[프리퀀시] Frequency

[프리퀀시] Frequency                           The Child is the Father of the Man.                               - William Wordsworth             ...the theory of black holes was developed before there was             any indication from observations that they actually existed.             I do not know of any other example in science where such a             great extrapolation was successfully made solely on the basis             of thought.  It shows the remarkable power and depth of             Einstein's theory.  There is still much we don't know, such             as what happens to objects and information that fall into a             black hole.  Do the reemerge elsewhere in the Universe, or in             another universe?  And can we warp space and time so much             that one can travel back in time?  Maybe someone will come             back from the future and tell us.                               - Stephen Hawking             FADE IN:             The legend reads: OCTOBER 10th             EXT. MANHATTAN BRIDGE - PREDAWN - 1969             Darkness.  Headlights bounce off thick sheets of RAIN.  6,500             gallon Esso OIL TRUCK barrels over wet studded pavement,             heading towards Manhattan.  It's going fast.  Too fast.             Up ahead...at the BASE OF THE BRIDGE:             A large reflective sign - lit up by arc lights: MEN AT WORK.             There are TWO WORK CREWS, several hundred feet apart.             THE FIRST CREW is CON ED.  A corrugated vacuum tube feeds             into an open MANHOLE.  A WORKER drops into the hole.             THE SECOND CREW is CONSTRUCTION.  They're at the apron of the             bridge securing lumber supports for the roadbed.             It's late and the men are tired.  A mistake is made.  A FORK             LIFT loaded with LUMBER fails to negotiate a turn...whacks             into an abutment... spilling its load onto the roadway.             Bad timing, because right now that Esso OIL TRUCK hits the             OFF RAMP.  Not a lot of time for the driver to react to a             roadway spewed with lumber.             He does his best.  Slams the brakes, spins the wheel, hits             the horn, but it doesn't matter: 18 wheels skid across the             blacktop - spitting thick smoke and burnt rubber, lifting off             the slick pavement...twisting...flipping...hemorrhaging oil             from its ruptured tanks...grinding its way towards...             MEN AT WORK.  Seconds to react as an 80,000 pound juggernaut             of death plows through parked cars like paper...crushing the             Con Ed equipment...lurching to a halt on top of the MANHOLE.             EXT. FIRE STATION - 9TH BATTALION - CONTINUOUS             TWO FIRE TRUCKS (1000 Gallon Pumper and Mack Tiller Ladder)             pull into the street.             EXT. LADDER TRUCK JUMPER SEATS - MOVING - CONTINUOUS             SIRENS wail, cherry tops spin.             FRANK SULLIVAN, 40, is strapped into an open-air jumper seat.             A real life hard charger, Frank is the kind of iron's man             fire fighters want coming in after them, should they get             caught in harm's way.  Kind-hearted and hard-fisted, he has             the grace and courage of a man living by his convictions.             Across from Frank sits GRAHAM GIBSON, 20.  A good-looking             African-American, "Gib" is a Fire Fighter Fourth Grade, a             tank man... and one nervous probie.             Through a window into the CAB, we SEE LT. BUTCH FOSTER, 50,             on a walkie-talkie.  A beefy old pro who's been through more             fires than he can remember.             A walkie-talkie sits in a cradle between Frank and Gibson.                                 BUTCH'S VOICE                           (through walkie-talkie)                       ...oil all over the street.  Cracked                       water and gas mains.  Four companies                       coming in...             Butch's voice continues as Frank calmly absorbs the             information, while at the same time.                                 FRANK                           (re: rain)                       Oh, man.  Hope it ain't like this in                       Baltimore tomorrow.                                 GIBSON                       Baltimore?                                 FRANK                       The game, Graham.  The Series?             Gibson taps his wristwatch.                                 GIBSON                       Oh, yeah.  Damn.  My watch is busted.                                 FRANK                       Hey, Rookie.  Be cool.  Just stay with                       me.  This is what we do.                                 GIBSON                           (still tapping his watch)                       I seem nervous, huh?             Frank laughs.  Gibson grins, relaxes a bit.  Frank checks his             ROLEX DIVER'S WATCH.  Multiple SIRENS fill the dawn.                                 FRANK                       It's 5:30, Gib.                                 BUTCH'S VOICE                           (through walkie talkie)                       ...two Con Ed men trapped in an                       underground electrical conductor vault.             Frank's eyes harden.  His game face sets up.             EXT. MANHATTAN BRIDGE - CONTINUOUS             A tableau of impending danger.  Thick black OIL bleeds from             teh truck onto the street...pouring underneath the rig...and             into the MANHOLE.             POLICE urgently cordon off the area, evacuating the workers.             EMERGENCY PERSONNEL deal with the badly injured TRUCK DRIVER.             Firemen wedge sandbags between the hull of the truck and the             three-quarters covered manhole -- trying to divert the oil             away from the underground vault.             FIRE COMMANDER O'CONNELL yells at his men to finish the job             and get the hell away.             The BIG TRUCKS ARRIVE.  PUMPER ENGINE and Frank's LADDER             TRUCK -- rapidly guided into position by men on the ground.             Frank, Gibson, Butch and the rest of the unit are on the             ground instantly and ready for orders.  They are looking at a             nightmare ready to happen.  Frank takes in everything.             FIRE COMMANDER O'CONNELL and a CON ED SUPERVISOR approach.                                 BUTCH                           (deep irony)                       A fun one.                                 FRANK                       Yep.                                 COMMANDER                       We got high voltage cables ripped loose                       in the underground.  They hit water, that                       fault's gonna arc.             Frank looks at the tanker over the manhole.  There is now             nobody around it.                                 FRANK                       Why haven't they killed the juice?                                 SUPERVISOR                       Switches are shorted out.                                 FRANK                       You're shitting me!                                 SUPERVISOR                       Wish I was.  Oldest part of the system                       down there.  We're on it, but it's gonna                       take awhile.                                 FRANK                       We gotta go underground.  Get those guys                       out, now.                                 SUPERVISOR                       We tried.  Bulkhead door's rusted shut.                       Won't budge.                                 COMMANDER                       The block is being evacuated.  I don't                       want anybody... including our                       boys...within fifty yards of that                       tanker...it's a fucking bomb.             Frank has been staring at the capsized rig.             Butch knows what he's thinking.  But it's too late.  Frank is             gone...slogging through the oozing oil to the hull of the             tanker.  He kneels over the three-quarters covered manhole,             using a flashlight to peer into the darkness below.  Sparks             from the loose cables spit off flashes of light as the cables             hiss and slap against the ceiling and walls of the vault.                                 FRANK                       This is the Fire Department.  Frank                       Sullivan.  You guys okay?                                 CON ED WORKER #1'S VOICE                       Please man, you gotta get us out of                       here...                                 FRANK                       That's exactly what we're gonna do.             And Frank is up, heading for his truck, signaling Gibson.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (yells to Con Ed Supervisor)                       How do we get to the vault door?                                 SUPERVISOR                       There's a manhole at Canal and Bowery.                                 BUTCH'S VOICE                       Forget it, Frank.  No way you reach those                       men in time.             Frank grabs a "halaghan claw tool" and a walkie-talkie.             Gibson nervously picks out two helmet lights...and they are             off and running.                                 FRANK                           (yelling back)                       I can do it, Butch.  Me and my 'tank man'                       here.                                 COMMANDER O'CONNELL                           (to all, and into walkie)                       Start spraying down the street.  Let me                       know when we are fully evacuated.             EXT. MANHOLE - CANAL &amp; BOWERY - CONTINUOUS             Frank uses the "adz" to rip open the heavy manhole cover.             INT. MANHOLE TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS             Frank and Gibson descend into the tunnel, strap lights on             their leather helmets to illuminate the damp darkness.  They             race down the subterranean passage.  The stench is thick.             Butch's voice suddenly booms out of the walkie-talkie:                                 BUTCH                           (via walkie)                       Frank, you hear me?  Frank?                                 FRANK                           (into walkie)                       Yeah, Butch?                                 BUTCH                           (via walkie)                       The gas level is getting serious.                       The underground's combustible - it could                       flashover.  I want you to abort!  Now!                       Get the hell out of there!             Frank picks up the pace.  Charges ahead.  Guy's got balls.                                 GIBSON                           (into walkie)                       Frank.  We gotta go back.  Frank...                                 FRANK                           (calling back to him)                       Stay with me, Gib.  We're gonna do this.                                 GIBSON                           (charging after him)                       I should'a been a fucking mailman.             Frank reaches the rusted 'submarine-like' VAULT DOOR.  Pounds             on the door... a faint response.  He goes to work on it with             the halaghan tool.  Gibson arrives...pretty rattled.  Frank             gives him a wink and a smile.  It's gonna be okay.                                 BUTCH                           (via walkie)                       Frank, where are you?             Frank digs down, suddenly the DOOR GIVES WAY             Oil and water rush from the VAULT, pouring over Frank and             Gibson, foaming into the tunnel.  But the door is mounted             three feet off the ground.  There is still three feet of oil             and water trapped inside.  And the smell of gas is now             overwhelming...                                 FRANK                           (into walkie)                       We're in, Butch.             Frank probes the dark vault with the FLASHLIGHT BLADE.             Through smoke we see TWO MEN huddled in the corner, trapped             by three loose 'HOT' CABLES - WHIPPING AROUND THE TINY VAULT             LIKE AN ELECTRIC HYDRA.  Con Ed Worker #2 shivers, ankle             broken, leaning on older Con Ed Worker #1.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Time to go home, fellas.             Gibson sprays the room, clearing out most of the smoke.             Frank steps into the vault.                                 CON ED WORKER #1                       Careful.  If the hot end of those cables                       hits you, it'll conduct to the water and                       we're all fired.             Frank drops to his knees, ducking under the cables, shuffles             to center of the vault.  Places his hands at opposite ends of             the halaghan tool, hoping for the cables to pass directly             over his head.  A hairy beat, then...             Frank jackknifes out of the water, ramming the halaghan into             the ceiling.  It worked.  The teeth on the "claw-end" and the             spike on the "adz-end" are embedded into the concrete --             STAPLING THE CABLES TO THE CEILING.  Make that balls of             steel.                                 FRANK                       Go, Gibby!  Everybody move it.             Gibson and Con Ed worker #1 help injured Worker #2 out of the             vault.  Frank checks to make sure they've cleared the vault             and lets go of the tool.             Frank jumps into the tunnel, hoists the injured worker over             his back and races back down the tunnel.