming in)\n
                  Benny's not here.\n
\n
     Trevor gazes opaquely at Benny's empty seat.\n
\n
                                LAKESIA\n
                  I think he went AWOL, Mr. G.\n
\n
                                                             39.\n
\n
42   EXT. VACANT DIRT LOT - AFTERNOON                              42\n
\n
     An eight-year-old Hispanic kid pulls a red Flexi-Flyer\n
     wagon (laden with pop bottles and aluminum cans) across\n
     weeds and cracked earth.\n
\n
     He suddenly stops and stares at something in the weeds.\n
     Snatches it up, studies it, and tosses it with everything\n
     else.\n
\n
     SLOWLY MOVING IN ON the wagon now...\n
\n
     ... thru a thin shroud of dust as it bangs and bumps\n
     along.\n
\n
     Even CLOSER now on the last retrieved article... It's\n
     Benny's ankle monitor.\n
\n
\n
43   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - \"A\" BUILDING - MAIN CORRIDOR -       43\n
     DAY (FIFTH PERIOD)\n
\n
     Trevor emerges from Assistant Principal Ford's office and\n
     walks up the empty corridor, without breaking stride.\n
\n
                                ELLEN (O.S.)\n
                      (muted)\n
               ... Trevor.\n
\n
     Trevor retraces his steps back to the door of Ellen's\n
     plant-filled, personalized computer lab. Over the\n
     CLACKING of COMPUTER KEYS...\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
                      (quietly)\n
               Eskander filed for stress leave.\n
               They want me to finish out the\n
               semester.\n
\n
                             ELLEN\n
               That's great...\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
                      (with humility)\n
               It's only 'til the end of the\n
               year.\n
\n
                             ELLEN\n
               Listen, I never thanked you\n
               for letting me cry on your\n
               shoulder.\n
\n
     Trevor flickers a conciliatory nod, now he averts his\n
     eyes.\n
\n
                                                   (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               40.\n
\n
43   CONTINUED:                                                      43\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  That's okay.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (digressing now)\n
                  Hey, have you seen Benny lately?\n
                         (as Trevor shrugs)\n
                  Ford told me he hasn't phoned\n
                  his P.O. in four days.\n
                         (weighs guilt;\n
                          whispering)\n
                  You know what they say. Be\n
                  careful what you pray for. Don't\n
                  get me wrong, Benny's made my life\n
                  a living hell. I even moved back\n
                  in with my mother because of him.\n
                  I love my mother, but if I eat one\n
                  more dinner off a TV tray or watch\n
                  one more rerun of 'Wheel of\n
                  Fortune,' I think I'll lose my\n
                  fucking mind.\n
\n
     Now an EGG TIMER RINGS O.S. on Ellen's desk.      Back into\n
     the classroom...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (to class)\n
                  Time's up. Everyone stop working.\n
\n
     Realizing now that all the CLACKING COMPUTER KEYS have\n
     stopped moments ago. All eyes are fixed on Ellen and\n
     Trevor.\n
\n
     ... Big knowing grins all around.\n
\n
\n
44   OMITTED                                                         44\n
\n
\n
45   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - EVENING                                   45\n
\n
     Balmy and still.\n
\n
     ON bug zapper above garage, a churning, SLOW MOTION\n
     swarm of bugs repeatedly throw themselves headlong into\n
     the light.\n
\n
\n
46   INT. TREVOR'S LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION                   46\n
\n
     MUSIC plays faintly on the STEREO. Numerous artifacts\n
     occupy the bookshelves. A primitive AFRICAN MASAI BOW\n
     (with two arrows) is mounted on a wall.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  41.\n
\n
46   CONTINUED:                                                      46\n
\n
     Trevor, tie loosened. Ellen, in nylon stocking feet,\n
     leaning back against a couch. On the coffee table before\n
     them are dirty dishes and half-full wine glasses.\n
     Trevor's lost in a thin introspective smile.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (breaks the silence)\n
                  ... So you have a wife hiding in a\n
                  closet somewhere?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (smile widens)\n
                  No.   No wife.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Don't you ever get lonely?\n
\n
     Trevor considers the question.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (genuinely)\n
                  Sometimes. There's this passage\n
                  in God's Lonely Man by Thomas\n
                  Wolfe where he says, '... The\n
                  whole conviction of my life rests\n
                  upon the belief that loneliness is\n
                  the central and inevitable fact of\n
                  human existence.' I believe that.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  God that's depressing.\n
\n
     They both laugh.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... My New York mentality.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  It's not always easy looking on\n
                  the bright side.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Especially after spending a year\n
                  in and out of a hospital, I\n
                  would guess.\n
\n
     A beat.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Actually, that wasn't the toughest\n
                  part -- it's the robbery that's\n
                  been hardest to recover from.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (didn't know about this)\n
                  What'd they steal?\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                 42.\n
\n
46   CONTINUED:    (2)                                              46\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                  My passion. My old, unguarded\n
                  self. I resent that. I want them\n
                  back.\n
\n
     He offers a smile.        Ellen returns it.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  They're still there. Everybody\n
                  around me seems to have given up.\n
                  They're all so beaten down. But\n
                  you're different. You refuse to\n
                  be beaten.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  So do you.\n
\n
     Kindred souls.      Ellen fills her glass.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                  Remember the last time a student\n
                  surprised you?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  You mean where a light goes on?\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Yeah. Where the kid surpasses all\n
                  your expectations.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... Been awhile. So few you can\n
                  actually get through to... You?\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (thinks)\n
                  ... That would have to be Daniel\n
                  Terrazas. This was last year\n
                  sometime. Kid was failing miserably\n
                  ... But he was the best Salsa dancer\n
                  in the whole school.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                           (brightens slightly)\n
                  Uh-oh.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  So I made 'im a deal. Tutoring in\n
                  exchange for Salsa lessons.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Saw it... Jerry Springer.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   43.\n
\n
46   CONTINUED:    (3)                                                46\n
\n
                               ELLEN\n
                  No, no. He was a perfect\n
                  gentleman.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                         (dryly)\n
                  Male teachers can't do things like\n
                  that. They get arrested.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Yep, double standard... By the way,\n
                  did you know Cesar Sanchez was\n
                  Special Ed?\n
                         (as Trevor shakes\n
                          his head)\n
                  Yep, he never should've been\n
                  mainstreamed. His I.E.P. says he's\n
                  L.H. but he acts more like S.E.D.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Severely Emotionally Disturbed...\n
                  that's great.\n
\n
     A beat. Then Ellen gets up, wine glass balanced in her\n
     left hand.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Come on, Garfield -- on your feet.\n
                  Lemme teach you how to Salsa.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (resisting)\n
                  No, no, I'm no good at that.\n
\n
     Ellen spins the tuner on the STEREO to a LATIN STATION\n
     and practically yanks Trevor to his feet.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                  Let's go.   Don't play shy with me,\n
                  homeboy.\n
\n
     Trevor grimaces, awkwardly relinquishes, as Ellen walks\n
     him through it.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                         (still holding wine\n
                          glass)\n
                  That's it... Okay, follow me. It\n
                  starts on the one. Step forward\n
                  with your left foot... One. Change\n
                  weight on, two.\n
                                 (MORE)\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                             44.\n
\n
46   CONTINUED:    (4)                                             46\n
\n
                                 ELLEN (CONT'D)\n
                  And three, feet\n
                  back together... Now do the same\n
                  in reverse, starting with your\n
                  right foot.\n
                         (talks their way\n
                           through)\n
                  One, two, three... One, two\n
                  three...\n
\n
     Trevor concentrates. Up to speed now. Technically he's\n
     got it, he just needs to loosen up. Ellen suppresses a\n
     gleeful snicker. Now, Trevor attempts to cut loose.\n
     He spins Ellen once, into a tango step, one-two-three.\n
     Now an awkward dip, causing her glass to spill wine down\n
     the back of his shirt...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (horrified,\n
                          giggling)\n
                  Oh, my God... your shirt.   Oh, no,\n
                  I'm so sorry.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (self-conscious)\n
                  It's alright.\n
\n
     He dashes toward the hallway bathroom.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Can I help?\n
\n
                                TREVOR (O.S.)\n
                  Grab the baking soda outta the\n
                  fridge.\n
\n
     In a flurry, Ellen rushes into the kitchen. Flips on the\n
     kitchen light, jerks open the refrigerator and locates\n
     the baking soda.\n
\n
     FOLLOWING now, as she MOVES STEADILY FROM the kitchen TO\n
     the hallway bathroom...\n
\n
\n
47   OMITTED                                                       47\n
\n
\n
48   INT. TREVOR'S - HALLWAY\/BATHROOM                              48\n
\n
     as Ellen steps into the doorway and lets out a startled\n
     gasp, dropping the box of baking soda.\n
\n
     Trevor is bent over, scrubbing his shirt in the sink.\n
     His bare back and shoulders are scattered with brutal\n
     knife scars.\n
\n
                                                             45.\n
\n
49   EXT. MOTHER HENRY'S - AFTER MIDNIGHT                          49\n
\n
     A tract house in the central San Fernando Valley.\n
     Trevor's Rambler is parked at the curb. The house is dark\n
     except for a porch light.\n
\n
     Trevor and Ellen are greeted by Ellen's golden retriever\n
     Jack, who's chained to the front porch. JACK WHIMPERS,\n
     ready to bark.\n
\n
                             ELLEN\n
               Don't start barking, Jack.\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
                      (petting him)\n
               Hey there, boy. You're a good\n
               dog. Yes, you are.\n
\n
     Jack nuzzles up to Trevor, tail wagging furiously, no\n
     barking. Now Trevor stands and faces Ellen...\n
\n
                             ELLEN\n
               Sorry for reacting the way I did\n
               back there.\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
               Don't apologize. That's how most\n
               people react.\n
\n
                             ELLEN\n
               Didn't scare me. It just\n
               surprised me.\n
\n
                             ELLEN\n
               ... Thanks for dinner.   I had a\n
               good time.\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
               You're welcome.\n
\n
     Awkward silence. Trevor struggles with the urge to kiss\n
     her good night. They look at each other timidly for a\n
     moment. Now he moves to kiss her and she inadvertently\n
     adjusts her stance. The result is a kiss that doesn't\n
     quite hit her mouth. It's an awkward moment. Ellen\n
     feels horrible for him, desperately picks up a strange\n
     little plant by her feet.\n
\n
                             ELLEN\n
               Here... you need a little life in\n
               that place of yours.\n
\n
     Trevor takes it, smiles \"thanks\"...\n
\n
                             TREVOR\n
               ... Good night.\n
\n
                                                   (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                    46.\n
\n
49    CONTINUED:                                                        49\n
\n
      ... turns and starts toward his car...\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (a half-wave)\n
                   ... Night.\n
\n
\n
50    INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - AROUND 2 AM                               50\n
\n
      In the moonlit darkness. Trevor's abandoned bed. The\n
      sheets are twisted and damp. We TILT UP to see a digital\n
      clock at bedside reading 2:49 AM, and Trevor's sweat-\n
      panted figure moving down the hall in b.g.\n
\n
\n
51    EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - LOW ANGLE - TREVOR - NIGHT                  51\n
\n
      madly pedaling TOWARD us on a bike. He wears running\n
      shoes, shorts and a Morehouse College sweat shirt and his\n
      face is contorted from the effort. He wipes sweat from\n
      his head, takes a gasping hit from his inhaler as CAMERA\n
      CRANES UP to reveal Trevor on a stationary bike in the\n
      back yard of his house, rapidly going nowhere.\n
\n
\n
52    INT. TREVOR'S HOUSE                                               52\n
\n
      His sleepless night continues. Planted at his desk.\n
      Trevor corrects a stack of science papers, like a fervent\n
      prayer. Sun peeks through the window above his desk.\n
\n
                                                        CUT TO:\n
\n
\n
52A   OVER SUBURBAN CLUTTER - RISING SUN - ESTABLISHING                 52A\n
\n
      Then burning out to white.\n
\n
\n
52B   EXT. TREVOR'S BUNGALOW - DAY                                      52B\n
\n
      Shimmering in heat waves.\n
\n
\n
53    INT. TREVOR'S BUNGALOW - DAY                                      53\n
\n
      It's sweltering.    A single fan stirs the air.\n
\n
      Amidst growing disorder, Trevor stands behind the front\n
      counter. AGENDA is written on the overhead as he\n
      flips through pages of a physical science text book.\n
\n
      Rita's out of her seat, feeding the caged, white lab rat.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              47.\n
\n
53   CONTINUED:                                                     53\n
\n
     Cesar, with sunglasses and typical disregard, holds court\n
     in the back of the room. He and Stevie are high.\n
\n
     Trevor eyes them, finds what he was looking for in the\n
     book...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (addressing class)\n
                  Since some of you seem to have an\n
                  interest in anesthetics, I've\n
                  prepared a little demonstration.\n
\n
     Glances over at Rita now.    Checks the wall clock.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Rita, bring your friend in the\n
                  cage over here, please.\n
\n
     Bringing the cage over...\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                  His name's Snowball. Like 'dat\n
                  lil' pig dude from Animal Farm.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (coolly impressed)\n
                  You've read Animal Farm?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (above the din)\n
                  ... schoolgirl.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (snapping a look)\n
                  Shut up, Cesar.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  You read Animal Farm, Cesar?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  No, but I fucked a sheep.\n
\n
     Stevie and Paco love it.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  Cesar, come up here.\n
                         (gesturing)\n
                  I want you to have a front row\n
                  seat for this.\n
\n
     Surprisingly, Cesar does what he's told as Trevor removes\n
     an old pocket watch from his briefcase and sets it next\n
     to Snowball's cage...\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                48.\n
\n
53   CONTINUED:    (2)                                                53\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  And remove the 'lokes.'\n
\n
     Cesar removes his dark glasses.       His eyes are bloodshot\n
     and vapid.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Why your eyes so red?\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                         (lying)\n
                  Mus' be pink-eye, sir.\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                         (eyes Trevor's pocket\n
                          watch)\n
                  Nice watch, homes. Can I have it?\n
\n
     Disregarding Cesar, Trevor opens a drawer and removes two\n
     latex surgical gloves from a cardboard box. He puts on\n
     the gloves and selects a petri dish from another drawer.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (pointing)\n
                  Rita, would you bring me a sugar\n
                  cube from the shelf over there?\n
\n
     She does. Trevor now removes a small amber bottle\n
     (with an eye-dropper top) from his briefcase. The\n
     class starts to settle down now as Trevor pre-measures\n
     water in a pipette and adds it to the petri dish.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (referring to text)\n
                  Cesar, read Young's rule for us.\n
                  Page 564. At the top.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (like it's above him)\n
                  I ain't gonna read 'dat shit.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Rita, give Cesar your book.    Let\n
                  'im read.\n
\n
     Rita places her book on Cesar's desk.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  Forget it.\n
\n
     Jeers from the class, \"Come on, read\".       \"Hurry up,\n
     Cesar.\"\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                     49.\n
\n
53   CONTINUED:    (3)                                                     53\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (prompting him)\n
                  'Young's rule...' Go on.\n
\n
     Rita points to the passage in the book.        Cesar slaps her\n
     hand.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (reacting)\n
                  ... Chunt. (Choont.)\n
\n
                                   CESAR\n
                  Stoopit bitch.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Touch her again, Cesar, and you'll\n
                  answer to me personally.\n
\n
     Rita knits her eyebrows at Trevor.        Cesar laughs.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  You like her, Mr. G?\n
\n
     Class erupts.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (shrinking)\n
                  Shut up!\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (genuinely)\n
                  Settle down, everyone. We all\n
                  have to learn how to forgive and\n
                  get along. C'mon, Cesar, read.\n
                  Please.\n
\n
     At first Cesar doesn't budge.         Now grudgingly he looks\n
     down at the book...\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (attempting to read)\n
                  ... Young's rule... ff... fo...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... Formulates.\n
\n
     Cesar heaves the book across the room: Class erupts,\n
     \"Refer 'im,\" \"Send 'im tuh Hyland.\" Trevor walks over\n
     and picks up the book. Class now settles. Watches\n
     Trevor closely to see what he's going to do. Trevor\n
     gazes at Cesar...\n
\n
                                                          (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   50.\n
\n
53   CONTINUED:    (4)                                                53\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... I say everyone deserves another\n
                  chance. Whadda you say, Cesar?\n
\n
     Cesar knits his eyebrows, puzzled. Now Trevor walks over\n
     and sets the textbook down in front of Rita...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Rita, would you please read Young's\n
                  rule for me?\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (hesitates and...)\n
                  ... 'Young's rule formulates\n
                  proper dosage levels for children\n
                  and adolescents.'\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Thank you.\n
\n
     Resume the lesson now.     Trevor indicates the amber bottle...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... In the brown bottle I have a\n
