Green River Drama Play

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Green River

By

Scott Kessler

1/26/2002 Final Draft

FADE IN:

EXT. ASHCROFT HOME-NIGHT

We open with a slow pan across the white-picket fence and immaculate lawn of recently built TRACT HOME somewhere in a midwestern suburban neighborhood.  A WELCOME MAT neatly rests on the front step of a screened-in FRONT DOOR.  We dolly up the COBBLESTONE WALK to the FRONT WINDOW and assume a peeping tom view into a neatly furnished and clean LIVING ROOM.

INT. ASHCROFT LIVING ROOM-NIGHT

We gaze directly into the LIVING ROOM of NATHAN AND MELANIE ASHCROFT, an upscale young couple in their early thirties.  NATHAN relaxes on the COUCH with a cup of steaming cocoa.  MELANIE files absently at her nails, laughing quietly at the antics of a zany sitcom on the TV.  

NATHAN

(Absently; Watching television)

Honey.  Make us some popcorn?

MELANIE

(Watching TV)

We’re out of popcorn, babe.

NATHAN

Shit.

MELANIE

How about some Sara Lee cake?

NATHAN

(Considering this)

O.K.

FROM OUTSIDE, we hear the screeching of rubber, like a car coming to a sudden stop.

NATHAN

(Alarmed)

What was THAT?

MELANIE

(Frowning)

Sounds like Saul’s car.

CUT TO:

EXT. ASHCROFT HOME, CURB-NIGHT

A HOT ROD MUSCLE CAR with the rear end jacked up comes to a screeching stop, leaving rubber on the tarmac.  FOUR YOUNG PUNKS pile out of the interior and onto the sidewalk.  The obvious leader is SAUL, a tough-looking youth with short-cropped hair and black eyes.  The OTHER THREE are EFRAM ZAMORA, a short, intense Hispanic kid with a frightening twinkle in his eyes, ZACK HARLOW, tall, geeky and blond, and CLOVIS COLE, whose lack of intelligence is obvious from his dull expression and vacant grin.  CLOVIS is clutching a bundle gently under one arm.  All are dressed in the STREET PUNK uniform of LEATHER JACKET and JEANS.

SAUL

Listen, I’m gonna handle all the talking on this gig, capice?

SAUL’S GANG nod in unison.

CLOVIS

(Nervous)

Uhhh…Saul?

SAUL
Huh?

CLOVIS

(Stammering)

W-w-what if your sister isn’t too keen on this idea, huh?

If she turns us down, we’re fucked.

SAUL
(
Smiling, confident)

Don’t get your nuts in a bunch, Clovis.  She owes me.

SAUL’S GANG seems to accept this without question and shuffle out of frame.

CUT TO:

INT. ASHCROFT LIVING ROOM-NIGHT

NATHAN stands at his window, peeking out the HORIZONTAL BLINDS, trying to be covert and avoid his brother-in-law.  He is obviously NERVOUS; knowing that SAUL’S presence at his tastefully decorated home means trouble.  MELANIE switches off the TELEVISION and stands behind her husband, tensely watching his reactions to the events OUTSIDE.  

SUDDENLY there is a LOUD KNOCK at the door.

NATHAN

Damn! It is your brother!

MELANIE

Should we let him in?

NATHAN

No.  I think we should wait and hope he goes away.

THE KNOCKING becomes more persistent.

MELANIE

(Worried)

What if it’s an emergency?  

What if something’s happened to my mother?

It MIGHT be important!

SAUL (OC)

(Banging on the door)

OPEN THE DOOR, NATE!

I GOTTA HAVE A WORD WITH YOU!

MELANIE?

OPEN THE UP!

NATHAN
Shit.

MELANIE

Let him in Nathan.  Maybe he needs the money back.

NATHAN

                                    (Angry)
What?!  Tell him WHAT? ‘Oh Sorry Saul, but I can’t pay you back for another year?  Think he’s gonna accept that, Mel?

SAUL (OC)

NATE?  I can hear you talking!  

THE KNOCKING is now a HAMMERING on the door.

SAUL (OC, Cont.)

OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!

MELANIE
He sounds like he’s in trouble, Nathan.

NATHAN

(Sarcastic)

What a shock.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD:

9:45 P.M.