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (to Gibson)                       Haul ass, that claw ain't gonna hold for                       long...                           (into walkie)                       Take cover -- she's gonna flash!             EXT. STREET - OIL TRUCK - CONTINUOUS             O'Connell and the few remaining cops &amp; firemen run for it...             INT./EXT. MANHOLE - CANAL &amp; BOWERY - CONTINUOUS             Frank, Gibson and the Con Ed men scramble towards the             manhole.  Butch and another fireman are waiting up top.  They             help the men -- who are covered in oil and slime -- up onto             the street.  And then they all tear away from the             manhole...around a corner... collapsing on the pavement             against a building.             K-A-B-O-O-M -- A MUFFLED EXPLOSION             The vault ignites, the tunnel "FLASHBACKS" -- a towering             geyser of FLAMES AND DIRT ERUPTING out of the manhole from             which Frank has just escaped.             In the distance, FLAMES erupt out of the other             manhole...engulfing the OIL TRUCK...blowing it into a million             pieces.             Through the INFERNO at the base of the Manhattan Bridge,             Frank can see that no one is hurt.  His eyes glistening with             adrenaline and relief, he sits back against the building and             throws an arm around Gibson.                                 FRANK                       You did good, Gib.  Real good.             Frank looks over at the hyperventilating Butch and smiles.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Elvis has left the building.             INT./EXT. MIDTOWN TUNNEL - MORNING             Inside the tunnel.  Dark.  Moving fast.  Flashes of LIGHT             bounce off the shiny tile walls.  The deep throated ROAR of a             '67 HARLEY battles with Martha &amp; the Vandellas' HEAT WAVE.             We are with Frank, wearing a leather jacket with the insignia             of his fire-fighting unit emblazoned on it, and a New York             Mets BASEBALL CAP pulled down tight, as he rockets his             chopper through traffic, out of the tunnel, and up into...             EXT. QUEENS - STREETS - CONTINUOUS             CREDIT MONTAGE begins as Frank cruises home.  It has STOPPED             RAINING.  Frank passes by billboards and other evidence of             the approaching METS/BALTIMORE ORIOLES World Series.             He circles a LITTLE LEAGUE ball field waving to some             OLDSTERS.             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - QUEENS - CONTINUOUS             Frank glides the Harley alongside his house.  A feisty             DALMATIAN PUPPY ELVIS barks his welcome from behind a fence.             Feeling fatigued, Frank dismounts and enters teh backyard,             playing for a moment with Elvis while he uprights a TRAINING             BICYCLE, tidies up BASEBALL EQUIPMENT, and glances up at a             HAM RADIO ANTENNA secured to the roof, before entering             through a backdoor.  There is a sense of routine to all this.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             The kitchen is empty.  Breakfast dishes in the sink.  Frank             flips on the RADIO.  It plays out under the rest of the             MONTAGE as coverage of the oil truck crash blends into other             news stories.             A note on the refrigerator reads: 8:15.  Hey, Bud.  I'm off             to work. Johnny's at school.  Elvis is fed.  I luvs you.             Setting a grapefruit and a slice of toast on the table, Frank             glances at the Daily News.  But his eyes are tired, he stares             off into space...letting go.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS             A radio in the bedroom is tuned to sports news.  Frank soaks             in a hot bath.  He looks like he might fall asleep - and             does.             CREDITS END.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - AFTERNOON             CRASH!  A SOFTBALL BLOWS through the window from the             BACKYARD, landing on the rug next to the bed.  Frank bolts             awake, staring at the busted window.             He checks the clock.  It is 5:15.  He steps to the broken             window.  SEVERAL SMALL BOYS scurry from the yard.  Two             others, JOHNNY SULLIVAN and GORDO HERSCH, both 6, stand             frozen in place.  Elvis tears in circles around them.  All is             very quiet.  Then, from somewhere beyond the bedroom door, we             HEAR The Beatles' BACK IN THE THE USSR...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             JULIA SULLIVAN, 32, is rockin' out, chopping vegetables.                                 JULIA                           (singing to song)                       ...show me 'round the smokey mountains                       way down south...             Adorable, sweet and strong.  Strawberry blonde hair, sapphire             eyes, soft earthy vibe.  A beauty.             Frank, wearing FDNY sweats, moves into the kitchen flipping             the softball from hand to hand.  Julia turns to him and rolls             her eyes at the sight of the ball.  Say no more.                                 FRANK                       Hey, bud.                                 JULIA                       Hey, bud.             Without breaking stride, he gives her a smack on the lips and             steps to the screen door to the back porch.             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - BACKYARD - CONTINUOUS             Johnny stands nervously outside the door.  Elvis sits at his             side.  Gordo watches from the safety of his own porch next             door.  Frank opens the screen door, casts a stern look down             at his son.                                 FRANK                       Looks like two weeks worth of allowance,                       Chief.                                 JOHNNY                       I know.  Sorry, Dad.                                 FRANK                       Glad to hear that.             And Frank drops the softball into Johnny's mitt, closes the             screen door and turns back into the kitchen.  Johnny turns             away into the yard.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             With a shrug, and sharing a kids will be kids smile with             Julia, he grabs a cold Rheingold from the refrigerator and             heads into...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS             ...past a CONSOLE TELEVISION, to the HI-FI                                 FRANK                           (calling to Julia)                       How about a little of the King?                                 JULIA (O.S.)                           (from kitchen)                       Well, why not a little of the King?             Julia crosses her eyes, as if she could stop him.  Frank             moves to change records.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN             Suddenly, a PAN of spaghetti sauce bubbles over.                                 JULIA                       Damn.                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       You alright?                                 JULIA                       I think I ruined the sauce...again.             As Elvis' SUSPICIOUS MINDS plays, Frank steps back in, moves             up behind Julia, and takes her in his arms.                                 FRANK                       What's the matter, Jules?  Trouble                       workin' an eight hour shift, watching the                       kid and whipping up a little bolognese?                                 JULIA                       You didn't marry Donna Reed.                                 FRANK                       I'd go with you and Chinese take-out over                       her any time.             And he turns her around and they start to dance as Frank             sings along to Elvis, badly.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (singing lyrics)                       Caught in a trap, I can't walk out,                       because I love you too much b-b-baby.             We follow the music as it drifts out into the YARD where we             can SEE Johnny and Gordo looking in at the weirdness.                                 JULIA                       How was your tour?                                 FRANK                       The usual.             Frank spots Johnny and Gordo staring at them.  He winks at             the boys and swings Julia into a Fred Astaire dip.                                 JULIA                           (loaded)                       Butch called.                                 FRANK                       Did he?                                 JULIA                       He did.                                 FRANK                       It was under control, Bud.  Butchy's just                       getting tight in his old age.                                 JULIA                       Nothing wrong with old age, Frank...long                       as you get there.             With a laugh, Frank drops Julia into another dip.  As the             music fades, we...             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - DUSK             CLOSE ON: BICYCLE TRAINING WHEELS lying on the sidewalk.             Johnny is precariously perched on his fire engine red             BICYCLE.  He wears a police badge and a whistle around his             neck.  Frank stands beside him, holding on to the bike seat.             We're on a quiet side street next to house.  It's the last             light of the day.             Hold on Johnny's eyes...fear.                                 FRANK                       Okay, start pedaling.                                 JOHNNY                       Daddy put the wheels back on.  I'm gonna                       fall.                                 FRANK                       Don't think about falling, just keep                       pedaling.                                 JOHNNY                       Daddy, I'm scared.                                 FRANK                       C'mon, Chief, show some guts.             Johnny takes a gulp of air, doesn't want to disappoint his             father, nods okay.             He starts pedaling.  Slowly moving forward.  Frank holds on             to the seat.  Frank's still hanging on - jogging along side.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       I'm gonna let go!             Frank let's go.  Johnny's pumping those little six year-old             legs, but he starts to wobble out of control -- CRASH!             Johnny starts to cry, quickly gets up and runs back to the             house.  Julia comes out of the kitchen door.  Johnny runs             into her arms.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Don't quit on me now, Chief.             Johnny tears himself from Julia's arms, runs inside.             Frustrated, Frank lights up another cigarette.                                 JULIA                       Don't be so tough on him Frank, he's six                       years old.                           (softer)                       He just needs to know you're right there                       behind him.             Frank takes a deep drag on the butt.  Steps onto the YARD and             stares up at the starry night.             ANGLE ON UPSTAIRS WINDOW             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS             JOHNNY'S POV: Frank standing in the yard, wishing on a star.             Johnny looks up at the sky and makes a wish of his own.             PULL BACK &amp; PAN UP TO STAR-STREWN SKY, CAMERA RACING TOWARDS:             EXT. OUTER SPACE - CONTINUOUS             Countless points of light blaze across vast blackness.  A             luminous blue sphere floats peacefully below EARTH.  We are             22,000 miles away in geosynchronous orbit.             MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR PIECE OF HARDWARE drifts into and fills             the frame - 1 1960's COMMUNICATION SATELLITE, NASA &amp; HUGHES             logos affixed to the glistening aluminum hull.             All is still for some moments.  But then a sound disturbs the             quiet of the cosmos.  It's coming from the horizon.  From             something that looks like a hole in the fabric of space.             Bright streaks of starlight swirl around into that hole.             And slowly the satellite begins drifting towards it - pulled             in by some invisible force.             FOLLOW THE SATELLITE AS IT IS SUCKED INTO THE VORTEX.             INT. SPACE ANOMALY - CONTINUOUS             We look through the ripple of warped space-time.  As if             holding a lens to one eye, we glimpse two earths at once --             two identical North Americas.  The two earths turn             slightly...             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - DUSK - 1998             THROUGH the screen door, we are CLOSE ON A MAN'S FACE,             staring out... JOHN F. SULLIVAN, 35.  John's eyes tell us he             needs more than just a shave and a good night's sleep.  This             man has demons.  Right now he is LOOKING OUT AT:             SAMANTHA TAYLOR, 33.  A knockout.  Dark blonde hair, piercing             blue eyes.  Not happy.  She jams a suitcase into the back             seat of her car and starts back for the house.                                 JOHN                       So, that's it, Sam?  You're just walking                       out?             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             Samantha strides in past John towards a washer/dryer.                                 SAMANTHA                       I've been walking out for the last six                       months.  You didn't notice...or care.             