                  prescription for liquid Demeral.\n
\n
                                STEVIE\n
                  Where'd that come from, sir?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  A doctor.\n
\n
     Cesar grudgingly watches as Trevor places a measured drop\n
     of the liquid demeral into the petri dish and stirs the\n
     solution.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Demeral is a morphine sulphate...\n
                  and is soluble in water.\n
\n
     Using the pipette, Trevor administers two drops of the\n
     demeral and water solution to the sugar cube, which he\n
     has placed inside Snowball's cage. As Snowball eats the\n
     sugar cube...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Young's rule says, divide the age\n
                  of the patient by the patient's\n
                  age plus twelve, giving us the\n
                  fraction of the adult dosage\n
                  suitable for the patient.\n
                                (MORE)\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              51.\n
\n
53   CONTINUED:                                                     53\n
\n
                                TREVOR (CONT'D)\n
                  In Snowball's case, I've\n
                  calculated the dosage necessary\n
                  to tranquilize a one-year-old\n
                  child... then further divided\n
                  that fraction by 30, based on his\n
                  weight, to arrive at .002\n
                  milligrams.\n
\n
     Having eaten most of the sugar cube, Snowball is rendered\n
     unconscious.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... Don't worry, he'll be back to\n
                  normal in exactly 10 minutes.\n
\n
     Trevor peers at his pocket watch.\n
\n
\n
54   INSERT - FULL SCREEN - TREVOR'S POCKET WATCH                   54\n
\n
     The hour and minute hands read 2:40.    HOLD as we...\n
\n
                                              TIME DISSOLVE TO:\n
\n
\n
55   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - TEN MINUTES LATER                          55\n
\n
     Trevor's pocket watch now reads 2:50...\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                  ... He shoulda woke up by now?\n
\n
     Snowball isn't moving. HOLD for an uncomfortably long\n
     moment ON the class, clustered around Trevor's desk.\n
\n
     The class, for once, is completely silent. Beads of\n
     perspiration form on Trevor's upper lip as he\n
     resolutely watches the sleeping rat.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (accusatory)\n
                  You just caught a murder case,\n
                  homes.\n
\n
     Now Snowball begins to stir and the class reacts with\n
     scattered applause. A thin smile flickers across\n
     Trevor's face. As the BELL RINGS....\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Okay, anyone who didn't finish\n
                  answering the questions on 246,\n
                  finish them for homework.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              52.\n
\n
55   CONTINUED:                                                     55\n
\n
     As students head for the doors, he pulls off his latex\n
     gloves and looks for his pocket watch... but it's gone.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Hold it, Cesar.\n
\n
     Cesar and Stevie are almost out the door.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Where's my watch?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (urgently)\n
                  Hey, I gotta go. I ain't got no\n
                  watch.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Empty your pockets, both of you.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  Want me to break it down to you?\n
                  I gotta catch a bus.\n
\n
     Cesar heads out the door.\n
\n
\n
56   EXT. BUNGALOW #86 - MOMENTS LATER                              56\n
\n
     Trevor locks bungalow #86, picks up his briefcase, and\n
     along with the rest of the foot traffic, heads in the\n
     direction of the \"A\" building.\n
\n
\n
57   EXT. JQA - ON EDGE OF BUNGALOWS                                57\n
\n
     As Trevor rounds a corner and runs smack into Ellen on\n
     the opposite side of a chain link fence.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (making excuses)\n
                  Sorry. I'm trying to catch Hyland\n
                  before he leaves.\n
\n
     Trevor keeps moving.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I've been meaning to come by your\n
                  room.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (keeping it light)\n
                  ... It's almost been a week.   My\n
                  guess is you're avoiding me.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               53.\n
\n
57   CONTINUED:                                                      57\n
\n
     Trevor's tongue-tied. Now he removes the Proventil\n
     inhaler from his pocket, take an innocuous hit.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  You okay?\n
\n
     Trevor nods, sustains an awkward smile.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Has nothing to do with you, Ellen.\n
                  It's... hard for me...\n
\n
     A struggle, fighting against his true feelings...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Pretty much been like that\n
                  since... you know, my accident.\n
                  Has nothing to do with you.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Is it because I'm white?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  No.\n
\n
     Trevor stares into her eyes, a soulful, searching gaze.\n
     Now he averts a self-conscious look.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  We can still be friends.   Just don't\n
                  pull away.\n
\n
     Trevor just looks at her.    Nods, somewhat bewildered.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (back to lighter note)\n
                  Now, can I ask you a favor? After\n
                  you're done with Hyland, can you\n
                  give me a ride to my car? It's at\n
                  the mechanics, about five or six\n
                  blocks up Lankershim. If you can't,\n
                  it's okay, I can walk.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (a little embarrassed)\n
                  ... I think I can manage that.\n
\n
     Victor Sifuentes approaches now.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Que paso, Victor?\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  54.\n
\n
57   CONTINUED:                                                      57\n
\n
                                VICTOR\n
                         (into walkie-talkie)\n
                  Base three to base one. 'Found\n
                  'im.\n
\n
     As their paths converge and they stop, face to face...\n
\n
                                VICTOR\n
                  Mr. Garcia would like to speak\n
                  with you in his office.\n
\n
     OFF Trevor's puzzled look...\n
\n
\n
58   OMITTED                                                         58\n
\n
\n
59   INT. PRINCIPAL GARCIA'S OFFICE - AFTERNOON                      59\n
\n
     A wall air conditioner...\n
\n
     blows on Stevie and Cesar's sweaty backs. Trevor enters,\n
     shirt equally drenched in sweat. The dead silence is\n
     like that of a courtroom. MR. GARCIA, late forties,\n
     drawn, sits behind his desk...\n
\n
     MR. HYLAND, stands in the outer office behind a glass\n
     partition, head lowered. Hyland flashes Trevor a\n
     defeated smile as we...\n
\n
     Trevor coolly deciphers the situation.\n
\n
     Garcia reaches down, switches on a portable tape recorder.\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                  You don't mind if I tape record\n
                  our conversation. Matter of\n
                  record. You understand.\n
                         (indicating\n
                          Mr. Hyland)\n
                  Of course, you know Mr. Hyland.\n
\n
     Trevor weighs the situation.    Nods.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Am I being questioned?\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                         (beat)\n
                  Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Littleton tell\n
                  me you've accused them of stealing\n
                  your watch. If that's the case, I\n
                  need to address the accusation.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   55.\n
\n
59   CONTINUED:                                                       59\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... For the record, I primarily\n
                  suspect Mr. Sanchez. Although I\n
                  wouldn't be surprised if Stevie\n
                  was an accomplice.\n
                         (glances over at\n
                          Cesar and Stevie)\n
                  Beginning of sixth period, Cesar\n
                  admired the watch. I believe his\n
                  exact words were, 'Can I have it?'\n
                         (looks back to Garcia)\n
                  Either way, I'd like my watch back.\n
\n
                                   MR. GARCIA\n
                  Anything else?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  When I asked him to empty his\n
                  pockets, Cesar refused.\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                  Is that true, Mr. Sanchez?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  No way. He never asked me nothin'\n
                  like that! I don't go 'round\n
                  taxing no teachers...\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                  Okay.   Calm down.\n
\n
     With fervor now, Cesar turns his pockets inside out,\n
     emptying the contents (house keys and two dollars in\n
     change) onto Garcia's desk.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  ... I ain't got no watch, man.\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                  Mr. Littleton, may we see your\n
                  pockets too?\n
\n
     Stevie empties his pockets now. Nothing but a twenty\n
     dollar bill and an empty pack of Marlboros.\n
\n
     Trevor just stares at him.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (last try)\n
                  I'd like a locker search, please.\n
\n
     Garcia hesitates, now looks to Cesar and Stevie...\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  56.\n
\n
59   CONTINUED:                                                      59\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                  You're excused, gentlemen.   Take\n
                  your things. Thank you.\n
\n
     The boys collect their belongings off Garcia's desk and\n
     shoot looks at Trevor as they exit. Now Garcia turns\n
     back to Trevor...\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                         (unflinching pragmatism)\n
                  ... Let me try and explain\n
                  something. I try and think of\n
                  our students here at John Quincy\n
                  Adams like they're my clients.\n
                  I can't accuse anybody just on\n
                  your hunches. I need more than\n
                  that. I need facts.\n
                         (looking at Hyland)\n
                  I won't have another law suit like\n
                  we did with that Blackwell case.\n
                         (now to Trevor)\n
                  Boy's mother spent $400 that she\n
                  couldn't afford on new clothes for\n
                  her son. Unfortunately we\n
                  considered the clothing gang\n
                  attire and sent the boy home.\n
                  That cost the district a quarter\n
                  of a million dollars.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  So I want you to be straight with\n
                  me, Mr. Garfield. Did you\n
                  physically see Cesar take your\n
                  watch?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  No, I didn't...\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                  Do you have any witnesses who saw\n
                  him take it?\n
\n
                                      TREVOR\n
                            (pause)\n
                  ... No.\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                  Unless there's reasonable cause to\n
                  show that Cesar, or Mr. Littleton\n
                  took your watch then I can't\n
                  authorize a locker search. I'm\n
                  sorry. Any concerns regarding my\n
                  decision, you can look up in the\n
                  handbook. It's section 628.1 of\n
                  the Education Code.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               57.\n
\n
59   CONTINUED:                                                      59\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (to Garcia)\n
                  That was my grandfather's watch.\n
                  Can't you see what they're doing?\n
                  Weren't you ever a teacher?\n
\n
                                MR. GARCIA\n
                  Afraid I never had the privilege.\n
                  Teaching and being a principal\n
                  don't necessarily go hand in hand,\n
                  Mr. Garfield.\n
\n
     OFF Trevor's defeated gaze...\n
\n
\n
60   EXT. GARCIA'S OFFICE - MAIN CORRIDOR - AFTERNOON                60\n
\n
     As Trevor and Hyland emerge from Garcia's office and walk\n
     steadily up the empty corridor...\n
\n
                                 HYLAND\n
                         (sotto)\n
                  Is it me or is Garcia a real\n
                  asshole?\n
\n
     Trevor doesn't respond, lost in thought.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I've been thinking about\n
                  videotaping my classes.\n
\n
                                HYLAND\n
                  ... Yeah, well, here's some free\n
                  advice. Cover your ass.\n
\n
     Trevor slides him a glance. They stop in front of\n
     Hyland's office door. He unlocks the door with a key...\n
\n
                                HYLAND\n
                  If Garcia asks, your main purpose\n
                  is to observe you, not the\n
                  students. Excuse me, I mean his\n
                  `clients.'\n
\n
     PHONE RINGS as they enter...\n
\n
\n
61   INT. HYLAND'S OFFICE - AFTERNOON                                61\n
\n
                                HYLAND\n
                  Some gangbanger might think we're\n
                  violating his civil rights...\n
\n
     Trevor weighs it as Hyland picks up the phone...\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   58.\n
\n
61   CONTINUED:                                                       61\n
\n
                                HYLAND\n
                         (into phone)\n
                  ... Yeah?\n
\n
     Signals Trevor to take a seat.\n
\n
                                HYLAND\n
                         (into phone)\n
                  Sorry, Iris. Completely forgot.\n
\n
     INTERCUT Trevor as his eyes idly fix on an index card\n
     box (on Hyland's desk) labeled, \"LOCKER COMBINATIONS.\"\n
\n
     Hyland hangs up.\n
\n
                                HYLAND\n
                         (to Trevor)\n
                  Yuh have a minute? Wanna talk to\n
                  you about our discipline committee.\n
                  Gotta run up to the office real\n
                  quick first.\n
\n
     Trevor shifts his gaze back to Hyland.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Yeah, fine, go ahead.   I'll wait.\n
\n
     Hyland rushes out and Trevor glances back at the index\n
     box. Momentous deliberation. Now he reaches over and\n
     carefully opens the small tin box. Methodically now, he\n
     flips through the file cards until he finds Cesar\n
     Sanchez's locker combination. Trevor's eyes scanning\n
     the information on the locker combination card. LOCKER\n
     #204. Combination sequence...08-24-53.\n
\n
\n
62   EXT. TRAFFIC SIGNAL - AFTERNOON                                  62\n
\n
     Trevor's Rambler, with Ellen in the passenger seat, stops\n
     at a large intersection.\n
\n
\n
63   INT.\/EXT RAMBLER - CONTINUOUS ACTION                             63\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  ... I have to fly up there for a\n
                  computer conference.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  When's that?\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Day after tomorrow.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                              59.\n
\n
63   CONTINUED:                                                  63\n
\n
     As Trevor gets distracted by something he sees...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Never been to San Francisco.\n
\n
\n
64   EXT. RITA'S BUS STOP - TREVOR'S POV                         64\n
\n
     At a right angle to Lankershim, down Magnolia Blvd., Rita\n
     Nartinez sits alone on a bus stop bench.\n
\n
                                ELLEN (V.O.)\n
                  Oh, you should go sometime,\n
                  Trevor. I think you'd like it.\n
                  Really. It's only an hour by air.\n
                  Maybe five or six by car.\n
                  Completely different attitude\n
                  from L.A. Much more like a real\n
                  city... like Chicago or New\n
                  York...\n
\n
     As Ellen continues talking we see a lowered blue Nissan\n
     mini-truck (with matching shell) pull up next to the bus\n
     stop. A cholo from the utility shed hangs out the\n
     passenger window and taunts Rita. Rita immediately\n
     stands and walks back down Magnolia.\n
\n
     The mini-truck follows her in reverse. Rita halts and\n
     begins ranting at the cholo, waving her arms all around.\n
     Now she stomps away and the mini-truck drives away with a\n
     lurch.\n
\n
                                ELLEN (V.O.)\n
                  ... Only problem is I hate to\n
                  leave Jack with my mother for any\n
                  extended period of time. I'm\n
                  afraid she'll forget to feed him\n
                  and he'll starve to death.\n
\n
\n
65   INT. TREVOR'S RAMBLER                                       65\n
\n
     INTERCUT Trevor's distracted gaze.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  If you want, I'll take care of\n
                  Jack.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  I can't ask you to do that.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (straight at Ellen now)\n
                  Sure you can.\n
\n
                                                              60.\n
\n
66   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - AFTERNOON (NEXT DAY; FIFTH PERIOD)         66\n
\n
     Trevor's conference period. He stands atop a ladder in\n
     the front of the room, drilling holes in the wall for a\n
     jerry-rigged camera mount. As he climbs down, Rita\n
     enters. Paces back and forth, wringing a clenched spiral\n
     notebook, English Comp. essay tucked inside...\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                        (continues working)\n
                 ... Aren't you supposed to be at\n
                 P.E. fifth period?\n
\n
                               RITA\n
                        (rants; kicks a desk)\n
                 ... Sunland Boyz gettin' crazy,\n
                 ol lady's... fucked up. Fuck dis\n
                 being down shit. I wanna do\n
                 somethin' wit' my life.\n
\n
     A POLAROID PHOTO drops out of her notebook.     Trevor\n
     reaches down and scoops it up.\n
\n
\n
     INSERT - POLAROID PHOTO\/DEAD GANG MEMBER IN CASKET\n
\n
     Puppet... a young 16-year-old cholo, dressed in gang\n
     colors, laid out in an open casket.\n
\n
\n
     ON TREVOR\n
\n
     Now as he hands the photo back to Rita.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 ... You know this guy?\n
\n
     Rita takes the photo back.    She doesn't want to talk\n
     about it.\n
\n
                               RITA\n
                        (unravels now;\n
                         begins to cry)\n
                 'Gotta make J-C next year. 'Got\n
                 to! I ain't never gonna get up\n
                 outta here.\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 Rita, slow down.\n
\n
                               RITA\n
                 'Dat bitch Quinn, I'm 'onna sue\n
                 her ass. 'Swear tuh God...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                 Okay, okay.   Calm down a second.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 61.\n
\n
66   CONTINUED:                                                        66\n
\n
     Rita collapses into a desk.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  Who's Quinn?    What's she teach?\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                  English Comp.    She's failin' me.\n
\n
     Trevor tentatively picks up Rita's essay (branded with a\n
     big red \"F\") and begins reading it.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                  'Bitch say I don't talk right.\n
\n
     Trevor scrutinizes her with a glance.        Now back to Rita's\n
     essay.\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                  She hates me.    She's racist\n
                  against me.\n
\n
     Trevor sets the essay down on Rita's desk.        Regards her\n
     with genuine candor...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Just cause you're a Latina doesn't\n
                  mean everyone's racist against\n
                  you.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (prideful)\n
                  Hey, I'm a La Raza, prof-eh.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Okay... just stop blaming everyone\n
                  else. You're too smart for that.\n
                         (as Rita's rocked\n
                          back)\n
                  And every mistake in that essay is\n
                  fixable, okay? So relax, it's not\n
                  the end of the world.\n
\n
     Rita collects herself, wipes the streaks of mascara\n
     running down her cheeks with her sleeve. Trevor studies\n
     her for a moment.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (points to counter)\n
                  Tissues are in the first drawer.\n
