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               EXT. JACK'S HOUSE - NIGHT

               Later that night...

               INT. DEN - NIGHT

               The end of a long day. Jack's reclined on the sofa, shoes
               off, still in his shirt and slacks, his black socks sagging
               around his ankles. He watches television, flipping through
               the channels. ESPN... Infomercial... the Evening News...

               Jack sits up. He sees the anchor. It's Harold Jackson. Jack's
               hand goes to his shirt pocket, retrieves one of Allison's
               cards. He looks at it, mulling something over in his head...

               Finally, he ends his indecision with a shake of the head,
               slides the card back into his pocket. He flips the T.V. off.

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT

               The rest of the house is quiet. Jack pads into his office and
               closes the door behind him. He flips on the tiny desk lamp.
               In the glow of the light: the typewriter. Jack sits before
               it. He looks at it a moment, cracking his knuckles...

               He rests his trembling fingers on the keys...

               JACK'S P.O.V.

               The room turns hazy and dark as a fog descends upon him...

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - LATER

               Jack jerks out of his trance with a snort. A thin line of
               drool connects his chin to his chest. He wipes it away with
               the back of his sleeve. He blinks a few times, clearing his
               vision. When his focus clears, he sees it...

               A typed page in the carriage of the typewriter.

               Jack pulls it out. Tentative, he begins to read...

                         Chapter Two. Harold had the sweats
                         and his hand holding the Beretta

                                                       CUT TO:

               INT. HAROLD'S CAR - DAY

               Harold's behind the wheel of his car, parked in his spacious,
               well-organized garage. Sweat beads on his forehead as he
               looks down at the object in his trembling hand: a well-oiled
               nine-millimeter Beretta semi-automatic pistol.

               He's reflecting on an earlier conversation...

               INT. GYM - DAY

               Harold, in his designer workout clothes, rolled towel across
               his shoulders, stands sweating, panting, his cell-phone
               against his ear.

                                   AGENT'S VOICE
                         I'm sorry Harold, I did all I
                         could. The fact is, they want a
                         younger, fresher face for the six
                         o'clock news...

               Silence on Harold's end as he stands there, fuming...

                                   AGENT'S VOICE
                         Look at this way. They want someone
                         on the eleven o'clock desk who's
                         older, experienced. A familiar face
                         to reassure the viewing audience
                         they're in safe hands before they
                         turn the lights out at night...

               The words, 'older', 'experienced' cause Harold's eyes to

                                   AGENT'S VOICE

               Harold hangs the phone up, tosses it aside.

               BACK TO SCENE - HAROLD'S CAR

               Harold looking down at the gun in his hand. Finally he makes
               a decision, sucks in a deep breath, puts the nozzle against
               his temple, clamps his eyes shut...

               His finger tightens on the trigger...

               But then it eases. The moment passes.

               He opens his eyes, lets out a great sigh. Curses under his
               breath. The hand holding the gun falls into his lap. His face
               says it all: What a worthless failure he is.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         His wife will be home soon, he
                         remembered. How would it look, him
                         slumped in the car, blood and
                         brains all over the window.

               Harold's gaze seems miles away as the image of his wife comes
               to him...

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         He loved her, yes, he loved his
                         wife. Maybe she knows, knows the
                         torment he's been going through
                         these past few months, seen the
                         subtle changes in his behavior...

               Harold opens the car door, pauses before climbing out.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         The moodiness. The unexplained
                         absences. Maybe she knows his pain.
                         He wish that he could talk to her
                         but she wouldn't understand.

                                                       CUT TO:

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT

               Jack pauses his reading to gulp from his whiskey glass. He's
               really absorbed, mesmerized by the writing...

                         No one understands...

                                                       CUT TO:

               BACK TO HAROLD

               Harold rises to his feet. He grabs keys out of his pocket,
               hits a button, releases the trunk. He walks over, looks down
               into the trunk. A huge grin slowly forms on his face.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         Ah, but they will understand. When
                         he is done, everyone will

               Harold's eyes are gleaming. (What the hell is he staring at?)