She grabs clothes from teh dryer and exits to...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS             ...towards a stairway beyond, John not far behind.                                 JOHN                       Fine, go ahead and save the whole world,                       Sam.                           (sipping his beer)                       You don't gotta worry about me.                                 SAMANTHA                       Damn you.  I tried.  But you wouldn't                       help me.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS             Samantha steps into the bedroom to an open suitcase and             travel bag.  She starts jamming the clean clothes into the             suitcase and then begins to close the case and bag.                                 JOHN                       You're right.  We should've quit a long                       time ago.             Sam can't hold back anymore - she cries openly.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       It's not your fault.  It's mine.  I can't                       change.  Wish I could, Sam.  But I can't.             And suddenly Samantha's tears turn to anger.                                 SAMANTHA                       That's not true and you know it.             John has no reply.  All he can do is watch as she takes her             stuff and heads for the door.                                 SAMANTHA (CONT'D)                       Goodbye, Chief.             John stands immobilized in the middle of the room.  He looks             down and spots a TEDDY BEAR half stuck under a reading chair.             And then to a photo of him and Sam at a CARNIVAL SHOOTING             GALLERY.  Sam's holding the teddy bear.  John turns at the             SOUND of the backdoor slamming.  Looks out a window down to             Samantha getting in her car and driving away.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             John enters, goes straight for a half empty bottle of             BUSHMILLS IRISH WHISKEY.  As he brings the bottle to his             mouth...BRRRRING.  The PHONE.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Swigging Bushmills as he steps to a combination portable             phone/answering machine, John takes off his jacket.  We             notice two things: an NAPPED DETECTIVE SHIELD and a .38             REVOLVER.             BRRIING.  John grabs the phone.                                 JOHN                       What?  It don't matter, Lady.  Why?...                       Cause I don't got no friends or family.             BANG.  Slams down the phone.  And stares around the room.             WE'VE BEEN IN THIS HOUSE BEFORE -- 29 YEARS AGO.  This was             Frank and Julia sullivan's house.  Time has not been good to             it.  Furnishings haven't changed much, but the house is             missing the warmth it had when a family filled it with love.             John's eyes dart to a PHOTOGRAPH next to the desk.  It is a             picture of THE SULLIVAN FAMILY from back then.  Too many             memories.  He grabs his coat, heads out...             EXT. LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL FIELD - QUEENS - EVENING             The field is EMPTY.  Covered in shadows.  John sits alone on             the top row of the BLEACHERS, cradling his bottle of             BUSHMILLS.  He takes a long pull.  As he stares down at the             empty field, his eyes slowly drift over to home plate...             AUDIO FLASHBACK: a VOICE rises up out of the darkness.  The             voice of memory...                                 ANNOUNCER                       Batting next.  Johnny Sullivan.             We hear the SOUNDS of CHEERING parents.  The CLAPPING,             WHISTLING &amp; SHOUTING is hauntingly juxtaposed against the             empty playing field and bleachers we see on the screen.             CRACK: sound of the bat solidly connecting with the ball.             CAMERA follows invisible runner from home to first base.                                 ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)                       Sullivan's safe at first.  Batting for                       Johnny's father is...Coach Newman.             John takes a deep breath, glances from first base back to             home plate...then looks off into the distance - a cold             thousand yard stare.             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - NIGHT             John shuffles up the pathway.  The SOUND of a TV - X-FILES -             filters out from inside the house.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - CONTINUOUS             John walks in the front door.  GORDY JR., 8, carrying an             overstuffed BLT, whizzes by...                                 GORDY JR.                       Hi, Uncle John.             John notices smoke filtering out of his kitchen.                                 JOHN                       I'm not your uncle, kid.                           (yelling into kitchen)                       Gordo, what are you doing here?                                 GORDO (O.S.)                       Sully!  Is that you?             Follow John into the kitchen.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             Meet GORDON HERSCH, 35, computer geek, lovable dough boy.             Last seen by us in 1969 as a six-year old.                                 GORDO                       Hey, Sull.  My cable's out again.                                 JOHN                       What the hell is that smell?             John glances at a mound of burnt bacon dripping on the stove.                                 GORDO                       Can you believe Ellen still won't let me                       cook in the house?  I melt one lousy                       frying pan, y'know?             Gordy Jr. scoots into the kitchen.                                 GORDY JR.                       John, guess what?  Dad's taking me                       fishing.  Wanna come?                                 JOHN                       Wish I could, Gordy.  But you bring me                       back a big one.                                 GORDO                       Hey, OK if Gordy uses your old gear?                                 JOHN                       I think it's somewhere in the closet...                       if you can find it.             Gordy Jr. runs out.  O.S. sounds of him rummaging through             hall closet.                                 GORDO                       So Yahoo went up another two points.                       Man, did we miss the boat on that one.             John puts the Bushmills bottle down, and grabs two Molsons.                                 JOHN                       Coulda, woulda, shoulda, pal.             John laughs, hands Gordo a beer, and lights up a cigarette.                                 GORDO                       Sam called Ellen.             John reacts.  Nothing else needs to be said.  A beat, then...                                 GORDO (CONT'D)                       Why don't you come with us?  Three days                       of fresh air and barbecue would do you                       some good, man.                                 GORDY JR. (O.S.)                       Dad, John, c'mere...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - ENTRY HALL - CONTINUOUS             Gordy Jr. sticks out of the closet, attempting to drag out a             large BLACK STEAMER TRUNK, stenciled with yellow letters.                                 GORDO                       Hey, Gordy, what 'ya doing?                                 GORDY JR.                       Dad, check it out.  Fire Department!  Can                       I open it up?             John thinks about it for a second.  Noting the curious glee             in little Gordy's face, nods OK.             Gordy Jr. pops open the latches, opens the trunk.  Gordo             crouches down beside his son, checks out the dusty contents.             HOLD ON JOHN'S REACTION to what Gordy Jr. finds in the trunk.                                 GORDY JR. (CONT'D)                       Wow.             Gordy Jr. reaches in and takes out: FDNY HELMET &amp; JACKETS.             Briefly puts on the enormous helmet, then sets it aside.             Reaches back into the trunk and pulls out the disassembled             pieces of a 12 gauge SHOTGUN.                                 GORDO                       Hey!  Gimmie that!             Gordo takes the shotgun from the boy and places it gingerly             inside the closet.             Simultaneously, Gordy Jr. hands off a leather-bound SCRAPBOOK             to John.  Before John can react, Gordy Jr. lifts up an             AMATEUR RADIO TRANSCEIVER.                                 GORDY JR.                       What's this, Dad?             ANGLE BACK ON JOHN             Powerful memories fill his face.                                 GORDO                       John, that's your Dad's old ham radio.                       Remember?  Remember how we used to beg                       him to let us talk on that thing?             CLOSE ON             the transceiver and microphone - mint condition 1965 Yaesu FT             101, and a "Silver Eagle" Astatic D-104 microphone.                                 JOHN/GORDO                       This is not a toy.                                 GORDY JR.                       Can we try it Dad, can we try it?             Gordo looks at John.                                 JOHN                       What the hell.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS             Glass doors separate the study from the family room.  The HAM             RADIO is set on a dusty wooden desk.  Scotch-taped to the top             of the radio is a diagram for the radio setup and "QSL"             cards: certificates from around the world acknowledging             "contact" with "WB2YXB" -- FRANK SULLIVAN, BAYSIDE NY.             Gordo hooks up the radio.  Gordy Jr. shuts off the TV.                                 GORDY JR.                       So this was what people used before the                       Net, huh?                                 GORDO                       Man, do I feel old.             GORDO TURNS THE RADIO ON.  Shows Gordy how it works.  Gordy             rotates the tuning dial, nothing but "dead bands."  STATIC.                                 JOHN                       It's junk, kid.  Nobody uses those things                       anymore.             KNOCK.  Front door opens.  John's head turning around.  Meet             ELLEN, 35, Gordo's wife.  The grown-up in the family.                                 ELLEN                       Gordo, do you know what time it is?                           (a beat)                       Hi, John.                                 JOHN                       Ellen.             Ellen notices John's weary look but says nothing.  We get the             sense she knows what is wrong.                                 ELLEN                       C'mon Gordy, let's go.                                 GORDY JR.                       Oh, mom...             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - CONTINUOUS             Gordo and family pour into the yard between the two houses.             John shuffles out behind them.  Gordo and Gordy Jr. quickly             disappear into their house, but Ellen lingers for a moment -             looking back at John standing alone.                                 ELLEN                       You all right, John?                                 JOHN                       Oh, yeah.             Ellen holds her glance for a moment.   John smiles, thinly             masking his sadness.  Ellen nods okay, and she is gone.  John             looks up at the stars, then down to the HAM RADIO ANTENNA on             his roof, now looking raggedy from 29 years of neglect.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - LATER             CLOSE ON             TV: LARRY KING is interviewing STEPHEN HAWKING.             John is back on the Bushmills.  He races clumsily for the             CORDLESS PHONE.  CLOSE ON SPEED DIAL BUTTONS.  John hits #3.                                 JULIA                           (answering machine voice)                       Hi, this is Julia.  Please leave a                       message after the tone.                                 JOHN                       Hey, Ma, it's me.  Checking in.  Probably                       at work.  Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow                       night.  Love you.             John puts down the phone.  Stares at the FDNY trunk.  He             stumbles to it.  Sits down and opens it up.  It's filled with             his Dad's stuff.  He picks up and leafs through the old             SCRAPBOOK - PHOTOS and CLIPPINGS illustrate FAMILY HISTORY...             A quick glimpse of Dad's high school baseball team; Mom and             Dad's 60's wedding.             CLOSE ON PHOTO:             John at his First Communion pictured with his MOTHER - WE             SENSE LOSS AND SADNESS IN HIS EYES - THIS BOY LOOKS HURT.             A folded newspaper drops out.  John picks it up.  Front page             of the DAILY NEWS.  Top half READS: "October 13, 1969.             AMAZIN'S TAKE GAME 2 - SERIES EVEN."  The lower half READS:             "FIREMAN KILLED IN WAREHOUSE BLAZE"             He shoves the paper back in the scrapbook.  Puts the album             down - he can't deal with those wounds.  He glances up at the             TV:                                 LARRY KING                       Is this anomaly connected to the space                       storm and the NASA satellite that                       disappeared in 1969?                                 