FADE IN:
EDWARD, a forty-something Latino man looks out the window
with a cup of coffee in one hand. Outside the window we can see it’s
overcast, there are also some Palm trees swaying. Edward is
watching a man nextdoor walk to his car. The faint sound of the
news is playing in the background on an old transistor radio.
EDWARD (VO)
At this point I can’t tell if he’s one of those New York psychos
that migrated down here, or just one of our own homegrown
whack-jobs. God knows we have enough of our own.
Edward lights up a cigar and mutters something inaudible. He shakes his head.
We got the highest violent crime rate in
the goddamned country! D.C. doesn’t count.
Today, around 9 AM, three armed men stormed the
LeHigh Acres branch of Reliance Bank. The men on
surveillance appear to be possible suspects in another
string of robberies that occurred in February near the
downtown Ft. Myers branch. If you…
Edward laughs and rolls his CIGAR around a red, ceramic ashtray.
We got fucking Spics; we got Spades, fucking AIDS.
God’s punishing us. Yup. We let those fucking sissies
in the Army. My son’s in the Army. He hates them.
Edward holds a gold-framed PHOTO of a young man in fatigues.
He rubs his fingers gently across the face of it. We see tears rolling
down his face, and a smile plays at the corner of his mouth.
Police are wanting any information
...the body of an unidentified
…can it be the San Carlos Park killer?
Edward stands up, peering out the window. A man in khakis and
a tank top walks to a sedan and opens the door, taking out a small,
paper package. He rolls the package around in his hands and places
it in the back seat. He walks around the car, gets in, and slowly drives off.
He ain’t one of ours.
He’s a New York fuck-job.
Transient.
A crash is heard. Edward looks down at his coffee mug. It’s lying on the floor, shattered.
…any information on the whereabouts
please contact Ft. Myers police, no leads have…
Edward turns toward the radio.
EDWARD
Another damned child molester.
Edward lights up another cigar and walks to the kitchen.
He pours another cup of coffee and sits back down in the
kitchen, staring out the window, ignoring the shattered
fragments at his feet. We hear the phone ring. Edward flinches,
but does not divert his gaze from the window.
Dad? I know you’re there. It’s me. Your son…dad?
It’s Roy, your son! Dad, it’s March. I’ve been back
since…um…February. That equals a month. Dad,
don’t fucking do this to me!
I’ve taken care of all the problems.
Edward continues sitting at the chair.
His face is blank. TEARS roll down his face.
It begins to rain outside. The man pulls up in the sedan.
He walks into the apartment next door carrying a different
paper package.
EDWARD
Scag, I fucking knew it! He’s selling scag!
We see Edward walk to the phone. He dials some numbers:
those packages….yeah, it’s obvious
what he’s doing. You…ok…yeah.
Edward hangs up the phone. A loud bang is heard at the door.
Edward turns around and sees Five police officers and a federal Marshal.
They are brandishing guns.
Father Rodriguez, get on the fucking ground now!
Don’t move, just get the fuck on the ground!
Edward doesn’t move.
Get the fuck down now, I’m going to shoot!
You’re under arrest for murder!
INT. Plush Office - Day
Roy is lying on a red, leather sofa against the wall
under a Bosch printing, Garden of Earthly Delights.
How long was it before you knew?
Wait, listen…if I’m going to fast just say,
all right?
ROY
No, no. It’s okay. It took me a while to put it all together.
One week he’d tell me the name. It could be the neighbor.
The bank teller, it didn’t matter. They were all spics, fags,
or drug dealers. Everyone was a murderer.
The analyzand pulls of his thick, black glasses.
And that’s when he confided in you correct?
He thought you understood him, but you were
really afraid of him. You just humored him correct?
ROY
breaking down. He was watching society disintegrate and
all he could do was fucking look out that stupid window.
Smoking cigars. Blaming everyone…accusing everyone
of some kind of crime.
ANALYZAND
Right, and all along he was the San Carlos Park killer.
I’m really sorry. Roy, you’ve been through a lot.
Look, we don’t have to talk about this anymore if you don’t want to.
INT. A PLAIN APARTMENT - DAY
Roy smiling. The blade of a gold-plated knife is concealed in his palm;
he is rubbing it gently...
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