\n
     Rita pulls herself together and walks over to the island\n
     counter.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   62.\n
\n
66   CONTINUED:                                                       66\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (innocuously)\n
                  How come you always wear so much\n
                  makeup?\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (wounded)\n
                  ... To make me pretty.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (frankly)\n
                  You don't need it.\n
\n
     She grabs a handful of tissues, dabs at her smeared\n
     mascara. Now her hair falls forward, exposing the back\n
     of her neck... and a tattoo that reads \"Puppet\" in\n
     a scrawling signature. She tosses her hair back and it\n
     disappears.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (slightest bit\n
                          probative)\n
                  That your name?\n
\n
     He indicates the back of her neck.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (with fervor and\n
                          frustration)\n
                  It's a gang thing. But I'm\n
                  kickin' dat shit... Jus' cuz I look\n
                  down for my neighborhood don't\n
                  mean I'm stupit.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I know you're not.\n
\n
     She inserts her \"failed\" essay inside the rolled-up\n
     spiral notebook.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (offers)\n
                  The ideas in your essay aren't the\n
                  problem, Rita. It's your\n
                  punctuation and grammar.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  They need work. Am I lying?\n
                         (as Rita shrugs)\n
                  If you want help I'm here for you.\n
                  Okay?\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (tentatively now)\n
                  ... I dunno.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                63.\n
\n
66   CONTINUED:                                                       66\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Have to be in the library after\n
                  school.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (shaking her head)\n
                  ... Somebody could see us.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  All right then, I'll come to your\n
                  house.\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (spontaneous and\n
                          decisive)\n
                  No... No way.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                  Where then?   You name the place.\n
\n
     The passing BELL for 6th period RINGS.       OFF Rita's torn\n
     gaze.\n
\n
\n
67   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - ON VIDEO CAMERA - SHORT WHILE LATER          67\n
     (6TH PERIOD)\n
\n
     ... fully mounted now on the wall above the blackboard.\n
\n
\n
     NEW ANGLE\n
\n
     Every eye in the class is riveted on the camera. SETTLE\n
     ON Cesar and Stevie seated in the back of the bungalow.\n
     OFF their malignant stares...\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (grumbling)\n
                  Dog, you invadin' my privacy.\n
                  Bitch.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (remaining calm)\n
                  Cesar, would you come up here\n
                  please?\n
\n
     Leveling a hard look, Cesar swaggers up to the island\n
     counter.\n
\n
     Rita watches, a bated gaze, from her seat.\n
\n
     Trevor motions for him to come around behind the counter.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  64.\n
\n
67   CONTINUED:                                                      67\n
\n
     Now Trevor removes his grandfather's pocket watch from\n
     his briefcase and furtively dangles it for Cesar to\n
     see.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (calmly)\n
                  Since you were so concerned, I\n
                  though you might like to know... I\n
                  found my watch.\n
\n
     Cesar glares at the watch, looks up at the video\n
     camera.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  ... You broke into my locker.\n
                  Dat's a serious felony, prof-eh.\n
                  You caught a case for sure now.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Whadda yuh propose to do, Cesar?\n
                  Tell Garcia?\n
                         (as Cesar weighs it)\n
                  Whadda yuh gonna tell 'im? That I\n
                  broke into your locker to steal\n
                  back the watch you denied taking?\n
                  I don't think so. I'd say we're\n
                  even now, wouldn't you, Cesar?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  No, I'd say we're just getting\n
                  started, ese.\n
\n
     Cesar walks out. Trevor smiles innocuously. At a\n
     stalemate now. You can hear a pin drop. Suddenly\n
     the CRIES of an E.N.A.B.L. BABY break the palpable\n
     tension...\n
\n
\n
68   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - 4 P.M.                                    68\n
\n
     ... Trevor's Rambler is parked out front.\n
\n
\n
69   INT. TREVOR'S LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION                   69\n
\n
     A stilted Rita, planted on the couch.    Wearing less\n
     makeup than usual.\n
\n
     Her notebook and pens are laid out on the coffee table\n
     along with an old English grammar textbook. Trevor\n
     stands in the kitchen doorway...\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 65.\n
\n
69   CONTINUED:                                                         69\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Want something to drink?    We have\n
                  Coke, Fanta or Sprite...\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (self-consciously)\n
                  ... Coke's awright.\n
\n
     OFF Trevor's mollifying nod...\n
\n
\n
70   INT. TREVOR'S KITCHEN - TREVOR                                     70\n
\n
     A moment of self-examination as he pours a glass of Coke\n
     for Rita...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (to Rita offstage)\n
                  'Want you to know, you're not the\n
                  only one risking a reputation\n
                  here. Normally I don't tutor\n
                  students at my house.\n
                         (adds ice cubes)\n
                  Rita, maybe you can clear\n
                  something up. Can you explain\n
                  to me what machismo is all about?\n
                  Cuz this whole respect\/code of\n
                  honor thing baffles me.\n
\n
\n
71   INT. TREVOR'S LIVING ROOM                                          71\n
\n
     as Trevor approaches the couch, eyes focused on Rita's\n
     soda.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (preoccupied)\n
                  Ask yourself this question. Is\n
                  pride really that important?\n
\n
     Now he looks up and freezes.    Quickly turns away.\n
\n
     Rita, lying on the couch, completely naked.        Not sexual in\n
     the least. More like a distorted offering.         Or a patient,\n
     placidly waiting for her doctor.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (plainly)\n
                  Put your clothes on, Rita.\n
\n
     An awkward moment. Chagrin becomes repressed sobs as\n
     Rita picks up her pile of clothes off the floor and gets\n
     dressed. This is one fucked-up little girl.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              66.\n
\n
71   CONTINUED:                                                     71\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (affected)\n
                  No harm done... Don't cry now.\n
\n
     Fully dressed again, remotely staring, Rita holds back\n
     tears. Trevor sits down on the couch next to her. Opens\n
     textbook.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Why don't you go ahead and copy\n
                  the first rule there for the verb\n
                  'to be.' Can you do that for me?\n
\n
                                RITA\n
                         (hiccups a sob)\n
                  I jus' wan'ed to thank you.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  You don't have to thank me, I'm\n
                  your teacher.\n
\n
     Rita opens her notebook and begins to copy the rule. She\n
     wipes at the tears with the sleeve of her baggy sweat\n
     shirt. Trevor resists the urge to comfort her.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... From now on I think the best\n
                  thing for us to do is meet in the\n
                  library.\n
\n
\n
72   INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - THAT EVENING (MAGIC HOUR)              72\n
\n
     Trevor kneels at the foot of his bed. Fully dressed,\n
     shirt and loosened tie. Glimpses up at the crucifix on\n
     the wall. Bows his head again...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (prayerfully, to\n
                          himself\n
                  ... I'll try.\n
\n
\n
73   EXT. BLYTHE STREET PROJECTS - EVENING                          73\n
\n
     BOOMING DOWN FROM the Blythe St. sign...\n
\n
     A cement barricade covered in graffiti chokes off street\n
     traffic.\n
\n
     ... Crack dealers and gangbangers freely wander the rows\n
     of clapboard tenements, kids throwing sneakers, bangers\n
     drinking from glass bottles.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                               67.\n
\n
73   CONTINUED:                                                   73\n
\n
     Now apartment 105 (Cesar Sanchez's).\n
\n
     MOVING IN ON the MUTED sounds of an ARGUMENT (in Spanish).\n
\n
\n
74   INT. APARTMENT 105 - CONTINUOUS ACTION                       74\n
\n
     Dingy. Yellowing walls. Cesar and his mother continue\n
     their arguing as Cesar watches first the \"Animaniacs\" and\n
     switches channels to \"The Deer Hunter,\" while his BABY\n
     SISTER CRIES in her high chair.\n
\n
     MRS. SANCHEZ is older looking than her thirty-four years.\n
     Clutching her purse...\n
\n
                 MRS. SANCHEZ                                          *\n
             (on the verge              (subtitles... You stay\n
              of tears)                 out of my\n
         ... Deja mis cosas, Cesar.     things, Cesar. You hear\n
         Me oyes? Ese dinero es         me? That money puts\n
         para poner comida en el        food on your baby\n
         plato de tu hermanita.         sister's plate.\n
\n
     Cesar yells at his SISTER to stop CRYING...\n
\n
                 CESAR                     (subtitlesshut up,\n
         Callate el osico, Rosillo!     Rosillo!\n
             (now to his mother)\n
         Que? Me estas mandando?        You tellin' me what to\n
         Yo soy el hombre de esta       do?! I'm the man in\n
         casa! Enceneme respeto!        this house! you show me\n
                                        respect!)\n
\n
                 MRS. SANCHEZ           (subtitlesIf you're the        *\n
         Pues si eres tan hombre,       man then\n
         ve busca trabajo. Para         go get a job. Take care\n
         que mantengas a tu madre y     of your mother and\n
         hermanita y no tenga que       sister. Don't rob from\n
         robar de mi bolsa.             my purse.)\n
\n
     In a rage, Cesar digs into his pocket and throws twenty\n
     dollars in his mother's face. She cowers.\n
\n
                 CESAR                  (subtitlesHere, I don't\n
         Tenga, no nesecito su          need your\n
         pinche, apestoso dinero!       stinkin' money!)\n
\n
     They're interrupted by a KNOCK at the front door.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (indicating door)\n
                  I ain't getting it. You get it.\n
\n
                                                    (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                     68.\n
\n
74   CONTINUED:                                                         74\n
\n
     Cesar plops down on an old worn out recliner and goes\n
     back to watching \"Animaniacs\" on the TELEVISION.\n
     ROSILLO STOPS her CRYING and Mrs. Sanchez carefully\n
     gathers the money scattered at her feet.\n
\n
\n
75   INT. APARTMENT 105 - FRONT DOOR                                    75\n
\n
     Behind the screen door, a silhouette fills the doorway.\n
\n
     MOVING IN ON CESAR.\n
\n
     He can faintly hear the O.S. conversation as he watches\n
     TV.\n
\n
                 MRS. SANCHEZ                                                *\n
                 (O.S.)                    (subtitlesYes, who's\n
         Si, quien es?                     there?)\n
\n
                 TREVOR (O.S.)             (subtitlesMrs. Sanchez?\n
         Senora Sanchez? Soy el            I'm Mr.                           *\n
         senor Garfield, Profesor          Garfield, Cesar's\n
         de ciencia de Cesar.              science teacher.\n
\n
                                MRS. SANCHEZ (O.S.)\n
                         (surprised)\n
                  Si, maestro.\n
\n
     Cesar's stunned look lifts him from the recliner.\n
\n
                 TREVOR (O.S.)             (subtitlesI know it's\n
         Se que es tarde. Ojala no         late. Hope\n
         este estorbando nada.             I'm not disturbing\n
         Me permite hablar con             anything. May I speak\n
         usted por un momento?             with you a moment?\n
\n
                                MRS. SANCHEZ (O.S.)\n
                  Entre, por favor.\n
\n
\n
76   INT. APARTMENT #105 - CESAR'S POV - TREVOR AND MRS.                76\n
     SANCHEZ\n
\n
     PIVOTING now to see Trevor enter the front door.\n
\n
     Cesar glares with flint-hard eyes at Trevor.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  Hello, Cesar.\n
\n
     Breaking his unrelenting stare, Cesar now squeezes past\n
     Trevor and out the screen door, slamming it behind him.\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   69.\n
\n
77   INT. APARTMENT #105 - KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER                    77\n
\n
     Mrs. Sanchez cradles Rosillo in her lap.\n
\n
                 MRS. SANCHEZ                                              *\n
             (beside herself)            (subtitlesI don't know\n
         No se que hacer, maestro.       what to\n
         El no hace caso.                do, maestro. He doesn't\n
                                         listen to me.)\n
\n
     ROSILLO begins to CRY again...\n
\n
                  MRS. SANCHEZ           (subtitlesGod, but there          *\n
         Perdona me Dios, pero hay       are\n
         veces que quisiera              times I want to kill\n
         matarlo.                        him.)\n
\n
     Suppressing her emotions, she comforts her baby. Trevor\n
     weighs a vacuous stare. Now he notices a bruise under Mrs.\n
     Sanchez's hairline, above her left eye.\n
\n
                  TREVOR\n
              (indicating bruise)        (subtitlesHow'd that\n
         Como paso eso? Arriba del       happen...\n
         ojo?                            above your eye?)\n
\n
     Overcome with shame, she attempts to cover the bruise.\n
\n
                               MRS. SANCHEZ\n
                 Nada... es nada.\n
\n
\n
78   EXT. BLYTHE STREET PROJECTS - EVENING                            78\n
\n
     Steadfast and unflinching, Trevor beats a path back to\n
     his car, parked outside the barricade. Cesar now appears\n
     from nowhere. Carries a '40 ouncer' in a paper bag.\n
     He's been drinking.\n
\n
                               CESAR\n
                        (venting rage)\n
                 Puto! You lied to Benny. You\n
                 said you don't speak no Spanish!\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                 No I didn't.\n
\n
                               CESAR\n
                 'At's bullshit!\n
\n
                               TREVOR\n
                 Enjoy hitting your mother, Cesar?\n
                 You must be proud of yourself.\n
\n
                                                     (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              70.\n
\n
78   CONTINUED:                                                     78\n
\n
     A handful of gangbangers, drinking and loitering\n
     around Trevor's car, sharpen their stares and listen\n
     intently. Cesar grows nervous.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (to gangbangers)\n
                  ... He's lyin', man.\n
                         (at Trevor)\n
                  Fuckin' liar! Homeboy don't\n
                  never disrespec' his mother.\n
                  Never. You hear me, joto?!\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Whatever you say, Cesar.\n
\n
     Trevor steps around the gangbangers and climbs into\n
     his car...\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                  I'll find out where you stay.\n
                  Trucha, homes!\n
\n
     As the Rambler drives away Cesar heaves his 40 ouncer at\n
     it. Shatters all over the pavement.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  Valla ala chingada!\n
\n
     Cesar stands in the middle of the street, throwing hand\n
     signs.\n
\n
\n
79   EXT. PARKING LOT\/BUNGALOW #86 - NEXT MORNING                   79\n
\n
     Trevor approaches, via the parking lot, through a gate in\n
     a chain-link fence. ADJUST the ANGLE now to discover\n
     first period students mobbing the open doorway of\n
     Bungalow #86.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (pushing through)\n
                  'Scuse me. What's going on?\n
                         (and)\n
                  Lakesia, who opened the door?\n
\n
                                LAKESIA\n
                  It was like that when I got here.\n
\n
\n
80   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - CONTINUOUS ACTION                          80\n
\n
     Trevor squeezes through the doorway to find Dave Childress\n
     pacing the bungalow, assessing the damage. VIDEO CAMERA\n
     (AND HOUSING) are scattered in pieces all over the floor.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               71.\n
\n
80   CONTINUED:                                                      80\n
\n
     One of the windows is smashed-in. A serpentine trail of\n
     BLACK SPRAY PAINT encircles the entire room. Provocative\n
     epithets tag the walls... \"Pinche madre\", \"Puto\" and \"Fuck\n
     you G!\"\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Whoever did this is gonna pay!\n
                  Better believe it, ese(s).\n
\n
     A curious stream of students fill the room now.     Childress\n
     vents his anger at them...\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                         (crazed now)\n
                  Get the hell outta here!\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  Dave...\n
                         (to Armenian kid)\n
                  Barsek, don't touch anything,\n
                  okay?\n
\n
                                  CHILDRESS\n
                  Get out!!\n
\n
     And now Snowball... as Barsek discovers him... Lifeless.\n
     Impaled by a pair of scissors on the front counter.\n
\n
                                BARSEK\n
                         (an incredulous,\n
                          sickened laugh)\n
                  Oh, damn. Lookit the rat.\n
\n
     OFF Trevor's stricken gaze...\n
\n
     Childress snaps. He grabs Barsek by the throat. The\n
     crowd scatters, students tripping over each other to get\n
     out of the bungalow.\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                  Think it's funny?! Huh?!       Yuh\n
                  little fuck!\n
\n
     Trevor attempts to separate Childress from Barsek...\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                  Dave!   No!   Let go of 'im!\n
\n
                                CHILDRESS\n
                         (to Barsek)\n
                  D'you do this?!\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               72.\n
\n
80   CONTINUED:                                                      80\n
\n
                                   BARSEK\n
                            (choking)\n
                  Nooo...\n
\n
     Trevor pries them apart. Barsek crumbles to the floor,\n
     gulping for air and scurrying out of the bungalow on his\n
     hands and knees.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  He didn't do anything.    He's a\n
                  good kid.\n
\n
\n
81   EXT. ATHLETIC FIELD - MORNING (NUTRITION PERIOD)                81\n
\n
     ESTABLISHING the different student factions.\n
\n
     MUSIC, playing over a PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM, fills the\n
     quad.\n
\n
     Trevor, now an interloper, crossing the senior lawn,\n
     openly searching for Cesar.\n
\n
     Tag-bangers, a clique of eight or nine K.O.S. wanna-be(s).\n
     Feature PACO (16) as they take quick hits off a blunt.\n
\n
     Now Cesar extinguishes the blunt with his fingertips and\n
     hides it as Trevor wanders into their midst.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (glances around;\n
                          sniffs)\n
                  Been smokin' the chronic, Cesar?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (a smirk)\n
                  I'm hooked on phonics... not\n
                  'hooked on chronic.'\n
\n
     Laughs all around.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (not amused)\n
                  You wouldn't happen t'know who\n
                  vandalized bungalow eighty-six\n
                  last night?\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                         (feigning ignorance)\n
                  You guys know anything about that?\n
                         (off silence)\n
                  Sorry, maestro... nada.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                              73.\n
\n
81   CONTINUED:                                                     81\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                         (sotto)\n
                  Garcia may not think there's\n
                  enough here to prove anything.\n
                  But you and I both know who's\n
                  responsible. Don't we?\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                  Whadda you, a narc? Seriously, I\n
                  don't know what the fuck you're\n