HAWKING                       We don't know.  But given the                       similarities of their location and                       appearance, this is a question that                       merits further investigation.             NOTE:  Larry King's show plays for the duration of this             scene.             John settles in, takes off his work shirt.  Underneath he has             on a T-shirt.  We notice a NICOTINE PATCH on his arm.             Doesn't stop him from burning another Marlboro.             JOHN IS SUDDENLY STARTLED BY A NOISE FROM THE STUDY - A LOUD             BURST OF STATIC.                                 FRANK                           (over radio)                       CQ 15, here is WB2YXB, by for call.             John gets up, Bushmill bottle in hand, and stumbles into...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       CQ 15, come in 15.             Approaching the desk, John sits down at the radio.  Reaches             out to the mic -- presses down on the red squawk bar.                                 JOHN                       Uh, hello?                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       WB2YKXB, who've I got?                                 JOHN                           (slightly slurred)                       Name's John.             In the BACKGROUND of FRANK'S VOICE, we barely hear WALTER             CRONKITE interviewing someone.                                 FRANK                       Are you licensed to broadcast, buddy?                                 JOHN                       Look, I don't really remember how this                       thing works.                                 FRANK                       Listen, you can't broadcast without a                       license.  Unless this is an emergency,                       you gotta get off the band.                                 JOHN                           (chuckling)                       Pal, my whole life's an emergency.             A pause.                                 FRANK                       Where are you transmitting from?                                 JOHN                       Queens, New York.                                 FRANK                       Whatta ya know.  Bayside, born and                       raised.                                 JOHN                       I thought these things were for talkin'                       around the world.                                 FRANK                       15-band closes down at night.  During the                       day you can chew the band with China if                       you want.                                 JOHN                       I can't believe people are still using                       these things.             As John releases the squawk bar, the distant sound of Frank's             TV filters out of the HAM.                                 FRANK                       Can you hold on a second?             And then John hears the sound of a door closing.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Sorry 'bout that.  So Queens, you psyched                       for the Series?                                 JOHN                           (taking a swig)                       I don't really follow baseball anymore.                                 FRANK                       What?                                 JOHN                       I got fed up with all the bullshit.                                 FRANK                       Fed up?  Lemme tell you something, in a                       1000 years, when school kids study                       America, they're gonna learn about three                       things: the Constitution, Rock 'n' Roll,                       and Baseball.             Despite his mood, John has to smile.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       How can you live in Queens and not love                       the Amazin's?             John warms to the topic of his boyhood heroes.                                 JOHN                       If you're talking The Amazin' Mets, well,                       that's different.  You know people talk                       about Seaver, but I'll love Ron Swoboda                       til the day I die.             Static crackles out over the radio.  The signal weakens.                                 FRANK                           (through static)                       I'm right with you, man.  He's got the                       heart of a lion.  Hey, how 'bout the                       first game of the Series?                                 JOHN                       Yeah.  It was all over after Buford                       nailed Seaver's first pitch outta the                       park.             More static.                                 FRANK                       No way, brother.  Ain't gonna happen.             BZZZSSSSHHHH - loud static.  THE SIGNAL IS GONE.                                 JOHN                       Who the hell was that?             Behind him, on TV, Larry King and Hawking continue talking.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1969             ANOTHER FINGER PRESSING DOWN ON THE RED SQUAWK BAR... FRANK             SULLIVAN.  Seated at the polished wooden desk.                                 FRANK                       Hello, Queens.  You there?             Silence.  The signal is gone.  Frank leans forward, jiggles             the frequency dial, trying to regain the signal.  No luck.             Slightly frustrated, he stands and opens the glass doors to             the family room where Julia is watching TV - a very young             STEPHEN HAWKING is being interviewed by WALTER CRONKITE, 52.                                 JULIA                       Frankie, Johnny wants to say goodnight.                                 FRANK                           (a little distracted)                       Sure.             He starts to take a step into the room, and stumbles over             Elvis, sleeping by the door...KNOCKING INTO and CRACKING a             GLASS PANE in one door.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - 1998             John, dog tired and more than a little wasted, gets up from             the desk, inadvertently leaving the Ham Radio ON, and             shuffles for the family room through the glass doors.             CAMERA HOLDS, CLOSE on the GLASS PANE...CRACKED in the exact             same spot where Frank knocked into it 29-YEARS AGO.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Frank unpins the police badge from Johnny's shirt, takes the             whistle from around his neck.  He pulls up the covers and             softly kisses Johnny's forehead.  You can tell he loves this             kid more than anything in the world.                                 FRANK                           (lullaby-like)                       Take me out to the ballgame, take me out                       with the crowd.  Buy me some peanuts and                       cracker jack...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - 1998             John plops down on sofa, half asleep.  The TV drones on.                                 JOHN                       ...I don't care if I never get back.                                                           FADE TO BLACK.             The LEGEND reads:             OCTOBER 11th - FIRST GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES             Blue sky.  A SOFTBALL soars into view.  It drops down and             into a WILLIE MAYS' style basket catch by Frank Sullivan.             EXT. LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL FIELD - QUEENS - DAY - 1969             The same Little League field that Frank circled on his Harley             yesterday, October 10, 1969.  And the same field at which             John sat in the stands drinking last night, October 10, 1998.             We are in the 9th inning of a friendly SOFTBALL GAME between             the local COPS and FIREMEN.  A lot of NYPD and FDNY T-shirts,             sweats and caps.  Plenty of Mets stuff, too.             Having made the catch, Frank coolly pulls the ball from his             mitt as he starts running toward the infield diamond.             Tagging up at 3rd, sorely tempted to try for home is SATCH             DELEON, 30, NYPD Detective.  Satch feints for the plate,             Frank feints the throw.  For a maddening, gleeful moment,             Frank has Satch caught between 3rd and home.             In the STANDS, Johnny Sullivan, Marge Hersch and the FAMILIES             of the other ballplayers scream for whomever they want to win             this game of chicken.             On the SIDELINES, Johnny, Gordo and the other KIDS serving as             BATBOYS and WATERBOYS, jump around in anticipation.             At HOME, Butch Foster stations himself to take the throw.             Suddenly, Satch fakes to 3rd, then bolts for home.  Frank             pegs it to Butch, who tags the sliding Satch.  Game over.                                 SATCH                       Lucky throw, fire boy.                                 FRANK                           (jogging in)                       Luck, my ass.             They square off.  Pretending to fight.  Julia steps between             them.  And they all descend into laughter.             Frank and Satch each wrap an arm around Julia and start off.             Within a step, Johnny slips in under Frank's other arm.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (to Johnny)                       See that, kid.  Practice.  Practice.             INT/EXT. BUTCH'S HOUSE - DAY - LATER             Close on a TV: PRESIDENT NIXON tosses the first ball to open             the 1969 WORLD SERIES.             REVERSE to see many of the PLAYERS and FAMILIES from teh             softball game are parked around a couple of TVs watching the             game.  BEER flows from a keg.  SOFT DRINKS are passed around.             HAMBURGERS and HOT DOGS are cooking on the BBQ.             Satch sits with Johnny and Gordo and some other kids.             Frank and Julia tend the BBQ.  Butch brings out some beers.             A fun day.             EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - DAY - 1998             A DETECTIVE'S CAR pulls up next to a couple of BLUE &amp; WHITES             at West 155th St.  The Northern tip of Manhattan Island.             Across construction barricades is a half-torn down GREEK             RESTAURANT.  Several UNIFORMS can be seen beyond it, looking             at something on the ground.             As John exits the car, the passenger door swings open and we             MEET a guy we haven't seen in 29 YEARS - SATCHEL DELEON, 59.             Shaved head, square jaw.  A ram-rod straight, craggy warrior.             Thirty-plus years on the force now endow him with a rare             combination of smarts, guts and sense of humor.                                 SATCH                           (as they walk)                       Don't choke on your pride, Sull.  You                       ain't ever gonna catch another one like                       that.                                 JOHN                       She made up her mind.  Nothin' I do is                       gonna change it.                                 SATCH                       Nothing you're willing to do.             Spotting John and Satch, a UNIFORM approaches them.  They             keep on walking.                                 JOHN                       What's the story?                                 UNIFORM                       Survey crew found a body.  Actually a                       skeleton.  Over here.             The uniform leads John and Satch around some overgrown weeds             to SEE a patch of freshly unearthed dirt...out of which             sticks a HUMAN SKULL and COLLAR BONE.             In the B.G., a CRIME SCENE unit can be seen arriving by van.                                 SATCH                       Be real careful when pulling it out.  And                       get the dirt around it.             As Satch turns to talk to a second UNIFORM and a couple of             SURVEYORS, John notices a man raking leaves in a yard not far             away.  As he starts to him, to Satch:                                 JOHN                       I think I'll visit the neighbor.             INT. SHEPARD RESIDENCE - DAY - CONTINUOUS             CLOSE ON FRED SHEPARD, 72.  As the scene unfolds, we can SEE             the half torn down diner/crime scene through a window.  Satch             oversees the operation.             MRS. SHEPARD, 70, hands John a cup of coffee.                                 JOHN                       Thanks.             John looks out the window.                                 MR. SHEPARD                       Used to get breakfast there all the time                       back from the boat.  Them Greeks were                       good people.  Once that McDonalds opened                       up on Dyckman, they lost all their                       business.             John glances around the room - notes family PHOTOGRAPHS.             There's a picture of Shepard in younger days on a commercial             fishing boat.  Next to it a faded black and white picture of             Mrs. Shepard, 35.  A few pictures of the Shepards and their             YOUNG SON.  And at the end, a color photograph of the same             son, about 20, in DRESS BLUES, graduating from the Police             Academy - CLASS OF '64.                                 JOHN                       Your son on the job?                                 MR. SHEPARD                       Was.  Carl died in the line of duty.                       October '69.                                 JOHN                       I'm sorry.             