SEVEN FADE IN:
BLACK. TITLE CARD in WHITE LETTERS appears on BLACK.
"The world is a fine place and worth
fighting for."
- Ernest Hemingway
1940, For Whom The Bell Tolls
WIPE TO:
INT. OLD HOUSE - DAY
Sunlight comes through the soot on the windows, more brown
than bright. SOMERSET, 45, stands in one corner of this
small second-story room. He looks over the ceiling, looks
down the worn wooden floors, looks at the peeling wallpaper.
He walks to the center of the room, continues his study,
taking his time. He halts, turns to one wall where the
current wallpaper is torn away to reveal flowery wallpaper
underneath.
Somerset goes to this wall and runs his finger across one of
the pale, red roses which decorates the older paper. He
pushes the grime away, brings the rose out more clearly.
He reaches into his suit pocket and takes out a switchblade.
He flips the thin, lethal blade free. Working deliberately,
delicately, Somerset cuts a square around the rose, then
peels the square of dry wallpaper away from the wall. He
studies it in his hand.
EXT. OLD HOUSE 0 DAY
Somerset stands in front of the old home. he looks out at
the surrounding farm and forests. He ponders something.
Birds sing.
MAN (O.S.)
Is something wrong?
Somerset does not respond, just stares off. The MAN, 34,
wears a real-estate broker's jacket and stands beside a FOR
SALE sign in the muddy lawn.
MAN (cont'd)
Is there something the matter?
Somerset turns to face the man, then looks back at the house.
SOMERSET
No, there's nothing wrong. It's just
that everything here seems...seems so
strange to me. All this.
MAN
Strange? There's nothing strange about
this place. The house'll need a little
fixing up, that's for sure...
SOMERSET
No. I like the house. And this place.
MAN
I was going to say. Cause this place is
about as normal as places get.
Somerset nods, taking a deep breath. He smiles.
SOMERSET
That is exactly what I mean. Strange.
Somerset looks back to the beautiful landscape. The man does
not understand.
INT. AMTRACK TRAIN - LATER DAY
Somerset is in a window seat, looking out the window of the
speeding train, smoking a cigarette. He is near the back of
the car, away from the few other passengers.
Outside, farms, fields, small homes and small lawns rush by.
The panorama is dappled by the rays of the soon to be setting
sun.
The light flickers across Somerset's face. He shifts his
weight content.
INT. AMTRACK TRAIN - LATER DAY
The train is almost full, moving slower. Somerset has his
suitcase on the aisle seat beside him. He holds a hardcover
book unopened on his lap. He still stares out the window,
but his face is tense. The train is passing an ugly, swampy
field. The sun has gone under.
Though it seems impossible it ever could have gotten there, a
car's burnt-out skeleton sits rusting in the bracken. A
little further on, two dogs are fighting, circling,
attacking, their coats matted with blood.
Somerset turns his head slightly to watch the dogs. Away in
the field, another dog sprints to join the fight.
INT. AMTRACK TRAIN - EARLY EVENING
The train is passing urban streets below. Slums and smashed
cars. People stand in groups on the corners. Bleak. The
sky is full of smokestacks and huge industrial cranes.
Somerset's suitcase is now on the window seat. Somerset has
moved to the aisle seat. He is reading his book. He looks
up from the book and rubs his eyes, then looks back to the
pages, not once glancing out the window.
EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT
Somerset is carrying his suitcase outside the train station.
The city demands attention: cars screeching, people yelling,
sirens blaring.
Somerset passes a family of bewildered tourists. A WEIRD MAN
has a hand on the tourist father's suitcase and it has become
a tugging match. "I'll take you to a taxi...I'll take you,"
the weird man is shouting. Ahead, a group is gathered on the
sidewalk near two ambulances. People are clamoring to get a
look at a bloody body which lies on the street.
Policemen try to hold the crowd off. Ambulance attendants
administer aid to the victim who convulses. Somerset moves
by, ignoring it all. He motions for a cab and one pulls up
from the street's stream of vehicles.