CUT TO:

INT. ASHCROFT KITCHEN TABLE-NIGHT

SAUL, EFRAM, HARLOW, CLOVIS, NATHAN and MELANIE are seated around a STYLISH KITCHEN TABLE.  Behind them, the dining room sparkles with the wonders of Mr. Clean.  NATHAN sits with his head in his hands, a steaming CUP OF COFFEE on the table before him.  We pan from nervous face to nervous face, completing our circuit with MELANIE.  In her arms is a NEWBORN BABY wrapped in a blanket.  MELANIE looks up at the men, beaming.

SAUL

(Expectantly)

Well?

MELANIE

He’s beautiful, but-

SAUL

(Cutting her off)

No ‘buts’.  I need a yes or a no.

SAUL gestures to his GANG.

SAUL (Cont.)

These dipshits couldn’t take care of a puppy,

        much less a newborn baby.

THE GANG takes no exceptions to SAUL’S remark, nodding dutifully, hoping to get the baby off their hands.

SAUL

Give us an answer, sis. We-

NATHAN suddenly slams a palm on the TABLE, waking the sleeping INFANT, who starts crying loudly.

NATHAN

(Shouting)

There’s nobody on earth I owe enough to take in a fucking

                kidnapped infant!  What kind of a deviant are you, Saul?

                How in God’s name could you do this?

SAUL

(Smiling patiently)

I’m a thinking man’s deviant, Nate.  

                                   That kid won’t be harmed, an if

   y’all will take care of him?  Shit…we’ve

   had him less than a day and we can’t do

    the kid any justice.  We figured…

NATHAN

You figured what?

SAUL

I Figured with Melanie…barren and all…

A shocked look from MELANIE, who fights back both tears and angry words, and embarrassed looks from SAUL’S GANG. NATHAN grits his teeth, but says nothing.

SAUL (Cont.)
Shit.  I’m sorry I said that.  Look…you do this and we’re square.

NATHAN

Square?

SAUL

The loan.  The sixty Gs.

NATHAN regards his brother-in-law with guarded interest as MELANIE tries to soothe the screeching INFANT.

NATHAN

How square?

SAUL

                  What?  You want me to sign something?

NATHAN

How can I trust you?

SAUL

(Irritated now)

You trusted me when you needed money to pay off your goddamned mortgage!

NATHAN

I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this…

MELANIE has finally quieted the INFANT, bouncing him on her knee.  She looks at her brother, then her husband, an irritated look on her face.

MELANIE

Don’t I get a say in this?

ALL FIVE MEN turn to look at MELANIE, waiting expectantly.  HARLOW clears his throat.

MELANIE (Cont.)

I…I’m not sure how to feel about this, Saul, but you’re right.  We’d have lost this house if you hadn’t come through for us.  I am in no way comfortable about this, but you saved our asses once.  We’ll save yours this time.  But you better keep your word this time Saul.  I don’t want you to ever mention the money again.

SAUL smiles, pleased to have bent his sister to his considerable will.  His GANG releases a collective sigh of relief.  Just as SAUL and his GANG rise to leave, NATHAN speaks again.

NATHAN

Saul…One more question.

SAUL

What?

NATHAN

Whose baby is this?

SAUL becomes guarded, suspicious.

SAUL

Nobody. A well-heeled suburban drone.

NATHAN

What if they won’t pay what you’re asking?

SAUL

(Smiling confidently)

Ohhhhh, they’ll pay.  He’s their pride and joy, that one.

NATHAN
You better be right.

SAUL

I am.  Night Sis.

SAUL and his GANG exit, leaving the frightened couple alone with quietly gurgling baby for the first time.  They pass a look of both fear and joy and NATHAN puts his arm around his wife, pulling her close.

CUT TO:

EXT. MORELLI’S MANSION-NIGHT

A dozen POLICE CARS with dome lights flashing are parked on the lawn of a spacious and sprawling TWO-STORY HOUSE.  COPS, uniformed and plainclothes, are milling around on the lawn, cordoning off the yard with yellow police tape marked CRIME SCENE-DO NOT CROSS.  A HEAVYSET MAN in an expensive silk ROBE gives a statement to a TALL THIN COP in a RUMPLED TRENCHCOAT.  The FAT MAN is DON RICARDO MORELLI, head of the MORELLI MAFIA FAMILY.  The THIN COP is SCHMIDT.  SCHMIDT’S face is serious, stern and taciturn.   His grips his NOTEBOOK so tightly that his knuckles turn white.  