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         You don't treat Harold Jackson this
                         way. No one treats Harold Jackson
                         this way.

               We follow Harold's gaze to the inside of the trunk...

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         He'll show them.

               And now we finally see what Harold sees. A black canvas bag
               containing an awesome-looking AR-15 assault rifle, half a
               dozen handguns, and more magazines than you can shake a stick
               at. Harold's trunk is an armory. A mercenary's dream.

               Harold's face seems filled with ecstacy as he reaches into
               the bag and retrieves the assault rifle. He grabs a magazine
               and smacks it into place.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         I love the sound of a magazine
                         fitting snugly inside the well of a
                         gun, Harold thought to himself,
                         taking turns ejecting and slamming
                         the mag into place.

               His smile widens as he does this: eject/slam into place/

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         Something so pure, so defining
                         about it...

               Harold holds the assault rifle up, admiring it in his grip.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         When he was done, the people at the
                         station, hell - the whole world 
                         would know that no one fucks with
                         Harold Jackson.

               Harold quickly pops the rifle into firing position in his
               shoulder, peers down the sight.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         He couldn't wait to see the
                         expression on Miss Thing's face
                         just before he squeezes the

               As he looks down the sight, his eyes soften.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         Unfortunately, after his moment of
                         truth was over and the deed was
                         done, his wife would hear. She'd
                         learn the awful truth. It would be
                         a crushing blow to her. How could
                         she go on after that.

               Harold lowers the weapon, his face turns melancholy.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         How could anyone go on after that?

               Harold turns his head to look over his shoulder at the door
               leading into the house. The noise inside indicates his wife
               has arrived home.

                                   HAROLD'S WIFE (O.S.)
                         Harold! Anybody home?

               Harold turns back to his trunk. He puts the rifle away and
               closes it with a slam!

                                                       CUT TO:

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT

               That's where the writing cuts off. Jack leans back, again no
               clue what to make out of any of this.

               EXT. JACK'S HOUSE - DAY

               The sun rising over Jack's house. Lawn sprinklers running.
               Newspapers delivered. A JOGGER jogs by.

               INT. KITCHEN

               Jack sits on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, a
               cup of coffee held like a grail in his two hands. He looks
               like shit.

               Jesse busies herself in the kitchen. She looks at Jack,
               notices his haggard, worn appearance.

                         You getting enough sleep, hon?

               Jack doesn't answer. He's got the thousand-yard stare.


               She nudges him. He jolts back to the present moment.

                         Yeah, just... tired, that's all.

                         You've been coming to bed late.


               Jesse gives him a look that he doesn't see but doesn't reply
               to that.

                         Don't forget I'll be home late
                         tonight. You've got the girls.

               Jack nods.

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - DAY

               Jack getting ready for work. He pauses at the office door,
               looks in. He stands there a moment staring at the typewriter.
               It seems... innocuous.

               EXT. JACK'S CAR - DAY

               Beautiful day surrounds Jack as he drives to work.

               INT. JACK'S CAR

               Jack listens to music on the radio as he drives. Seems all is
               right with the world.


               Jack pulls into a small, old Victorian house converted into a
               business, typical in this section of town. Out in the well
               manicured lawn stands a tasteful sign: FIRST CHOICE REALTY.


               Jack opens the door, the hardwood floors creak as he walks
               down the hallway. He notices the desk at the entrance is

                             (calling out)

               He walks down the hall, passing several open-doored offices,
               some of them manned. Two men, one woman, one office empty.
               All of the agents are on the phone. They wave good-morning to
               Jack as he passes.

               INT. JACK'S OFFICE

               Just as Jack steps into his office, he sees CAROL in the
               breakroom across from him. She and another female agent,
               SUZI, are glued to the television.

                         Carol --

               Carol shushes him, turns back to the little T.V.