Shepard points to a frame above the fireplace: Distinguished             Service Medal, CARL SHEPARD, awarded posthumously.                                 MR. SHEPARD                       My boy lived and bled blue.             Silence.  Mr. and Mrs. Shepard stand very still.  John             discreetly glances at his watch.             EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - MOMENTS LATER             THUNDER in the distance.  CRIME SCENE personnel have made             some progress in unearthing the skeletal remains.  A couple             of drops of rain tap the ground and the bones.             John stands looking down at the skeleton.  A long beat.  And             then he turns to Satch and they start for the car.  Behind             them, the skeleton is carefully pulled free from the ground.             WE SEE its wrists are BOUND with GLASS TAPE.             INT. JULIA'S APARTMENT - MANHATTAN - EVENING - LATER             CHINESE TAKE-OUT CARTONS are placed in a microwave.             WIDEN TO REVEAL             the woman holding the cartons: JULIA SULLIVAN, 29 YEARS OLDER             than the last time we saw her.  But she looks okay, she looks             happy.             We are in the kitchen of Julia's Upper West Side apartment.             It is raining.  We notice THE GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE             outside a BAY WINDOW.                                 JULIA                           (calling out)                       I thought it'd be nicer to eat here.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                       Sounds good.                                 JULIA                           (walking into the other room)                       I'm sorry Sam couldn't make it.                                 JOHN                           (lying badly)                       Yeah, those grad school applications are                       driving her crazy.             Julia hands John a Coke.  Close on her face - she feels her             son's pain.                                 JULIA                       I'm sure everything'll work out.                           (beat)                       She really loves you...                                 JOHN                           (changing the subject)                       So how are things at the hospital?                                 JULIA                       Fine.  You know Dr. Schwartz retired last                       month?                                 JOHN                       No kidd'n, he musta been pushing 90!                                 JULIA                       Close.             Beat.                                 JOHN                       So how'd you like LION KING?                                 JULIA                       Oh, I loved it.  I wish you'd gone.                                 JOHN                       I know.  I'm sorry.  Work.                                 JULIA                       You work too hard, John.                                 JOHN                       Look who's talking.             They share a laugh.  And then slowly the laughter dies.             John's expression‎ changes as he quietly lights a cigarette.             Julia knows what he's thinking...                                 JULIA                       29-years tomorrow.             A long beat.                                 JOHN                       I wish I could remember him better.                       Truth is, most of the stuff I know is                       from the stories you used to tell.  But                       they're not mine.  They're not my                       memories.  They're yours.             Julia glances at an old photo of Frank, then back to John.                                 JULIA                       You would have liked him, John.  And he                       would have liked you.             PING.  The microwave timer sounds off.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CLEAR NIGHT - 1969             CLOSE ON             Frank's dog, Elvis.  Poking his nose in a carton of Chinese             take-out on the floor.  An arm drops into frame - scruffs the             puppy's back.  The Rolex diver's watch tells us the arm             belongs to Frank.             WIDEN TO REVEAL:             Frank sitting at his desk.  He fires up an unfiltered LUCKY             STRIKE, pops a Rheingold.  Next to him a Daily News headline -             NASA INVESTIGATES SPACE STORM.                                 FRANK                       ...WB2YXB calling unidentified station,                       Queens.  CQ 15.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                           (over radio, sounds like he's                            had a few drinks)                       Hello?                                 FRANK                       I been Q-ing you all night.  How the hell                       did you do it?                                 JOHN (O.S.)                       Huh?                                 FRANK                       The World Series.  You called Buford's                       homer.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                       Wasn't too tough, buddy.  Game happened                       almost thirty years ago.                                 FRANK                       What are you talking about?  I'm talking                       about this afternoon.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                       This afternoon?             Frank puts his finger on the squawk bar, about to say             something, but just at that moment his son Johnny appears in             the doorway in his pajamas.                                 JOHNNY                       Daddy, come up and sing the baseball.                                 FRANK                           (to Johnny)                       I'll be up soon, Little Chief.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - RAINY NIGHT - 1998             John Sullivan's face, thunderstruck.  The camera stays on             John.  He puts down his drink.                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       Sorry 'bout that.                                 JOHN                       What'd you just say?                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       Oh, that was my kid.             John looks up at the photo on the wall: FRANK, JULIA AND SIX             YEAR OLD JOHNNY SULLIVAN (CIRCA 1969).  A beat, then:                                 JOHN                       You call your son Little Chief?                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       Uh huh...                                 JOHN                       What'd you say your name was?             CUT TO CLOSE ON                                 FRANK                       Frank...Frank Sullivan.             NOW BACK ON                                 JOHN                       Is this some kind of joke?  Gordo is that                       you?  Are you fucking with me?                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       Look pal, I'm just askin' how you...                                 JOHN                       You're telling me your name is Frank                       Sullivan, you live in Queens and you just                       saw the first game of the '69                       Series...live?                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       Right...and I'm asking how you called the                       game.                                 JOHN                       Gordo, if this is you, so help me...                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       What the hell does Gordy have to do with                       it?             John's POV - top of radio - in FADED PEN, on a piece of             masking tape, is written: "WB2YXB"                                 JOHN                       What'd you say your station...uh, your                       call letters were?                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       W...B...2...YXB.             The call letters hang in the air.  A breath, then...                                 JOHN                       Now you listen to me.  My name is John                       Francis Sullivan, I live at 1060 41st,                       where I've lived my whole life.  And I                       saw the first game of the '69 Series at                       my Uncle Butch's house with my father...                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       What?                                 JOHN                       29-years ago.                                                                  CUT TO:             Frank dropping his cigarette in the ashtray.  It rolls out             and lies smoldering on the desk.  He doesn't even notice.                                 FRANK                       29 years...?             BACK ON                                 JOHN                       My dad's name was Frank Patrick Sullivan,                       he was a fire fighter and a die-hard Mets                       fan.  And every night when I went to bed                       he sang to me...                           (softly, almost singing)                       Take me out to the ball game, take me out                       with the crowd...             Beat.                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       What the hell...                                 JOHN                       I'm dreaming this.  Shit, this is a                       dream.                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       I'm not dreaming.             John reaches out to touch the radio.  But he stops, his hand             hovering just above it.                                 JOHN                       So you're Frank Sullivan, huh?  It's 1969                       and you're sitting at your desk in the                       study, just chewin' the rag?             BACK ON FRANK.             He smells smoke, sees the cigarette burning a hole in the             desk.  Spooked, Smokey the Bear just started a fire.                                 FRANK                       Christ!             Frank beats out the flame with the newspaper.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                       What's going on?                                 FRANK                           (lying)                       Nothing...I just spilled something.                                                                  CUT TO:             A DISTINCTIVE BURN SCAR GRADUALLY MORPHING ONTO JOHN'S DESK.             John pushes the Bushmills to the side, staring at the scar.             It hits him - hard.                                 JOHN                       Oh my god.                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       What?                                 JOHN                       You just burned the desk.                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       What's happening?             John rubs his fingers over the old burn scar.                                 JOHN                       You burnt the desk...I can see it.             Eerie quiet, the only sound is the rain outside John's             window.             BACK ON                                 FRANK                       That's impossible.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                       What if it's not...             ON JOHN             reaching out, touching the radio.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       Dad...?                                 FRANK (O.S.)                       Johnny...?             Shockwave.  A long moment of absorption.  INTERCUT Frank and             John.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       How could this be happening?                                 JOHN                       I don't know.                                 FRANK                       We gotta be bouncing off the mother sun                       spot of all time.                                 JOHN                       Sun spot?                                 FRANK                       Yeah, that's how Hams work.                                 JOHN                       Wait a sec...there was something on the                       news.  Something about this space                       anomaly.  I think they said it was                       connected to some storm in '69.             Frank glances at DAILY NEWS HEADLINE - SPACE STORM.  He says             nothing for a long beat, struggling to understand.                                 FRANK                       You sound...ground up...?                                 JOHN                       I'm thirty-five years old.                                 FRANK                       Thirty-five?  That would make it...                                 JOHN                       1998.             Frank pulls back from the radio...                                 FRANK                       1998...?  This is wrong.  Who are you?                       Why are you doing this?                                 JOHN                       I'm not doing anything.                           (beat)                       Look, I don't know what's going on.  But                       I swear on my life, I"m here at your old                       desk, on your Ham, in our house, right                       now...in 1998.             John's voice has a conviction that Frank cannot deny.                                 FRANK                       It's really you, isn't it?                                 JOHN                       Yeah...I think so.             Silence.  Both men trying to wrap their minds around the             reality of the situation.  