"8MM", by Andrew Kevin Walker eight millimeter written by Andrew Kevin Walker 5/06/97 first INT. MIAMI AIRPORT, TERMINAL -- DAY Amongst the weary tourist families and solitary businessmen sits TOM WELLES, middle-aged, hair neat, suit crisp and gray. He's eating crackers from a cellophane package, sipping soda from a paper cup, watching an ARRIVAL GATE. AT THE GATE PASSENGERS arrive: the paunchy, graying men of First Class leading the pack, except for a handsome YOUNG REPUBLICAN poster boy hurrying along. ACROSS THE TERMINAL Welles gets up and FOLLOWS... EXT. MIAMI AIRPORT, CURBSIDE -- DAY Welles comes outside, squinting in the sun, moving down the sidewalk, looking back over his shoulder... The Young Republican is lead to a waiting LIMO by a DRIVER. Welles moves to the nearby TAXI STAND... INT. TAXI -- DAY Welles gets in, turning in his seat to watch behind. CAB DRIVER Where to? Welles keeps watching, sees the limo pull away and pass. WELLES Follow that limousine. Don't get too close, don't let it get too far away. Just keep with it. CAB DRIVER You kidding? WELLES Nope. The cab set in motion. Welles takes out cigarettes, lighting one, takes out a small NOTEPAD and makes notations. CAB DRIVER Uh, listen... you're not supposed to be smoking in here. I'm sorry, that's company policy... WELLES How about this... every cigarette I smoke, I give you five dollars? CAB DRIVER Okay... okay, yeah, that'd be good... EXT. MIAMI BEACH, "GOLD COAST" -- DAY In front of an Art Deco hotel, the driver opens the limousine door and the Young Republican steps out. ACROSS THE STREET Welles watches from inside the double-parked taxicab. EXT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY Not exactly four-star. "AD LT MOVIES EVERY ROOM." INT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY Welles is asleep on the bed, full dressed, hands folded across his stomach, snoring lightly, sweaty. INT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE, RESTAURANT -- DAY Welles sits alone at the bar, eating a sandwich, bored. He watches some fuzzy ESPN on the t.v., looks at his watch. EXT. MIAMI BEACH MOTOR LODGE -- DAY Welles walks across the parking lot, gets into his RENTAL CAR, starts it and drives away. EXT. MIAMI BEACH DISCOTHEQUE -- NIGHT Young Republican and a GAUDY WOMAN exit the disco, MUSIC THROBBING out from the doors behind them. They join hands, drunk, heading to the street, looking for their limo. DOWN THE STREET Welles is seated in his parked rental car, raises a CAMERA with TELEPHOTO LENS: whir, CLICK, whir, CLICK, whir, CLICK... Welles lowers the camera, letting out a yawn. INT. AIRPLANE, COACH -- NIGHT The familiar DRONE of flight. Welles is shoehorned into his aisle seat, using tiny utensils to eat his tiny meal. An OLDER WOMAN arrives in the aisle. Welles picks up his tray, closes his tray table, unbuckling his seatbelt, struggling to get up... finally successful, balancing his tray, letting the woman in to the window seat. OLDER WOMAN Thank you. Welles nods, forcing a smile, sitting back down. He returns to toiling over his miniature supper. EXT. HARRISBURG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- NIGHT Welles' AIRPLANE ROARS down with a SCREECH, landing lights gleaming. The airport is small, relatively isolated. TITLE: Harrisburg, Pennsylvania INT. HARRISBURG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- NIGHT Passengers arrive. Welles is with them, searching the few PEOPLE waiting in the terminal hallway. Welles smiles... Welles' wife, AMY, smiles when she sees him. She's plain and pretty, holding one hand on a BABY STROLLER beside her. Welles comes to her, embracing her, appreciating her. AMY Welcome home. WELLES Do you know how much I missed you? They kiss, but Amy pulls away, sniffs him. AMY What's this... have you been smoking... ? WELLES Smoking? I'm not smoking. AMY Your clothing reeks of it. WELLES You know, Amy, I've been sitting around in bars and everywhere following this guy... I mean, is this what I get first thing? Before you even "hello," you accuse me... ? AMY I'm not accusing you... WELLES Well, I'm not smoking, okay? AMY Okay, I believe you. WELLES We've been all through that. I've been on my best behavior. Welles bends to the stroller, picks up his infant daughter, CINDY, and hoists her in the air, overjoyed. WELLES Hello, pumpkin-head, did you miss me? I sure missed you... He kisses the happy child, holding her in one arm. WELLES Let's get my bags and get the hell out of here. Welles pulls Amy close and kisses her again, leads the way. Amy follows, pushing the stroller. AMY How's the detective business? WELLES Business was fine. I'll tell you what, you couldn't pay me enough to live down there. AMY You better not be smoking, that's all I can say. WELLES Honey, I'm not, please... Amy takes Welles hand, smiling at him. INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BEDROOM -- NIGHT Welles and Amy make love in the darkness. Standard, missionary position sex, little passion. They slow to a finish, uneventfully, holding each other. Their breathing quiets. Their daughter CINDY can be HEARD CRYING elsewhere. Welles kisses his wife again, rolls off of her and sits on the edge of the bed. Amy covers herself. AMY I love you. WELLES I love you. He looks towards her in the dark. He gets up, gets a towel from the bathroom and wraps it around him. INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BABY'S ROOM -- NIGHT Cindy's crying. Welles enters, goes to lean into the crib. WELLES What's all the trouble, Cinderella? What are you crying about, huh? He lifts and cradles Cindy, comforting her. EXT. HARRISBURG CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING --DAY A small city of moderate architecture facing the Susquehanna. INT. OFFICE -- DAY An old money office with windows over the river. A well-to- do POLITICIAN looks unhappily through PHOTOS on his desk. Welles sits by the Pennsylvania state flag, watching. PHOTOS show the Young Republican and Gaudy Woman in Miami: leaving the Art Deco hotel, the Discotheque, a restaurant... WELLES Your son-in-law dealt with the dry cleaning franchise during the day, saw that woman every night. (clears his throat) The specifics are in the report, and information about the woman. It's unpleasant, I know. I apologize... POLITICIAN None too discreet, is he? WELLES No, sir, he is not. POLITICIAN He's an imbecile. I tried to warn my daughter, but what can you do? The politician shakes his head in disgust. Welles rises. WELLES The um... you'll find my invoice in the envelope. If that's all... POLITICIAN Yes, Mister Welles, thank you. WELLES Certainly, Senator. If I can ever be of further assistance. Welles leaves, glances back, shuts the door. EXT. HARRISBURG STREETS -- DAY Welles drives his plain Ford past the CAPITAL BUILDING. EXT. HARRISBURG, BRIDGE -- DAY Welles' car crosses the Susquehanna, leaving the city. EXT. WELLES' HOUSE, BACKYARD -- DAY Sunny day. Welles wears tan khakis, T-shirt and fishing cap, mowing his lawn with his ROARING lawnmower. Welles' yard is modest, surrounding his modest split level suburban one in a neighborhood of similar homes and similar yards. Welles turns the lawnmower, stopping to mop his brow. One of his neighbors is repainting a back porch. The neighbor waves. Welles waves, resumes mowing. INT. BOWLING ALLEY -- NIGHT MUSIC'S LOUD. League Night. Every lane full. Welles is with his team in BOWLING SHIRTS. Welles hoists his ball, preparing to bowl. He takes three steps, releases... Down the lane, PINS SCATTER. One pin remains standing. Welles balls up his fists and curses, walks back towards his rowdy, mocking teammates. He shouts back at them, laughing, grabbing his beer and drinking, waiting at the ball return. INT. WELLES' HOUSE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT Dinner. Welles and Amy eat at the kitchen table with Cindy in a high chair. Amy feeds Cindy between bites. Welles is still in his league shirt. AMY You think you'll have time for the water heater this weekend? WELLES Sure. I'll call the guy. AMY You're not using the same guy who tried to fix it? WELLES I'm not using him again for anything. He was worthless. (eating) You have bridge here Saturday? AMY Betty's out of town so we're playing next week. Welles nods, eating. He watches Amy feed Cindy. The PHONE starts RINGING. Welles goes to answer it. WELLES (into PHONE) Hello. Yes... could you hold on a minute...? Welles hands the phone to Amy, pats Cindy's head as he heads downstairs, through the LIVING ROOM... INT. WELLES' HOUSE, OFFICE -- NIGHT Welles enters his well kept OFFICE, turns on a light at the desk. The room is filled with FILE CABINETS and shelves of BOOKS, hundreds of PHONE BOOKS and a COPY MACHINE. Welles picks up the phone and cups the receiver. WELLES (shouts upstairs) Okay, I've got it. (into phone) Hello... sorry, I was switching phones. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Christian. (listens) Yes. Yes, I understand... tomorrow evening should be fine... Welles listens, clears space on his desk, taking notes. EXT. CHRISTIAN COMPOUND -- DUSK A huge OLD WORLD MANSION is situated at the center of acres of Pennsylvania forest and vast gardens. Welles' car heads down a long tree lined drive, to the dark mansion. INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, HALLWAY -- NIGHT Welles follows a BUTLER down a long hall. INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, LIBRARY -- NIGHT The butler shows Welles in, shuts the door. Towering SHELVES of BOOKS are serviced by ladders. Far across the room, an old, sad woman, MRS. CHRISTIAN, sits waiting with a tall, thin, sinister ghoul of a LAWYER. MRS CHRISTIAN Mister Welles. You're very prompt. WELLES I try to be. Welles crosses towards them. It takes a while. MRS CHRISTIAN I appreciate your coming on such short notice. Mrs. Christian holds out her hand and Welles takes it. MRS CHRISTIAN This is Mister Longdale, my late husband's attorney. Welles shakes Longdale's limp hand, looking him over. WELLES Uh huh, pleasure. MRS CHRISTIAN Apparently Mr. Longdale has something he feels he simply must say before you and I speak. LONGDALE Yes, I do have something to say. I insisted on being here as soon as I heard Mrs. Christian contacted you. WELLES I'm listening. LONGDALE As Mr. Christian's attorney and one of the executors of his estate, it concerns me that a meeting of this sort should take place without my being asked to attend. WELLES Of what sort? LONGDALE You are a private investigator? WELLES That's right. LONGDALE Well, whatever reasons Mrs. Christian has for engaging the services of a private investigator, I should certainly be a party to. But, since she feels differently, I can only go on the record as having expressed my adamant disapproval. MRS CHRISTIAN Yes, how theatrical. So you've gone on the record, and now perhaps you should just be gone. Longdale's irritated, but has no choice. He walks away. MRS CHRISTIAN Have a pleasant evening. (to Welles) Will you have tea, Mister Welles? WELLES Thank you. Mrs. Christian begins pouring tea from the service on a table. Welles watches Longdale exit. WELLES He's odd. MRS CHRISTIAN He's a lawyer. (offers tea) Please, sit, here... Welles accepts a dainty tea cup and saucer, taking a seat. MRS CHRISTIAN I've spoken to friends of mine and my husband's, in Harrisburg, in Lancaster and Hershey. Asking about you. I must say you have friends in influential places. WELLES I've been privileged to provide services for people I admire. MRS CHRISTIAN You are highly recommended. Praised for your