INT. CAB - NIGHT
Somerset throws his suitcase in and shuts the door behind
him.
DRIVER
(about the crowd)
What's the big fuss?
Somerset looks at the teeming crowd, looks at the driver.
SOMERSET
Why do you care?
DRIVER
Well, fuck you too.
The driver leans forward, checks it out. The circle of
spectators shifts violently. A man has shoved another man
and they're really going at it now. They swing at each other
and tear at each other's clothing. One man's flailing fist
connects and the other man's face is instantly bloodied. The
fight grows even more spastic. The police try to stop it.
DRIVER (cont'd)
Fucking crazy fucks.
The driver pulls away and the cab rages down the street.
Somerset looks at the parade of neon passing on the avenue.
He slumps back in the seat and closes his eyes.
DRIVER (cont'd)
Hey, where the fuck you heading?
Somerset opens his eyes.
SOMERSET
Far away from here.
INT. SOMERSET'S APARTMENT - LATER NIGHT
The curtains are closed. The SOUNDS of the CITY are here as
they will be everywhere in this story. A CAR ALARM is
SOUNDING shrill and clear. Somerset's life is packed into
many moving boxes, except for some clothing in a closet and
hundreds and hundreds of books on the shelves of one wall.
Somerset is lying on the bed, dressed only in his underwear.
He reaches to the nightstand, to a wooden pyramidical
metronome. He frees the metronome's weighted swingarm so it
moves back and forth. Swings to the left...TICK, swings to
the right...TICK. Tick...tick...tick measured and steady.
Somerset situates on the bed, closes his eyes.
Tick...tick...tick. The metronome's sounds compete with the
sound of the car alarm. His eyes close tighter.
Tick...tick...tick...the swingarm moves evenly. Somerset's
breathing deepens.
Tick...tick...tick... The car alarm seems quieter.
Tick...tick...tick. The sound of the car alarm fades, and is
GONE. The metronome is the only sound.
Somerset's face relaxes as he begins to fall asleep.
INSERT - TITLE CARD
SUNDAY
INT. SOMERSET'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Somerset picks items off a moving box: his keys, his wallet,
his switchblade, his gold homicide badge. Finally, he opens
the hardcover book he had with him on the train. From the
pages he takes the pale, paper rose.
INT. TENEMENT APARTMENT - DAY
Somerset stands before a wall which is stained by a starburst
of blood. A body lies on the floor under a sheet. A sawed-
off shotgun is on the floor a few feet away. The apartment s
sad and gloomy.
DETECTIVE TAYLOR, 52, stands on the other side of the room,
looks through a notepad.
TAYLOR
Neighbors heard them screaming at each
other for like two hours. It was nothing
new. But, then they heard the gun go
off. Boom, boom, both barrels.
SOMERSET
Did the wife confess? Did she actually
speak the words?
TAYLOR
When the patrolman came she was trying to
put his head back together. She was
crying to hard to say anything.
Somerset begins walking around the apartment.
SOMERSET
Why, always like this? Only after the
fact...they have this sudden realization,
that if you shoot someone, or stick a
knife in them, that person will cease to
exist?
TAYLOR
Crime of passion.
SOMERSET
Yes. Look at all the passion splattered
up on the wall here.
Taylor shifts his weight, impatient.
TAYLOR
This is a done deal. All but the
paperwork.
Somerset looks at a coloring book open on the coffee table.
There are crayons beside it. Somerset picks up the book.
SOMERSET
Did their son see it happen?
TAYLOR
I don't know.
Taylor closes his notebook, perturbed. Somerset flips
through the book's pages, looks at the cute, crudely colored
animals.
TAYLOR (cont'd)
What kind of fucking question is that,
Somerset?
Taylor walks over and grabs the coloring book to get his
attention.
TAYLOR (cont'd)
I'm glad I'm getting rid of you today.
You know that? You always ask these
questions..."Did the kid see it?" Well,
who gives a fuck?