Slowly accepting.                                 FRANK                       Thirty-five?  Jesus, you're almost as old                       as I am...                           (long beat)                       What's your life like?  You married?  Got                       kids?             Beat.                                 JOHN                       No, not yet.                                 FRANK                       Too busy playin' ball, huh?                                 JOHN                       Nah, I gave it up.             ON FRANK             Johnny gave up baseball?                                 FRANK                       You happy?             John takes a sip, the answer caught in his throat.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       You're still my Little Chief, right?                                 JOHN                       I'm trying to be, Dad.  I'm tyrin'.                           (pausing)                       It's good to hear your voice.                           (quiet beat)                       I missed you...so much.             Quiet beat.  A burst of static crackles the air.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                           (re: static)                       What's that?                                 FRANK                       I think I'm losing you.                                 JOHN                       No wait, don't go!                                 FRANK                       It's okay.  I'm still here, Chief.                                 JOHN                       But you're not...you're not still here.             More static.  The signal breaks up, then returns weaker.                                 FRANK                       What are you talking about?                                 JOHN                       I lost you.                                 FRANK                       What?                                 JOHN                       I never knew you, Dad.                                 FRANK                       Why?                                 JOHN                       Fire.                                 FRANK                       On the job?                                 JOHN                       It was an abandoned warehouse - hit by                       lightening.                           (beat)                       Butch told Ma it was just one wrong turn.                       Said it wasn't your fault.  You went with                       the training, with your instincts.                           (beat)                       If you'd just gone left instead of right,                       you would've made it.                                 FRANK                       That can't be...that's not gonna happen.                                 JOHN                       It did, Pop.  It did.                                 FRANK                       When?                                 JOHN                       October 12, 1969.             Heavy static now.  They can barely hear each other.                                 FRANK                       But that's tomorrow.                                 JOHN                           (fully realizing)                       Tomorrow.  Jesus...it hasn't happened.                       It doesn't have to happen.             Both men frantic.  Their words overlapping...                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       Don't go.  Don't go in that warehouse...                                 FRANK                       I don't understand.             Final blast of static.  The SIGNAL is GONE.  The BAND is             GONE.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Moonlight casts a glow over the sleeping Johnny.  Frank steps             in and stands looking down at him.             EXT. ROOF OF JOHN'S HOUSE - NIGHT - 1998             John crawls out a window, through the rain, onto the roof.             JOHN'S POV             Rusted Ham radio antenna, half-fallen over.             John scoots over to it, straightening it.  But he slips,             sliding down the roof, coming to rest against the chimney.             A light pops on from an upstairs window across the street.             Gordo appears in the window.  Does a double take when he sees             John, sitting on the roof, soaked, drunk.                                 GORDO                           (sliding open window)                       Sull!  What the hell!                                 JOHN                       I talked to him Gordo.  I talked to my                       Dad.             Gordo's heart starts to break.  His best friend has slipped             over the edge.                                 GORDO                       C'mon, man.  Get inside.  I'll come over.                       We'll play some Nintendo.                                 JOHN                       No.  I gotta tell him the address, so he                       doesn't go in.                                 GORDO                       Go in where?                                 JOHN                       The warehouse.  Buxton seeds.  It's                       tomorrow.                                 GORDO                       I know pal.  I remember.  Twenty-nine                       years tomorrow.             The LEGEND reads:             OCTOBER 12th - SECOND GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES             EXT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE/BUXTON SEED CO. - AFTERNOON - 1969             BLACK CLOUDS, EARTH SHATTERING THUNDER.  A massive BOLT OF             LIGHTNING rockets out of the menacing sky STRIKING THROUGH A             WINDOW on the 3rd floor of the warehouse.  A FIRE BEGINS.             INT. FIRE HOUSE - 9TH BATTALION/REC ROOM - CONTINUOUS             GAME 2 plays on TV.  Butch, Gibson and the rest of the unit             sit around enjoying the game.  A very distracted Frank stands             watching from the doorway to the kitchen.             We are in the bottom of the 9th with the Baltimore Orioles'             Brooks Robinson coming to the plate.                                 GIBSON                       Oh, man. Robinson is gonna nail it and                       we're gonna be dead.             SUDDENLY THE ALARM SOUNDS, moving the groaning firemen             reluctantly to action, and freezing Frank in surging anxiety.             Gibson is up and passing Frank...who begins to move like he's             in a trance.             A RAPID MONTAGE of Frank, Butch and the others readying to             head out.  Gibson grabs a little TRANSISTOR RADIO.                                 BUTCH                       Let's move it, gentlemen...three alarm.                       Lit up abandoned warehouse.  West 49th.             Frank looks like he's going to throw up.             EXT. MANHATTAN ST. - COP BAR - DUSK - 1998             John, lost in thought, rounds a corner towards the bar.             EXT. STREET - LADDER TRUCK - MOVING - AFTERNOON - 1969             The LADDER &amp; ENGINE trucks barrel out of the firehouse.             As SIRENS SCREAM, Frank and Gibson secure themselves into             position.  Gibson excitedly switches on his radio to the             game.  He notes that Frank is not the least bit into it.                                 GIBSON                       Sully, you cool?             Frank seems not to hear him.                                 GIBSON (CONT'D)                       Frank.  Hey, man.  You alright?                                 FRANK                       I'm alright, Gibby.             From the RADIO we HEAR the last play of the game as Brooks             Robinson grounds out 3rd to 1st.  METS WIN!  CHEERS are heard             in the streets and from the CABS of the racing fire trucks.             Gibson whoops it up.  Frank barely acknowledges the win.             INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998             John moves through the crowd of cops - ad lib greetings -             slides into a booth occupied by Satch and Gordo.                                 GORDO                       How you feeling?                                 JOHN                       Better.                                 SATCH                       You get your roof fixed?             John shoots a look at Gordo, who quickly changes the subject.                                 GORDO                       Can you believe it, Yahoo goes up another                       point today...             EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - DUSK - 1969             Located off the East River in lower Manhattan.  The 9th             Battalion Fire trucks are first on the scene.  A couple of             GREEN &amp; WHITES are already there, uniform cops keeping a few             onlookers at a safe distance.             FLAMES shoot out from the 4th and 5th FLOOR WINDOWS.             Starting to lick their way up to the 6th floor and roof.             SMOKE billows out of the windows on the 3rd and 2nd floors.             Lighter smoke spirals out from the door on the 1st floor.             Frank, Gibson and other firemen under Butch's command take             stock of the situation and start to deploy.             HOSES are run from HYDRANTS to the PUMPER TRUCKS.             The LADDER is swung into position for an assault on the roof.                                 GIBSON                       Bastard's moving fast.                                 BUTCH                       Thank God it's abandoned.                           (to the men)                       Surround and drown...nobody goes in.             Frank nods in agreement.  Directly above them, another BOLT             OF LIGHTNING CRACKS through the darkening sky.             A death shudder creeps up Frank's spine.  And for the first             time in his life, Frank Sullivan is SCARED SHITLESS.             Frank stares up at the sky, transfixed.  THUNDER punches the             sky with a huge roar.  RAIN starts to fall.             And in the distance, as if from inside the burning building,             a FAINT SCREAMING is first heard, and growing louder.                                 FRANK                       Hear that?                                 BUTCH                       What?             Suddenly, out of the building runs a STONED TEENAGE GIRL             screaming and babbling incoherently.                                 GIRL                       Help!  Help!  Oh, god.  Help.  She's up                       there.  She's trapped!  Please!             Immediately galvanized, Frank moves to the girl.                                 FRANK                       Hey, hey.  It's gonna be okay.  We're                       gonna help.  Okay?   Okay.             She starts to calm down.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Now tell me, who's up there?                                 GIRL                       My girlfriend, Molly.                                 FRANK                       Where?                                 GIRL                       In a room...an office...or something.  We                       live there.  Top floor.  Something fell                       on her.  I couldn't help her.  Please,                       you gotta...gotta...             Frank looks to Butch.  A beat.  Butch gives him the nod.             Frank and Gibson gear up and go.             INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998                                 GORDO                       You realize that if you'd bought a                       thousand dollars worth of Yahoo in '96,                       it'd be worth fifty-grand today?                                 SATCH                       You doin' okay, John?                                 JOHN                       Tough day, you know.             Satch and Gordo nod in sympathy.  Gordo raises his glass.             Satch and John follow.  A yearly ritual.                                 GORDO &amp; SATCH                       To your dad.                                 JOHN                       To my dad.             INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - DUSK - 1969             Frank and Gibson step into the warehouse.  Butch behind them.             Flames haven't reached this area yet, but the ROAR of the             fire above them is deafening, and smoke billows down THE             STAIRWAY before them.  They sprint towards it and start up.             ONE FLOOR.  TWO FLOORS.  THREE FLOORS, and suddenly they are             face to face with a WALL OF FIRE blocking access to the 4th             floor.             Frank and Gibson stop and stare into the inferno.                                 FRANK                       It looks open on the other side.                                 GIBSON                       Don't know what's behind it.                                 FRANK                       One way to find out.             And he barrels through the line of fire onto the 4th floor.             Gibson starts to do the same when the 5th floor gives way             above Frank, sending burning timber and debris cascading             around him and cutting off Gibson's route.             Now Frank's only way to go is up the stairs toward the 5th             floor.  He turns to Gibson.  Coming up behind him is Butch.             Across a gulf of flames Frank yells and waves at them to get             the hell out.  And then suddenly, part of the 3rd floor             around Gibson and Butch starts to go.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (screaming over fire)                       Get out...while you still can...             Frank turns and bolts for the 5th floor as a huge flaming             BEAM CRASHES down onto the stairway behind him, forcing             Gibson and Butch to scramble like hell back down the stairs.