                  talkin' about.\n
\n
     Trevor maintains his fervent demeanor. Now he notices\n
     the ring on Cesar's right index finger.\n
\n
\n
     INSERT - CESAR'S RING\n
\n
     emblazoned with a green marijuana leaf.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (pointing)\n
                  The ring, Cesar... lemme have it.\n
\n
     Cesar dramatically jerks back his finger.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  Watch it, eh... that's my trigger\n
                  finger.\n
\n
     As Cesar, with purpose, aims an invisible gun at Trevor...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  It's inappropriate attire...\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  ... Bang.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (momentous\n
                          deliberation)\n
                  ... Are you finished?\n
\n
     Cesar starts to laugh.    A crowd begins to gather.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  What? Finished with what?   Don't\n
                  get crazy on me, dude.\n
\n
     The boisterous crowd escalates... hoots and hollers.\n
\n
     After weighing the situation, Trevor exchanges palpable\n
     looks with Cesar.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                74.\n
\n
81   CONTINUED:                                                       81\n
\n
     Now he reluctantly back-pedals, squeezing his way past\n
     the wall of bodies pressed in behind him.\n
\n
     His departure across an empty lawn is accompanied by a\n
     hail of \"boos\" and taunts.\n
\n
\n
82   EXT. BURBANK AIRPORT - LANDING RUNWAY - TWILIGHT                 82\n
\n
     as an 737 ROARS down onto the tarmac. In the f.g.,\n
     Trevor and Ellen PEEL away from the curb angrily.\n
\n
\n
83   EXT. TREVOR'S RAMBLER (AIRPORT VICINITY) - NIGHT                 83\n
\n
     Traveling down Hollywood Way.\n
\n
\n
84   INT.\/EXT. RAMBLER - TREVOR AND ELLEN - CONTINUOUS ACTION         84\n
     - NIGHT\n
\n
     in the front seat...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  ... These conferences mainly focus\n
                  on software now.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (far off)\n
                  Software sells.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (flickers a smile)\n
                  So, how's Jack?\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  ... Jack's good.\n
\n
     As they pull up to a stop light...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (flirtatious)\n
                  And what about Trevor?   Was Trevor\n
                  a good boy, too?\n
\n
     Triggers an unintended response...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (self-consciously)\n
                  What's that supposed to mean?\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (innocently)\n
                  Nothing...\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                  75.\n
\n
84   CONTINUED:                                                         84\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Is that supposed to mean\n
                  something?\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (baffled)\n
                  Trevor...\n
\n
     The light changes to green. An impatient young man in\n
     the car behind them BEEPS his HORN. Lays it on a little\n
     too long.\n
\n
     Trevor snaps.\n
\n
\n
85   EXT. INTERSECTION - CONTINUOUS ACTION - NIGHT                      85\n
\n
     As Trevor gets out of the car, marching up to the car\n
     behind, slamming his hand down on its hood...\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  Can't you see I'm talking to the\n
                  lady?!\n
\n
     The young man shrinks, quickly rolling up his window.\n
\n
\n
86   INT. RAMBLER - CONTINUOUS ACTION                                   86\n
\n
     as Trevor gets back in and they drive away. Not a word\n
     is spoken. Exorcising his demons now. He simmers.\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                  ... I'm sorry.     Forgive me.\n
\n
     OFF Ellen's disturbed gaze...\n
\n
\n
87   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - NIGHT                                        87\n
\n
     as the Rambler pulls into the driveway. Ellen's '92 Jeep\n
     Cherokee is parked on the street. Bug zapper above the\n
     garage flickers on.\n
\n
\n
88   INT.\/EXT. TREVOR'S FRONT YARD THROUGH CAR WINDSHIELD -             88\n
     CONTINUOUS ACTION\n
\n
     Light now spills into the front yard.         No sign of Jack.\n
\n
     Trevor SHUTS OFF the IGNITION.       A portentous silence.\n
\n
                                                          (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               76.\n
\n
88   CONTINUED:                                                      88\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  ... Come out, come out, wherever\n
                  you are. Where is he?\n
\n
     Trevor reaches for a flashlight in the glove compartment.\n
\n
\n
89   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - DRIVEWAY - RAMBLER - CONTINUOUS           89\n
     ACTION\n
\n
     Trevor and Ellen step out of the car.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                           (tentatively)\n
                  Jack?\n
\n
     MOVING THROUGH the chain-link fence, into the front yard.\n
     Ellen whistles faintly. Trevor turns on his flashlight.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  Here, boy... here, Jack.   Come to\n
                  Mommy, sweetheart.\n
\n
     The glare of the flashlight fixes on the trunk of the\n
     olive tree.\n
\n
     Jack's chain stretching tautly toward the back alley.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (reacting)\n
                  ... Oh, my God.\n
\n
     Trevor and Ellen, propelled now toward the alley, hearts\n
     pounding, frantically rushing toward the conclusion as\n
     the flashlight traces the length of the chain...\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                           (right behind Trevor)\n
                  Jack?!\n
\n
     The chain disappears over the top of the alley wall.\n
     Trevor kicks open the alley gate and freezes.\n
\n
90   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - OTHER SIDE OF ALLEY WALL - JACK           90\n
\n
     centered in the flashlight beam, dangling there,\n
     strangled to death at the end of his dog collar.\n
\n
\n
91   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - ELLEN AND TREVOR - NIGHT                  91\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                           (gut-wrenching)\n
                  Jack!\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                    77.\n
\n
91   CONTINUED:                                                        91\n
\n
     Trevor holds her back. She unleashes her torment, punching\n
     and kicking until fully spent, crumbling to her knees now,\n
     sobbing hysterically.\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                  ... Jack.\n
\n
     HOLD ON her fitful sobs, and...\n
\n
                                                       CUT TO:\n
\n
\n
92   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - IN ALLEY - THAT NIGHT                       92\n
     (APPROXIMATELY AN HOUR LATER)\n
\n
     Trevor, a beaten hypnotic gaze, watches as an ANIMAL\n
     REGULATIONS OFFICER fatefully slams the cargo door of his truck.\n
\n
                                ANIMAL REGULATIONS OFFICER\n
                  Don't beat yourself up too much.\n
                  It was an accident. He was probably\n
                  after a cat... or someone walked\n
                  past back here in the alley.\n
                  Whatever it was, he jumped over the\n
                  fence. What can you do?\n
\n
     Ellen watches Trevor's house; behind a screen door.\n
\n
\n
93   INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT                                     93\n
\n
     Ellen sits on Trevor's bed, fighting back tears.\n
\n
     Trevor enters with a glass of water and a pill.     Sits\n
     down on the edge of the bed.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (offering pill)\n
                  It's aspirin...\n
\n
                                ELLEN\n
                         (refuses it)\n
                  ... I can't talk to you right now,\n
                  Trevor. Please. I'm so upset I\n
                  can't even drive. I just need some\n
                  time alone.\n
\n
     Trevor acquiesces. Steps over to his desk and sets the\n
     glass of water down. A key protrudes from one of the desk\n
     drawers. He leans over, removes the key and plays with it\n
     for a moment.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                78.\n
\n
93   CONTINUED:                                                    93\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (beat)\n
                  I know about what's not fair. I\n
                  left part of my lung in a damn\n
                  hospital because some gangbanger\n
                  didn't like the grade I gave him.\n
                  Sometimes you do all the right\n
                  things. You work hard in\n
                  school... get a good job... pay\n
                  your taxes. Things still go bad.\n
                         (eyes flicker)\n
                  I'm so sorry, Ellen.\n
\n
     Ellen shuts her heavy eyelids now.    Shuts out the world.\n
\n
\n
94   EXT. ALLEY BEHIND TREVOR'S HOUSE - NIGHT                      94\n
\n
     A thorough investigation now at the foot of Jack's\n
     wall...\n
\n
     ... Trevor's flashlight fixes on a faint set of shoe prints\n
     in the dirt.\n
\n
     Waffle-soled Doc Martens.    He follows their trail, down\n
     the alley.\n
\n
     Hesitating at the wall again. He now focuses his\n
     flashlight beam on a smattering of graffiti... and\n
     discovers a fresh tag...\n
\n
     In black spray paint, the letters K.O.S. Trevor reaches\n
     out and touches a coagulated trickle of paint. As he\n
     inspects the faint residue on his fingertip...\n
\n
\n
95   OMITTED                                                       95\n
\n
\n
96   EXT. FREEWAY UNDERPASS - LATER THAT NIGHT                     96\n
\n
     About 2 a.m.    The street's empty.\n
\n
     Cesar's darkened apartment is tucked away in the\n
     distance. Now a lone figure emerges and beats a path\n
     through the projects... CLOSER now... it's Cesar. White\n
     T-shirt, sagging gray dickies...\n
\n
     FOLLOWING HIM now... as he crosses the edge of a dirt\n
     lot. FOCUSING ON his Doc Marten boots and their waffle-\n
     soled print...\n
\n
     1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                               79.\n
\n
97   EXT. FREEWAY UNDERPASS - NIGHT                               97\n
\n
     Merging with Cesar as he slinks down the dark alley\n
     corridor. Lighting a blunt off his Zippo lighter...\n
\n
98   FURTHER DOWN                                                 98\n
\n
     Cesar spray paints a wall with a can of black enamel paint.\n
     He takes another hit. Chokes down a shit-eating grin. And\n
     admires his work... a goofy dog smoking a blunt.\n
\n
     ... below the dog he scrawls the word, \"CARTOON.\" Above\n
     it, \"K.O.S. As he slips the spray can into his front\n
     pocket, he senses a presence..\n
\n
                               CESAR\n
                 ... 'At you, Stevie?\n
\n
     Profound silence. Grin dissolves. Riveted, Cesar takes\n
     another slow hit off his blunt. Suddenly a coyote darts\n
     past him.\n
\n
                               CESAR\n
                        (startled)\n
                 ... Hells, man. Stupit dog.\n
\n
     His sick smirk returns. But only momentarily. Now a\n
     premonitory flicker registers on his face. He blinks as\n
     a Masai arrow splits the darkness and pierces his left\n
     pectoral muscle.\n
\n
     Exhaling a stunned breath, Cesar looks down at the arrow.\n
     An incredulous, stupefied laugh escapes him as he pulls\n
     the arrow out of his chest and studies it...\n
\n
     The normal length of the arrow's been shortened by half\n
     and the tip has been fitted with a modified hypodermic\n
     needle. (The needle extends from a rubber stopper which has\n
     retracted into the hypodermic casing, causing the\n
     solution in the hypo to jettison through the needle and\n
     into Cesar).\n
\n
                               CESAR\n
                 ... Mutha fuck.\n
\n
     Now back-pedaling, stumbling, dropping the arrow, he\n
     turns and runs off.\n
\n
\n
99   EXT. FREEWAY UNDERPASS                                       99\n
\n
     Cesar collapses onto a pile of garbage bags. MOVING IN.\n
     His eyes fixed and dilated. Forehead beaded with\n
     perspiration. Fighting against the effects of the\n
     injection...\n
\n
     Now blackness...\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                     80.\n
\n
100   INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT (3 AM)                               100\n
\n
      Ellen awakens with a start.\n
\n
      She glances about, momentarily disoriented.      Now she\n
      remembers where she is and what happened.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   Trevor?\n
\n
      No response.    Choking back emotions.\n
\n
\n
101   INT. TREVOR'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT                                  101\n
\n
      TV SET ON.    Ellen enters, glances around.     No Trevor.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   Trevor?\n
\n
\n
102   INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER                              102\n
\n
      As Ellen returns. She notices the glass of water on the\n
      desk. Bravely collects herself. Crosses over to the\n
      desk and sits down.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   ... Where'd you put the aspirin?\n
\n
      Like an involuntary reflex she tugs on the center drawer\n
      of the desk, but it's locked. Now she pulls on one of\n
      the side drawers and it slides open. Ellen stops at what\n
      she sees...\n
\n
      ... a treasure-trove of homemade shivs, Bic lighters,\n
      Walkmen, pagers... and Benny Chacon's black rosary beads.\n
\n
      BACK TO Ellen and her curious, sobered look.      Now she slowly\n
      shuts the drawer.\n
\n
103   INT. TREVOR'S FOYER - A SHORT WHILE LATER                          103\n
\n
      Fumbling in her purse for her keys, Ellen makes a hasty\n
      departure.\n
\n
104   EXT. FREEWAY UNDERPASS - PREDAWN                                   104\n
\n
      Almost six AM. Encroaching sunlight creeps toward the\n
      horizon. A vapid stillness. Not a soul stirs.\n
\n
\n
105   EXT. FREEWAY UNDERPASS - TIGHT ON CESAR'S FACE -                   105\n
      CONTINUOUS ACTION\n
\n
      as he comes to.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                 81.\n
\n
105   CONTINUED:                                                     105\n
\n
      Eyes feverish, registering pain. His head throbs. He\n
      begins to move and discovers a pounding in his right\n
      hand...\n
\n
      ... Lifting his hand up in front of his face.    Cesar's\n
      ring index finger has been severed clean off.    Blood is\n
      everywhere.\n
\n
      Cesar emotes a silent panic-stricken scream. Reduced to\n
      a snot-sobbing wreck, he frantically searches the ground\n
      on his hands and knees...\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                   My finger. Please, somebody help\n
                   me! Where's my finger?!\n
\n
\n
106   OMITTED                                                        106\n
\n
\n
107   INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION - MORNING              107\n
\n
      PUSHING IN ON the Emergency Room Sign... MOVING PAST the\n
      unrelenting urgency that permeates the ER. DISCOVER\n
      Cesar now in a wheelchair, right hand completely wrapped\n
      in gauze. He pleads with two police DETECTIVES...\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   ... I put it on my mother, sir.\n
\n
                                 DETECTIVE #1\n
                          (leaning forward;\n
                           good cop)\n
                   ... So your science teacher shot\n
                   you with an arrow full of drugs\n
                   then chopped off your finger.\n
                   Come on, you can do better than\n
                   that, Cesar.\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   It had to be him!\n
\n
                                  DETECTIVE #2\n
                           (bad cop)\n
                   He smoke the `mota' for yuh, too,\n
                   eh ese?\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Pinche madre... he hates my guts,\n
                   man!\n
\n
                                 DETECTIVE #2\n
                   You covering for somebody, homes?\n
                                 (MORE)\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   82.\n
\n
107   CONTINUED:                                                       107\n
\n
                                 DETECTIVE #2 (CONT'D)\n
                   Cuz, this circumstantial bullshit\n
                   won't hold up in court, I'll tell\n
                   you that right now.\n
\n
      Detective #1 refers to a rap sheet...\n
\n
                                  DETECTIVE #1\n
                          (sadly)\n
                   Caught too many priors, Cesar.\n
                   Juvenile GTA, vandalism...\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   I know he did it! Don't you hear\n
                   what I'm saying?\n
\n
                                 DETECTIVE #1\n
                   You saw his face?\n
\n
                                  CESAR\n
                          (lying)\n
                   Yeah, yeah. I seen him.\n
\n
      Detective #2 shakes his head and grimaces.\n
\n
                                 DETECTIVE #2\n
                   Lemme save yuh from perjuring\n
                   yourself, asshole... You're full\n
                   of shit.\n
\n
                                  CESAR\n
                   I swear it!   For reals!\n
\n
                                 DETECTIVE #2\n
                          (turns to leave)\n
                   C'mon, this guy's wasting our time.\n
                          (points to Cesar)\n
                   Come up with something better than\n
                   that, or the truth, then maybe we'll\n
                   talk.\n
\n
      Detective #2 walks away.     Detective #1 follows.\n
\n
      Cesar hangs his head, mumbling a disparaging flood of\n
      Spanish expletives...\n
\n
\n
108   INT. E.R. RECEIVING DESK - ANONYMOUS POV - CONTINUOUS            108\n
      ACTION\n
\n
      THROUGH passing patients and personnel... APPROACHING the\n
      receiving desk.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                 83.\n
\n
108   CONTINUED:                                                     108\n
\n
      ... As the blurred shoulder of an orderly CROSSES OUT to\n
      reveal a legal-sized white envelope now on the counter\n
      top.\n
\n
      A busy E.R. nurse notices the envelope. Glances around.\n
      Picks up the envelope and reads the name typed across the\n
      face of it... CESAR SANCHEZ... narrowing her gaze as she\n
      opens the envelope.\n
\n
      In the envelope, Cesar's severed finger, nesting in a\n
      clump of newspaper.\n
\n
      Appears to be something tattooed across the side of it\n
      but we can't quite make it out.\n
\n
      The Nurse gasps and drops the envelope, spilling the\n
      finger onto the counter top.\n
\n
      CLOSE now ON the finger and the fresh \"tatt\" scrawled\n
      across its side: R-U-DUN?\n
\n
      SOUND FADES now from the scene, replaced by a TECHNO HIP-\n
      HOP TRACK that CONTINUES THROUGH the CUT...\n
\n
\n
109   EXT. BUNGALOW #86 - AFTERNOON (6TH PERIOD)                     109\n
\n
      Rain lashes the faculty parking lot...\n
\n
\n
110   INT. BUNGALOW #86 - CONTINUOUS ACTION                          110\n
\n
      HIP-HOP TRACK FADES now replaced by the buzz of\n
      cross-talk. Trevor strolls the aisles, an open\n
      science book in hand.\n
\n
      (NOTE: Rita is dressed in overalls, very subdued\n
      compared to her usual attire.)\n
\n
      Cesar's back... and seated in his regular seat, across\n
      from Stevie Littleton. Uncharacteristically, his eyes\n
      are fixed on the book in front of him.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (addressing class)\n
                   ... Name one of four parts that\n
                   make up the human hand?\n
\n
      Trevor holds up his hand for display.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Hands, please.\n
\n
      A reluctant cross section of hands go up.\n
\n
                                                     (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                   84.\n
\n
110   CONTINUED:                                                       110\n
\n
      6th period is by no means a synchronized whole but there\n
      has developed an odd sort of order to its madness.\n
\n
      Trevor looks around.      Picks on an Anglo girl in the second\n
      row.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                   Christian.\n
\n
                                 CHRISTIAN\n
                   ... The metacarpals.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   The Metacarpals. That's one.\n
                          (to class)\n
                   Name some more?\n
\n
      Now he picks on Rita...\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                   Rita.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   The wrist... and thumb.\n
\n
      A flurry of thumbs go up as if on cue.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                   Good.\n
                          (holding up all his\n
                           fingers now)\n
                   ... And don't forget the phalanges.\n
\n
      Fingers shoot up and wiggle on cue...\n
\n
                                 CLASS\n
                          (in unison)\n
                   Phalanges, phalanges, phalanges...\n
\n
      Scattered laughter and groans at this embarrassing\n
      routine...\n
\n
      Cesar's beaten gaze remains riveted to his book. Now he\n
      slides a look at the \"R-U-DUN\" tatt on his right index\n
      finger. The severed finger has been sewn back on,\n