(points)
He's dead. His wife killed him.
Taylor throws the coloring book back to Somerset and walks.
TAYLOR (cont'd)
Anything else has nothing to do with
nothing!
Taylor leaves, pushing past DETECTIVE DAVID MILLS, 31, who is
just entering. Mills is muscular and handsome, wearing a
nice suit. He looks back at Taylor, then around the
apartment, a bit disoriented.
Somerset puts the coloring book back on the coffee table and
stares at the floor, showing no reaction to Taylor's tantrum.
MILLS
Uh, Lieutenant Somerset?
Somerset looks to see Mills.
EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
A body bag is carried through the crowd of people outside the
tenement building's entrance. Somerset follows the body bag
out and Mills follows Somerset. They walk towards the end of
the filthy block, past a man urinating on a car.
MILLS
I'm a little thrown. I just stepped off
a plane like twenty minutes ago and then
they brought me here.
SOMERSET
Since we are just starting out, I thought
we should go to a bar. Sit and talk for
a while. There will be time to...
MILLS
(interrupting)
No. I want to get to the precinct house
a.s.a.p...seeing how we don't have much
time for this whole transition thing.
Somerset just keeps walking, says nothing.
MILLS (cont'd)
I need to get the feel of it all. And
meet the people. Right?
They walk in an uncomfortable silence.
SOMERSET
I meant to ask you something, when we
spoke on the phone. I just can't help
wondering. Why are you here?
MILLS
(wary)
I don't follow.
SOMERSET
All this effort you've gone through, to
be transferred from Philadelphia, to
here. It is the first question that pops
into my head.
MILLS
I'm here for the same reasons as you, I
guess. Or...at least the same reasons
you used to have for being here...
(pause)
...before you decided to give up.
Somerset stops and faces Mills.
SOMERSET
You think you know me? You just met me.
MILLS
Maybe I don't understand the question
you're asking.
SOMERSET
It is very plain and very simple. I do
not understand why you have come from the
"City of Brotherly Love" to the "City of
Brotherly Hate." I have never seen it
done that way, Detective.
MILLS
I thought I could do more good here than
there, I don't know.
(steps closer)
It would be great by me if we didn't
start right off kicking each other in the
balls. It'd be a real treat. But,
you're calling the shots, Lieutenant, so
however you want it to go.
SOMERSET
Let me tell you how I want this to go. I
want to prepare you for...
MILLS
(cuts in)
I wasn't standing around in Philly
guarding the Liberty Bell. I've worked
homicide for five and a half years.
SOMERSET
You've never worked homicide in this
city.
MILLS
I realize that.
SOMERSET
Well, over the next seven days, please do
me the favor of remembering it.
Mills just stares back at Somerset. Somerset walks away.
INSERT - TITLE CARD
MONDAY
INT. SOMERSET'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING
Somerset lies asleep on the bed. It is still dark outside.
The PHONE beside the inactive metronome RINGS. Somerset
awakens suddenly and looks at the phone, startled.
INT. MILLS' APARTMENT - BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING
It is just barely becoming light outside. Mills is wide
awake in bed beside the sleeping form of his wife TRACY, 30.
Mills looks tired. He listens to the passing traffic. He
covers his eyes with his forearm.
He takes his arm away and sits up, frustrated, sits on the
edge of the bed and looks around. The room is in shambles,
filled with moving boxes.
The light coming through the window glows upon a football
trophy. Large and noble, a golden player stands in frozen
motion at the trophy's pinnacle.
Mills looks at the trophy and a fond smile forms on his face.
The PHONE RINGS. Mills looks towards it, startled. Tracy
awakens. She looks up with half-open eyes. She is a
beautiful woman.
TRACY
What is it?
Phone rings. Mills reaches to touch Tracy's shoulder.
MILLS
It's okay.
Mills leans to get the phone. Tracy seems frightened.
TRACY
Honey, where are we? Where are we?