MORELLI

(Frantic)

I don’t know HOW they got in, Goddamnit!  All I know is that some motherfucker stole my grandson and no one seems to know HOW it happened!  My daughter is terrified! She’s going to pieces over this and my wife is so loaded that she doesn’t know what fuckin’ year it is!  Can’t you find something better to do than stand around grilling me?!

SCHMIDT grinds the burning filter of a CIGARETTE into MORELLI’S immaculate lawn.  He is unmoved by MORELLI’S pleas.

SCHMIDT

(Yawning)

Mr. Morelli, I realize you’re upset, but if I can’t get the details of the B&E, I won’t know where to look, or what to look for.  I need salient facts.  Where was your daughter tonight, and why didn’t she call a babysitter instead of leaving the child with you?

MORELLI

(Angry)

What the fuck has that got to do with anything?

SCHMIDT

Does your daughter have any enemies?  

(beat)

SCHMIDT (Cont.)

Do you?

Doesn’t your home have an alarm?

Does the child have a life insurance policy?

All the color drains from MORELLI’S face as we pull in close on him.  He is shaking visibly.  His voice drops to a confidential whisper.

MORELLI

What are you suggesting?  That I had my daughter’s baby kidnapped?

Or that my daughter is somehow involved?  You filthy bastard motherfuckin’ flatfoot pig cocksucker!  Do you know who I am?  My business?

SCHMIDT

(Cool)

Yeah.  WE all know WHO you are, MISTER Morelli.  These are standard questions.  We have to ask this stuff.  There’s nowhere else to go with this.  No fingerprints. No witnesses. Nothing.  This is gonna be very difficult, so I need your cooperation!

MORELLI

(Upset and shouting)

I don’t wanna hear about ‘difficult’, Schmidt.  I wanna hear how you’re doing all you can.  I wanna hear how everything’s gonna be alright.  I wanna hear ‘we’re on it, Mr. Morelli’, or I swear on the Holy Mother you’ll wake up with the biggest, nastiest ex-con nigger faggot in the Chicagoland area breathing down your fuckin’ neck!

SCHMIDT tries to maintain his cool exterior, but his narrow face turns a bright shade of red.  He leans in, eyes fierce, speaking in a low menacing whisper.

SCHIMDT:

Now you listen to me, you dago bastard…

SCHIMDT pushes his BADGE into MORELLI’S face.

SCHMIDT (Cont.)

You see this? This gives me the right to ask you anything I want, ANYTHING, and if you ever threaten me again, you little two-bit guinea hood, I’ll have your fat fucking ass on a skewer, dig?

SCHMIDT calms himself, taking deep breaths as MORELLI shakes with anger, staring with murderous intent, as if he’d like to smash SCHMIDT’S face in with some heavy object.  Before he can speak, SCHMIDT speaks again.

SCHMIDT (Cont.)

My condolences to your daughter.

We dolly alongside SCHMIDT as he walks away, heading with purpose to his UNMARKED CHEVY SEDAN.  A YOUNG UNIFORMED COP waits patiently by the car’s door.

YOUNG COP

Detective Schmidt, sir?

SCHMIDT

(Distracted)

What?  I’m in a hurry.

YOUNG COP
(
speaking fast)

Sir, we have nothing here.  No prints, no sign of a struggle, no B&E.  Nothing to go on.  It’s like the Goddamn kid vanished into thin air.

SCHMIDT

(Looking at the YOUNG COP)

I know.  It looks like an inside job.  But Morelli has no apparent reason to have his own grandkid swiped.  Whoever did this is either very good or very lucky.  Ricardo Morelli is half the reason we have jobs.