      supported by a finger brace.\n
\n
      Stevie openly stares at the back of Trevor's head as\n
      Trevor passes by in the aisle.\n
\n
\n
111   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - \"A\" BUILDING\/COMPUTER LAB -             111\n
      AFTER SCHOOL\n
\n
      RAIN steadily plays AGAINST the WINDOWS.\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/10\/96                                  85.\n
\n
111   CONTINUED:                                                      111\n
\n
      Ellen sits behind her computer, lost in a grading\n
      program...\n
\n
      Trevor now enters.    Damp hair and shoulders.\n
\n
                                    TREVOR\n
                   May I come in?\n
\n
      Ellen stops what she's working on.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (reticently)\n
                   Hi.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (concerned)\n
                   Where'd you go the other night?\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   I was going to ask you the same\n
                   thing.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... I went for a run.\n
                          (changes subject)\n
                   Wanna get some Chinese later?\n
                   There's a new place in the Valley\n
                   Center. 'Spose to be pretty good.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (an excuse)\n
                   ... Can't tonight. Maybe another\n
                   time.\n
\n
      Weighs it, and...\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (stands there for\n
                           a moment)\n
                   ... I should probably correct\n
                   papers anyway. Some of these\n
                   bungalow kids actually care\n
                   about a grade. Even Cesar's doing\n
                   better. Today, for the first time\n
                   since I took over for Eskander, he\n
                   actually did his work.\n
                          (beat)\n
                   Today Cesar Sanchez was a success.\n
                   Maybe for the first time in his\n
                   life.\n
                          (blinks now)\n
                   You alright?\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                86.\n
\n
111   CONTINUED:                                                      111\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   ... Much better, thank you.\n
\n
      A tacit satisfaction that all is well...\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... I really am sorry about Jack.\n
\n
      He exits now leaving Ellen alone with her thoughts.\n
\n
\n
112   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS SCHOOL LIBRARY - MORNING                 112\n
\n
      Before school tutoring session. The minute hand on the\n
      wall clock jerks ahead one minute... 7:23 AM.\n
\n
      Trevor and Rita at a table near the back of the library.\n
      Trevor gazes blankly at Rita's essay. Rita revises one\n
      of the pages.\n
\n
      INTERCUT Dave Childress at the front counter as the\n
      librarian (late fifties) photocopies a page from a\n
      history book for him. Childress scrutinizes Trevor and\n
      Rita as he waits.\n
\n
      Satisfied now, Rita slides the page to Trevor...\n
\n
                                   RITA\n
                   ... Finished.\n
\n
      Trevor blinks himself back to reality...\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Let's hava look..\n
\n
      He adjusts his glasses.      Pores over the paper...\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Good.\n
                          (deliberating)\n
                   ... I was just thinking, since\n
                   your essay's about gangs and\n
                   getting away from their influence,\n
                   you probably could've left some of\n
                   those double negatives you like so\n
                   well.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (confused)\n
                   So now you wan' me to use bad\n
                   grammar.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                87.\n
\n
112   CONTINUED:                                                      112\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (explaining)\n
                   Only if it suits your topic.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   I know. We're all products of our\n
                   environment 'n' shit.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   No, I think that's just an excuse.\n
                          (beat)\n
                   I say if we're strong, we can rise\n
                   above adversity.\n
                          (lets it sink in)\n
                   But it's like rap or hip-hop...\n
                   Correct all the grammar and it\n
                   loses its impact.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   So you like hip-hop, Mr. G?\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                          (shakes his head)\n
                   ... I hate it.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (reacting)\n
                   What kinda black man are you?\n
\n
      Trevor bursts forth a laugh.\n
\n
      Childress perks up at the front counter.\n
\n
      Trevor's laugh evokes a smile from Rita.      Now she pries\n
      a little further...\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   Why you here anyways? Don't you\n
                   got nothin' better t'do?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Everything I wanna do is right\n
                   here.\n
                          (back on track now)\n
                   It's a good essay, Rita. You put\n
                   a lot of effort into it, it shows.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (a laconic grin)\n
                   Comes from the heart, maestro.\n
                   I'm a writer... not a fighter.\n
\n
      Trevor returns a cognitive flicker.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               88.\n
\n
112   CONTINUED:                                                     112\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (hinting now)\n
                   ... Ms. Quinn was telling me she\n
                   picks two seniors each year to\n
                   read their essays at graduation.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (taken aback)\n
                   She ain't gonna pick my paper.\n
                   Anyway, I don't wanna get up in\n
                   fronna all those people and make\n
                   a fool outta myself.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                   Why not?   It'd be a Pyrrhic\n
                   victory.\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                   What's dat?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... In your case, irony. Refers\n
                   to King Pyrrhus. Never mind.\n
                   Look it up sometime.\n
\n
      OFF Rita's reluctance...\n
\n
\n
113   EXT. LOS ANGELES RIVER\/SEPULVEDA DAM BASIN - AFTERNOON         113\n
\n
      A churning fist of muddy water cuts a path along the\n
      perimeter of a golf course and jogging trail.\n
\n
      TRACING jogging trail, KEEPING PACE now with a die-hard\n
      runner. Something registers in the runner's eyes, pace\n
      slowing, now stopping. Not fully comprehending what he\n
      is looking at...\n
\n
      FOLLOWING HIS GAZE... THROUGH a curtain of rain and tall\n
      swamp grass... along the riverbank... TO the base of the\n
      Burbank Boulevard Overpass.\n
\n
      SLOWING ANGLE to discover precariously jutting out of the\n
      rushing waters, in a tangle of chicken wire fence, a\n
      partially decomposed torso...\n
\n
\n
114   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS COMPUTER LAB - AFTER LUNCH              114\n
      (5TH PERIOD)\n
\n
      Ellen walks down an aisle of computers as the class\n
      settles...\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 89.\n
\n
114   CONTINUED:                                                       114\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   ... Before getting side-tracked\n
                   with viruses and T-S-R programs,\n
                   we were talking yesterday about\n
                   E-Mail.\n
\n
      INTERCUT Stevie. Ellen passes Stevie's computer as\n
      he shares cryptic information with a kid sitting next\n
      to him.\n
\n
      Ellen approaches her computer console on wheels at\n
      the front of the class.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   If you click-on the mail icon in\n
                   your tray, you'll be ready to\n
                   send and receive mail. My\n
                   computer's already set-up.\n
                   Everyone go ahead and click the\n
                   white envelope in the lower...\n
\n
      Ellen's interrupted by her own computer. A little white\n
      envelope icon in the lower left hand tray flashes and\n
      BEEPS. Now a COMPUTER VOICE announces: \"You've got mail.\"\n
\n
      Ellen's taken aback.    Class titters.   Now she grins.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   Looks like someone's way ahead of\n
                   me. Alright.\n
                          (adapts and\n
                           demonstrates)\n
                   To retrieve your mail simply double\n
                   click the top item in your mail\n
                   list.\n
                          (as she does)\n
                   Since we're all a part of the\n
                   same network, we share mail... so\n
                   go ahead and do that.\n
\n
      The message read:    TEACHER FUCKS NIGGERS\n
\n
      Class is dumbstruck. Ellen's riveted. Now she turns.\n
      Without losing her temper, she scours the class with\n
      a narrow gaze.\n
\n
      Class starts to buzz.    Now a clicking frenzy to retrieve\n
      the same message.\n
\n
      The anonymous message pops up on computer screens all\n
      around the classroom.\n
\n
      Ellen's POV of students (and Stevie). Deciphering\n
      reactions. LINGERING ON Stevie's poker face.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               90.\n
\n
114   CONTINUED:                                                     114\n
\n
      Her own poker face now...\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   Whoever sent that message isn't\n
                   as anonymous as they think.\n
\n
      Ellen turns to her console, clicks the REPLY button.    A\n
      new mail message window opens up. It's addressed to\n
      the anonymous sender, STUDENT #00. Ellen types in:\n
\n
                                 GO TO THE OFFICE\n
\n
      All the while anticipation builds on Stevie's face.    He\n
      glances around, starting to get nervous.\n
\n
      Ellen now clicks the SEND button...\n
\n
      Stevie's COMPUTER BEEPS...    COMPUTER VOICE:   \"You've got\n
      mail...\"\n
\n
      ... A window opens in the middle of Stevie's monitor\n
      revealing Ellen's return message.\n
\n
      Class erupts and Stevie springs out of his seat...\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   'Dat's bullshit, man!\n
\n
      He rushes up to the front of the class.\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   You best step off, Ms. H. Cuz\n
                   you can't prove nuthin'. And I\n
                   know you can't afford to lose\n
                   'dis minimum wage job 'a yers.\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                           (beat and)\n
                   You're right, Stevie. I can't\n
                   afford to live in a big house\n
                   south of the boulevard. Like\n
                   you do.\n
\n
      Class erupts again, coming down on Stevie and his wanna-be\n
      poor boy from the streets image. They're laughing at him\n
      now, not with him. In a rage, Stevie kicks open the\n
      hallway door and exits the classroom.\n
\n
\n
115   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS MAIN OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER             115\n
\n
      Ellen hastily enters, looking for Stevie. Addresses\n
      IRIS (a thirty-something Hispanic woman) behind\n
      the counter...\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               91.\n
\n
115   CONTINUED:                                                     115\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   Iris, did Steven Littleton come\n
                   in here?\n
\n
                                 IRIS\n
                   Haven't seen 'im.\n
\n
      Teacher #1, the insipid woman, checks her mail slot.    It's\n
      her conference period.\n
\n
                                 TEACHER #1\n
                          (appalled)\n
                   You're not supposed to leave\n
                   your classroom unattended.\n
\n
                                    ELLEN\n
                             (reacting)\n
                   Sue me.\n
\n
      Teacher #1 exits in a flurry. Ellen now glances to her\n
      right. Seated there in rigid silence is BENNY CHACON'S\n
      MOTHER (51).\n
\n
                                 IRIS\n
                          (offers; sotto)\n
                   Benny Chacon's mother. Told\n
                   'er Garcia had to leave early\n
                   today but she jus' sits there.\n
                   She been saying some pretty\n
                   crazy things.\n
\n
      Mrs. Chacon begins speaking Spanish in plaintive spurts.\n
      Ellen can't decipher what she is saying...\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (to Mrs. Chacon)\n
                   ... Espanol, muy poquito, senora.\n
                          (beat)\n
                   Mrs. Chacon... you have to slow down.\n
                          (back to Iris)\n
                   What's she saying?\n
\n
      Hesitating.    Now with apprehension...\n
\n
                                 IRIS\n
                   You heard 'bout that body they foun'\n
                   in the L.A. River... She says she\n
                   thinks it's Benny.\n
\n
      OFF Ellen's unblinking gaze...\n
\n
\n
116   EXT. LOS ANGELES COUNTY CORONER'S OFFICE (DOWNTOWN) -          116\n
      EVENING\n
\n
      A concrete fortress... Ellen and Mrs. Chacon approach.\n
\n
                                                               92.\n
\n
117   OMITTED                                                        117\n
\n
\n
118   INT. ASSISTANT CORONER'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS ACTION            118\n
\n
      Ellen and Mrs. Chacon sit stiffly in front of the\n
      ASSISTANT CORONER (mid-forties). Desk cluttered. Half-\n
      eaten sandwich in front of him. He nurses a Styrofoam\n
      cup of coffee as he flips through a John Doe folder.\n
\n
                              ASST. CORONER\n
                You say he's been missing\n
                approximately four weeks?\n
\n
                              ELLEN\n
                ... Four, almost five weeks.\n
\n
                              ASST. CORONER\n
                That's a long time. Lots a\n
                things happen to a body after\n
                four or five weeks. Makes it\n
                difficult to I.D.\n
\n
      A faint, incongruous smile.\n
\n
                              ELLEN\n
                       (indicating John Doe)\n
                So he just sits here?\n
\n
                              ASST. CORONER\n
                We keep 'um up to thirty days.\n
                Lady, we get 80, sometimes 90 Does\n
                a month. Floaters, gangbangers,\n
                illegals, junkies. Most of 'um\n
                cheap homicides. Nobody's even\n
                lookin' for 'em.\n
                       (indicating folder)\n
                This guy here, has a dent in his\n
                head. Could be post-mortem\n
                trauma. Probably hit a retaining\n
                wall on his way down river after\n
                that rain we had. Who knows.\n
                       (beat)\n
                Yuh ask me, this kid was dead\n
                before he got his head caved in.\n
                Overdose by morphine. That's what\n
                it looks like t'me.\n
\n
      Ellen weighs it. Assistant Coroner now refers to some\n
      sort of questionnaire.\n
\n
                              ASST. CORONER\n
                On the phone you said the mother\n
                mentioned some identifying marks.\n
\n
      Ellen refocuses a far-off, introspective gaze.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                93.\n
\n
118   CONTINUED:                                                      118\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (affirmative)\n
                   She said he has some pockmarks on\n
                   his chest; from a bad case of\n
                   chicken pox. And there's a bar-\n
                   code tattoo on his neck.\n
\n
      A cognitive flicker now as the Assistant Coroner sets\n
      down his coffee...\n
\n
\n
119   INT. AUTOPSY ROOM - EVENING                                     119\n
\n
      The acrid fecal smell causes Ellen to flinch. Averting\n
      her eyes, she holds onto Mrs. Chacon's arm as they stand\n
      next to the autopsy table. A plastic diaphanous sheet\n
      covers the body.\n
\n
      Now the Assistant Coroner raises the sheet...\n
\n
      Mrs. Chacon's traumatic gaze confirms her worst fears.\n
      She raises a hand to her mouth. Now the tears come...\n
\n
                                 MRS. CHACON\n
                   ... Benito.\n
\n
      As she comforts Mrs. Chacon...\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                          (to Assistant Coroner;\n
                           sotto)\n
                   Did you find any rosary beads with\n
                   the body?\n
\n
                                 ASSISTANT CORONER\n
                   No.\n
\n
\n
120   INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - LATER THAT NIGHT                        120\n
\n
      ... The digital clock next to Trevor's bed reads:\n
      2:14 a.m.\n
\n
      Trevor sleeps. HOLD for a portentous moment. Now the\n
      stillness is broken by a CLATTER at the front door.\n
      Someone enters the house. Trevor awakens. Jolts out of\n
      bed. Disoriented a beat.\n
\n
\n
121   INT. TREVOR'S HALLWAY                                           121\n
\n
      In boxer shorts and a T-shirt, adjusting his glasses,\n
      Trevor ventures through darkness...\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               94.\n
\n
121   CONTINUED:                                                     121\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Who's there?\n
\n
      A light flickers on in the living room.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN (O.S.)\n
                   You should keep your door locked.\n
\n
      ADJUSTING the ANGLE now as the living room comes INTO\n
      VIEW...\n
\n
      Ellen paces back and forth, consumed by what's troubling\n
      her.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (still half asleep)\n
                   What's the matter?\n
\n
      Ellen ignores his question.\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                          (impaling him with\n
                            a look)\n
                   I just want you to tell me one\n
                   thing...\n
\n
      Now something she sees stops her pacing...\n
\n
      ... The black rosary beads on the dinner table.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                           (off Ellen's\n
                            puzzled look)\n
                   What?\n
\n
      Following her gaze, he picks up the rosary beads.    As he\n
      places them in a drawer in the credenza.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                   What is it?\n
\n
      Ellen's confused.     Lost in a fixated gaze.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   ... If you had any idea what I've\n
                   been thinking lately... you'd\n
                   think I was crazy.\n
                          (running it through\n
                           her mind)\n
                   ... Remember that John Doe they\n
                   found in the L.A. River. Turned\n
                   out it was Benny.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 95.\n
\n
121   CONTINUED:                                                       121\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (impacted)\n
                   Who told you that?\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   ... Benny's mother identified the\n
                   body.\n
\n
      Trevor just looks at her, a bated pause.       Now he blinks.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Benny was no saint, Ellen. This\n
                   is a kid who terrorized hald the\n
                   school. He even broke into your\n
                   house. Maybe we should think\n
                   about that 'fore we shed any tears.\n
\n
      Ellen just looks at him.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Maybe he's better off.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   That's a horrible thing to say.\n
\n
      Trevor accepts that it is.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                   Do you believe for every troubled\n
                   kid like Benny there's one or two\n
                   others just waiting to take his\n
                   place? Like Cesar... or his\n
                   friend Stevie.\n
\n
      An awkward moment of silence...\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   You don't know anything about\n
                   Cesar's finger, do you, Trevor?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Sometimes a person just runs out\n
                   of bad choices. Then he's gotta\n
                   pay a price. What happened to\n
                   Cesar was inevitable.\n
\n
      Ellen flickers a terrified smile.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   You're scaring me.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 96.\n
\n
121   CONTINUED:                                                       121\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   We make choices in life and we\n
                   live by 'em. You and I chose to\n
                   be teachers, to stand on\n
                   principle. Benny and Cesar,\n