INT. APARTMENT - CRIME SCENE - HALLWAY - EARLY MORNING
Somerset and Mills, both wearing badges, stand with OFFICER
DAVIS, 35, a beefy, uniformed cop. The hall is dark and
ugly. Every few seconds the light from a camera's flash
spills in from the nearby kitchen. Davis hands Somerset two
flashlights.
DAVIS
The light's burnt out and we're looking
for a replacement. It's one of those
round, fluorescent things.
MILLS
What?
SOMERSET
Wonderful.
DAVIS
Everything's exactly like I found it. I
didn't touch anything.
SOMERSET
At what time did you confirm the death?
DAVIS
Like I said, I didn't touch him, but he's
had his face in a plate of spaghetti for
about forty-five minutes now.
MILLS
(to Davis)
What? You didn't check for vital signs?
DAVIS
Did I stutter? Believe me, he ain't
breathing in there, unless he's breathing
spaghetti sauce now.
INT. APARTMENT - KITCHEN - EARLY MORNING
Somerset and Mills enter, using their flashlights in the
dark. Mills is slipping into his own gloves. The grungy
kitchen is tiny, barely enough room for four people. ERIC is
crouched on the floor, putting his camera equipment away. He
hoists his bag and moves past the detectives.
ERIC
Enjoy.
Eric leaves. In the center of the room, revealed by the
flashlight beams, is an OBESE MAN slumped forward in a
kitchen chair. He is face down dead in a plate of spaghetti.
The kitchen table is covered with soiled paper plates which
hold bits of half-eaten sandwiches, potatoes, beef stew,
donuts and many other junk foods.
Somerset sweeps the room with his flashlight. He goes to the
huge corpse, kneels beside it. Mills moves to stand beside
Somerset. A rope is tied around the chair and the man's wide
mid-section.
MILLS
I guess that makes it murder.
Somerset uses a pen to lift one of the dead man's pants
cuffs. Rope is tied around the swollen, purple ankle.
Mills steps behind the chair and examines the rope's knots.
MILLS (cont'd)
Still, he could have tied himself in. To
make it look like a murder.
Somerset does not listen. He is focused on the corpse,
studies the back of the man's head and neck without touching.
MILLS (cont'd)
I don't see blood or bruises yet, you?
SOMERSET
(irritated)
Not yet.
Somerset stands and points his flashlight to the sink and
stove. Each burner of the stove has a used pot or pan on it.
Mills walks around the brim with empty food containers.
MILLS
I saw a guy who committed suicide, but he
wanted his family to collect insurance,
right. So, he takes a knife...
He opens the refrigerator. It's nearly empty.
Somerset is looking at food which has been slopped on the
stove and adjoining countertop. Used utensils are everywhere
along with empty tin cans and jars. Cockroaches swarm about.
MILLS (cont'd)
...so this guy, he holds the knife behind
him, puts the tip in his back. Then gets
real close to the wall, and pushes the
knife...
SOMERSET
Please, be quiet for a while. Leave the
refrigerator open for the light.
MILLS
(sarcastic)
Oh, yes, sir.
Somerset looks at the floor, refocusing. The flashlight beam
follows a trail of dripped sauces, soups and bits of food
running across the floor from the stove to the kitchen table.
Somerset looks at this a long time, then turns his head.
SOMERSET
What do you smell? Other than him, and
all the food.
MILLS
(sniffs)
I don't know...there's something...
Somerset goes close to the corpse, leans farther to peer
under the table's cheap tablecloth.
SOMERSET
A bucket.
Somerset points the flashlight and Mills crouches, pulls up
the cloth on his side of the table. A metal bucket sits
under the table. Mills slides under with his flashlight to
look. He is repulsed, pulls back.
MILLS
Vomit. It's a bucket of vomit.
Somerset stands, looks at the dead man.
SOMERSET
Is there any blood in it?
MILLS
Can't tell by looking.