               Intrigued, Jack steps in.

                             (hushed whisper)
                         What's going on?

               Suzi answers without looking up.

                         The police just found some woman
                         murdered in her apartment.

               Jack turns to the television. He sees the news report. A
               REPORTER stands in front of the camera, talking, but Suzi
               provides Jack a recap.

                         Beaten and raped.

               Carol shakes her head.

                         They just released the name.

               Suzi straightens, turns to face Jack.

                         You remember Allison Harper?

               Jack's face turns white as all the blood rushes out.


                             (nodding, turning to
                         She used to work here. Can you
                         believe it?

               Carol turns her head slightly to meet Jack's eyes. She knows.

                         What a coincidence, huh, Jack?

               Jack makes a face as he tries to interpret Carol's inference.
               Carol stands and makes her way past Jack.

                         I better get back to the desk.

               She leaves. Suzi gives Jack a look and shrugs. Both of them
               return their gaze to the television.

               INT. JACK'S OFFICE - LATER

               Carol sits propped up on the edge of Jack's desk, arms folded
               across her chest, head down. Jack's behind the desk, seated.
               The door to the office is closed.

                         I'm telling you Carol, I saw this
                         happen. I saw her getting murdered.

               Carol shakes her head, not sure what to make of it.

                         It just sounds so... incredible.

                         It was like a vision in my head. I
                         woke up and...
                             (he looks past her)
                         I could've stopped it. I could've
                         stopped her from getting murdered.

               His hands tug at his hair as the revelation hits.


                         Jack, listen. I think you should
                         tell somebody.

                         You mean, like the police?

                         Yes. The police.

               She picks up his desk phone and places it down in front of

                         They need to know this. As crazy as
                         it seems to you and me, they need
                         to know.

               Jack looks up at her, there's a look of uncertainty in his
               eyes. Slowly his hand goes to pick up the receiver...

               EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

               A large, new multi-storied building downtown. Typical busy
               activity surrounds it.

               INT. POLICE STATION

               A nervous Jack enters the building, jogs up the stairs
               leading to the front desk. A uniformed POLICE OFFICER sits
               behind it.

                         I'm here to see Detective Carl

               The police officer responds without looking up.

                                   POLICE OFFICER
                         He expecting you?


                                   POLICE OFFICER
                         Driver's license.

               Jack fishes out his license. Hands it over. The police
               officer hits a button that sounds a buzzer and releases the
               waist-high gate to Jack's left.

                                   POLICE OFFICER
                         Homicide. All the way down, last
                         office on the left.

               He hands Jack a visitor's badge pinned to a clipboard.

                                   POLICE OFFICER
                         Name and signature.

               INT. DETECTIVE'S OFFICE - DAY

               Jack sits before the desk of DETECTIVE WARNER. He's young,
               handsome, tall. He's dressed in a white dress shirt and tie.
               Leaning up against the wall, observing, is DETECTIVE MARTIN
               RAMIREZ. He's a little older, wizened.

                         So tell us again about this dream
                         you had.

               Jack fidgets uncomfortably in his chair. As he squirms, we
               hear what's in his head.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         I had decided early on, even before
                         entering the station, to avoid
                         mentioning the whole thing about
                         the attic and the old typewriter
                         I'd found. For some reason, going
                         down that rabbit hole made me see
                         myself being dragged to the funny
                         farm in a strait-jacket, with no
                         one to blame but myself...

               Jack clears his voice and speaks.

                         I woke up in the middle of the
                         night, could see what had happened
                         pretty clearly. Like I said, the
                         guy from Channel Nine News was

               Warner interrupts.

                         You wake up in the middle of the
                         night and you're dreaming of...
                             (refers to his notes)
                         Harold Jackson, the news anchor?

               Jack looks up; the Detective's tone is funny, almost one of

                         That's right. Harold Jackson. He
                         was there, he went to her apartment
                         with a purpose.

