Big Pressures
written by
Richard Bouskila
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 ba