Somerset stares, deep in thought. He shakes his head,
perplexed, as there is a KNOCK at the door. The detectives
look to DOCTOR THOMAS O'NEILL, 52, the medical examiner.
O'Neill is looking at the ceiling. He reaches to the light
switch, turns it on. No light, so he begins flicking it up
and down.
O'NEILL
This makes no sense to me at all.
O'Neill seems a bit gone. He drops his black bag onto the
floor beside the corpse. He begins to sort through the bag,
surgical tools clinking together.
Mills goes to the trashcan, begins to poke around with a pen.
MILLS
(to Somerset)
You think he was poisoned?
SOMERSET
Guessing at this point is useless.
O'NEILL
You girls have got forensics in the
living room chompin' at the bit. Don't
know if they'll fit in here though.
MILLS
There's room. Light's the problem.
Somerset looks at Mills, then at the space limitations.
SOMERSET
Still, two is company here. And, three
is certainly a crowd.
(pause)
Detective Mills, please go help the
officers while they question the
neighbors.
Mills looks up, not pleased.
MILLS
I'd rather stay on this.
Somerset is looking at the corpse.
SOMERSET
Send one of the forensics in on your way
out.
Mills does not move. He lifts his flashlight to shine the
light on the side of Somerset's face. A moment passes.
Somerset looks at Mills, the light shining directly in
Somerset's eyes. A longer moment. Mills switches off the
light. He leaves.
O'Neill unceremoniously places both hands on the dead man's
head and lifts the swollen visage from the spaghetti.
O'NEILL
He is dead.
SOMERSET
How very insightful, Doctor, thank you.
INT. SOMERSET'S CAR - DAY
Somerset drives with Mills as the passenger. They are
driving in heavy city traffic. Both stare ahead in silence.
Mills is a bundle of nerves.
MILLS
You have seen my files...seen the things
I've done?
SOMERSET
Yes. Impressive work.
Mills looks out the window.
MILLS
I've done my time on door to doors, and
walking a beat. I did all that shit a
long time ago.
SOMERSET
I know.
MILLS
The badge in my pocket says Detective.
SOMERSET
I made a decision, because I have to
worry about the integrity of the scene.
I cannot worry about whether you feel
like you're getting enough time on the
playing field.
MILLS
Yeah, well, all I want is...
(pause)
Just, don't be jerking me off. Don't
jerk me off. That's all I ask.
Mills looks at Somerset. Somerset keeps his eyes on the
road, but he nods. That said, Mills leans to relax in the
seat.
SOMERSET
We will be spending every waking hour
together until I leave. I will show you
who your friends are, and who your
enemies are. I will help you cut through
the red tape and help you "integrate," as
the captain puts it. But, no matter how
much you beg, or plead...jerking off will
have to be something you do for yourself.
This throws Mills. Somerset has a sense of humor? Mills
laughs nervously.
SOMERSET (cont'd)
I just don't think we should have that
sort of relationship.
MILLS
Whatever you say. It's just that, with
my old partner, you know, an occasional
handjob relieves tension.
Somerset smiles slightly.
SOMERSET
We'd start quarreling over insignificant
things.
Mills feels a bit of weight off his shoulders.
MILLS
Whatever you say, Detective. Beautiful.
INT. AUTOPSY ROOM - DAY
The room is large, cold and clean. Stainless steel and white
tile. Many pathologists work at slabs. A bone saw is
screaming. Mills and Somerset are with DOCTOR SANTIAGO, 54,
who stands over the obese corpse which is pretty well
dissected already.
SANTIAGO
If you can take a look here, buddies. I
can tell you, it was not a poison. If
you can see...
Santiago moves to make room for Mills to stand beside him.
Mills moves up a little, but not much, as Santiago reaches
into the obese man's stomach. We do not see inside.
SANTIAGO (cont'd)
I have emptied all of everything out of
the stomach, but look at it, now that I
took away the liver.
Santiago pulls on something and there is a squashy sound.
Mills watches, trying to hide his disgust.