CUT TO:

INT. MIKE’S DOWNTOWN BAR-NIGHT

A smoky, dimly lit barroom fades into view, peopled by a plethora of scraggily lowlifes, old barflies and tricked-out hookers.  Through the soaped over windows a greasy neon light blinks on and off, flooding the room in hellish colors.  Motley Crüe’s DR. FEELGOOD blasts at a painful volume, drowning the muttered conversation.  Pan around the bar to CLOVIS COLE, who is regaling a BORED HOOKER with his latest bullshit and adventures.  CLOVIS isn’t very smart, relying on SAUL’S good sense to override his running mouth, but neither SAUL nor the rest of his GANG are here tonight.  CLOVIS is alone and on a roll.  A TOUGH LOOKING BARTENDER named EDGAR watches the exchange with an amused look on his scarred face.  We enter the conversation in mid-flow.

CLOVIS

(To the hooker)

Do you ever wish you were rich?  I’m serious, not so-so nevue rich, but filthy, nasty, roll in hundred dollar bills rich.  Not like a doctor or a lawyer, like Donald Trump, nasty, bath in champagne muthafuckin’ RICH!

HOOKER

(Bored, amused)

Sure.

CLOVIS

(Smiling stupidly)

Okay, ya know, if you WERE rich and stuff, what would you do first?

I mean, would you skydive naked or eat your way out of a bathtub full of caviar, or-

HOOKER

(Still bored)

I’d move to Cabo San Lucas.

CLOVIS

(Non-plussed)

Oh. Okay.  That’s good too.  But like, check it out, I, ya know, I’m gonna be comin’ into some cash real soon, ya dig, and I was wondering if maybe you liked rich guys?

HOOKER

(Finally smiling)

Realllllllyyy?  Do you expect to win Publisher’s Clearinghouse or are you gonna go on Survivor?

CLOVIS

(Broadly grinning)

No. This is better.  This is a sure thing.

The HOOKER stares expectantly at CLOVIS, expecting him to elaborate, but instead he turns to watch the TELEVISION mounted over the bar, casually slurping back the last of his gin and tonic.  He is enjoying her curiosity, feeling like a big man, dangling her on his strings.  He glances at her, smirking in his best imitation of Bruce Willis.

HOOKER

(Impatiently)

Well?  Aren’t you gonna tell me anything?

CLOVIS

(Feigning ignorance)

Huh?  Oh sorry. Hang on.

CLOVIS holds up his empty tumbler and shakes it at EDGAR THE BARTENDER.  EDGAR strolls over and snatches the glass from his clammy palm.

EDGAR

Don’t treat me like a fuckin’ houseboy, Clovis.  What?

CLOVIS
Another G&T…and another of whatever the lady is having.

HOOKER

Whiskey Sour.

CLOVIS

Whiskey Sour.

EDGAR

I heard her.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD:

11:00 P.M.

CUT TO:

INT. MIKE’S DOWNTOWN BAR-NIGHT

EDGAR slides the drinks to CLOVIS and the HOOKER.  We pan up to the TELEVISION above the bar.  On the TV, a newscaster with perfect hair and a pearly smile reads the news.  The TV flashes a photo of a NEWBORN BABY.  CLOVIS tugs EDGAR’S sleeve.

CLOVIS
Turn that up, will ya?

EDGAR

(Impatient)

Why?

CLOVIS
(
Looking at the hooker, smiling)

Just do it, please.

EDGAR rolls his eyes and grabs the remote, blasting the TV’s volume.

EDGAR

(Sarcastic)
Loud enough for ya?

The newscast blares, catching the NEWSCASTER in mid-sentence.  We stay on CLOVIS and the HOOKER.

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

…Infant son of Patricia Morelli-Johnson, daughter of reputed Mafia kingpin Ricardo Morelli, was kidnapped from his grandfather’s home in Lincoln Park sometime earlier tonight.  According to police sources, a ransom demand was issued two hours ago for an undisclosed sum of money.  There has been no public statement issued by the Morelli family.  Anyone with tips about this case is urged to call 555-1376.  Your anonymity is insured.  In our next story, Bill Gallagher will visit with a one-legged man who recently completed a running tour of America.

CLOVIS gestures to EDGAR, who snaps the TV off.  EDGAR leans back, cleaning glasses and eavesdropping.  The HOOKER turns to CLOVIS.

HOOKER

(Shrugging)

So?

CLOVIS

(Wiggling eyebrows)

So think about it.