discretion... your strict adherence to confidentiality. Welles nods, sipping tea. MRS CHRISTIAN As you know, my husband passed away recently. Two weeks ago now. WELLES My condolences. MRS CHRISTIAN His passing has left me with... something of a dilemma. A terrible, terrible dilemma. WELLES I'll do whatever I can to help. Mrs. Christian studies Welles. INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, MR CHRISTIAN'S OFFICE -- NIGHT Mrs. Christian and Welles enter. This office has been lived in for a lifetime. Giant DESK. AMERICAN FLAG. Walls covered in old b+w PHOTOGRAPHS and ACHIEVEMENTS. A large, baked enamel sign nailed up, "CHRISTIAN STEEL." MRS CHRISTIAN His inner sanctum. Welles looks up at the OIL PAINTING over the fireplace: MR. CHRISTIAN, a powerful, old man, posed with a dark, teeming, industrial landscape behind him. MRS CHRISTIAN Not many people have been inside this room. Welles examines PHOTOS of Mr. Christian visiting various STEEL PLANTS, COAL MINES and ground-breaking ceremonies, shaking hands with WORKMEN, with POLITICIANS. WELLES Pittsburgh? MRS CHRISTIAN Mostly. That's where he started his empire building. (looks up at portrait) He was a good man. Notorious as an eccentric, but that was something he cultivated. He wanted to be legendary. WELLES He succeeded. MRS CHRISTIAN We were married forty-five years. Hard even for me to imagine. We had our troubles. There were plenty of places for him to be other than here, but he was always loyal to me, and I to him. I loved him deeply. Welles waits. MRS CHRISTIAN Do you carry a gun, Mr. Welles? WELLES I wear a gun when I can tell a client expects me to. Other than that, there's never any reason. MRS CHRISTIAN Just curious. Mrs. Christian crosses to take down a PICTURE, revealing a WALL SAFE. The safe is ajar, burnt and scarred, broken into. MRS CHRISTIAN My husband was the only one with the combination to this safe. I knew about it, but as far as I was concerned it was none of my business. Not till now, that is. WELLES You hired someone to open it. I'll bet the lawyer loved that. MRS CHRISTIAN There was nothing he could do. My husband left everything to me. (looks at safe) I prevented anyone from seeing the contents. I felt these were my husband's private things. I didn't... I didn't realize... WELLES Do you want to tell me what you found? MRS CHRISTIAN Cash, stock certificates, and this... She takes something from her pocket, puts it on the desk: a plastic bag containing a short 8MM FILM on a plastic reel. MRS CHRISTIAN It's a film... of a girl being murdered. WELLES I'm afraid I don't... MRS CHRISTIAN This is a movie showing a girl being murdered. She's sitting on a bed, and a man rapes her... and he begins to cut her with a knife... (pause) I only watched what I could. Welles picks up the film, looks at it. MRS CHRISTIAN I didn't know what to think. I can't tell you how horrible it's been, to know this belonged to my husband. To know that he watched this... this atrocity. But, I can't go to the police... WELLES Mrs. Christian... please, will you sit down a moment? (leads her to a chair) I want you to listen carefully. What you're talking about is a "snuff film." But, from what I know, snuff films are a kind of... urban myth. Like, red light district folklore. There's no such thing, I can assure you. Mrs. Christian shakes her head. WELLES Please, believe me. This is probably a stag film. Simulated rape. Hard to stomach, and it might seem real, but there are ways of making it look realistic... fake blood and special effects... MRS CHRISTIAN No. WELLES If you were to study it you'd see the camera cutting away... you'd see the tricks they can play... MRS CHRISTIAN I'm telling you it's not that. WELLES I'm sure it is. (smiles) It's probably something your husband was given as a bad joke. More than likely he never even watched it. MRS CHRISTIAN Will you watch it and see for yourself? WELLES Of course. But, I'm certain it's nothing to worry about. INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, DINING ROOM -- NIGHT An 8MM PROJECTOR faces a wall. Welles looks back to Mrs. Christian in the doorway. Mrs. Christian leaves, shuts the door. Darkness. Welles turns on the projector and sits. The PROJECTOR CLATTERS, shooting bright images... ON THE WALL: FLASH FRAMES, over exposure, then... the grainy FILM is HAND HELD, constantly in motion, showing a skinny GIRL, 16 or 17, in a negligee, sitting on a bed in a nondescript room with little furniture. Looks like a hotel room. We only ever see three walls. The once beautiful girl looks worn, drugged, dark circles under her eyes, staring blankly. The CAMERA'S tungsten SPOTLIGHT casts long, shifting shadows as the camera moves, but the girl still stares oblivious. The bed is wrapped in PLASTIC and DUCT TAPE. The floor is covered by PLASTIC SHEETING... Welles watches, crossing his arms, already uncomfortable. ON THE WALL: a door opens behind the girl, looks like a bathroom, and a MASKED MAN enters. The Masked Man wears a garish, Mexican WRESTLING MASK with eye holes and a mouth. The mask covers his entire head. He's naked except for red shorts, his body scrawny, oiled, pale. The man goes to stand in front of the girl. He seems to be saying something to her, but the film is silent and the ONLY SOUND is the PROJECTOR'S LOUD sprocket hole CLATTER. It's all one long take. The CAMERA MOVES to favor the girl... Welles sits straight in his chair, wary. ON THE WALL: Masked Man raises his open hand and SLAPS the girl, knocking her back on the bed... Welles grimaces. ON THE WALL: Masked Man pulls the girl back to a seated position. The girl's like a rag doll, face reddened, eyes closed, but she remains upright. Masked Man uses his thumbs to open her unseeing eyes. He touches her mouth with his fingers, presses his lips to hers. Then, Masked Man backs away, leaving frame, till the CAMERA MOVES to find Masked Man standing at a table with THREE large BOWIE KNIFES laid out. Masked Man runs his fingers over the blades... Welles rises slowly, still watching. ON THE WALL: Masked Man selects a huge Bowie knife and moves back towards the girl... Welles crosses his arms tight, disbelieving, fearful. WE WILL NEVER SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN THE FILM, but Welles does. In the flickering, reflected light, Welles backs involuntarily away from the horrible images, holding his fist to his mouth, breathing hard. Welles keeps backing away, till he's backed against a wall. The PROJECTOR'S CLATTERING. Welles is sickened, sweating, still watching, till he finally shuts his eyes. INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, ADJOINING ROOM -- NIGHT Silence. Mrs. Christian sits waiting, troubled. The door to the dining room opens and Welles enters from the dark, visibly shaken. Mrs. Christian watches him, her sorrow now shared. WELLES You... you need to go to the police. MRS CHRISTIAN I told you I can't, not yet. WELLES You don't have any other choice. MRS CHRISTIAN (stands, shakes her head) No. For me to live with the ruin of my husband's name, I need know that whoever did this will be punished. If you can find them, I will take their names to the police. I'll say my husband confessed on his death bed. I'll say I didn't have courage to come forward at first... WELLES It won't work like that. MRS CHRISTIAN Any evidence you collect can be given to the police later, anonymously. I've thought about it and there's no other way. If you can't find them... if the only thing that comes from this film is that this is all my husband will be remembered for, well I can't let that happen. I'm telling you I won't. If there's no chance that poor girl's memory can be served, then I'll just have to spend my last days trying to forget her. Welles sits, rests his head in his hands. WELLES I deal in divorce cases. Corporate investigations... MRS CHRISTIAN You've found missing persons before. WELLES Nothing remotely like this. MRS CHRISTIAN I know what I'm asking. Your compensation will be appropriate to the risk. You'll need cash to buy information, and I'll provide it. (pause) I feel responsible, Mr. Welles. (pause) You saw what he did to her. Welles stands, torn apart and uncertain, looks back to the dining room where the projector sits idle. INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BABY'S ROOM -- NIGHT Cindy is sound asleep in her crib. Welles is seated near, staring at his sleeping child. INT. WELLES' HOUSE, BEDROOM -- NIGHT Welles digs in piles of SHOEBOXES and BOOKS on the floor of his cluttered closet, finds what he wants: a LOCK BOX. INT. WELLES' HOUSE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT Welles twists the lock box dial's combination, opens the box to reveal his GUN, HOLSTER and CLEANING SUPPLIES. Welles takes out the gun, cleaning it. Amy watches. WELLES This is the mortgage. This is Cindy's college money. AMY I understand. WELLES Sometimes you can't know what I'm doing. It's better that way. AMY I know. WELLES It's a missing persons case... a long shot. I'll give it two months, two months at most, then I'll be back. We'll take a vacation. AMY Why the gun? WELLES I'm not gonna need it. I won't even wear it. It's a precaution. (cleaning gun) Don't worry about me. INT. WELLES' HOUSE, OFFICE -- NIGHT Welles looks through one file cabinet. He pulls out a FILE. It contains all sorts of POLICE ARTIST SKETCHES. Welles finds one of a TEENAGE GIRL with dark hair, looks at it. Welles positions the sketch on his COPY MACHINE, hits copy. EXT. WELLES' HOUSE, DRIVEWAY -- MORNING Welles loads BOXES and a SUITCASE into his car's back seat. Welles puts the lock box in the car's trunk, in a hiding place beside the spare tire. He places a brown BRIEFCASE on top, covers them both with carpet. He closes the trunk. EXT. PENNSYLVANIA TURNPIKE -- MORNING Little traffic. Welles' Ford races down the highway. EXT. CLEVELAND CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY City skyline, overcast. Looks like rain. TITLE: Cleveland, Ohio EXT. CLEVELAND STREETS -- DAY Welles' car moves slowly in a not-so-great neighborhood. Welles leans forward, peering through the windshield... An APARTMENT BUILDING'S crooked SIGN lists "WEEKLY RATES." INT. WELLES' ROOM, CLEVELAND -- DAY Dingy room. Welles locks the door, puts the chain on. His suitcase and boxes are on the bed. He begins unpacking, taking a PHOTO ENLARGER from one box and an 8MM PROJECTOR. INT. WELLES' ROOM, BATHROOM -- DAY The developer's on the toilet. DEVELOPING PANS are on the floor, developer bath, stop bath and fixing bath, with BOTTLES of CHEMICALS and packages of PHOTO PAPER. Welles uses tape and ALUMINUM FOIL to black-out a window. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- DAY Pizza box on the bedside table. Welles' suits hang in the closet. Welles sits facing a small REEL TO REEL on a desk. He wears white gloves, handles the 8MM FILM, careful to hold it by the edges, holding it up to the light, squinting. Welles puts in a magnifying EYEPIECE, leaning close... WELLES' P.O.V. THROUGH MAGNIFYING LENS: studying the first few inches of exposed film, coming upon TINY LETTERS printed just below the sprocket holes: "SUPRAlux 544." INT. WELLES' ROOM, BATHROOM -- DAY RED BULB in the light socket. Welles threads the 8MM FILM into his enlarger, still in white gloves. He flicks the enlarger on, projecting a sideways IMAGE down onto the enlarger's baseboard, FOCUSING... it's the girl sitting on the bed, early in the snuff film. Welles makes an adjustment to the enlarger's lens; framing tighter on the girl's face, REFOCUSING. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT Welles comes out of the makeshift darkroom, holding a PHOTO of the girl. He props the photo up on a dresser, stands looking at it. Sad girl, staring forward. Welles goes to pick up his CELLULAR PHONE, dials. WELLES (into phone) Hello, honey, it's me. (listens) I'm fine, how are you? Welles listens. He turns to look at the girl's photo. FADE TO BLACK: EXT. OFFICE BUILDING, MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE -- DAY Nondescript. "U.S. Resource Center for Missing Persons." INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, OFFICES -- DAY Small. Cubicles. Employees work phones and computers. BULLETIN BOARDS are covered in FAMILY PHOTOS, Polaroids and familiar "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" missing person/children POSTERS. IN ONE CUBICLE, Welles opens his billfold, shows his identification: a laminated "LICENSED INVESTIGATOR, Commonwealth of Pennsylvania", with WELLES' PHOTO... The DIRECTOR of the center, a tired looking official in bifocals, studies the card. Welles sits. DIRECTOR What can I do for you, Mr. Welles? WELLES Call me Tom. DIRECTOR Alright, Tom. WELLES What I'd like, very simply, is access to your archive. And, now I understand this isn't something you normally do for private citizens... DIRECTOR There are reasons for the way we do things here. WELLES Absolutely. Of course I'll abide by whatever decision you make, but I'd appreciate if you'll hear me out... The director sits back in his chair. WELLES Few days ago, I was contacted by a couple living in Philadelphia, a doctor and his wife. What happened was they picked up a young girl hitchhiking off 81, which heads into Philadelphia, started up a conversation with this girl, she looked homeless, seemed about eighteen maybe. They convinced her to let them buy her a meal in the city. Nice kid, mature, didn't have much to say, but they got a sense she's a runaway, so all through dinner the doctor's working on her, trying to convince her that at the very least she should pick up a telephone. Not surprisingly, she ate her food, excused herself... (snaps fingers) That's the last they saw her. The reason they came to me for help, the reason I'm coming to you, is we had a friend of mine in the department work up a sketch... (shows the POLICE ARTIST SKETCH he photocopied) They want to see if I can I.D. this girl, somehow pass along a message to let the parents know the kid's alive, doing alright. DIRECTOR Why not go to the N.C.I.C. or N.C.M.E.C.? WELLES I figured you share information. DIRECTOR We do. WELLES For whatever reasons I thought you might be more receptive. DIRECTOR Why don't they come to me? WELLES This doctor and wife, they're nice people, but they don't want to get too involved. They're not trying to have the parents come looking for the girl either. You and I both know sometimes, not often, but sometimes there's real reasons why a kid'll run. Molestation, whatever. Besides that, the girl's probably eighteen, so she's legal. DIRECTOR I'm not so sure about this. WELLES They're putting themselves in place of this kid's parents and thinking they'd want to hear their girl's okay, even if that's all they hear. DIRECTOR I can give you my card, if your clients want to call me... Welles accepts a CARD, disappointed. WELLES They were pretty clear they didn't want this coming back on them. DIRECTOR Well, that's all I can do. Sorry. Welles looks at the director, stands, hangs his head. WELLES Who knows... maybe she's already given her parents a call, right? Welles leaves. EXT. OFFICE BUILDING, MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE -- DAY Welles comes out the front doors, pissed. WELLES Fuck. He tears the card in half and drops it as he heads for his car. After a moment, the director comes out after him... DIRECTOR Excuse me... Tom, hold on... Welles looks back, walks back, glances down... makes sure he stands on the torn card, hiding it underfoot. DIRECTOR Listen, maybe I can help after all. Why don't you come on back in... we'll see what we can do. INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY Director leads Welles into this RESEARCH ROOM, a small library with long tables, old COMPUTERS, lots of FILE CABINETS and CARD CATALOGS. Secretaries tend to the files. DIRECTOR This is it. It's not much. (points at computers) We've got less than five percent on computer and we lose that funding in December. I'll have someone show it to you anyway. Other than that, I'm afraid it's the wet thumb method. Welles looks to the many, many file drawers. DIRECTOR Files are mostly by state and year of disappearance. We try to keep the children and adults separate. No eating or smoking in here, but there's a coffee machine in the hall. WELLES Any good? DIRECTOR It's horrible, but it'll be your best friend after a few days. I hope you realize what kind of long shot you're chasing after. WELLES You're gonna be seeing a lot of me. You're sure you don't mind? DIRECTOR It's good what you're doing. The director puts out his hand. Welles looks, shakes. INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE ON A COMPUTER SCREEN: files open and close -- PICTURE after PICTURE of a MISSING CHILDREN, mostly teenagers, each with physical description, age, date of disappearance, etc. Lost souls, although these are posed portraits, high school yearbook photos and vacation photos, so the children are mostly smiling, happy and healthy. But, all "MISSING." Welles works the computer keyboard and mouse... ON THE SCREEN: the FACES of TEENAGERS, boys and girls, one after the other, MISSING... MISSING... MISSING... INT. CLEVELAND PUBLIC LIBRARY -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles searches the SHELVES of the LIBRARY. He begins taking down various books... "Motion Picture Photography." "Film Stocks and Physical Characteristics." "Super 8 Filmmaking." INT. CLEVELAND PUBLIC LIBRARY -- LATER -- MONTAGE In Welles' notepad: "SUPRAlux 544." Welles sits paging through technical photography books. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Welles has the 8MM FILM threaded through the projector. He turns the CLATTERING projector on and sits, watching. ON THE WALL: FLASH FRAMES, then... the skinny GIRL in a negligee, sitting on the bed. The CAMERA'S SPOTLIGHT casts long shadows. The girl stares, oblivious... ON THE WALL: a door opens behind the girl, looks like a bathroom, and the MASKED MAN enters, wearing the ghastly WRESTLING MASK. The man goes to stand in front of the girl. He seems to be saying something. The FILM halts. Welles sits forward, hand on the projector. He's seen something. He PLAYS the FILM in REVERSE... ON THE WALL: the Masked Man walks backwards, away from the girl, backwards into the bathroom, door shutting... Welles stops the projector, not taking his eyes from the image. He ADVANCES the film FRAME BY FRAME... FRAME BY FRAME... as the bathroom door opens, and the Masked Man enters... FRAME BY FRAME... as the Masked Man moves forward... door closing behind him... STOP... FREEZE FRAME: a THIRD MAN is reflected in the bathroom mirror. Grainy and blurred, but he's in the room with the girl, standing there, captured in the mirror in this one brief instant just before the bathroom door closes. Welles walks to take a closer look, studying the almost ethereal image of the Third Man. EXT. CLEVELAND STREET CORNER -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles is in a PHONE BOOTH, feeds many quarters into the phone, waiting, looking at his notepad. WELLES (into PHONE) Hello, Mrs. Christian? Tom Welles. Here's where we stand. I checked the film stock and it's called Supra- lux 544. The company that made that stock discontinued it in '92... (listens) Yeah, about five or six years ago. Anyway, do what you can to dig up your husband's old financial records, look for anything out of the ordinary... INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles is back at the computer, alone, drinking coffee. ON THE COMPUTER: endless PHOTOS of MISSING CHILDREN. The PHONE CALL CONTINUES in VOICE OVER: WELLES (V.O., cont) Nobody really uses eight millimeter film anymore, so we can assume there are reasons our guys did. First, they could develop it themselves if they had any sort of expertise. Obviously, this isn't the kind of movie you can just drop off at the one-hour photo... INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Welles just stands, staring at the PHOTO of the GIRL. WELLES (V.O., cont) Second, the film that went through the camera is what we've got. There's no negative. Unlike video, it wasn't meant to be duplicated. No reason for them to risk having more than one copy of their murder floating around... INT. CLEVELAND BAR -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Local bar. Welles sits drinking with the archive's director, talking, smiling at something the director said. WELLES (V.O., cont) There don't seen to be many fingerprints on the film itself, but I'm going to have to be careful to leave them intact... INT. MISSING PERSON ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles is tired, unshaven. He's moved on to the physical files, at one table, looking through HUNDREDS of MISSING PERSON BULLETINS. Secretaries tend to other files. WELLES (V.O., cont) It's okay for yours and your husbands fingerprints to be on the film, but you'll have to use me as a middleman if you go to the police. That way I don't have to explain why my prints are on it... INT. WELLES' ROOM -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles sits with the PROJECTOR ON, watching the film again. WELLES (V.O., cont) There were three men. Two are obvious; the man in the mask and the man running the camera, but I caught a glimpse of a third man in a mirror. It's nothing that can be used for identification, but he was there, watching... ON THE WALL: Masked Man touches the girl's mouth, presses his lips to hers. Masked Man backs away, leaving frame, till the CAMERA MOVES to find Masked Man standing at a table with THREE large BOWIE KNIFES laid out... Welles notices something, puts the projector on FREEZE FRAME. WELLES (V.O., cont) So, there were three. They would have kept it small, wouldn't have let anyone in on it they didn't have to. That's all for now... except, I feel I should tell you... with this looking like it happened at least five or six years ago... Welles walks to the frozen IMAGE on the wall. It shows the Masked Man's hands in frame, fingering the blades. WELLES (V.O., cont) Well, it's not very likely we'll ever find out who this girl was. (listens) I will, I'll keep trying. Goodbye. V.O. PHONE CALL ends with the SOUND of the PHONE HANGING UP. ON THE WALL: there's a DARK SPOT on Masked Man's hand, on the arch between his index finger and thumb. Grainy and hard to make out, but looks like a small TATTOO. INT. WELLES ROOM, BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- END MONTAGE Welles has the 8MM FILM threaded into his photo enlarger, projecting the IMAGE we just saw down onto the baseboard. He re-frames, CLOSER ON the masked Man's hand, REFOCUSING... the black spot is a little clearer, looks like a small STAR tattoo on the back of Masked Man's hand. INT. MISSING PERSONS ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY Welles sits hunched over the card catalog, still unshaven, drinking coffee, flipping through smaller PICTURES of MISSING CHILDREN in one drawer, one by one by one... Welles rolls his neck. He looks to see the archive's director in the doorway. The director nods, leaving. Welles gets back to it, stooped over the catalog. FADE