SANTIAGO (cont'd)
I move the lungs over here. Look, first
see how big this fat son-of-a-bitch
stomach is.
Somerset sees Mills shying away from the sight.
SANTIAGO (cont'd)
It took three guys to help me, you know,
to lift this fat fuck up so I could shave
his head.
SOMERSET
He was a hefty gentleman.
SANTIAGO
Now...see the strange thing, on the
stomach? Stretches.
And, here it is distended. Look at the
size of that, because of all the foods.
Somerset looks in disbelief.
MILLS
I can see what you're pointing at, but...
SANTIAGO
Look at the lines of distention on the
stomach.
SOMERSET
Doctor, are you saying this man...ate
till he burst?
SANTIAGO
Yes, well, he didn't actually burst. He
was bleeding inside of himself, and there
was a hematoma on the outside, on the
belly...very large.
MILLS
He died by eating?
Somerset walks around the slab, looking over the body. He
sees something on the partially shaved head.
SANTIAGO
Yes...well, there is something you have
to look at and see.
Somerset leans close to look at five or six small bruises on
the back of the dead man's head; bruises, some circular, some
semi-circular, all about the same diameter as a dime.
Somerset stands straight, realizes something.
SANTIAGO (cont'd)
Most of the stomach contents are in the
lab now...
Santiago picks up a glass jar and shows it to Mills.
SANTIAGO (cont'd)
...but this. I found these in the fat
man's stomach.
Inside the jar are many little pieces of blue plastic. They
are curled slightly, as if they are scrapings.
MILLS
Plastic?
Mills gets Somerset's attention and hands him the jar.
Somerset looks at it a long time.
SANTIAGO
Why these are in a fat man's stomach I
don't know.
INT. APARTMENT - CRIME SCENE - KITCHEN - DAY
The room where the obese corpse was found is now lit by
fluorescent light. Two forensics, a MALE and FEMALE, are
dusting for prints. Somerset and Mills are on their hands
and knees. Somerset holds the jar and touches the linoleum
floor.
SOMERSET
Same color and texture.
MILLS
(to forensics)
Have you found any plastic scrapings,
near the stove and sink? Near the food?
MALE
What do you mean?
MILLS
(to Somerset)
This doesn't make any sense.
They both continue looking around the floor.
SOMERSET
You always have to find one singular
thing to focus on. There is always one
thing, and it may be as small as a speck
of dust, but you find it and focus...till
it's an exhausted possibility.
The forensics watch, curious. Somerset is by the
refrigerator.
MILLS
It could be nothing.
SOMERSET
Yes, but why would so many pieces be
inside this guy if it were nothing? It
seems intentional.
Somerset stops. There are deep scratches in the linoleum.
He fingers the grooves, then takes a piece of the plastic
from the jar. He holds the piece to the floor, fiddles, fits
it into one of the scratches.
Somerset gets off the floor and looks down. These scratches
are in front of the refrigerator. It looks like they were
caused by the refrigerator having been pulled away from the
wall and pushed back at some time.
SOMERSET (cont'd)
(to Mills)
Come here.
INT. APARTMENT - KITCHEN - LATER DAY
Mills and Somerset pull on the refrigerator, rock it back and
forth away from the wall so there will be a clear view behind
it. They strain, pull it a few more feet, then release it.
Mills leans to look behind. Shock.
MILLS
Holy shit. It ain't nothing.
Somerset comes to look. Behind the refrigerator, there is a
space on the wall where the dust has been wiped away. In
that space, the words: ONE IS GLUTTONY. The letters have
been smeared on in grease. A note is pinned beside them.
INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - EARLY EVENING
The captain's office is filled with pictures, books and
mugsheets. Piles of paperwork abound, yet the office is
meticulously well kept. The CAPTAIN, 50, sits at his tidy
desk. He wears a white shirt and conservative tie. He's a
calm man, but whenever he his not speaking, without fail, he
clenches his jaw over and over, causing the muscles in his
neck and jaw to pulse. Somerset and Mills sit before him in
leather chairs.