                   they're takers. They want what\n
                   they want, and they want it now.\n
\n
                                    ELLEN\n
                   Trevor...\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                           (unravelling)\n
                   I'm sorry but everyone can't\n
                   always get what they want.\n
                   Sometimes you gotta take\n
                   responsibility for your actions.\n
                   Have you ever been ready to die\n
                   for a fundamental principle? They\n
                   haven't. You think those punks\n
                   would die protecting your Civil\n
                   Rights?\n
\n
                                    ELLEN\n
                   Trevor, don't.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Did you know Cesar hits his\n
                   mother? Steals money from her\n
                   purse? Did you know that?\n
\n
      Ellen blanches.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Did you know he was here that\n
                   night? In the alley?\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (confused)\n
                   What are you talking about?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Cesar. Jack was provoked.     It\n
                   wasn't an accident, Ellen.    Cesar\n
                   killed him.\n
\n
      Ellen just stares at him.       Traumatized...\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (momentous deliberation)\n
                   Where'd you get the rosary beads?\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
       1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/22\/96                               97.\n
\n
121    CONTINUED:                                                   121\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                           (pause and...)\n
                    I like you, Ellen. I like you so\n
                    much. Do you believe that?\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                           (riveted)\n
                    Yes.\n
\n
       Trevor can't find words.\n
\n
                                  ELLEN\n
                    ... I don't know you.\n
\n
       With that, Ellen turns and walks out of the house as\n
       quickly as she came.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                           (plaintively)\n
                    ... You do know me. I'm a\n
                    teacher, just like you.\n
\n
\n
123A   EXT. STUDENT QUAD\/QUEBRADITA - AFTER SCHOOL                  123A\n
       (CINCO DE MAYO)\n
\n
       ESTABLISH hoardes of cowboy hats, belt sashes and boots\n
       as they dance to the loud Mexican band music on the\n
       patio...\n
\n
       Non-Hispanics, along with non-Quebradita cliques, look on\n
       from the lawn area...\n
\n
\n
       DAVE CHILDRESS\n
\n
       hanging back, on the fringes, scoping out the crowd.\n
       Notices a pack of cigarettes in the chest pocket of a\n
       15-year-old kid standing next to him. Kid's wrapped up\n
       in talking to another kid, points to something O.S.\n
\n
                                  CHILDRESS\n
                           (to the kid with\n
                            cigarettes)\n
                    ... Don't you know it's not polite\n
                    to point at people. Everytime you\n
                    point a finger at someone else...\n
                           (demonstrates)\n
                    ... There's three fingers pointing\n
                    back at you.\n
                           (lesson over)\n
                    Lemme have a cigarette.\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/22\/96                                  98.\n
\n
122   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - MEN'S BATHROOM - AFTER SCHOOL          122\n
\n
      ... Cinco de Mayo. The sounds of a QUEBRADITA waft in\n
      from outside in the quad.\n
\n
      At the same time, Steve follows him into the rest room.\n
      They're all alone.\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                  Eh, Mr. G?\n
\n
      Bracing himself with a fixed, straight-ahead look.\n
\n
                                STEVIE\n
                         (boldly)\n
                  I'm talkin' ta you, Garfield.\n
                         (beat)\n
                  Know what you did to Cesar.\n
                         (wild notion)\n
                  ... I'm thinkin' maybe you did\n
                  Benny, too.\n
                         (incredulously)\n
                  That possible? You crush my\n
                  friend's skull? Fuck 'im up wit'\n
                  a two-by-four, maybe a baseball\n
                  bat?\n
\n
      No response.   As Trevor starts to leave, Stevie blocks\n
      his path.\n
\n
      Trevor steps to one side to go around... but Stevie\n
      blocks his path again.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                         (trying to maintain)\n
                  Please, step out of the way.\n
\n
                                STEVIE\n
                  ... You kill my friend?   Huh?\n
\n
      Trevor's head begins to swim. His life's falling apart.\n
      Like a trapped animal, he back-pedals a step to escape...\n
      but then suddenly snaps.\n
\n
      He explodes into Stevie, crushing him against the bath-\n
      room wall.\n
\n
      Trevor impales Stevie with a look that says it all.\n
\n
      Stevie immediately shrinks. Trevor now blinks. Cooling\n
      himself down. Slowing his breathing. Stevie slips out\n
      from under his hold and bolts for the exit.\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/22\/96                              98A.\n
\n
123   EXT. STUDENT QUAD\/QUEBRADITA - CONTINUOUS ACTION             123\n
\n
      Cesar and his tag-bangers... Cesar holds court, drowned\n
      out by the MUSIC. Now Stevie arrives. Out of breath.\n
      Urgent to tell his story.\n
\n
      Rita... Makeup subdued, wearing a cotton button-down blouse.\n
      She watches the Quebradita from behind a tree. A desire\n
      to be part of it, she moves a little closer...\n
\n
      ... as Cesar notices her. His head races from Stevie's\n
      news. Eyes penetrating. Now galvanized. On a rampage,\n
      he shoves his way through the crowd.\n
\n
      Victor Sifuentes... on the opposite side of the patio,\n
      snapping a look, spotting Cesar moving in for the kill.\n
      With a start, Victor barks something into his walkie-\n
      talkie and squeezes his way into the Quebradita crowd...\n
\n
      Cesar shoves Rita to the ground.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  School girl bitch!\n
\n
                                                    (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                  99.\n
\n
123   CONTINUED:                                                        123\n
\n
      Rita gets to her feet immediately...\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (shaken)\n
                   You gotta problem?!\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Yer fuckin' maestro, 'at's my\n
                   problem!\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   I don't know what yer talkin'\n
                   'bout!\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Garfield killed Benny!\n
\n
      Rita looks at him like he's insane.    Cesar's entourage\n
      gathers around them.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   Yer crazy.\n
\n
      She turns her back and starts to leave.       Cesar grabs\n
      her again...\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Don't turn yer back on me when\n
                   I'm talkin' t'you, bitch. You\n
                   think yer better than everybody\n
                   else. Well you ain't! You ain't\n
                   nuthin' but a whore!\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   Fuck you, asshole!\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   What? You forget about the time\n
                   in the bungalows? We all had our\n
                   turn wit you, man!\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   Shut up!\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                          (gets in her face)\n
                   What the fuck you been fuckin'\n
                   a nigger for? Huh? You think\n
                   he's gonna protec' you? Stop\n
                   me from doin' whatever I want\n
                   wit' you? Stop any of us from\n
                   doin' what we want wit' you?!\n
\n
      Rita just stands there, destroyed and sobbing now.\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                100.\n
\n
123   CONTINUED:                                                       123\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   Fuck you, Cesar.\n
\n
                                   CESAR\n
                   No, fuck you!\n
\n
      He grabs her blouse and rips it wide open. His eyes\n
      glisten with fervor now as he punches Rita (with his\n
      good hand) square in the face. She crumbles to the\n
      ground as Victor bursts through the crowd and\n
      restrains Cesar.\n
\n
      As Rita gets to her feet and flees into the Quebradita\n
      crowd...\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Garfield better watch his back!\n
\n
\n
124   OMITTED                                                          124\n
\n
125   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AUDITORIUM - NIGHT                        125\n
\n
      Standing room only.    An impassioned crowd.\n
\n
                                 ANGLO WOMAN\n
                   ... I wanna know if this boy was\n
                   killed and whether it was gang-\n
                   related.\n
\n
      The audience erupts in unanimous support...\n
\n
                                 ANGLO WOMAN\n
                          (playing to crowd now)\n
                   As a mother and a taxpayer, I have\n
                   a right to know. And if it was\n
                   gang-related then I want tighter\n
                   security...\n
\n
      At this point she's drowned out by the crowd.\n
\n
      On stage the discipline committee, including Trevor,\n
      Childress, Hyland and Quinn sit at the dais. Garcia\n
      stands at the podium, waiting for silence. MRS. FORD,\n
      the assistant principal, a full-figured black woman in\n
      her mid-fifties, stands alongside him, gesturing for\n
      the crowd to settle down.\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                   The death...\n
                          (too noisy)\n
                   The death of Benito Chacon is not\n
                   gang-related.\n
                                 (MORE)\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                101.\n
\n
125   CONTINUED:                                                       125\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA (CONT'D)\n
                   That's something you heard on\n
                   the news. It's wrong. It's\n
                   misinformation.\n
\n
                                  HISPANIC MAN\n
                           (shouting out)\n
                   Who says? How can you be so sure?\n
                   You're talking about my kid's\n
                   safety.\n
\n
                                 MRS. FORD\n
                   Please, everyone just calm down.\n
\n
      Audience settles.\n
\n
                                  MR. GARCIA\n
                   Thank you, Mrs. Ford.\n
                           (now)\n
                   ... The police at this point\n
                   aren't even sure if it's a case of\n
                   murder. The reason we're having\n
                   this meeting tonight is to quash\n
                   all the rumors floating around out\n
                   there. Okay. Here's what we do\n
                   know. Benny Chacon ultimately died\n
                   from a drug overdose, technically\n
                   it was morphine.\n
                           (volume rising again)\n
                   Which is what heroin breaks down\n
                   into...\n
\n
                                 STEVIE (O.S.)\n
                   ... Dat's bullshit! Benny was no\n
                   junkie! I know who did it!\n
\n
      Heads turn...\n
\n
      ... Ellen quietly enters now and stands just inside\n
      one of the doors at the back of the hall...\n
\n
      Up at the dais, Trevor notices her.\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   It's not the gangbangers y'gotta\n
                   worry about. It's the teachers!\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                   That's exactly the type of rumor\n
                   we don't need, Mr. Littleton.\n
\n
      Stevie deliberately stands and points at Trevor with\n
      vitriol in his eyes...\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                    102.\n
\n
125   CONTINUED:                                                           125\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   ... It was Garfield.\n
\n
      The audience grows silent.\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                          (losing his patience)\n
                   Say one more word and you're\n
                   suspended.\n
\n
                                 MRS. FORD\n
                   ... Sit down, Stevie.\n
\n
      Trevor doesn't even flinch.       Childress scrutinizes him\n
      with a glance.\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                          (ranting)\n
                   You're a fuckin' murderer,\n
                   Garfield!\n
\n
                                    MR. GARCIA\n
                             (calling for assistance)\n
                   Victor?\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   ... Maybe I can't prove it but I\n
                   know he did it. He fucked up\n
                   Cesar and he killed Benny.\n
                          (to crowd)\n
                   Ast 'im!\n
\n
      As Victor and another plainclothes cop attempt to remove\n
      Stevie...\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   Touch me and I'll sue yer ass!\n
                          (as Victor backs off;\n
                           now to Trevor)\n
                   Yer dead, G! Yer a dead man!\n
\n
      With that Stevie shoves Victor aside and bolts for the\n
      door.\n
\n
      Garcia attempts to regain his composure...\n
\n
      Trevor glances back to the spot where Ellen was\n
      standing... but now she's gone.\n
\n
\n
126   EXT. FACULTY PARKING LOT - NIGHT                                     126\n
\n
      Meeting's broken up. Dave Childress, cigarette dangling\n
      from his mouth, jogs a step to catch up with Trevor...\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                  103.\n
\n
126   CONTINUED:                                                         126\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   Garfield, wait up...\n
\n
      Trevor maintains a steady pace, one hopeful eye scouring\n
      the parking lot for Ellen...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   ... Don't let that Littleton punk\n
                   get to you.\n
\n
      Trevor ignores him.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   Lil' bastard's a tweaker. He's a\n
                   speed freak. You didn't know that?\n
\n
      At Trevor's car now.    Hesitating.    Turning to\n
      Childress...\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (testing his patience)\n
                   What is it, Dave? How can I help\n
                   you?\n
\n
      Unintentionally in Trevor's face...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   How 'bout a ride?\n
                          (taking a step back)\n
                   ... The wife wouldn't let me drive\n
                   my own car. Ain't that a bitch?\n
\n
      Childress is pitiful. Wears a grease-stained tie with\n
      his wrinkled Hawaiian shirt and a Windbreaker.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (with resignation)\n
                   ... You smell like beer.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   I only had two. That's all.\n
                   Swear ta Christ.\n
\n
      Raising his palms. Surrendering.       Trevor studies him\n
      with a sad grimace.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   I live right up here off Chandler.\n
                   I'll buy you a drink.\n
\n
\n
127   INT. CHILDRESS'S GARAGE - NIGHT                                    127\n
\n
      Dave's Sanctuary.\n
\n
                                                          (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               104.\n
\n
127   CONTINUED:                                                      127\n
\n
      At the end of a gravel driveway, behind a darkened house.\n
      Garage door open.\n
\n
      Childress chain smokes and drinks beer as he leans\n
      against the dented fender of his '66 Lincoln Continental.\n
      Trevor nurses a Diet Coke...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   ... I had the same situation\n
                   'round the time of that 'Night\n
                   Stalker' thing. Remember that?\n
                   Whole city was scared shitless.\n
                   My wife was convinced the frickin'\n
                   mailman was the 'Stalker' for\n
                   about a week there.\n
                          (a tubercular chuckle)\n
                   Some mental giant in my 4th period\n
                   starts this rumor, see. Childress\n
                   is the 'Night Stalker.' Right?\n
                          (chug-a-lugs)\n
                   ... Idiots. Even after they\n
                   caught that Ramirez jerk, I'd\n
                   still hear those fucks '... They\n
                   got the wrong guy. Childress is\n
                   the Stalker, ese.'\n
\n
      He finishes beer.    Crumples it.\n
\n
      Trevor studies him, without expression. Now he notices\n
      something stapled to the tar paper wall...\n
\n
      Trevor's POV of the \"Certificate of Excellence in\n
      Teaching,\" yellowed and dogeared, hanging obliquely by\n
      one staple.\n
\n
      ... as Childress opens another beer.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (excusing himself)\n
                   I better get goin'. Thanks for\n
                   the soda.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   Wait, wait. Hold your horses.\n
                   Just hold on...\n
\n
      ... Finding a key in a drawer.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                          (a twisted grin)\n
                   ... Can't leave without meetin'\n
                   the kids.\n
\n
      Childress unlocks a particle board cabinet against the\n
      garage wall.\n
                                                    (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                105.\n
\n
127   CONTINUED:                                                       127\n
\n
      A watery glint in his bloodshot eyes. Cabinet door\n
      swings wide now, revealing a mini arsenal of handguns...\n
\n
                                    CHILDRESS\n
                   Ta-dah... Huh?\n
\n
      Trevor's eyes remain expressionless.\n
\n
      Childress rhapsodizes as he removes and handles some of\n
      the guns...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   ... This one's from\n
                   Czechoslovakia. It's a C-Z .22\n
                   automatic. Ten round clip. Glow-\n
                   in-the-dark sights.\n
                          (eyeing the sights)\n
                   Ain't that a beauty?\n
                          (next)\n
                   ... Then we gotta custom Smitty, 9\n
                   'milli.' With extended grip.\n
                   These Smith & Wessons kick like a\n
                   mutha.\n
                          (and next)\n
                   Now this one's special. A Glock\n
                   21. Lightest gun in the world.\n
                   The barrel and firing pin are\n
                   metal. See. Everything else on\n
                   it's plastic.\n
                          (handing it to Trevor)\n
                   Here, feel that.\n
\n
      Trevor takes it, reluctantly weighs it in the palm of his\n
      hand. Sets it down.\n
\n
      Now Childress removes a gun from a holster in the small\n
      of his back, under his Windbreaker...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   ... 'Course you can never be too\n
                   prepared. My pukey lil' Davis\n
                   .380.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (a severe squint)\n
                   You wear that thing at school?\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                          (a smirk)\n
                   ... Don't worry. They never use\n
                   metal detectors on teachers.\n
                          (beat)\n
                   I also keep a .357 inside my desk.\n
                                 (MORE)\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               106.\n
\n
127   CONTINUED:                                                      127\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS (CONT'D)\n
                          (a wry grin)\n
                   ... But you already know that.\n
                   Didn't think I was payin'\n
                   attention, did'ja? Shoulda seen\n
                   the look on your face.\n
\n
      Pretending now.    Aiming the .380 at an imaginary\n
      student...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   Now, Jose, if I've told you once\n
                   I've told you a hundred times,\n
                   stay in your cotton pickin' seat.\n
                          (aiming gun)\n
                   Boom!\n
\n
      Childress laughs and chokes on his cigarette. Now he\n
      gazes at the .380 in his hand. Lost in a stupid,\n
      recalcitrant grin...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   Haven't you ever just wanted to\n
                   blow one of these little bastards\n
                   away?\n
\n
      Childress glances up into Trevor's unflinching gaze.\n
      Smiles to himself now. Thinks he's funny...\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                          (digressing)\n
                   ... Speaking of blowing, you ever\n