TO BLACK: TITLE CARD: three weeks later EXT. OFFICE BUILDING, MISSING PERSON ARCHIVE -- DAY In the lot, Welles gets wearily from his car, smoking. He tosses the cigarette, gets a Thermos off the front seat. INT. MISSING PERSON ARCHIVE, FILE ROOM -- DAY Welles pulls out a card catalog drawer labeled "North Carolina 1992," flipping through picture cards. The FACES of TEENAGERS: a happy BOY with blue eyes... a red headed GIRL with freckles... a ruddy faced BOY... a pretty GIRL with a ribbon in her hair... a black GIRL in a pink dress... a blonde haired BOY with curly hair... Welles furrows his brow. He backtracks to the pretty GIRL with the ribbon in her hair. Welles sits straight. He reaches into his pocket, hands shaking a little, takes out and unfolds the PHOTO he printed of the girl from the snuff film. It's her. Welles compares the two pictures. She's prettier in the card catalog photo, but it's her. Welles can't believe it, looks around. Secretaries at other files don't even know he's there. Welles pulls out his notepad, scribbling down INFORMATION off the card... Writing the girl's name: "Mary Anne Matthews." EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY -- NIGHT Welles, car races past, alone on the dark freeway. EXT. FAYETTEVILLE CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY Another small city. Blue skies above. TITLE: Fayetteville, North Carolina EXT. PUBLIC LIBRARY -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY Suburban library. Kids play hop-scotch in the parking lot. INT. FAYETTEVILLE LIBRARY, MICROFICHE ROOM -- DAY Welles works the MICROFICHE MACHINE, scrolling through old issues of the LOCAL NEWSPAPER, finds an ARTICLE headlined "Search Continues for Local Teen." There's a PICTURE of the GIRL, Mary Anne Mathews; the same picture Welles found in the Missing Person Archive. Welles reads the article, writing on a LEGAL PAD. TIME CUT: NEWSPRINT SCROLLS past on the MICROFICHE MACHINE, till... "No Leads in Girl's Disappearance." Same picture. The date at the top: "July 12, 1992." TIME CUT: NEWSPRINT BLURS past... stops on a page of OBITUARIES. Top of the page: "September 4, 1993." CLOSE ON: "Mathews, Robert Steven, 1948-1993." "Dead in an apparent suicide, Robert Mathews was discovered yesterday morning in the basement of..." EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE, FAYETTEVILLE SUBURB -- DAY A tree-lined street of poor, boxy homes. Welles' car parks in front of one HOUSE with a neglected lawn. IN THE CAR Welles, clean shaven, picks a CLIPBOARD with a file folder and his legal pad on it, thumbs pages. He drums his fingers, opens the glove compartment, pulls out the car's registration, other papers and "Jiffy-Lube" service reports, uses them to pad the file. Welles takes a BOTTLE of COLOGNE from his pocket. He considers it, opens the bottle, applies cologne to his neck. EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE, FRONT PORCH -- DAY Welles knocks, clipboard in hand. A sad, middle-aged woman answers, MRS. MATHEWS, looking through the screen door. MRS MATHEWS Yes... ? WELLES (smiles) Hello, Mrs. Mathews, my name's Thomas Jones, I'm a state licensed investigator... Welles holds up his identification only long enough for Mrs. Mathews to see it looks official. WELLES I've been hired as an independent contractor by the U.S. Resource Center for Missing Persons as part of an internal audit. If you have any time over the next few days, I'd like to make an appointment to ask some questions about the disappearance of your daughter. MRS MATHEWS I don't understand, who are... ? WELLES I'm sorry, let me explain, the R.C.M.P. is a support organization and archive, not unlike the Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Washington. I'm sure you've dealt with them before? MRS MATHEWS Yes, but... WELLES These volunteer organizations are sort of interconnected, functioning hand in hand with law enforcement. The R.C.M.P. brought me in to review their investigations... (holds up clipboard) ... fact-check their records, see if there's anything they missed, anything they should be doing different. I'm here for a few days, before I head back up to Virginia. These reports go to the Justice Department eventually. I spoke to your F.B.I. contact a few days ago, uh... Welles pretends to look for the name on a Jiffy Lube page... WELLES What was the name... ? I've got it here somewhere... MRS MATHEWS Neil... Neil Cole. WELLES (pretends he found it) Right, Agent Cole told me he'd call and let you know to expect me. He didn't call? MRS MATHEWS No. WELLES (looking on legal pad) Well, I'm following up on your daughter, Mary, height; five four, weight; hundred ten pounds, brown eyes, blonde hair. Born April 24, 1976. Missing June 11th, 1992. A runaway, that's how she's listed. Is this information correct... ? Mrs. Mathews stares, nods. WELLES I'm sorry, I know this isn't easy. Is there a more convenient time... ? (looks at watch) Can I buy you lunch, would that be alright? Mrs. Mathews looks him up and down. EXT. DAIRY QUEEN RESTAURANT -- DAY Welles and Mrs. Mathews eat at a PICNIC TABLE on the patio. WELLES It's very important you don't let this raise your expectations. It's not going to effect any ongoing efforts. All I'm saying is, please know, I'm not here to create any false hope. MRS MATHEWS They hired you. You're like, a private detective? WELLES That's exactly what I am. Mrs. Mathews chews, staring off into the distance. MRS MATHEWS I didn't think there were private detectives anymore, except on TV. WELLES You probably expect me to be wearing a trench coat and a hat. Drinking whiskey, chasing women and getting beaten up by guys with broken noses. Want to know what it's really like? It's sitting in a car and staring at a hotel window for three days straight, pissing in a plastic bottle, pardon me, because some guy thinks his wife's cheating on him. Glamorous, huh? And the guy who hired you, he has a hair-lip, dandruff and crooked teeth, and you could have told him the minute you laid eyes on him his wife's cheating, and you don't blame her. Mrs. Mathews smiles. WELLES It's refreshing to actually sit down and meet someone face to face, someone nice like you. Welles smiles. Mrs. Mathews takes out a cigarette. Welles lights her, joins her in smoking, refers to his clipboard. WELLES So, she didn't leave a note? She never gave any indication where she might go, before she left? MRS MATHEWS No. WELLES She just seemed... depressed... ? MRS MATHEWS She didn't seem herself. For months there never was any way to get her to talk about it. One night we went to bed... the next morning she was gone. She took some clothes. WELLES What was she running from? MRS MATHEWS I don't know. WELLES If there's anything you feel uncomfortable talking about, tell me, but I have to ask. Your husband... he committed suicide? MRS MATHEWS Yes. WELLES September 4th, 1993. About a year after Mary disappeared. MRS MATHEWS We were divorced by then. Things fell apart... he was living with a friend... WELLES Why do you think he did it? MRS MATHEWS It got to be too much for him. WELLES You have to forgive me, but in these circumstances... with your daughter... (pause) Were there any indications of... any sort of abuse? MRS MATHEWS There wasn't anything like that. The police and the FBI people asked, but there wasn't anything happened like that, never. My husband... his heart broke when Mary left... WELLES I didn't mean to... MRS MATHEWS You try going through what we did. Bob couldn't take it, that's all. Christ, there's times when it still seems like I can't either. WELLES I had to ask. I apologize. MRS MATHEWS No one knows what it's like. You can't even imagine how much it hurts. Welles is miserable. A few CUSTOMERS walk past, looking at Mrs. Mathews. She tries not to notice then noticing. MRS MATHEWS People remember me from the news. (pause) Can you drive me back now? WELLES Of course. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, MARY'S ROOM -- DAY Mrs. Mathews enters. Welles follows. This was the girl's room, exactly as she left it -- POSTERS of ACTORS on the wall, many STUFFED ANIMALS on the pink sheets of the carefully made bed. Perfectly preserved. MRS MATHEWS This is her room. Welles looks around, uncomfortable. Shelves have PICTURES of MARY with female friends, a collection of CERAMIC FIGURINES of CLOWNS and ANIMALS. MRS MATHEWS The police made a wreck of it, but I put it back exactly how it was. Just how she likes it. Welles takes a few steps into the room, looks down at a DESK where there are SIX brightly wrapped GIFTS. MRS MATHEWS Those are for her birthday. One for every year she's missed. They'll be waiting for her when she comes back. Welles is nearly overwhelmed by sadness, struggling to hide it. He backs to the door, looks at his watch... WELLES I... I shouldn't take anymore of your time. Maybe we can finish tomorrow. I'll call tomorrow... MRS MATHEWS Okay. EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE -- DAY Welles escapes to his car, climbing in. He starts it up... IN THE CAR Welles drives, tears welling up in his eyes. He has to pull over and park, wiping his tears, fighting for composure. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT Welles has unpacked. He's on the bed, on his CELLULAR... WELLES (into phone) You should be able to take a shower and still have hot water left, honey. (listens) Call him back and tell him I said so. The goddamn thing's still under warranty. (listens) I'm okay. It's hard here. It's hard. (listens) I've got a lead I have to follow through. To be honest, I don't think I'm going to get very far. I miss you. I love you. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, KITCHEN -- MORNING Welles sits at the kitchen table. Mrs. Mathews makes coffee. The home's decor is cheap and flowery. MRS MATHEWS We weren't religious. We never forced religion down her throat, like I've seen some parents do to their kids. We never made her go to church. But, after Mary was gone, that's when I got religious. Mrs. Mathews brings two cups of coffee, sits. MRS MATHEWS Doesn't make much sense, does it? When everything's happy, when life's fine and you have every reason to believe there's a God, you don't bother. Then, something horrible happens... that's when you start praying all the time. That's when you start going to church. WELLES We're all like that. MRS MATHEWS Are you religious? WELLES No. MRS MATHEWS You should be. Mrs. Mathews drinks coffee, stares into the cup. WELLES I've got what I need for my report. There is... there is one thing that bothers me though. MRS MATHEWS What? WELLES It's not really my place, but it's not easy for me to set aside the private detective part of me either. See, I know a little about missing persons. When kids run, they almost always leave a note. It's guilt. They want to say goodbye. MRS MATHEWS There wasn't one. The police looked. WELLES Do you think the police did a good job? MRS MATHEWS I don't know. I think so. WELLES It is possible... and I know this isn't something you want to hear. Your daughter may have tried to hide a note where she thought you would eventually find it, but where she knew your husband would never find it. She might have wanted to tell you something... MRS MATHEWS No. You don't have any reason to think that... WELLES If the police focused their search in her room, her belongings, well that'd be only natural, but they may have been looking in the wrong place. Mrs. Mathews is getting upset. MRS MATHEWS How... how can you say that to me...? WELLES Will you let me look? MRS MATHEWS My husband never laid a hand on her. She would have told me... she would have told me... WELLES You're probably right, and I probably won't find anything. I don't have a right to ask this, and you can kick me out of your house if you want, but this is my profession and there's a part of me that can't let it go. Police are just as human as you or I. They could have missed something. They probably didn't. (pause) Wouldn't you rather know? Mrs. Mathews thinks about it, tortured, shakes her head sadly. MRS MATHEWS Go ahead and look if you want. I don't care what you do. Mrs. Mathews gets up and walks out of the room. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE -- SEARCH MONTAGE -- DAY -In MRS. MATHEWS' BEDROOM, Welles looks through DRESSER drawers, methodically, replacing everything as it was... searches hat boxes and shoe boxes in a CLOSET... takes BOOKS off SHELVES, fanning the pages, shaking them out... -In a BATHROOM, Welles examines the contents of a MEDICINE CABINET, examining old prescription bottles... opens CABINETS under the sink... -In the LIVING ROOM, Mrs. Mathews sits slumped in a chair, staring at a soap opera on TELEVISION, a BOTTLE of scotch on TV tray beside her, drink in hand. -In the KITCHEN, Welles stands on a chair, searches high CABINETS... looks through low CABINETS, on his knees, pulls out pots and pans... fans the pages of COOK BOOKS... -Welles stands in the doorway of MARY'S ROOM, just stares. He takes a few steps back into the HALLWAY, looks up at the ceiling. There's an ATTIC DOOR there. Welles reaches to the door's handle, opens it, unfolds the portable stairs... -In the small ATTIC, Welles uses a penlight FLASHLIGHT, crouched under the low ceiling, looking through dusty BOXES of PHOTOGRAPHS; old photos of a wedding, of grandparents... Welles moves to pull back dusty sheets, finds a large WICKER BASKET and broken BICYCLE underneath... Welles opens the basket, takes out BLANKETS and QUILTS in mothballs. He finds a wide VELVET BOX, takes it out, opens its hinged lid to reveal a set of good SILVERWARE. He touches the tarnished silverware, lifts out the top tray. Underneath, resting on top of more silverware, is a DIARY. Welles opens the DIARY, finds written: "Mary Anne Mathews." Welles turns pages. The DIARY'S about half-full of feminine, cursive handwriting. After the last written page, a PAGE has been TORN OUT. Welles fingers the ragged edge, flips through the blank pages till he comes to the very last page, a GOODBYE NOTE. Welles sits and reads... MARY'S VOICE (V.O.) (emotionless monotone) "Dear mom. If you're reading this, it means I called you from Hollywood, California and told you where to find my diary. I don't think I'll be able to tell you this when I talk to you, so I'm writing it down here. You know I haven't been happy for a long, long time. For a long time now dad's been doing things I couldn't tell you. He's been touching me and it's getting worse. I can't stay anymore. I know you and I haven't always gotten along sometimes, but please don't blame yourself. There isn't anything you can do. I'm going to make a whole new life in California. Maybe someday you'll see me on TV or in magazines. Don't worry about me. Love, Mary Anne." INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, HALLWAY OUTSIDE MARY'S ROOM -- DAY Welles shuts the attic door, takes the DIARY from his pocket, hides it in his waistband at the small of his back. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, LIVING ROOM -- DAY Welles enters. Mrs. Mathews looks up from the TV. WELLES You were right. (pause) I didn't find anything. I'm going to run and get something to eat. Are you hungry? MRS MATHEWS Yes. INT. COPY SHOP -- LATE DAY Welles uses a self-serve COPY MACHINE, flattening the DIARY on the glass, photocopying the DIARY as quickly as he can. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Welles sits picking at fast food in front of him. Mrs. Mathews' food isn't even unwrapped. She's numb from her drink, watching a GAME SHOW, smoking. WELLES Do you ever consider... do you realize that Mary may never come back? Mrs. Mathews looks to Welles, looks back at the TV. MRS MATHEWS I think about it everyday. But, every time the phone rings... every single time, I still think it's her. WELLES It's been six years. MRS MATHEWS What am I supposed to do? Forget her? Time heals all wounds, right? (misery building) She's all I think about, and I've learned to live with that. But, you want the truth... the real truth? If I had a choice... if I had to choose, between her being out there, living a good life and being happy, and me not knowing; never finding out what happened to her... (pause) ... or her being dead and me knowing... (pause) I'd choose to know. Mrs. Mathews stares into the TV, wipes tears. Welles takes a deep breath and holds it. He watches her a long moment, motionless. Finally he stands, voice unsteady. WELLES Excuse me, I have to use your bathroom. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, HALLWAY OUTSIDE MARY'S ROOM -- NIGHT Welles comes to the attic door, quietly pulls it open. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, ATTIC -- NIGHT Welles uses his penlight, digs out the DIARY from the hiding place in his waistband, replaces it in the box of silverware, closes the box. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, MARY'S ROOM -- NIGHT Welles enters, takes a PICTURE FRAME off one shelf, opens the back and takes out the PHOTO of MARY from inside. INT. MATHEWS HOUSE, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Mrs. Mathews still gazes into the TV. Welles passes the doorway, not looking in, heading to the front door, opening the door and walking out... Mrs. Mathews doesn't even notice, doesn't look up. EXT. MATHEWS HOUSE -- NIGHT Welles crosses the front lawn, not looking back, heading to the street, getting into his car, starting his car, doing a U-turn, driving away down the street. EXT. FAYETTEVILLE AIRPORT, LONG TERM PARKING -- MORNING Welles' boxes of belongings are piled in the back seat of his car. Welles covers them with a blanket, shuts the door. Welles opens the trunk of his car, pulls back the carpeting. He opens the brown BRIEFCASE. The briefcase is full of CASH, about $10,000, twenties and fifties in bundles. Welles transfers half the money into a carry-on bag, shuts the briefcase, covers it, closes the trunk. INT. AIRPLANE, COACH -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE The cabin's half-full, dark. Passengers sleep. Under the only illuminated reading light, Welles reads the PHOTOCOPIED DIARY. MARY'S VOICE is a again a flat monotone... MARY'S VOICE (V.O.) (as Welles reads) "Dear diary. I have a big math test tomorrow. I have to get better grades. How come everybody does better than me? Kathy doesn't even study and she gets B's. Two boys got in a fight after school today. One boy knocked the other boy's tooth out, at least that's what it looked like. His nose and mouth were bleeding all over the place..." EXT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -- MORNING -- MONTAGE An airplane ROARS downwards, heading in for a landing. EXT. LA CITYSCAPE -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY -- MONTAGE An ugly city. "HOLLYWOOD" sign on the smoggy horizon. EXT. HOLLYWOOD HOTEL -- DAY -- MONTAGE A cheap, stucco hotel in a wounded Hollywood neighborhood. INT. HOLLYWOOD HOTEL -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles' suitcase is open on the bed. Welles sits in a chair with his feet up, sweating in the heat, reading the DIARY. MARY'S VOICE (V.O.) (as Welles reads) "... We're reading The Great Gatsby in English class. It's the story of this guy who has lots of fancy parties and all his friends come around and party with him, but later when he dies nobody comes to his funeral. Someone said there's a movie about it, but I looked in the video store and it wasn't there." Welles flips pages, further back in the DIARY... MARY'S VOICE (V.O.) (as Welles reads) "Dear diary. I started my first job last week working part time at Price Mart department store..." INT. LOS ANGELES BANK, SAFE DEPOSIT VAULT -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles and a BANK EMPLOYEE both put keys into a SAFE DEPOSIT BOX, unlocking it and sliding out the metal drawer. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... The people I work with are all old and fat. All they live for is their next coffee break so they can smoke..." INT. BANK, PRIVACY BOOTH -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles is alone, opens the empty safe deposit drawer, takes the 8MM FILM from his pocket and puts it in the drawer. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... They eat lunch at the snack counter. Hot dogs and soft pretzels. Nachos with that orange cheese that comes out of a pump. I don't know what I'd do if I'm still working there when I get old..." EXT. YOUTH HOSTEL -- ESTABLISHING -- DAY -- MONTAGE A large NEON CROSS identifies this HOSTEL in mid-Hollywood. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... I want to be a singer or an actress. I know it's a stupid dream, but I know I can do it if I get a chance..." INT. YOUTH HOSTEL -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles talks to the MAN behind the counter, shows the PICTURE of MARY taken from Mrs. Mathews' house. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... Everyone's always telling me how pretty I am. I don't think I am. When I look in the mirror I wonder who they're talking about." The MAN behind the counter shakes his head. INT. HOMELESS SHELTER -- DAY -- MONTAGE A run-down shelter. Welles shows the PICTURE of MARY to the PROPRIETOR, explaining. The proprietor shakes his head. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. I went out with Bob today, the cute boy in my science class. He took me to a movie..." EXT. YWCA, LIVING QUARTERS -- DAY -- MONTAGE Welles continues his trek, standing in the dank hallway of a YWCA DORMITORY, showing the PICTURE to a COUNSELOR. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... It was the middle of the day, but we held hands. I think he likes me. I really like him. He has black hair and grey eyes..." EXT. LA FREEWAY -- DUSK -- MONTAGE Welles sits in his rental CAR, in a massive TRAFFIC JAM. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... He opened the car door for me and paid for the movie. When he took me home he said we should go out again soon. I hope he calls..." EXT. HOLLYWOOD, RED LIGHT DISTRICT -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Welles drives, looking out the windshield... at decaying "PEEP SHOWS," an "ADULT BOOKSHOP" and "SEX SHOP." MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. Janet says she slept with her boyfriend. I can't believe it. She says they did it last weekend while her parents were out of town..." EXT. HOLLYWOOD, SUNSET BOULEVARD -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Welles drives, watching overweight PROSTITUTES and tall, muscular TRANSVESTITES prowling the sidewalks in mini-skirts and stained, tight spandex pants. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... She said she liked it, but she didn't seem too happy. She didn't tell me many details. She said he used a condom." EXT. SANTA MONICA BOULEVARD -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Teenaged MALE PROSTITUTES hang out in front of a PIZZA PARLOR. A few have their shirts off, crewcut and muscular. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. If I save enough money to go to community college maybe I can get good enough grades for a scholarship somewhere else..." EXT. HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD -- DAY -- MONTAGE A tribe of HOMELESS TEENAGERS sits on the sidewalk in front of SOUVENIR SHOPS. They beg money off pedestrians. MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... I've never been anywhere else. I don't think mom wants to let me go. Every time I try to talk about it she says it'll cost too much or she changes the subject." EXT. CHURCH, SOUP KITCHEN -- DAY -- MONTAGE A long line of HOMELESS PERSONS trails out the door. Welles stands out front, showing the PICTURE to a VOLUNTEER with a broom, and a PRIEST... MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. Something terrible happened today when dad and I were alone. I can't tell anyone. I feel sick. What did I ever do to make this happen to me?" The volunteer and priest can't help. Welles is weary, futility beginning to wear on him, walks to his car... MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. My stomach hurts all the time. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up. I want to get out of my head and stop hearing myself think." INT. WELLES' RENTAL CAR -- IN MOTION -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Welles smokes, driving, blankly watching the road ahead... MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. Grandma fell and broke her leg last week. We drove down to visit her in the hospital. Hospitals smell like dead people." EXT. FREEWAY -- HELICOPTER SHOT -- NIGHT -- CONTINUOUS FOLLOW Welles' car speeding along... MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. It's happening all the time now. There s nothing I can do. I'm all alone. Everything is bad. I used to have lots of dreams and I'd remember them when I woke up, but that doesn't happen anymore." PULL BACK: still FOLLOWING WELLES' CAR, over the FREEWAY... MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "Dear diary. If I can get to California, I'll be okay. I've got money saved. I can work as a waitress till I get something better. Billy says he and his family went to California once on vacation. He says it never rains. They stayed near the beach and he went swimming in the ocean..." CONTINUE TO PULL BACK -- till Welles' car is very, very far below -- REVEALING the staggering size of the City of Los Angeles, where the lights go on forever and forever. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Welles is seated, elbows on his knees, reading the DIARY... MARY'S VOICE (V.O., cont) "... I hope I can be an actress. I hope I can be happy. I'll probably have to go to acting school. I wish I knew someone who lived there. I'll miss my friends, but at least I'll be far away where no one can ever find me." Welles has come to the end of the writing in the DIARY. The next PHOTOCOPIED PAGE shows an image of the TORN RAGGED EDGE of the diary's missing page. EXT. VIDEO PORN SHOP -- DAY Welles enters this "ADULT VIDEO" storefront. INT. VIDEO PORN SHOP -- DAY The CLERK is a sleazy forty-year-old man with rings in his pierced nose and lips, behind a counter by the door. He watches Welles pass. Welles looks around, uncomfortable. A few of the other CUSTOMERS, all men, sneak glances at Welles. Display shelves run floor to ceiling, full of hundreds of shrink- wrapped XXX PORNO TAPES. Welles pretends to browse. Handmade signs above each section identify content: "ANAL," "BIG TITS," "CUMSHOTS," "BONDAGE and FETISH," etc... Welles looks back at the clerk, who stares at Welles. Welles feels obligated to pick up a box and act like he's considering it. He glances at other customers. Each man keeps his eyes forward on the pornography. One guy has his arms full of about ten videos. Welles puts the tape back, walks to the front counter. The clerk watches him the whole time. WELLES Is this pretty much it? The clerk just stares at Welles. WELLES Just... just videos? PIERCED CLERK What are you looking for? Welles considers, decides to leave, exiting... WELLES Nothing. PIERCED CLERK Fuck-head. INT. ADULT BOOKSTORE -- DAY Welles comes in through the blacked-out door. This place is larger than the last. TWO CLERKS are behind the counter. One clerk's pricing porn, the other, MAX, 25, reads a porno- novel. Max has long hair, colorful tattoos covering his forearms, has a HIGHLIGHTER MARKER in his mouth. Welles browses. There's a huge video bargain bin. Walls are covered in videos, sex toys, inflatable women, etc. CUSTOMERS, again all wary males, follow proper porn-shop etiquette; look at the porn, not your fellow shopper. There are "PEEP SHOW" booths in the back. A MAN looks around, trying to be nonchalant, sweating profusely, slipping behind one curtain. Welles pretends to read the packaging on a triple-pack of dildos, looks towards the front... Behind the register, Max takes a look to make sure the other clerk is busy, takes the cap of his Highlighter pen and highlights a section in the book he's reading. Welles notes this. He goes to the substantial MAGAZINE RACK, picks up a porn tabloid, pages through it. He selects sex MAGAZINES and NEWSPAPERS, choosing about twenty-five. Welles takes this pile up to Max, gets out his wallet. Max starts ringing everything up. MAX Big date tonight? WELLES (embarrassed) Yeah... guess so. MAX Can I interest you in a battery operated-vagina? WELLES Pardon me? MAX My boss tells me I have to do more suggestive selling. WELLES Well, it's tempting, but no thanks. MAX It's your call, but you're gonna be sorry when you're in one of those everyday situations that call for a battery-operated vagina and you don't have one. WELLES I'll risk it. Max shoves everything into a bag and hands it over. MAX Thank you for shopping at Adult Bookstore. Have a nice day. Welles takes the bag. Max returns to his book. Welles is leaving, but stops at the end of the counter. WELLES What are you reading? Max holds up the book, "ANAL SECRETARY." MAX Once you pick it up you can't put it down. WELLES Catchy title. What are you really reading? (off Max's look) Hard to believe that book's got any parts worth highlighting. Max takes a glance at the other clerk, opens the pages of the book and shows it to Welles. "Music for Chameleons." WELLES Truman Capote. MAX I tear off the cover and paste this one on... (nods towards clerk) You know how it is. WELLES Wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your fellow perverts. MAX (smiles, shrugs) Might get drummed out of the pornographer's union, and then where would I be? Another CUSTOMER clears his throat, waiting at the register. Max turns to help him. Welles heads out. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT Welles is at a table, porn publications spread out before him, looking through the back of a PORNO TABLOID... Turning pages of HARDCORE ADVERTISEMENTS: "Adults Only," "She Male Films," "Amateur Sex Videos," "Women and Animals -- you've got to see it to believe it..." Welles moves on to the next MAGAZINE, turning to the back, again, page after page: "Watersports and Fisting Specialists," "100's of Anal Films," "Asian Sex..." HUNDREDS of 900 NUMBER ads with naked women urging callers to pick up the phone. EROTIC CLASSIFIEDS; hundreds of amateur photos of naked men and women with faces and genitalia blacked over... "Men Seeking Women," "Women Seeking Women", "Men Seeking Men," "Transvestites..." It is endless. More CLASSIFIEDS: "Sex Slaves Wanted," "ACTRESSES WANTED," "Underground Films," "SPECIALTY FILMS OFFERED," "S+M and BONDAGE," "Fetish Videos." Welles leaves it, overwhelmed, goes to lay down on the bed. He picks up his cellular phone, dialing. WELLES (into phone) Hi, honey, how are you? How's Cindy? (listens) The way it's going I'm about ready to pack my bags... INT. NONDESCRIPT ROOM -- NIGHT -- CONTINUOUS In a dark room, we don't know where, a DARK FIGURE of a MAN is silhouetted. He wears HEADPHONES, listening... WELLES' VOICE (V.O.) (through headphones) ... I've got a feeling the person I'm looking for came out here and got swallowed up by the place. AMY'S VOICE (V.O.) (through headphone) Come back now. Just drop it and come back... WELLES' VOICE (V.O.) (through headphone) I would if I could. I'll be home soon, believe me. It won't be long. AMY'S VOICE (V.O.) (through headphone) I miss you. INT. WELLES ROOM -- NIGHT -- CONTINUOUS Welles shuts his eyes, still on the cellular... WELLES (into phone) I miss you too. I love you very much. Give Cinderella a kiss for me and tell her I love her, alright? (listens) Goodnight. INT. ADULT BOOKSTORE -- DAY Max is at the register. A crewcut WOMAN in overalls works behind the counter with him. Welles approaches. WELLES Remember me? MAX Came back for that battery-operated vagina, right? Told you you would. Welles shows his IDENTIFICATION, lets Max get a good look. WELLES I need some information. Thought you might be able to help. MAX (of identification) Thomas Welles. Nice picture. Welles takes out an ENVELOPE, puts it on the counter. WELLES I'll be outside having a cigarette. Welles leaves. Max watches him go. Max opens the envelope, takes out two fifty dollar bills, pockets them. MAX (to other clerk) Cover me, Beth. I'm taking a break. EXT. ADULT BOOKSTORE -- DAY Welles stands down the sidewalk, smoking. Max comes out from the porn shop, walks to Welles, looking around. MAX I don't know what you're looking for, mister, but so we're clear from the start, I'm straight. WELLES Good for you. Welles and Max walk down the block, past HOMELESS MEN with shopping carts overflowing with junk. WELLES How long you been working there? MAX Three, four years. WELLES What's your name, if you don't mind me asking? MAX Max. WELLES Well, here's the deal, Max. This thing I'm on right now has something to do with underground pornography. Stuff that's sold under the counter, illegally... MAX There's not much illegal. WELLES Well, whatever there is, whoever's dealing, however it's done, I want to know. I want a good look, so if you've got that kind of connection, great. If not, speak now. MAX You're not a cop, are you? If I ask and you are, you have to tell me. WELLES I'm not a cop. MAX You're a private eye. Like Shaft. WELLES Not quite. MAX From Pennsylvania. P.I. from PA. What are you doing out here? WELLES Well, there's the thing; you're not gonna know anything about what I'm doing, but you can make some money. MAX How much? WELLES How much do you make now? MAX Four hundred a week, off the books. WELLES Okay, let's pretend I live in the same fantasy world where you make four hundred a week in that dump. I'll give you six hundred for a few days. MAX Sounds good, pops. WELLES Here's my number if you need it... (writes on scrap paper) When can you start? MAX Tomorrow night, I get off at eight. WELLES See you then. Oh, and, don't call me "pops." Welles walks away. INT. WELLES ROOM -- NIGHT Welles sleeps, despite the stead SOUND of TRAFFIC racing by his window. The PHONE RINGS, waking him. Welles looks at the clock radio, 2:23am, reaches to answer the phone... WELLES (into phone) ... Hello... ? MAX (V.O.) (from phone) Wake up, pops. Your education begins tonight. EXT. DOWNTOWN -- NIGHT Against the backdrop of downtown LA's bright skyscrapers, Welles' rental car heads into the lower bowels of the city, smaller, older, darker buildings... EXT. DOWNTOWN STREETS -- NIGHT The only people on the street are HOMELESS and SHADY CHARACTERS. Welles' car makes its way to a big deserted PARKING LOT. There are a few cars parked in one corner. Welles parks near the other cars and gets out. Max stands against a chain link fence. Welles goes to meet