SOMERSET
The bruises on the back of the victim's
head were caused by the muzzle of a gun.
So there was a gun against his head and
he was given a choice. Eat, or get your
brains blown out.
Somerset gets up to pace.
SOMERSET (cont'd)
He ate his fill, and was forced to
continue eating, and eating...till his
body started rejecting the food. The
killer held a bucket under him, then kept
serving this, this sick feast. The
victim's throat was swollen from the
effort, and there must have been a point
where he passed out. The killer kicked
him in the stomach, for good measure.
Popped him.
(pause)
An exercise in extreme cruelty.
CAPTAIN
That seems obvious.
Somerset picks up a photocopy of the note which was pinned
behind the refrigerator.
SOMERSET
(reads)
"Dear Detectives, Long is the way, and
hard, that out of hell leads up to
light." It's the murderer's away of
announcing himself.
CAPTAIN
Announcing what?
SOMERSET
What is gluttony?
CAPTAIN
Being a pig.
SOMERSET
There are seven deadly sins. Gluttony,
wrath...
CAPTAIN
So what? This victim...
SOMERSET
...greed, envy, sloth, pride and lust.
Seven.
CAPTAIN
Hey, so gluttony is one of the deadly
sins, but this victim is a fat guy. The
killer may have felt this was the best
way to torture him.
And, writing on the wall happens all the
time. It's like the fashionable thing to
do.
Somerset is shaking his head "no."
SOMERSET
One is gluttony.
The captain is disgruntled, clenching his jaw, looks at
Mills.
MILLS
This is his stuff. I've been out in the
cold all day.
SOMERSET
This was a premeditated puzzle, and it is
just beginning.
CAPTAIN
Always working up there, Somerset. Big
brain's always cooking, huh?
Somerset sits down beside Mills.
SOMERSET
I need you to know...we are declining
this case. I want to have us reassigned.
MILLS
What?! What?!
CAPTAIN
What's this, "We are declining this
case?" It don't work that way.
SOMERSET
This cannot be my last duty here. It
will go on and on.
CAPTAIN
You've left unfinished business before.
SOMERSET
Everything else has been taken as close
to conclusion as humanly possible.
Also...I don't think this should be
Mills's first case.
MILLS
This is not my first case, dickhead!
What the hell!?
Mills stands, furious and walks away from Somerset.
CAPTAIN
I don't have anyone else to give this to,
Somerset, you know that. Nobody's going
to swap with you!
MILLS
Give it to me.
CAPTAIN
How's that?
MILLS
There's nothing that says I have to fly
with him. If Somerset wants out, then
"goodbye." Give the case to me.
The captain considers this.
SOMERSET
It will be too much for him, too soon.
MILLS
(to captain)
Could we please talk in private?
The captain looks at Somerset, then at Mills.
CAPTAIN
That's not necessary. You're in.
MILLS
Thank you, Sir.
CAPTAIN
Go start picking up the pieces. We'll
shuffle some papers and try to get you a
partner.
Mills looks at Somerset. Somerset will not look up. Mills
leaves, closing the door. Somerset seems deflated. He looks
at the captain.
CAPTAIN (cont'd)
You win, Somerset. You're out.
INSERT - TITLE CARD
TUESDAY
EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
A newspaper vendor lays out a pile of tabloid newspapers at
the front of his busy newsstand. The paper's headline is
BIZARRE MURDER!, in huge, black print.
The vendor lays out another tabloid pile. Headline: "EAT
OR
DIE" SAYS GLUTTONY KILLER!!, in big, red letters.
The vendor places a third tabloid stack beside the others.
SICKENING MURDER - EXCLUSIVE DETAILS INSIDE!, it reads.
INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - SOMERSET'S OFFICE - DAY
The office is old, with a single window which faces a
billboard. TRAFFIC is HEARD from outside. There are moving
boxes on the floor. Somerset is at his desk with paperwork
in two sloppy piles. He uses a manual typewriter, filling in
a yellow form. He types hunt-and-peck, slowly. He finishes
the form and pulls it out. There is a knock at the door.