               Jack glances up at the other cop, Ramirez. The guy's face is
               impassive. No clue there.

                         See, she had printed her home
                         address on her business cards,
                         which I personally thought was a
                         bad idea, but...

                             (interrupting Jack)
                         How did you know that?

               Jack tugs at his shirt collar.


                         How did you know her business card
                         had her home address?

               Jack stammers.

                         She -- she gave me one of her cards
                         the day we met for lunch.

                         A day before she was murdered.

               Jack nods. An odd thought suddenly rushes to him. We hear his
               internal revelation...

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         My heart was pounding in my chest.
                         The idea of needing an alibi
                         suddenly popped into my head. Why
                         hadn't this thought occurred to me
                         before?? If I didn't know any
                         better, I'd think they were looking
                         at me as a suspect.

               Jack swallows hard.

                         In the dream.
                         Jackson went to her apartment and
                         caught her off-guard. She thought
                         they were supposed to meet at the
                         gym. I guess they'd scheduled an
                         appointment together.

               His eyes dart from Ramirez back to Warner.

                         Maybe she had that written down
                         somewhere, like in a day timer or

               Warner locks eyes with Jack. Jack feels the pressure
               building, takes a deep breath.

                         Anyway, she lets this guy in, into
                         her apartment, and as she finishes
                         getting ready, he barges into her
                         bedroom, beats her up and then
                         rapes her.

               Jack's gaze falls to the floor.

                         I guess that's when he decided to
                         take the phone cord from beside the
                         bed and strangle her with it.

               Jack doesn't notice (or does he?) but this last bit of info
               causes both detectives to perk up and trade glances.

                         We need you to stay in town, Mr.

                         Of course.

               Warner stands, motions to the door. He smiles reassuringly at

                         It's just that we may have some
                         more questions for you. We'll be in

               Jack leaves the office. Outside, in the hallway, Jack stands
               there alone, a little confused and unsure. Finally, he
               gathers himself and leaves.


               We're back at the Victorian house.

               INT. JACK'S OFFICE - DAY

               Jack tries to focus on work, can't. His mind keeps replaying
               his conversation with the detectives downtown. He seems
               distraught, worried.

               He stands abruptly, yanks his jacket off the chair back.

               EXT. JACK'S CAR - DAY

               Jack driving home.

               INT. JACK'S HOUSE - DAY

               Alone in the house, Jack enters, tosses his jacket on the
               bannister. He pauses, unsure of what to do. He seems

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - DAY

               Jack stands outside the door to his home office, staring at
               the typewriter.

               INT. KITCHEN - DAY

               A bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Jack hoists a glass
               to his lips. Takes a sip. Shudders. He looks over his
               shoulder, back toward his office...

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - DAY

               There he is again, back at the door, staring at the
               typewriter, drink in hand. Slowly he approaches. He carefully
               sits down and turns to the typewriter, his heart racing.

               His hands slowly hover over the keyboard as if drawn by an
               outside force...

                                                       CUT TO:

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT

               A slamming door somewhere in the house jolts Jack awake. He's
               alone in his office in the dark. All the lights are off.

                                   JESSE (O.S.)

               Suddenly the light flips on, Jack squints. Jesse stands there
               with Bree on her hip and Erin holding her hand behind her.

                         What the hell, Jack?

               She stands, looking at Jack, furious.

                         Seven o'clock, I get a call from
                         Darcy that no one's picked up the

               As Jack regains his senses, Jesse's eyes land on the tumbler
               near him.

                         What are you, drunk?

               Before he can open his mouth to answer, she storms away.

                             (her voice trailing)
                         My God, Jack. I'm not gonna go
                         through this again.

               Jack wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at
               the tumbler. It's practically untouched since he poured it.
               His eyes travel slowly to the typewriter.

               Another page sits curled in the carriage.

               As he leans forward to examine it, he can hear Jesse yelling
               and slamming cabinet doors from the kitchen.