him. MAX Come on. Max leads the way, across the lot, towards dark alleyways. EXT. DOWNTOWN ALLEYWAY -- NIGHT Max and Welles move through this filth strewn alley between decaying brink buildings. They cone to a STAIRWELL leading down to pitch dark... INT. OLD BUILDING -- NIGHT Max enters through a crooked door, heads into a narrow, labyrinth hallway lit by bare bulbs. Welles follows. They come to another STAIRWAY leading down. At the bottom, a thick-necked GOON stands guarding double doors. GOON Are you a law enforcement agent or in any way affiliated with law enforcement? MAX Fuck you, Larry. Max heads to the double doors, waits for Welles. GOON (to Welles) Are you a law enforcement... ? WELLES No. INT. BASEMENT -- NIGHT Max and Welles enter through the double doors, into a kind of small, underground porn flea market. It's incredibly quiet. About fifteen CARD TABLES are set up in rows. The MEN behind the tables and the thirty or so "CUSTOMERS" looking through the merchandise make those in the previous porn shops look like high society. These are MIDDLE-AGED MEN, most balding, some with pot bellies, in shorts and tube socks, in sweatpants and Members Only jackets: plain men, but with a look of desperation in their eyes, glancing around nervously, greasy and afraid. ONE DEALER We're shutting down in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Welles makes his way to the tables, wary. One table is covered in dirty cardboard boxes, filled with HUNDREDS of PHOTOS of young children, mostly boys, naked. Each photo is wrapped in plastic, censored by masking tape. Welles swallows back disgust. The next table is piled high with used pornographic MAGAZINES. There are baggies with COLORFUL PILLS laid out. X-rated Polaroids wrapped in rubberbands. Max follows behind, unaffected, smokes a cigarette. Another table offers VIDEO TAPES with no identifying marks other than hand written labels with numbers written out, "two," "sixteen," "five." And many bootleg VIDEOS with grainy, homemade labels showing WOMEN in extreme BONDAGE. Welles watches out the corner of his eye as the PLUMP MAN beside him pays for a thick stack of kiddie porn pictures. Welles waits till the man moves on, addresses the angry looking DEALER who's counting money. WELLES (points to numbered videos) What are these? ANGRY DEALER Mixed hard bondage. Rape films. Sick shit. Buy five, get one free. Welles looks around, wipes sweat off his top lip. WELLES Anything harder? ANGRY DEALER There's nothing harder. WELLES Snuff? ANGRY DEALER What you see is what I got, mister. WELLES You know where I can get it? I have a lot of money to spend. ANGRY DEALER There ain't no such thing as snuff. Why don't you fuck off? The dealer sits and keeps counting cash. Welles moves on Beyond the tables there's a CURTAINED DOORWAY. Welles walks to it, enters... INSIDE THE CURTAIN Folding chairs face a SCREEN. A PROJECTOR shows a silent movie; a BUXOM WOMAN in nurses uniform prepares an enema bag and tube. A hairy, overweight MAN lays face down on an examination table, naked, arms tied behind his back. In the darkness, a MAN shifts in his chair, grunting, obviously masturbating. A few chairs away, a man is bent over, moving his head in the lap of SOMEONE in a BLONDE WIG. A LARGE MAN approaches Welles from the dark. LARGE MAN You have to pay to come in here. Welles backs away, shuts the curtain. INT. ALL-NIGHT COFFEE SHOP -- NIGHT Not many people in the place. Welles drinks coffee. Max eats a huge breakfast. MAX You've got Penthouse, Playboy, Hustler, etc. Nobody even considers them pornography anymore. Then, there's mainstream hardcore. Triple X. The difference is penetration. That's hardcore. That whole industry's up in the valley. Writers, directors, porn stars. They're celebrities, or they think they are. They pump out 150 videos a week. A week. They've even got a porno Academy Awards. America loves pornography. Anybody tells you they never use pornography, they're lying. Somebody's buying those videos. Somebody's out there spending 900 million dollars a year on phone sex. Know what else? It's only gonna get worse. More and more you'll see perverse hardcore coming into the mainstream, because that's evolution. Desensitization. Oh my God, Elvis Presley's wiggling his hips, how offensive! Nowadays, Mtv's showing girls dancing around in thong bikinis with their asses hanging out. Know what I mean? For the porn-addict, big tits aren't big enough after a while. They have to be the biggest tits ever. Some porn chicks are putting in breast implants bigger than your head, literally. Soon, Playboy is gonna be Penthouse, Penthouse'll be Hustler, Hustler'll be hardcore, and hardcore films'll be medical films. People'll be jerking off to women laying around with open wounds. There's nowhere else for it to go. WELLES Interesting theory. MAX What you saw tonight, we're not talking about a video some dentist takes home over the weekend. We're talking about stuff where people get hurt. Specialty product. WELLES Child pornography. MAX There's two kinds of specialty product; legal and illegal. Foot fetish, shit films, watersports, bondage, spanking, fisting, she- males, hemaphrodites... it's beyond hardcore, but legal. This is the kind of hardcore where one guy's going to look at it and throw up, another guy looks at it and falls in love. Now, with some of the S+M and bondage films, they straddle the line. How are you supposed to tell if the person tied up with the ball gag in their mouth is a consenting or not? Step over that line, you're into kiddie porn. Rape films, but there aren't many. I've never seen one. WELLES Snuff films. MAX I heard you asking. That guy wasn't yanking you around. There's no such thing. WELLES What other ways are there to get illegal films? Who do you see? MAX First of all, basement sales like tonight aren't gonna last much longer. It's too risky, one, and two, everything's going on the internet. Anyone with a computer and enough patience can find anything he wants. It's heaven for those degenerate chicken-hawks. They're swapping pictures back and forth as fast as their modems can zap 'em. But, there's still some weird shit under the counter where I work sometimes. No one knows where it comes from. That's local underground, where information spreads by word of mouth. Those are zombies, hardcore junkies. Their hands are permanently pruned. They go out in the sun they don't burn, they blister. Other than that, all I know about is the mail. Classified ads in the paper with hidden codes. Secret couriers. Credit card orders to dummy corporations. Interstate wire transfers. Revolving P.O. boxes. But, if you're asking me who do you go to to get illegal shit... who knows? That's the whole point -- the seller stays as far away from the buyer as possible, and vice versa, and cops can't trace the deal. There's ways to do it so nobody knows who anybody is. Welles watches Max eat. WELLES How old are you? MAX Twenty-five. WELLES Where are your parents? MAX I don't know, where are yours? WELLES I don't mean any offense... but what are you doing mixed up in all this? MAX I'm not mixed up in anything, hayseed. What are you talking about? WELLES You just strike me as smart enough to be doing something else. MAX Yeah, I'm a real genius. What choices have I got? Fuck, just because I know about stuff like tonight doesn't mean I deal it. I work a job. It beats pumping gas, beats making hamburgers. WELLES You're telling me it doesn't get to you? MAX You can't sit there all day watching the parade of losers that comes into that place without going numb. So what? Am I gonna go off and be a race car driver? Go to Harvard? Run for President? What about you, pops? WELLES What about me? MAX I see a ring on your finger. You have any kids? WELLES A daughter. MAX So, you have a wife and kid waiting for you in Pennsylvania... what are you doing mixed up in all this? WELLES Good question. EXT. ALL NIGHT COFFEE SHOP -- NIGHT Max and Welles comes out to the sidewalk, talking. ACROSS THE STREET INSIDE A PARKED CAR, through the windshield, SOMEONE watches Max and Welles say goodnight. Max walks to a waiting taxi. It's the sinister lawyer watching, LONGDALE, the late Mr. Christian's attorney, watching Welles go to his rental car. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT -- MONTAGE Welles is seated, PROJECTOR RUNNING, watching the 8MM film. The last of the film makes its way through, threading out. The take-up reel spins, the film's tail flapping... Welles stares at the blank white square of light projected onto the wall. CELLULAR PHONE is HEARD RINGING... Welles finally looks to the projector, turns it off. The PHONE'S RINGING. Welles goes to sit on the bed, looking at the cellular phone on the bedside table. RINGING... Welles lets it RING. RINGING... RINGING... till it finally stops. Welles lays back on the bed and shuts his eyes. INT. CHRISTIAN HOUSE, MR CHRISTIAN'S OFFICE -- DAY Mrs. Christian is behind the desk, surrounded by BOXES of BANK RECORDS and FINANCIAL STATEMENTS, on the PHONE. MRS CHRISTIAN (into phone) My husband had five cash accounts he used to temporarily hold stock profits. Between November of 1991 and March of 1992, he wrote one check out to cash from each account. He wrote these himself... INT. PHONE BOOTH, HOLLYWOOD -- DAY -- CONTINUOUS Welles is in the booth, listening... WELLES (into phone) Okay... MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.) (from phone) My husband never dealt with money personally, certainly not cash. WELLES I'm not positive this means anything. MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.) The checks were for odd amounts... INT. MR CHRISTIAN'S OFFICE -- DAY -- CONTINUOUS Mrs. Christian has the amounts written out on paper. MRS CHRISTIAN (into phone) One was for two hundred thousand, one dollar and thirteen cents. Another was for three hundred thousand, six hundred fifty four dollars and seventy six cents... WELLES (V.O.) (from phone) Okay, I follow you so far... MRS CHRISTIAN Totalled together, these five checks from five different accounts, they equal one million dollars. INT. PHONE BOOTH -- DAY -- CONTINUOUS WELLES (into phone) You're joking. MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.) (from phone) To the penny. Exactly one million dollars in cash. Welles considers this, lost in thought. MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.) Hello... ? WELLES I'm here. MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.) Do you think the film could have cost that much? WELLES For a human life... murder on film, no statute of limitations. Who knows? It sure could have. I'd like you to overnight me a copy of those checks, then put them in a safe deposit box. MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.) Okay. WELLES Send it to me through the post office like we arranged. No return address. You dug this up all by yourself? MRS CHRISTIAN (V.O.) You told me to look, so I looked. WELLES You're one hell of a detective, Mrs. Christian. EXT. MISSION YOUTH HOSTEL -- DAY TEENAGERS work cleaning this large DORMITORY, sweeping and mopping the floor, making the bunk beds, washing windows. Welles stands with an elderly, black NUN in plain clothing. WELLES Her name was Mary Anne Mathews. Welles hands the woman the PICTURE of MARY. The woman puts on her glasses, looks at the picture... looks at Welles. NUN Yes... I remember Mary WELLES You... you do? You're sure? Please, Sister, will you take another look, make sure... NUN (examines picture) Yes. I remember her. INT. MISSION YOUTH HOSTEL, STORAGE AREA -- DAY In a