SOMERSET
Come in.
The captain pushes the door and stands in the doorway with a
PAINTER/WORKMAN at his side.
CAPTAIN
Excuse us. We have some business to take
care of.
As always, the neatly groomed captain clenches his jaw.
Somerset lines a new form in the typewriter, begins typing.
The captain strolls in. Two boxes sit on the floor with
DETECTIVE MILLS written across them. He picks up one of the
boxes and sets it on top of the other.
At the open door, the workman takes a razor blade from his
kit. He brings it against the writing on the glass of the
door: DETECTIVE SOMERSET. The workman pushes the razor to
start scraping Somerset's name away, and the razor on glass
sounds like fingernails on the blackboard.
Somerset looks up.
WORKMAN
Sorry.
Somerset turns back to typing, hunt-and-peck. The captain
watches. The workman continues.
CAPTAIN
Have you heard?
SOMERSET
(not looking up)
No, I have not heard.
CAPTAIN
There was a second.
Somerset stops. He looks at the captain.
SOMERSET
Already?
CAPTAIN
Greed. It was written in blood.
Somerset thinks about this, then turns to type.
SOMERSET
It's none of my business anymore.
CAPTAIN
I thought you might want to hear about
it.
SOMERSET
I'm sure Mills is doing a fine job.
CAPTAIN
He is.
SOMERSET
Good.
Hunt-and-peck. The captain's jowls clamp. He steps up to
Somerset's desk, begins to straighten the two piles of forms.
CAPTAIN
Come on, Somerset. Come on. What are
you going to do with yourself out there?
SOMERSET
I'll get a job, maybe on a far. I'll
work on the house.
CAPTAIN
Can't you feel it yet? Can't you feel
that feeling yet...that you won't be
special anymore?
SOMERSET
I don't know what you're talking about.
CAPTAIN
You know.
Somerset reclines, faces the captain.
SOMERSET
Did you read in the paper today, about
the man who wanted to take his dog for a
walk? And, how he was attacked? His
money and his watch were taken, and then,
while he was still lying unconscious, out
cold, his attacker stabbed him with a
knife in both eyes. It happened last
night, a few blocks from here.
CAPTAIN
I heard.
SOMERSET
I have no understanding of this place
anymore.
CAPTAIN
It's always been like this, Somerset.
SOMERSET
Yes.
Somerset saddles up to the typewriter.
SOMERSET (cont'd)
You're absolutely right.
The captain lays the paperwork down. Both piles are now very
neatly stacked.
CAPTAIN
You exist to do this work. You were made
for this work, and I don't think you'll
be able to deny it. I certainly can't
believe you're trading it all in for a
tool belt and a fishing rod. But, maybe
I'm wrong.
The captain leaves. Somerset looks up now that the captain's
gone. He grabs the paperwork piles and ruffles them back to
their disheveled state. He looks up at the workman.
The workman is looking at Somerset, he has a rag in his hand
to remove the last remnants of Somerset's name.
SOMERSET
(angrily)
Try putting a little bit of elbow grease
into it!
The workman is startled, continues his work.
INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - SOMERSET'S OFFICE - EARLY EVENING
Somerset's work is complete and piled on the blotter. he
turns off the lamp on the desk and goes to the door. He
stops in the doorway. He goes back to the desk, turns on the
light.
he takes a paper from the desk, and a pen. Writes quickly.
DETECTIVE MILLS, I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT YOUR CASE. YOU
MAY WANT TO LOOK INTO THE FOLLOWING BOOKS, RELATING TO THE
SEVEN DEADLY SINS:
DANTE'S PURGATORY
THE CANTERBURY TALES - THE PARSON'S TALE
DICTIONARY OF CATHOLICISM
INT. PRECINCT HOUSE, SOMERSET'S OFFICE - LATER EVENING
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