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (soft)                       ...it's not your time.             INTERCUT WITH             EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS             Fire fighters are efficiently and expertly hard at it.             Running out lines.  Extending ladders.  Moving a FIRE BOAT             into place - all communicating via walkie-talkies all on teh             same frequency.             The BIG LADDER is now in place.  As it telescopes up, the             ROOF MAN, BILL CAWLEY, begins his climb.             PUMP TRUCKS and THE FIRE BOAT keep pumping water onto the             blaze.  But no matter.  For the moment, this is one OUT OF             CONTROL NIGHTMARE FIRE.             BACK TO             Frank reaching the 5th floor.  It's an inferno.  He keeps             moving, tearing up the stairs for the 6th floor.                                 GIBSON (O.S.)                           (over walkie)                       Gotta be another way up, Frank.                                 FRANK                           (into walkie)                       Then fuckin' find it.                           (heading in)                       I'm going for the girl.                                 BUTCH (O.S.)                           (over walkie)                       Billy, you better get up top.             EXT. WAREHOUSE BUILDING/LADDER - CONTINUOUS             ROOF MAN edges up the ladder, as it telescopes above him.                                 ROOF MAN                       This is Billy, Frank. I'm on my way.                       South side.             INT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS                                 FRANK                           (reaching 6th floor)                       Glad to hear it.  See you on top.             FIRE has torched OPEN a GAPING HOLE IN THE ROOF.             Frank peers around through the smoke and fire and rain.  Then             he sees, huddled in the temporary saftey of the corner of an             OFFICE, but trapped by a fallen CONDUIT, the GIRL, passed out             from smoke inhalation.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (into walkie)                       I've found the girl.             INT. WAREHOUSE OFFICE - CONTINUOUS             A HIPPIE CRASH PAD             Frank dashes into the office and heaves the conduit off the             girl.  He hoists her over his shoulder and heads out.             EXT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS             Butch and Gibson exit the warehouse past the HOSE CREW             already working its way into the building.             They look up to the top of the warehouse where the LADDER is             haltingly inching its way up the side of the building.             INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE/6TH FLOOR - CONTINUOUS             The fire on this floor is now a raging inferno.  Flames shoot             up from the stairway below through the open roof.  Surrounded             by fire, Frank, carrying the girl, strides for what looks             like a WINDOW on the south side of the floor.                                 FRANK                           (into walkie)                       It's real hot in here, Billy.  I'm coming                       out quick.             But apprehension rips across Frank's eyes as he reaches the             window and looks down to see.             EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS             The top end of the ladder FROZEN some 10 FEET BELOW THE             WINDOW.  BETWEEN WALKIE-TALKIES.                                 ROOF MAN                       I'm jammed up here, Frank!             INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS                                 FRANK                       Oh mother...             EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS             Butch and Gibson are now by the base of the LADDER TRUCK             which is near the canal side of the building.  Butch screams             at the ladder OPERATOR.                                 BUTCH                       What the fuck, GINO!  Tell me!                                 LADDER OPERATOR/GINO                       Gear box cracked, Butch.  We're fucked.                                 BUTCH                           (into walkie)                       Frank!  Frank!             INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - 6TH FLOOR - CONTINUOUS                                 FRANK                       I know, Butch.  I know.             Frank clicks off the walkie-talkie and turns to survey the             hell around him.  The STAIRWAY IS GONE.             To the RIGHT is a DOOR, flames around it, but none coming             from the room beyond it.             To the LEFT, another DOOR, a metal one, this one surrounded             by fire - flames licking out all around it from room beyond.             EASY CHOICE.  Frank turns, heads towards DOOR ON THE RIGHT.             No.  Wait.  HE STOPS.  SOMETHING'S WRONG.  HEART POUNDING,             LUNGS COLLAPSING, EYES &amp; SKIN BURNING, EVERY FUCKING BRAIN             CELL SCREAMING...THINK!             WE HEAR JOHN'S WORDS ECHO IN FRANK'S HEAD:                                 JOHN (V.O.)                       ...one wrong turn...                           (beat)                       If you'd just gone left.             And for the first time in his life, Frank Sullivan goes             against his instincts and his training as he...             TURNS BACK AROUND AND GOES THE OTHER WAY.             INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998             Gordo is in the middle of a story when...                                 GORDO                       ...principal calls us in 'cause Gordy                       hacked into the school system - sent out                       a little X-rated e-mail.                           (nervous laughter)                       Scary, huh?  Eight-years old.                                 SATCH                       Just keep him away from girls.             ...something happens - TIME STUTTERS AND REPEATS:                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                           (repeat)                       Just keep him away from girls.             The effect is like a phonograph needle stuck in the groove.             It lasts only a second and nobody seems to notice.  Nobody             except John, who looks wildly disoriented.  He grabs hold of             the edge of the table as if to keep his equilibrium.             John breaks into a cold sweat.  His HEART POUNDING AWAY.             INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - DUSK - 1969             Franks reaches the door on the LEFT.  White heat and flames             shoot everywhere...A FUCKING FURNACE.  He tires to open it.             IT'S LOCKED!  WHAM!  Frank kicks at it.  WHAM!  WHAM!  The             door blows open and flames leap out, the energy of the blast             tossing Frank and the unconscious girl back onto the floor,             fire surging over their heads.  But then...             He sees something on the other side of the doorway, inside             the room, on the far wall.:             A SMALL METAL SWINGING DOOR.             INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE/CHUTE ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank cradles the girl.  Gets down on his knees, crawling             under the heat.  Reaching the SWINGING DOOR.  Pushes it open,             revealing:             A smooth metal SPIRAL SEED BAG CHUTE.             Frank rips open his jacket and bundles the girl to him.  He             works himself and the girl onto the top of the chute.             The ROOM BEGINS TO SHAKE.  BRICKS TUMBLE OUT OF THE WALL.             The whole GODDAMN BUILDING is going to COLLAPSE.             Frank lurches forward until he and the girl start to move             down the chute.             INT. WAREHOUSE CHUTE - CONTINUOUS             As Frank and the girl plunge through the bowels of the             inferno...large portions of the building begins             disintegrating around them...a giant storm of BRICKS, MORTAR,             METAL AND BURNING WOOD biting their tails...             Gaining speed through each up-rushing floor...5-4-3-2...Frank             and the girl zoom down towards the END OF THE SLIDE only to             find IT'S BOARDED UP.  OH SHIT!             Frank grips the girl tight, raises his BOOTS, bends his             knees, and like a HUMAN BATTERING RAM, SMASHES THROUGH THE             ROTTED PLYWOOD BOARDS             EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE/EAST RIVER CANAL - CONTINUOUS             THEY'RE AIRBORNE.  Frank and the girl.  Floating in SLOW             MOTION out over the CANAL and landing in the water between             the WAREHOUSE DOCK and the FIREBOAT.             A YELL snaps Butch's and Gibson's attention to what is             happening.  Gibson starts running for the CANAL, ripping off             his coat and hat before leaping into the water.  But Frank is             getting pulled down by his fire tank and the weight of the             girl.  Finally, Gibson reaches him, taking the girl.  Frank             quickly sheds his jacket and the tank.             Butch stands watching on the dock.  He takes a moment to             close his eyes in thankful prayer.                                 GIBSON                       You okay, man?                                 FRANK                           (starting to giggle)                       Elvis has left the building.             Hitting the water has shot the girl back to consciousness.  A             look passes between her and Gibson.  A look he won't forget.             SILENCE.  Then the thunderous SOUND of the WAREHOUSE CAVING             IN on itself, sending flames shooting high into the sky.             Frank lies back, floating on the water, the rain pelting             around him, letting the miracle of it all, take him over.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                           (soft)                       Little Chief.             CRASH!  A GLASS OF WHISKEY SHATTERS ON THE TABLE.  WE AR:             INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998             It happens again.  Time stutters and repeats.  As if the film             sprockets were caught in the projector.             CRASH!  The GLASS SHATTERS AGAIN!  CRASH...CRASH...             Camera ratchets into the exploding storm of the flying glass,             ice and whiskey.  And then time stops as we hold close on a             frozen shard - in it, the cracked reflection of John's eye.             The camera moves through the reflection and into.             JOHN'S EYE             A burst of light and then...distorted images.  Like looking             at reflections through a smashed mirror.  The cracks gel, and             we are in...             MONTAGE.  A SERIES OF QUICK FLASHING IMAGES.             1969: Frank, Johnny, Butch and Satch at the World Series.             1971: Johnny and Gordo sitting on Frank's lap, at the Ham.             1972: Frank and Johnny, playing catch.             1976: Johnny winning a swimming race at Longbranch Boys Club,             Frank cheering.             1984: Frank, Julia and Satch beaming with pride as John             graduates from the police academy.             These images appear as DISJOINTED FRAGMENTS OF NEW MEMORIES -             A PAST THAT DIDN'T EXIST BEFORE.  A past where Frank Sullivan             didn't die in that fire.             It's like watching random frames from the Sullivan Family's             8mm home movies as John's brain struggles to absorb decades             of NEW MEMORIES in the span of seconds.             JOHN'S POV             Normal vision slowly returning.  The broken glass is rocking             on the table.             INT. COP BAR - CONTINUOUS                                 GORDO                       John.  John, you all right?                                 JOHN                           (a whisper)                       Longbranch...?                                 GORDO                       What?             John doesn't respond.                                 SATCH                       You're not looking too good.                                 JOHN                       Whoa, I just...I just...                                 GORDO                       What is it?             Beat.                                 JOHN                       My father didn't die in a fire?                                 GORDO                       Huh?                                 JOHN                       My father didn't die in a fire?                                 GORDO                       Fire?  What are you talking about?  He                       had cancer, John.                                 JOHN                       Cancer.  It was the cigarettes.  Right?                       The cigarettes?                                 GORDO                       Yeah, lung cancer.  Ten years ago.             His hand shaking, John takes a long sip of his beer.  Gordo             and Satch exchange a concerned look.                                 SATCH                       Maybe you outta lay off a little...                                 JOHN                       Gordo, I wasn't dreaming.  I talked to                       him, it was real.                                 GORDO                       Huh?                                 JOHN                       The Ham radio.  That's how come he didn't                       die in the fire.             A loaded silence.  Three guys looking at each other, thinking             very different things.