                             (from a distance)
                         You think you're the only one who
                         has to work? You've got
                         responsibilities, just like I do!

               Jack pulls the paper out of the roller. He reads it.

                         Chapter Three. The best thing to do
                         was put her out of her misery. He
                         shuddered at the thought of his
                         wife discovering what kind of man
                         he truly was.

                                                       CUT TO:


               Harold stands in his modern kitchen mixing a drink. On the
               counter is an opened vial of prescription drugs. He empties
               half the contents into the glass and stirs it with a spoon.

               He takes the glass and pads down the hallway.

               INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

               His wife, LYDIA, a well-maintained, well-coiffed woman in her
               late fifties, sits propped up in bed. She has the television
               on low; news of the recent murder.

               Lydia watches, shakes her head in pity.

               Harold enters.

                         Take this.

               Lydia obediently complies.

                         Just horrible.

               Harold watches her drink.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         He fixed her a tottie with a triple
                         dose of Eszopiclone in it. Not
                         enough to kill her, mind you. Just
                         enough to put her into a deep sound

               INT. MASTER BEDROOM - LATER

               Harold sits in a french chair facing the bed. Lydia is sound
               asleep, snoring softly. Harold's hands reach down to the
               floor and return holding a thick foam pillow.

                                   JACK (V.O.)
                         He would use the foam pillow she'd
                         bought him for Christmas that year
                         from the Sharper Image.
                         God, how he hated that pillow.

               Harold rises. He takes the ends of the pillow in both hands,
               approaches his sleeping wife.

               He covers his wife's sleeping head and presses down hard,
               using all his weight. Her body starts to struggle, but not
               fiercely, probably due to the drugs in her system.

               Her body lurches upward on the bed, but he maintains his
               grip. Once, twice, and then... nothing. Her body goes limp.

               Harold carefully removes the pillow. He looks down at his
               wife's face, her eyes half-open with the gaze of the dead
               staring up at him.

               He bends down, kisses her gently on the forehead, smooths the
               eyelids over her lifeless eyes.

                         Good night, my angel. Sweet dreams.

                                                       CUT TO:

               INT. JACK'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT

               Jack leans back, after finishing what he had just read. The
               doorbell SOUNDS. Some shuffling, we hear a door open, low
               conversation that we can't make out.

               Suddenly, Jesse appears at the door of Jack's office, her
               expression worried.

                         Jack, there's someone here to see

               Jack frowns.

                         It's the police.

               Jesse gives him a questioning look before returning to the
               front door.

               Jack takes a moment to think. He scoops up the typed pages,
               folds them and looks around his office. He moves his amateur
               boxing trophy aside, pulls a thick book from the bookshelf,
               buries the pages inside and replaces the book.

               INT. FOYER - NIGHT

               Jack comes to the front door. Detective Warner is standing
               just outside the door with TWO UNIFORMED POLICE OFFICERS. The
               red strobe on the police car lights up the neighborhood.

                         Mr. Harrison?

                         What's this about?

                         Sir, I'm placing you under arrest
                         for the rape and murder of Allison

               The detective steps aside to allow the policemen to come in
               and do their job. As they turn Jack to face away, gripping
               his wrists behind him, Jack's eyes go to Jesse.

               Jesse has her hand to her mouth; she's stunned. His little
               girls watch in silence from the shadow of the den.

                                   POLICE OFFICER
                         You have the right to an attorney.
                         Anything you say can and will be
                         used against you in a court of

                         Jack --?

                         This is a mistake.
                             (trying to get her
                         Jesse, it's all just a

                                   POLICE OFFICER
                         Do you understand these rights as I
                         have read them to you?

               Jack nods. He glances at Jesse...

               From her look, she seems horrified. She backs away as the
               cops escort Jack out to the waiting squad car.

               Neighbors stand on their porch steps. A couple joggers watch
               from the street. A dog walker holds her pooch in her arms.
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.