                   wanna fuck a high school girl,\n
                   Garfield?\n
                          (off no response)\n
                   'Caught yer girl, Rita, bustin' a\n
                   train out in the 'utility' shed\n
                   couple months back. Swear to God.\n
                   She had at least five or six\n
                   cholos lined up back there.\n
                          (as Trevor's eyes\n
                           narrow)\n
                   Face it, brother, she's a slut.\n
                   C'mon, I know you had 'er.\n
                          (bragging now)\n
                   I even did her.\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                   You're drunk.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   I know you been laughin' at me\n
                   behind my back.\n
                                 (MORE)\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                  107.\n
\n
127   CONTINUED:                                                         127\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS (CONT'D)\n
                   I'm talkin' about screwin' high\n
                   school broads and you're givin'\n
                   off this self-righteous attitude\n
                   like your shit don't stink.\n
\n
      Childress rolls back on his heels.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                   ... Tell me the truth now,\n
                   Garfield. Did yuh do it? C'mon,\n
                   I won't tell. Did yuh whack Benny?\n
                   Whadda 'bout Cesar? That was\n
                   generous, only taking his finger.\n
                   I woulda cut off his balls.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Go to hell, Dave.\n
\n
      All traces of a smile fade from Dave's face.      Trevor\n
      just stands there. Doesn't say a damn word.\n
\n
      Childress makes his own momentous conclusion.\n
\n
                                 CHILDRESS\n
                          (almost exulted)\n
                   You really did it. You son of a\n
                   bitch.\n
\n
      Awkward glint of admiration in Childress's eye.     Leans\n
      forward, hangs a hand on Trevor's shoulder.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (disgusted)\n
                   You probably think you and me are\n
                   alike.\n
\n
      Trevor turns and exits the garage. PULLING BACK FROM\n
      Childress's dull anesthetized gaze. Deep down inside\n
      Childress knows he's a pathetic piece of shit...\n
\n
\n
128   EXT. TREVOR'S DRIVEWAY - AROUND MIDNIGHT                           128\n
\n
      Trevor pulls into his driveway, right up to the garage\n
      door. He SHUTS OFF the IGNITION and narrows a gaze out\n
      the front windshield...\n
\n
\n
129   INT. TREVOR'S CAR - GARAGE DOOR - TREVOR'S POV -                   129\n
      CONTINUOUS ACTION\n
\n
      Caught in his headlights, tagged all over.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                  108.\n
\n
129    CONTINUED:                                                        129\n
\n
       Spray painted threats like, \"YOU'RE DEAD,\" \"187-UM,\"\n
       \"TEACHER-K\" (crossed out) and a CARTOON VERSION OF\n
       TREVOR WITH \"X'S\" WHERE HIS EYES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE.\n
\n
\n
129A   INT. TREVOR'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT (SHORT WHILE LATER)             129A\n
\n
       Dimly lit. Trevor stands in front of the television\n
       set, staring at a late-night repeat of \"Talk Soup.\"\n
\n
\n
       INSERT - TALK SOUP\n
\n
       A clip from \"Sally Jessy Rafael\" or \"Jerry Springer.\"\n
       One of those Sturm und Drang moments. Everyone points\n
       the finger at everyone else. No one willing to take\n
       responsibility for themselves.\n
\n
       Only partially watching the television. His eyes are\n
       fixed on a point somewhere in his own mind, lost to the\n
       world.\n
\n
\n
130    INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS SCHOOL LIBRARY - EARLY MORNING             130\n
       (BEFORE SCHOOL)\n
\n
       Into a parabolic mirror above the library doors...\n
\n
       ... an empty corridor stretches forever.\n
\n
       Trevor, now unshaven, looking like he hasn't slept, sits\n
       amidst total silence in his regular spot. No sign of\n
       Rita. He checks his wristwatch.\n
\n
\n
       WALL CLOCK\n
\n
       reads... 7:10 AM.\n
\n
                                                       BACK TO:\n
\n
       TREVOR\n
\n
       peering toward the library doors.   Nothing.   Now above\n
       the doors...\n
\n
\n
       TREVOR'S POV\n
\n
       BACK AND FORTH between the mirror and Trevor.   His eyes\n
       glazed and unblinking.\n
\n
       FURTHER INTO the parabolic mirror now.   Breathing becoming\n
       more and more labored.\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               109.\n
\n
130   CONTINUED:                                                      130\n
\n
      In a flicker, we're transported back to Roosevelt\n
      Whitney... Dennis Broadway's image SLOWLY COMING TOWARD\n
      us down the long corridor...\n
\n
\n
      BACK TO SCENE\n
\n
      Trevor catches his breath and blinks...\n
\n
      ... Back to reality.    The mirror is empty.\n
\n
      He removes his Proventil inhaler from his shirt pocket.\n
      Suppressing gasps, he takes two hits.\n
\n
      Two girls at the magazine racks whisper to each other,\n
      eyes firmly fixed on Trevor.\n
\n
      Suddenly there's a presence at Trevor's side...\n
\n
                                 LIBRARIAN\n
                   ... I don't think she's coming.\n
\n
\n
131   EXT. RITA'S TRAILER (SUN VALLEY) - SAME MORNING                 131\n
      (7:30 AM)\n
\n
      Strictly low rent district. The small dirt yard in front\n
      is contained within a cinder block wall.\n
\n
      Rita, back to her chola look, heavy makeup, black (right)\n
      eye where Cesar punched her, watches her two younger\n
      brothers as they fight over a toy truck. Her\n
      three-year-old baby sister, Maricella (too big to be\n
      carried) straddles her hip as Rita yells at the boys...\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   Be nice to your brother, Antonio.\n
                   Don't make me go get Mommie.\n
\n
      Trevor's car pulls up.    Rita's taken aback.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (setting Maricella\n
                           down)\n
                   Go play wit' your brothers.\n
\n
      Rita attempts to thwart him at the sidewalk.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (almost defensive)\n
                   Whatcha doin' here, maestro?\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                110.\n
\n
131   CONTINUED:                                                       131\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (with fervor)\n
                   I want you to come back to school,\n
                   Rita. You can't afford to miss\n
                   finals. They won't let you\n
                   graduate.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (overlapping)\n
                   No way. Forget it. I can't.\n
                   What's wrong wit' you.\n
\n
      Trevor really does looks like hell.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (beseeching her)\n
                   Cesar and Stevie won't bother you.\n
                   That's a promise.\n
\n
      Something stirs deep inside her.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (struggles with it)\n
                   Why'd they have to kill Snowball?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... They didn't.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (on the verge of\n
                           tears now)\n
                   What's it fuckin' matter?! 'At\n
                   school shit's for other kids, not\n
                   me!\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   That's not true. You're so smart,\n
                   Rita. Don't you know that? You\n
                   have an opportunity here to change\n
                   your life. Please don't throw\n
                   away everything we've worked for.\n
\n
      Trevor just stares at her, incredulously.\n
\n
      Rita lowers her gaze, unable to look him in the eye.\n
      Momentous deliberation, and now...\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   I know what happened with Childress.\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                           (knitting her\n
                            eyebrows)\n
                   What?\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                 111.\n
\n
131   CONTINUED:                                                        131\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (beat)\n
                   He won't ever touch you again.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (protesting too\n
                           much)\n
                   He ain't done nuthin' tuh me.\n
                   That boy's fulla shit. What's he\n
                   been sayin'?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Doesn't matter.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                   He ain't never touched me no ways.\n
                   What's he sayin'? He say he\n
                   fucked me?! He say dat?!\n
                          (off Trevor's look)\n
                   He's a damn liar!\n
                          (erupting again;\n
                           tears streaming\n
                           down her face)\n
                   Get the fuck outta here! I don't\n
                   need yer damn pity and I don't\n
                   need you!\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (genuinely)\n
                   But I need you, Rita.\n
\n
      Beat.\n
\n
                                 RITA\n
                          (hardening)\n
                   You made a mistake.    Dat's all.\n
\n
      With that Rita scoops up Maricella and exits.\n
\n
\n
132   INT. MR. GARCIA'S OFFICE - SAME DAY (LUNCH PERIOD)                132\n
\n
      Trevor sits transfixed in front of Garcia.       Still hasn't\n
      shaven.\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                   See these?\n
\n
      Garcia holds up a handful of phone messages.\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                   They're phone calls about you.\n
                   Good ones.\n
                                 (MORE)\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                               112.\n
\n
132   CONTINUED:                                                      132\n
\n
                                  MR. GARCIA (CONT'D)\n
                   Cesar's mother told me how you\n
                   tried to help him. You're evidently\n
                   a good teacher. You should be\n
                   commended on your efforts. However...\n
                          (pause)\n
                   I'm going to have to let you go.\n
\n
      Trevor blinks.\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                          (beat)\n
                   As much as I'd like to have you\n
                   stay until the end of the year, I\n
                   can't overlook the seriousness of\n
                   certain accusations.\n
\n
      Mr. Garcia waits for a response but none is forthcoming.\n
\n
                                 MR. GARCIA\n
                          (for example)\n
                   ... Is it true you had meetings with\n
                   a female student at your house?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   I was trying to help her.\n
\n
                                  MR. GARCIA\n
                   The implications are still there,\n
                   Mr. Garfield. I can't afford to\n
                   open the door for another lawsuit.\n
                   Sure you can appreciate my position.\n
                          (pause)\n
                   You can stay until Friday. I hope\n
                   that will be sufficient.\n
\n
      This part registers only minimally with Trevor.\n
\n
\n
133   EXT. BUNGALOW 86 - AFTER SCHOOL (SAME DAY)                      133\n
\n
      A VAPID SILENCE HOLDS us. The bungalow is awash in a\n
      sun-soaked pool of light...\n
\n
      Trevor makes his way toward the parking lot with his\n
      briefcase and a cardboard box of personal belongings.\n
\n
\n
134   INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS - \"A\" BLDG. - MAIN CORRIDOR\/             134\n
      COMPUTER LAB - CONTINUOUS ACTION\n
\n
      Plagued with doubts, Ellen lingers in the doorway,\n
      confiding with Hyland...\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                  113.\n
\n
134   CONTINUED:                                                         134\n
\n
                                  HYLAND\n
                   You're not being an alarmist.\n
                           (minimizing her\n
                            concerns)\n
                   He gets a little overzealous at\n
                   times... like some other people\n
                   I know.\n
                           (beat)\n
                   I don't think the rosary adds up\n
                   to much either, frankly.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   Why?\n
\n
                                 HYLAND\n
                   It's probably his.\n
                          (beat)\n
                   Look, when I received my first\n
                   Holy Communion all the boys got\n
                   black rosaries and the girls got\n
                   white. Trust me, there must be\n
                   millions of black rosaries filed\n
                   away in desk drawers from here to\n
                   the Vatican.\n
\n
      Ellen flickers a sad indecisive smile.\n
\n
                                 HYLAND\n
                   This guy's been through a lot,\n
                   Ellen. The system failed him.\n
                   I don't think any of us can really\n
                   appreciate what he's been through.\n
                          (beat)\n
                   I say we give the man a break.\n
\n
      Ellen acquiesces a pensive nod.\n
\n
\n
135   EXT. FACULTY PARKING LOT\/ADJACENT STREET (3:20)                    135\n
\n
      THROUGH a CHAIN LINK FENCE Trevor approaches his car.\n
      Traffic is bumper to bumper.\n
\n
\n
136   OMITTED                                                            136\n
&                                                                        &\n
137                                                                      137\n
\n
\n
138   EXT. FACULTY PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS ACTION                       138\n
\n
      ... as Trevor unlocks his car.     And hesitates.\n
\n
                                                          (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                     114.\n
\n
138   CONTINUED:                                                            138\n
\n
      TREVOR'S POV - DRIVER'S SIDE CAR DOOR\n
\n
      ... a bold 187 has been \"keyed\" into the paint.\n
\n
                                                          BACK TO:\n
\n
\n
      TREVOR\n
\n
      Rivetted. Now he slides the cardboard box, along with\n
      his briefcase onto the front seat.\n
\n
      Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Ellen pulls up in her\n
      Cherokee.\n
\n
      She deciphers Trevor with mixed emotions.        Trevor adjusts\n
      his stance, covering the \"187.\"\n
\n
      Ellen now tentatively rolls her window down halfway...\n
      TAILPIPE SPUTTERS, a portentous idle.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (stilted)\n
                   ... I'd like to apologize for\n
                   the other night.\n
\n
      Trevor stands there transfixed for a moment.       Now he\n
      looks into her eyes. A soulful gaze.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Shouldn't listen to me.    I was\n
                   half asleep.\n
\n
      His eyes become damp.    Trevor smiles bravely.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                   We really need to talk.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   ... Not tonight. Have to finish\n
                   some work...\n
\n
                                    ELLEN\n
                   Tomorrow then?     It's important\n
                   to me.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                          (far off now)\n
                   ... Okay.\n
\n
                                 ELLEN\n
                          (resolves it in\n
                           her head)\n
                   ... How 'bout seven o'clock?\n
\n
      Trevor nods.    Ellen flickers a tenuous smile.\n
\n
                                                                115.\n
\n
139    INT. ELLEN'S CHEROKEE - SIDE VIEW MIRROR                        139\n
\n
       ... as she rolls up her window and drives away, leaving\n
       Trevor standing in the middle of the parking lot. His\n
       image gets smaller and smaller in the mirror.\n
\n
\n
139A   INT.\/EXT. ELLEN'S JEEP CHEROKEE - ELLEN'S POV                   139A\n
\n
       as she watches him in the side view mirror, torn with\n
       mixed emotions.\n
\n
\n
140    OMITTED                                                         140\n
thru                                                                   thru\n
143                                                                    143\n
\n
\n
144    EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - LATE AFTERNOON                            144\n
\n
       Seeing now that the whole house has been tagged with\n
       graffiti (not only the garage) as the Rambler pulls into\n
       the driveway. With dead calm, Trevor leaves his box of\n
       belongings behind and enters the front door, carrying his\n
       briefcase.\n
\n
\n
144A   EXT. STOLEN BUICK REGAL - CONTINUOUS ACTION - LATE              144A\n
       AFTERNOON\n
\n
       ... as it parks about two houses down from Trevor's.\n
\n
\n
145    INT. BUICK REGAL - CONTINUOUS ACTION - LATE AFTERNOON           145\n
\n
       All three tag-bangers produce firearms... Cesar loads the\n
       cylinder chamber on his .357 magnum. Stevie double\n
       checks a 7 round clip and a 39 Smith and Wesson. And\n
       Paco plays with a .38 caliber revolver that he hides in\n
       the deep front pocket of is County-Bens.\n
\n
       The interior of the Buick snaps with the hard sound of\n
       gun metal... cocking hammers, loading cartridges and\n
       spinning cylinder chambers...\n
\n
       ... As the gun preparations systematically stop. Cesar\n
       now flicks ON an ELECTRIC HAIR CLIPPER, sets it on 'NO\n
       CLIP,' and passes it back to Paco. Paco runs the clipper\n
       over his head. Hair tumbles off in chunks. Stevie\n
       fidgets, picks up a naked one-eyed doll off the floor,\n
       raises it INTO VIEW...\n
\n
                               STEVIE\n
                 Where'd you jack 'dis car from,\n
                 homes?\n
                        (referring to doll)\n
                 'At's nasty, man.\n
\n
                                                                116.\n
\n
146    INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - SUNSET                                  146\n
\n
       Dutifully seated at his desk. Like a fervent prayer.\n
       Lost in correcting his final graded assignment.\n
\n
\n
146A   INT. TREVOR'S BEDROOM - POV - SUNSET                            146A\n
\n
       PAST wrought iron bars on the outside of the window.\n
       Sun hangs above a distorted horizon.\n
\n
                                                      MATCH CUT TO:\n
\n
\n
146B   ELLEN'S POV - SAME SUNSET                                       146B\n
\n
       ... PAST high tension lines outside Mother Henry's\n
       kitchen window.\n
\n
\n
147    INT. MOTHER HENRY'S KITCHEN - DUSK                              147\n
\n
       Ellen's preoccupied with thought as she rinses dishes\n
       and places them in the dishwasher. O.S. hear \"WHEEL\n
       OF FORTUNE\" on the TELEVISION.\n
\n
       Now a wet DISH slips from her grasp and SHATTERS on the\n
       floor.\n
\n
                                MOTHER HENRY (O.S.)\n
                 Ellen?\n
\n
       As she picks up the pieces...\n
\n
                               ELLEN\n
                 ... It's alright, mother.\n
\n
\n
148    EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - DUSK                                      148\n
\n
       Sun goes down.   A palpable stillness permeates.\n
\n
\n
149    INT. BUICK REGAL - K.O.S. TAG-BANGERS - CONTINUOUS              149\n
       ACTION\n
\n
       All three heads clipped \"skin tight.\" Fixed gazes\n
       holding. Stevie nurses a runny nose as he smokes\n
       another \"Sherm.\" Now something flickers in Cesar's\n
       eyes...\n
\n
                               CESAR\n
                 ... Okay, let's smoke this bitch.\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 9\/4\/96                                    117.\n
\n
150   EXT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS ACTION - DUSK                    150\n
\n
      The house is quiet now as Stevie and Paco disappear\n
      around the back.\n
\n
      Cesar approaches the front door, undaunted, gun drawn.\n
      Without breaking stride he kicks open the door...\n
\n
\n
151   INT. TREVOR'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS ACTION - EVENING                 151\n
\n
      Trevor sits on his bed, watching the red orb of the sun\n
      disappear over the horizon. He can hear DOOR OPENING and\n
      someone moving in his house.\n
\n
                                TREVOR\n
                  I'm in here, Cesar.\n
\n
      Cesar, Paco, and Stevie enter the bedroom, guns drawn.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  Dont' move, mutha fucka!\n
\n
      Stevie flips on a light. Paco SHOOTS out the TV set in\n
      the living room -- an act of intimidation. Cesar jams\n
      his .357 under Trevor's chin. Gets in his face.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  You killed Benny. And you cut off\n
                  my finger... Say it.\n
\n
      Trevor stares right into Cesar's eyes, unflinching.\n
\n
                                   TREVOR\n
                  Yeah.   I did.\n
\n
                                   STEVIE\n
                  Told yuh.     Fuckin' A, man.\n
\n