basement corner, Welles watches as the nun uses keys to open the door of a chain-link STORAGE CAGE. The cage is full of junk, BOXES, LAMPS, stacks of CHAIRS. NUN She lived here for only about a month, if I recall correctly. She didn't return one night. She never came back. I didn't know what to think... The nun enters the cage, pushes old BOXES out of her way, looks up a cob-web covered METAL SHELVES. NUN Do you know what happened to her? WELLES I'm trying to find out. She was a runaway. I'm looking into it for her parents. The nun sees what she wants, finds a STEP LADDER, tries to open it. Welles comes to help her. NUN (pointing on shelf) Can you get that down for me? Welles climbs the ladder, points at boxes... NUN No, the next shelf... there... Welles takes down a small SUITCASE. It's covered in dust. He climbs down the ladder with it. WELLES What is this? NUN Those are her belongings. WELLES Her belongings? NUN That's her suitcase. I had forgotten it, till you showed me her picture. Welles puts the suitcase down, examines the LUGGAGE TAG: "Mary Anne Mathews," no address. Welles looks to the nun. WELLES Whatever possessed you to keep this all this time? NUN She was the kindest, sweetest girl you'd ever want to meet. Oh, I adored her. I supposed I always hoped she'd be back. After a time, all I could do was pray she had moved on to better things. Can you get this suitcase to her parents, if you think it's appropriate? WELLES I'll do what I can. INT. WELLES' ROOM -- NIGHT Welles puts Mary's SUITCASE on the bed, opens it. He takes out some of Mary's clothing, examines it, lays it aside. He takes out a ROSARY, more CLOTHING. Resting on a SWEATER are two CERAMIC FIGURINES; a teddy bear and kitten. Welles examines them, frowning, puts them aside. He takes out yellowed NEWSPAPER; Help Wanted CLASSIFIEDS, "July 2, 1992." Several job possibilities circled, others crossed out. He finds baggie containing a few old JOINTS. All that's left are more items of CLOTHING, a TOOTHBRUSH and an ADDRESS BOOK. Welles examines the address book, finds a folded piece of paper in the blank pages, unfolds it... it's the TORN DIARY PAGE, a POEM written in Mary's hand... MARY'S VOICE (V.O.) (as Welles reads) "Star light, star bright, First star I've seen tonight, Wish I may, wish I might, Have this wish I wish tonight." Welles goes to a drawer, takes out the photocopy of Mary's DIARY. He turns to the ragged edge of the torn page, puts the DIARY PAGE against it. Perfect match. Welles stands looking at the poem. He turns the page over, finds written, in cursive: Models Wanted 213-555-6643 EXT. PHONE BOOTH -- DAY Welles dials the number off the back of the torn diary page, phone to his ear. It RINGS, RINGS, RINGS... MAN'S VOICE (V.O.) (from phone) Celebrity Films. Welles hangs up, begins searching the booth's YELLOW PAGES. EXT. WILSHIRE OFFICE BUILDING -- DAY A poverty stricken business section of Wilshire. Welles gets out of his parked car, looks up at a decaying Art Deco building that's painted blue top-to-bottom. Welles crosses through traffic. INT. WILSHIRE OFFICE BUILDING, LOBBY -- DAY Welles studies the REGISTRY, finds "Celebrity Films." INT. WILSHIRE OFFICE BUILDING, STAIRWELL -- DAY Paint's peeling. Walls are water stained. Welles climbs stairs, winded, sweating, up the stairwell... INT. WILSHIRE OFFICE BUILDING, 8TH FLOOR HALL -- DAY Welles comes out a stairwell DOOR, catching his breath. A couple of SECRETARIES wait for the elevator. Welles moves down the hall, around a corner. Each office door has a window of pebbled, translucent glass. There's a "Dental Office," "Wilson Travel Cruises," and at the end of the hall, "Celebrity Films Inc., Eddie Poole, Professional Casting and Distribution, Suite 804." Welles heads back the way he came. EXT. WILSHIRE OFFICE BUILDING -- DAY Welles crosses back to the other side of the street, goes to stand near his car. He looks up at the blue office building, counting up floors, counting windows across. Satisfied, he turns, backing up, looking up at the tall OFFICE BUILDING across from the blue building. There's a sign on this adjacent building, "OFFICE SPACE AVAILABLE." INT. ADJACENT OFFICE, 9TH FLOOR -- DAY Empty office. Welles is let in by a disinterested LANDLORD. Welles gives a cursory look around, goes to the windows and opens the blinds. These windows afford an excellent view of the blue building across the street, at about 8th floor level. WELLES This is better. (turns to landlord) This will be fine. INT. ADJACENT OFFICE -- NIGHT Welles has transferred most of his belongings here, SUITCASE open on the floor, CARD TABLE set up with fast food on it, an ARMY COT against one wall. Welles sits in a chair at the window, looks through BINOCULARS on a TRIPOD. WELLES' P.O.V., THROUGH BINOCULARS: searching up the dark floors of the blue building, as Welles counts under his breath. Moving over... stopping on one window, FOCUSING... Welles locks the tripod. He goes to sit on the army cot, picks up his CELLULAR. He looks at the phone, deciding. He puts down the phone. He turns off the LAMP on the floor, lays back in the cot, going to sleep. INT. ADJACENT OFFICE -- DAY WELLES' P.O.V., THROUGH BINOCULARS: watching the window of Celebrity Films Inc. We can see most of the office from here. It's crowded with junk, BOXES, piles of VIDEO TAPES. There's a disorganized DESK by the window. Welles sits looking through the binoculars. THROUGH BINOCULARS: a pudgy man, EDDIE POOLE, in a loud, print shirt, comes to sit at the desk, looks through mail. He smells sleazy even from here, lots of jewelry, Lots of rings. He drinks coffee, answers the phone. He talks into the phone, looking for something on his desk, agitation growing, till he's shouting, then slams the phone down. Welles rises. He looks to the wall where THREE PHOTOGRAPHS culled from the snuff film are pinned up; the picture of Mary, the picture of Masked Man's tattooed hand, and... ... the grainy image of the Third Man in the mirror. Welles comes to study this third photo. FADE TO BLACK: INT. ADJACENT OFFICE -- DAY THROUGH BINOCULARS: Eddie packs VIDEO TAPES into a box, covering them with Styrofoam peanuts, sealing the box. FADE TO BLACK: INT. ADJACENT OFFICE -- DAY THROUGH BINOCULARS: Eddie finishes a call and hangs up. He sits back in his chair. He starts looking in his desk drawers, finds a MAGAZINE and opens it on the desk. It's porn. Eddie turns pages, looking at naked women. He sits back in his chair, begins unbuckling his belt. Welles pulls back from the binoculars in disgust. WELLES No thank you. FADE TO BLACK: INT. ADJACENT OFFICE -- NIGHT THROUGH BINOCULARS: Eddie's on the phone, pouring himself a drink from the liquor bottle on his desk, finishing the call, hanging up. He shakes his head in disgust, drinks the drink, walks out of view. After a moment, the lights go out. EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS -- NIGHT An old, dented CAR makes its way up the tight, twisting roads of the Hollywood Hills. Eddie's at the wheel. Not far behind, Welles' rental car follows... FURTHER ON Eddie's car pulls into the driveway under the porch of a ramshackle HOUSE, parks. Welles' car passes by... FURTHER, AROUND A CURVE Welles' car slows once it's out of sight, turns around, moving back down the hill, slowly... INT. WELLES' CAR -- CONTINUOUS Welles turns out his headlights, coming around the curve just far enough so the ramshackle house is in view. Welles watches Eddie walk up the stairs to the house. FADE TO BLACK: INT. ADJACENT OFFICE -- DAY THROUGH BINOCULARS: Eddie has a visitor. There's a pretty GIRL, wearing a tube top, in a chair facing his desk. Eddie's talking, gesticulating, smiling, cajoling. Welles watches through binoculars. THROUGH BINOCULARS: Eddie's still taking, stands, coming around the desk and placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. The girl says something. Eddie responds. The woman shakes her head, getting up to leave. Eddie seems to be asking her to stay, following as she moves out of view. Eddie comes back alone, sits at his desk, picks up the phone. INT. ESPIONAGE SHOP -- DAY Ultra high tech for sale. Welles examines items on the sales counter as the SALESPERSON watches: a pair of sma1l, round LISTENING DEVICES, a complicated RECEIVER/TAPE RECORDER, and a TONE DECODER with LED window. WELLES Okay, I'll take it all. SALESPERSON Excellent. we accept MasterCard and American Express. WELLES Cash. Welles takes out a thick wad, starts counting. SALESPERSON Alright. (at register) May I have your phone number, area code first? WELLES No, you may not. SALESPERSON Okay. Fine. Welles lays the money on the counter. The salesperson takes the money, recounting. SALESPERSON I'm required by state law to inform you that, while it's perfectly legal for you to purchase these items, it is illegal for you to use them for any sort of... WELLES Yeah, I know the spiel. If you could bag it, I'll be on my way, thank you. SALESPERSON Certainly, sir. The salesperson starts punching keys on the register. EXT. WILSHIRE OFFICE BUILDING -- NIGHT The blue building sits completely dark. INT. WILSHIRE OFFICE BUILDING, 8TH FLOOR HALL -- NIGHT Welles comes quietly out from the stairwell, wears gloves. He moves down the hall to the door of "Celebrity Films Inc." He kneels, begins using LOCK-PICKING TOOLS on the door. INT. CELEBRITY FILMS OFFICE -- NIGHT Welles enters, shuts the door and locks it. He takes out his penlight. There are POSTERS for cheap PORN FILMS on the wall that we couldn't see through binoculars. Titles like "Sex Doctor," "Deep Ass," and "Penal Colony." There a two FILE CABINETS. Welles pulls a few drawers, finds them locked. VIDEO CASSETTES are everywhere, on the cabinets, on shelves, piled high on the floor. Welles goes to Eddie's desk, looking in drawers. One drawer is full of X-RATED MAGAZINES. Another's stuffed with paperwork, call sheets, contracts. Welles picks up Eddie's phone, unscrews the earpiece. He takes the small, round LISTENING DEVICE from his pocket, peels off backing to expose adhesive. He attaches the listening device inside the phone, puts it back together. Welles moves towards the door, sweeps the room with the penlight. He stops at the file cabinets, takes his lock- picking tools out, begins working on one file's lock. He turns the lock, opens a file drawer. Empty. He opens another. Inside: piles of CHILD PORNOGRAPHY. Welles clenches his jaw. Faces of children. Shirtless boys. Girls in pigtails. INT. ADJACENT OFFICE -- DAY Welles' RECEIVER/TAPE RECORDER'S set up by the window, recording, with the TONE DECODER plugged into it. Welles LISTENS through HEADPHONE, looking through binoculars. EDDIE (V.O.) (through headphones) ... half a dozen. This is good stuff, Jimbo... THROUGH BINOCULARS: Eddie's at his desk, on the PHONE... EDDIE (V.O.) You know how my tapes sell. People eat this stuff up. MALE VOICE (V.O.) (from phone) I had three jerkoffs trying to return your tapes last month. Do you know how bad a skin flick has to be for some jackass to come back into my place with a fucking receipt, and try to fucking return it? EDDIE (V.O.) Maybe there's something wrong with the scumbag customers coming into your place, ever think of that? MALE VOICE (V.O.) The only thing wrong is the cheap, softcore crap you're peddling, Eddie. Where do you get this stuff? EDDIE (V.O.) Look, you cocksucker... MALE VOICE (V.O.) Get together some upscale product where the girls still have teeth in their head. Till then, fuck you. EDDIE (V.O.) Fuck you! THROUGH BINOCULARS: Eddie slams down the phone. He CANNOT BE HEARD any long