The HOOKER frowns intensely, as if thought itself was a pain in the ass.  She sips her Whiskey Sour.  After a moment, the straw drops from her mouth as horrible realization dawns on her face.  She looks at CLOVIS as if he’s just sprouted another head.

HOOKER

(Nervous)

Are you shitting me?

In the background, EDGAR leans in close.  Neither of them notices him.

CLOVIS

(Proud)

Cool, huh?  Me and three buddies pulled it off and it wasn’t really that hard.  I mean, I work for an alarm company, right?  Morelli’s alarm wasn’t shit.  You might think he’d only have the best, living in that neighborhood, but we get there and he has a K-Mart special motherfuckin’ piece of shit alarm.  What the fuck, right?  So we did the caper…

CLOVIS makes a slashing gesture with his hand.

CLOVIS (Cont.)

Smooooooothhhh.

The HOOKER nods, picking her purse up off the bar.

HOOKER

(Nervous)

Yeah.  Smooth.  I just remembered I gotta bake my mom a birthday cake.

CLOVIS

(Disappointed)

Oh cool, cool.  So, maybe, can I have your phone number? I never even got your name.

HOOKER

I don’t have a phone.  I’m…uhh…Sally.

CLOVIS

(Kissing her hand)
See ya,
Sally.

The HOOKER walks fast out of frame.  CLOVIS sucks back his G&T, lights a Lucky Strike.  He turns to EDGAR.

CLOVIS

Hey Edgar, I gotta scram.  How much?

EDGAR

Seventeen-fifty.

CLOVIS

CHRIST WEPT!  Why not rob me at gunpoint?

CLOVIS tosses a twenty on the bar, walking away without waiting for change.

CLOVIS (Cont.)

Later Edgar.

EDGAR

See ya Clovis.

Pan to CLOVIS walking out the bar’s door.  Once he is gone, EDGAR picks up the phone, punching in a number fast.

EDGAR

Yeah…It’s Edgar over at Mike’s Bar…yeah, I’m ok.  Lemme talk to Don Morelli…

FADE TO BLACK.

FADE IN ON:

INT. SAUL’S CRASH PAD-NIGHT

We fade in on SAUL, EFRAM, HARLOW, and two TEENAGE GIRLS.  They are lounging on the sprung and broken furniture of SAUL’S living room.  POSTERS of pot leaves, Jimi Hendrix, Rush, Metallica and Pamela Anderson plaster the walls and trash from Taco Bell, Jack In The Box and Burger King litters the floor.  We pull back to reveal the five youths sitting in a rough circle, passing a red Plexiglas bong fully three feet high.  Thick pot smoke clouds the air and everyone’s eyes are bloodshot RED.  We enter in the middle of an exchange about dealing drugs.

SAUL

(Laughing)

I know motherfuckers up at my uncle’s in South Dakota who’re paying thirty a quarter for dirt weed shake.

EFRAM

(Screwing up his face)

What the fuck what were you doing in South Dakota?

SAUL

(Still giggling)

Suffice to say, I had to get the fuck up out of Chicago for a while.  Anyway, these sorry hick motherfuckers are breaking out their weed and are all like “Hey Saul, check THIS shit out.” I get one look and I’m all “Goddamn, it’s all seeds and stems!”  So the hicks get offended about it, calling me an uppity city motherfucker, but I was just like “Whoa!  I’m not trying to insult anyone but check THIS shit out” and I bust a bag of like, green Afghan Kind with orange hairs.  Fuckin’ sheepfuckers smoked like, one hit each and couldn’t talk.

The room laughs.  Pan to EFRAM, holding a sexy young girl on his lap.

EFRAM

This after that crank bust?  Two years ago?

Join now!

SAUL

(Pointing at EFRAM)
Exactly.

HARLOW
You got popped for Meth?

SAUL

Yeah, where the fuck were you?

HARLOW

(Thinking)

Musta been while I was locked up.

SAUL

(Nodding, stoned)

Yeah.  I got popped with a half-kilo, so I had to bail to my uncle’s place, which is in…

EVERYONE

SOUTH DAKOTA.

The room laughs again.

SAUL

You gotta hear this one, man.  I’m in Ned’s Liquor one night buying smokes and this little, like, thirteen year old punk rolls up on me with his little high school skank, he’s acting all cool, and ...

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