                                   PACO\n
                  Lemme do 'im.\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                  No.   This nigga's mine.\n
\n
      Cesar sticks the gun barrel right between Trevor's eyes\n
      ... and squeezes the trigger. Click. An empty sound.\n
\n
      Trevor blinks. Cesar exhales a malicious laugh.     Opens a\n
      fist to reveal six bullets.\n
\n
                                CESAR\n
                  Ever seen The Deerhunter, ese?\n
\n
                                                       CUT TO:\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 9\/4\/96                                      118.\n
\n
151   CONTINUED:                                                          151\n
\n
      ANOTHER ANGLE\n
\n
      In the middle of the dark house -- Trevor's dining room\n
      table. Trevor on one side, Cesar\/Paco\/Stevie on the\n
      other. Cesar's seated, loading one of the six bullets\n
      into a cylinder chamber. He shoves the gun toward Trevor\n
      as Stevie and Paco train their pistols on him.\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   You gon' do yourself, mayate.\n
                   Put it to your head and pull the\n
                   trigger.\n
\n
      Trevor grabs the pistol without hesitation, puts it to\n
      his head and squeezes off TWO ROUNDS without incident.\n
      He slams the gun down in front of Cesar without a blink.\n
      A crazed, watery glint in his eye.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   That macho enough for you, Cesar?\n
                   Huh? That make me a man?\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Take more'n that.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Then you do it.\n
\n
      All three tag-bangers are taken aback.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   C'mon, show me what you got.    Mano\n
                   a mano.\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   He's playin' with yer head.\n
\n
                                    PACO\n
                   Vato's scared.     He tryin' to twist\n
                   outta it.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   I gotta be a fool to prove you're\n
                   a fool? -- okay.\n
\n
      Trevor picks up the gun again, puts it to his head and\n
      pulls the trigger... click. Slams the gun down.\n
\n
                                    TREVOR\n
                   C'mon.\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Tha's not how we playin' it.\n
\n
                                                           (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 9\/4\/96                                   119.\n
\n
151   CONTINUED:    (2)                                                151\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Why -- you too chickenshit to play\n
                   yer own game? Got no cojones?\n
\n
      Paco lashes out and hits Trevor with his pistol drawing\n
      blood.\n
\n
                                  PACO\n
                   Shut up!\n
\n
      Cesar stares at him.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   You gonna let your homies defend\n
                   your punk ass, Cesar? You gonna\n
                   let me dis you? I pulled three\n
                   times, you pussy, you leva, you\n
                   coward! Lessee you pull one.\n
                   C'mon, be a man! Get some respect\n
                   back! Do it!\n
\n
      Cesar takes the gun and raises it toward his head.\n
\n
                                 PACO\n
                   Whatcho doin', homie?\n
\n
      He grabs Cesar's arm, but Cesar pushes him away.\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                          (to Trevor)\n
                   You disrespectin' me, vato?   You\n
                   sayin' I ain't a man?\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   I'm sayin' you're a fool.\n
\n
      Cesar puts the .357 to his temple again...\n
\n
                                  STEVIE\n
                   Don't do it!\n
\n
      They are mesmerized into inaction as Cesar grits his teeth\n
      and pulls the trigger. Click.\n
\n
                                 PACO\n
                          (instant adulation)\n
                   You the man, Cesar! You the man!\n
                   Orale, vato!\n
                          (to Trevor)\n
                   He got character, homes.\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   Crazy mutha fucka.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
      1   8   7 - Rev. 9\/4\/96                                   120.\n
\n
151   CONTINUED:    (3)                                                151\n
\n
      Trevor looks at Cesar in disgust as he takes another\n
      bullet and blindly loads it into the cylinder chamber.\n
\n
                                 CESAR\n
                   Yer turn.\n
\n
      He spins the cylinder and slams the gun on the table.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   You think you got respect now?\n
                   Your kinda respect is bullshit.\n
                   Only thing you honor is stupidity.\n
                   You ready to die for stupidity,\n
                   Cesar? I am, if it'll teach you\n
                   somethin'. See you can't kill me,\n
                   homeboy. Yeah, my body... but\n
                   what I am, who I was? That's\n
                   been dead for over a year. And\n
                   I'm never gonna get it back -- no\n
                   matter how many of you I get rid\n
                   of. I realize that now...\n
                          (furious)\n
                   ... I was a teacher! I wanted to\n
                   help you!...\n
\n
      He snatches up the gun, puts it to his head and pulls the\n
      trigger again... click. Trevor slams it back down on the\n
      table.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   You can't kill me... and you can't\n
                   scare me.\n
\n
      Cesar's sweating now, glancing between Trevor and the gun\n
      on the table. Stevie and Paco shift uneasily.\n
\n
                                 PACO\n
                   Don't do it, homie.\n
\n
                                 STEVIE\n
                   He's crazy.\n
\n
                                 TREVOR\n
                   Yeah, but isn't that what you\n
                   respect? Bein' loco? Don't listen\n
                   to 'em, Cesar. If you gonna live\n
                   stupid don't do it half-assed --\n
                   take it all the way. Take your\n
                   turn. Pull the trigger.\n
\n
      Caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place,\n
      Cesar's hand inches toward the gun. Suddenly Trevor is\n
      screaming at him.\n
\n
                                                        (CONTINUED)\n
\n
       1   8   7 - Rev. 9\/4\/96                                        121.\n
\n
151    CONTINUED:    (4)                                                     151\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                    Macho is bullshit, fool! Your\n
                    whole way of life is BULLSHIT!\n
\n
       Cesar explodes to his feet and screams right back.\n
\n
                                  CESAR\n
                    It's all I got!\n
\n
       Silence.    Trevor studies him with an enigmatic look.\n
\n
                                  TREVOR\n
                    Well then, I'll take your turn for\n
                    you...\n
\n
       He snatches up the pistol and puts it to his head...\n
\n
                                    CESAR\n
                    No!\n
\n
       ... pulls the trigger.       BLAM!!   The SHOT knocks Trevor\n
       out of his chair.\n
\n
\n
152    OMITTED                                                               152\n
thru                                                                         thru\n
167                                                                          167\n
\n
\n
167A   ON PACO AND STEVIE                                                    167A\n
\n
                                    PACO\n
                    You see dat!    He's out! He's\n
                    fuckin' out!    Snuffed hisself!\n
                    Aw, shit!\n
\n
       Stevie's stunned.\n
\n
                                  STEVIE\n
                    What'd he do that for?\n
\n
       He walks toward the back of the house like a zombie.\n
\n
                                  STEVIE\n
                    ... Let's get outta here.\n
\n
       Paco pulls at Cesar, who's staring at Trevor's dead body.\n
\n
                                    PACO\n
                    C'mon, homie.\n
\n
                                  CESAR\n
                    He took my turn.\n
\n
                                                           (CONTINUED)\n
\n
       1   8   7 - Rev. 9\/4\/96                                122.\n
\n
167A   CONTINUED:                                                    167A\n
\n
                                     PACO\n
                    ... What?\n
\n
                                  CESAR\n
                    It was my turn. He took it...\n
                    He dissed me.\n
\n
                                  PACO\n
                    So fuckin' what, man!     He's dead!\n
                    Let's go!\n
\n
       Cesar shrugs him off, picks up the .357.\n
\n
                                  CESAR\n
                    I gotta do this.\n
\n
                                     PACO\n
                    Fuck dis shit!     Leave it!\n
\n
       He tries to pull Cesar away, pleading with him in Spanish,\n
       but Cesar shoves him off.\n
\n
                                  CESAR\n
                    I got one chance in six. I'm\n
                    'onna beat 'dis bitch... For\n
                    honor, vato.\n
\n
                                     STEVIE\n
                    No!!\n
\n
       Paco rushes toward him, but is stopped by the BOOM!\n
       of the .357. Frozen in shock, Paco stares down at\n
       Cesar's body as Stevie re-enters the kitchen.\n
\n
                                  STEVIE\n
                    Cesar?... Why'd he do it?      Why?\n
\n
\n
167B   ON PACO AND STEVIE                                            167B\n
\n
       Not knowing himself, Paco stumbles out of Trevor's\n
       kitchen toward the back door. Finally Stevie follows\n
       him as we PULL BACK to reveal the crumpled bodies of\n
       Trevor and Cesar lying on the floor.\n
\n
                                  NEWSCASTER (V.O.)\n
                    ... Last night tragedy struck in\n
                    North Hollywood where a high\n
                    school teacher and one of his\n
                    students were both found shot\n
                    to death inside the teacher's home.\n
\n
       V.O. continues through the...\n
\n
       1   8   7 - Rev. 9\/4\/96                                   122A.\n
\n
168    EXT. J. Q. ADAMS H.S. - MORNING (GRADUATION DAY)                168\n
       TWO WEEKS LATER\n
\n
       ... the marquee outside the school reads...\n
\n
                     HAPPY GRADUATION -- CLASS OF '97\n
\n
                                 NEWSCASTER (V.O.)\n
                   ... The teacher has been\n
                   identified as forty-one-year-old\n
                   Trevor Garfield, formerly of\n
                   New York City. Most recently he\n
                   taught science at John Quincy Adams\n
                   High School in the San Fernando\n
                   Valley...\n
                          (beat)\n
                   Confidential sources reveal that\n
                   the teacher had publicly been\n
                   accused of foul play in the\n
                   death of another student whose\n
                   body was discovered just last\n
                   month in the L.A. River...\n
\n
\n
168A   EXT. ATHLETIC FIELD - AFTERNOON                                 168A\n
\n
       Graduation in progress. Standing room only.\n
       Administrators have begun to take their seats up on a\n
       makeshift stage. Garcia, Hyland, Assistant Principal\n
       Ford, etc...\n
\n
                                                         (CONTINUED)\n
\n
       1   8   7 - Rev. 7\/11\/96                                122B.\n
\n
168A   CONTINUED:   (A1)                                            168A\n
\n
       Bleachers now as guests and family members fan themselves\n
       against the searing heat. A banner strung across the top\n
       row of seats reads...\n
\n
                       CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF '97\n
\n
       Faculty members are seated in the first two rows down\n
       on the field. In front of a sea of mortar boards.\n
\n
                                                      (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                123.\n
\n
168A   CONTINUED:                                                      168A\n
\n
       Dave Childress now enters, his usual shabby attire,\n
       nursing another hangover. He takes a seat away from the\n
       other teachers.\n
\n
\n
168B   EXT. ATHLETIC FIELD - PODIUM - SHORT WHILE LATER                168B\n
\n
       As the first speaker approaches the podium...\n
\n
       ON two inch high heels, an occasional wobble as the white\n
       high heels make their way up to the podium. ANGLE RISING\n
       now, LINGERING ON a clinging powder blue dress and mani-\n
       cured fingernails. HOLD ON her clenched essay. Now\n
       CONTINUE UP to reveal Rita Nartinez.\n
\n
       She wears lipstick... and only a moderate amount of eye\n
       shadow. She wears a slightly nervous, preoccupied look.\n
       Now...\n
\n
       Rita at the podium, as she adjusts the microphone, a\n
       nervous reflex. Places her essay on the podium. Stares\n
       down at it...\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                    ... The title of my essay is,\n
                    'Mi Vida Loca'... 'My Crazy Life'...\n
\n
       Rita hesitates.    Now she gazes out at the graduating\n
       class.\n
\n
\n
168C   FACES IN CROWD                                                  168C\n
\n
       Waiting... Intently fanning themselves...\n
\n
\n
168D   DAVE CHILDRESS                                                  168D\n
\n
       Apathetic. Arms draped over the empty chairs on either\n
       side of him.\n
\n
\n
168E   BACK TO RITA                                                    168E\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                           (turning to Quinn)\n
                    Ms. Quinn, can I say somethin'?\n
                           (correcting\n
                            herself)\n
                    ... May I say something?\n
\n
       Ms. Quinn (45) hesitates, now acquiesces with\n
       uncertainty...\n
\n
                                                       (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                     124.\n
\n
168E   CONTINUED:                                                           168E\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                    ... There's been a lotta talk las'\n
                    couple weeks whether Mr. Garfield\n
                    done those things they been writin'\n
                    about in the newspaper. He once\n
                    tol' me you can't blame everything\n
                    on yer environment.\n
                           (beat)\n
                    But I t'ink you can push a good\n
                    teacher too far and he might jus'\n
                    go bad like anybody else...\n
\n
\n
169    OMITTED                                                              169\n
thru                                                                        thru\n
172                                                                         172\n
\n
\n
173    INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS COMPUTER LAB - AFTERNOON                      173\n
\n
       INTERCUT VARIOUS CUTS OF Ellen's hands as she clears a\n
       bulletin board... removes a computer graphics display from\n
       a wall... empties desk drawers... and packs away her\n
       computer in a box.\n
\n
                                   RITA (V.O.)\n
                    ... I dunno if Mr. 'G' did all\n
                    those bad things. All I know\n
                    is dat teachers don't get no\n
                    respect. 'At's the simple truth.\n
                    And if Mr. 'G' is responsible,\n
                    well den he ain't the only one\n
                    responsible...\n
\n
                                                          BACK TO:\n
\n
\n
174    INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AUDITORIUM - PODIUM (GRADUATION)              174\n
\n
                                   RITA\n
                    ... We're all responsible. You and\n
                    me... all of us. I'm up here today\n
                    cuz a him. He was dere for me\n
                    when nobody else was. Thing is...\n
                    I shoulda been 'dere for him\n
                    too... but I wasn't. I turned\n
                    my back on the only person who\n
                    ever cared about me.\n
                           (pause)\n
                    He said if I could stand up here\n
                    and read my essay it would be a\n
                    Pyrrhic victory.\n
                           (beat)\n
                    I ast' 'im, 'What's up wit' dat?'\n
\n
                                                          (CONTINUED)\n
\n
                                                                125.\n
\n
174    CONTINUED:                                                      174\n
\n
       A trickle of incongruous laughter, awkward yet\n
       cathartic...\n
\n
                                  RITA\n
                    He told me in my case it was\n
                    irony... and to go look it up...\n
                    so I did.\n
                           (beat)\n
                    I wonder now if Mr. 'G' was really\n
                    talking 'bout hisself.\n
                           (beat)\n
                    It refers to this guy named\n
                    Pyrrhus. He was a king back\n
                    'round 300 B.C.\n
\n
       Rita refers to a piece of scratch paper she has tucked\n
       inside her essay...\n
\n
       INTERCUT ELLEN AND:\n
\n
\n
175    INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS COMPUTER LAB                             175\n
\n
       again... as she now empties one last drawer, she dis-\n
       covers her teaching credential. Reluctantly picks it up.\n
       Holds it for a moment. Now read across the face of the\n
       credential...\n
\n
                                STATE OF CALIFORNIA\n
                        COMMISSION ON TEACHER CREDENTIALING\n
                              issues this document to\n
\n
                                    ELLEN HENRY\n
\n
\n
175A   BACK TO GRADUATION                                              175A\n
\n
                                  RITA (V.O.)\n
                           (verbatim now)\n
                    ... Pyrrhus defeated the Romans\n
                    on two occasions. But those two\n
                    victories lost him a large part\n
                    of his army. Now whenever people\n
                    say something's a Pyrrhic victory\n
                    they mean it's a victory gained\n
                    at too great a cost.\n
\n
       Childress stares off into space, flickers a pathetic smirk.\n
\n
       And now Stevie seated amongst the graduates. Glancing\n
       up from under his mortar board cap. He adjusts\n
       a gaze into the bleachers.\n
\n
                                                                 126.\n
\n
175B   STEVIE LITTLETON'S POV - HIS PARENTS                             175B\n
\n
       Early forties, upper-middle class. Stevie's mother\n
       catches his eye. Like an incongruous SLOW MOTION dream,\n
       she mouth the words, \"Were... So... Proud... Of... You.\"\n
\n
\n
175C   STEVIE LITTLETON                                                 175C\n
\n
       ... as guilt eats at him, weaving its insidious web.\n
\n
\n
175D   BACK TO RITA                                                     175D\n
\n
       now at the podium. Holding back tears, Rita now carefully\n
       folds up her piece of scratch paper... and fixes a distant\n
       unblinking gaze...\n
\n
\n
176    OMITTED                                                          176\n
\n
\n
177    INT. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS COMPUTER LAB - AFTERNOON                  177\n
\n
       ... Slowly SCAN the walls, stripped completely bare now.\n
       END ON Ellen standing obliquely in the doorway. Brief-\n
       case in hand, files and papers tucked under one arm. Her\n
       face, a solemn vacuous gaze.\n
\n
       Now she drops something into the trash can, shuts off the\n
       lights, and leaves. As the door slowly closes...\n
\n
       MOVE IN ON the trash can...\n
\n
       ... and Ellen's crumpled teaching credential.   Add another\n
       name to the list of fallen heroes as we...\n
\n
                                                       CUT TO:\n
\n
\n
       BLACKNESS\n
\n
       ... and ROLL END CREDITS.\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
                                   THE END\n
\n
<\/pre>\n
More…<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
187 by Scott Yagemann REVISED SHOOTING DRAFT November 4, 1996 FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY Rev. 7\/10\/96 1 8 7 1 EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN SKYLINE – BROOKLYN BRIDGE – MORNING 1 RUSH HOUR ON a pair of black Dexter penny loafers diligently pedaling an old Schwinn mountain bike. ADJUST ANGLE now to meet the bicyclist… He’s … <\/p>\n
\ub354 \ubcf4\uae30 “[Movie Script]187”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[10453],"tags":[10454],"class_list":["post-9764","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-movie-script","tag-MovieScript","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9764","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9764"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9764\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9764"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9764"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/w3devlabs.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9764"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}