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1969                                 FRANK                           (into radio mic)                       Johnny?  Johnny?  You there?  C'mon,                       Chief, answer me...             Nothing but static.  Frank jiggles the frequency dial.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Chief?                           (louder)                       Chief, are you there?             Silence.  And then a voice...                                 JOHNNY (O.S.)                       I'm right here, Daddy.             Frank turns.  Johnny, sleepy faced, wrapped in his blankie,             stands just outside the room - he looks a little scared.                                 FRANK                       It's okay, Chief.                           (beat)                       C'mere.             Johnny shuffles over, Frank lifts him up on his knee -             brushes the hair out of his face...and gets an idea.             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER             Streetlights flood the tree-lined street.  Frank &amp; Johnny             standing next to the little red bicycle.                                 FRANK                       Okay, partner, whatta you say we tame                       this bronco.             CLOSE ON             Johnny's eyes: SHAME &amp; FEAR - doesn't want to disappoint his             father again, but too scared to get on the bike.  Frank             reaches out, holds Johnny's hand.                                 JOHNNY                       I'm scared.                                 FRANK                       Don't be scared.  This time I'm right                       behind you if you fall.                                 JOHNNY                       Daddy, Daddy, I can't.                                 FRANK                       No, but we can.  We can do it together.                       Spirit and guts, Chief.             A long beat.  Johnny takes a deep breath, nods OK, slowly             getting on the bike.  Frank's holding on to the seat.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Take your time.  I'm not gonna let go                       'til you say okay.             Johnny takes a gulp of air, starts pedaling.  Slowly moving             forward.  The bike picks up some speed.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       You ready?                                 JOHNNY                       Wait...                                 FRANK                       I'm right here behind you...             Frank's still running alongside, holding on to the seat.                                 JOHNNY                       Okay!             Frank lets go.  Johnny keeps pumping those little six-year             old legs.  A bit wobbly at first, but he's gonna make it.  On             Johnny's eyes: determination &amp; self-confidence.                                 FRANK                           (clapping)                       Yes!  That's it!  You got it, you got it!                       Way to go, Chief!                                 JOHNNY                       I'm doing it!  I'm doing it!             ON FRANK'S FACE             The proud father.                                 FRANK                           (under his breath)                       Atta boy.             OVERHEAD SHOT             Johnny blissfully riding around Frank in a big gentle circle.             Frank slowly spins around keeping his eyes on his Little             Chief.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1998             John walks in the front door, takes off his coat...             The house looks different.  Cleaner, furnishings less ragged.             John moves through his home, taking in the subtle changes.             He reaches the study.  And there, beside the desk, is             something that makes him stop:             A PHOTOGRAPH on the wall beside the desk -- FRANK, JULIA &amp;             FOURTEEN YEAR-OLD JOHNNY SULLIVAN.                                 JOHN                       Oh my God...             The picture changed.  John aged from 6 to 14.  Julia's             hairstyle and clothes changed from 60's to 70's.  Frank's             hair receded and grayed.  Jon is staring at evidence of a             history that didn't exist before.             John grabs the old family scrapbook he found in Frank's             trunk.  Opens it, unfolds "FIREMAN KILLED" CLIPPING.             The main headline still reads: "OCTOBER 13, 1969.  AMAZIN'S             TAKE GAME 2.  2-1 LEAD.  SEE SPORTS."             But the sub headline now reads: "FIREMAN RESCUES RUNAWAY FROM             INFERNO"             John turns, stares at the radio questioningly.  He starts to             sit down at the desk when he spots something on the front             edge of it.  WORDS CARVED INTO THE WOOD, 29 YEARS AGO by fire             fighter Frank Sullivan.  The day John saved his father's             life: I'M STILL HERE CHIEF             The last letter is missing.  But then a patch of wood starts             to morph - as if it were being carved by an invisible knife.             A BURST OF STATIC.  RADIO CRACKLES TO LIFE.                                 FRANK (O.S.)                           (through radio)                       ...can you hear me?                                                                  CUT TO:             CLOSE ON FRANK             One hand on the squawk bar, the other holds the jack-knife he             is using to finish carving the letter F.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                           (through radio)                       Dad...?                                 FRANK                       Chief?!  Is that you?             INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN                                 JOHN                       Yeah, it's me.                                 FRANK                       You're the voice of an angel, Johnny.  If                       you hadn't told me, no way I would'a ever                       made it.             Frank cuts himself off in mid-sentence.                                 JOHN                       Dad, you there?  You okay?                                 FRANK                       Yeah.  I'm okay.                           (beat)                       What about you?  I want to know.  About                       you.  And your mom.             John hesitates for a moment.  Lights up a smoke.                                 JOHN                       We're doing all right, Dad.  We're doing                       good.                                 FRANK                       Tell me.                                 JOHN                       It's hard to explain.  Something happened                       today.  It was like a dream.  And when I                       woke up I had all these new memories.                       Good times.  Times we never had before.                                 FRANK                       I'm glad.             But John looks troubled.  Something bothering him.  He takes             a hit off his cigarette.                                 JOHN                       Dad, I gotta tell you this...cause you                       should know.  Cause I still remember.                                 FRANK                       What, Johnny?  What is it?                                 JOHN                       What it was like when you died in the                       fire...             Both men are silent for some moments.  The hum of static.  A             breath, then --                                 JOHN (cont'd)                       We needed you.  I needed you.  So many                       times...I wished for you.  But you                       weren't there for me.                           (beat)                       Mom tried.  But she was hurting.  I used                       to hear her, every night, for years,                       crying herself to sleep.             Frank grips the radio mic, stunned.                                 FRANK                       I didn't think...             The static grows.  John leans into the mic                                 JOHN                       Well, you think about it.  And you                       remember, cause I don't wanna lose you                       again.  I don't ever want Mom...             John's voice cracks, choking back the tears.                                 FRANK                           (over static)                       You won't.  I swear to God you won't.  I                       love you, son.             A blast of static.  The signal is gone.  It is quiet.             John leans back.  Takes a breath.  Reaches out for the phone.             CLOSE ON PHONE'S THREE SPEED DIAL BUTTONS.             John HITS #3.                                 JULIA'S VOICE                           (through answering machine)                       Hi, this is Julia.  Please leave a                       message after the tone.                                 JOHN                       Ma, it's me.  Call me.  We gotta talk.             As John slowly hangs up the phone, something catches his eye.             Something that wasn't there yesterday.             LONGBRANCH BOYS' CLUB SWIMMING TROPHY...A GREAT SUMMER.             INT. HOSPITAL - EMERGENCY ROOM - LATE NIGHT - 1969             Through several glass windows a CLOCK READS: 11:52 PM.             Julia and other medical personnel are working on a heart             attach victim and they are winning.  She is in charge and she             is impressive.  Cool...efficient...expert.             A sixth sense causes her to look up to see:             FRANK.             Standing behind the windows.  Motionless.  Gazing at his             wife.             Julia holds on him for a split second, concern and surprise             etching across her face.  She turns back to her work, then             says something to another ER nurse, who nods okay.  Satisfied             the patient is out of the woods, she peels off her gloves and             heads for the door.             INT. HOSPITAL - EMERGENCY ROOM/HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS             Julia steps through the door as Frank approaches.                                 JULIA                       Frank...what's wrong?                                 FRANK                       Nothing.  I just wanted to see you.             He takes her in his arms, snuggling his head against her             neck, losing himself in the scent of her hair.                                 FRANK (cont'd)                           (whisper)                       I'm not goin' anywhere, Jules.  For the                       rest of your life.             It's hard to tell, we can't see his face, but it looks like             Frank is crying.                                 JULIA                       Frankie, what is it?             But Frank is silent.  So they just stand there, holding each             other.  And then Julia notices the burn and scrape marks on             Frank's arms and neck.                                 JULIA (cont'd)                       I got a bad feeling today...I was                       worried.                                 FRANK                       I'm here.  Bruised but not broken.             Frank pulls his head back, looks into his wife's eyes and             kisses her on the mouth.  It's a long kiss.             As they come up for air.                                 JULIA                       Where's Johnny?                                 FRANK                       I tucked him in at Gordo's.                                 JULIA                       You give him his drops?                                 FRANK                       One in each ear.                           (beat)                       What would you do without me?                                 JULIA                       Probably marry some rich doctor and never                       have to work...             Julia sees something through a glass door that stops her             short.  A YOUNG INTERN is standing over a gurneyed PATIENT.             The YOUNG INTERN is changing the I.V. BAG.                                 JULIA (cont'd)                       What's he doing?  Frank, I gotta...             He knows she's back on the job.  Waves "no problem."             INT. HOSPITAL EMERGENCY CUBICLE - CONTINUOUS             Julia interrupts the Young Intern as he hooks up the bag.                                 JULIA                       Excuse me doctor, is that Benazepril?                                 INTERN                       Yes.             Julia quickly shuts off the I.V.                                 JULIA                       I gave this patient 50 mills of Benedryal                       on admittance.                           (unhooking I.V. bag)                       Mix them and he's dead.                                 INTERN                       Why wasn't I made aware?                                 JULIA                       It's in his chart.             The intern steps back: "Oh shit."  Julia takes charge.             The patient stirs: a SCRAGGLY HIPPIE, looks kind of like             Pacino in SERPICO.  A breathing mask covers his bearded face.             Barely conscious, his eyes focus on Julia.             After a quick double check of the patient, Julia looks up.             Through the glass door she can see Frank watching.                                 FRANK                           (mouthing to words)                       I love you, Bud.                                 JULIA                           (mouthing back)                       I love you more.             The clock on the wall now reads: 12:01 AM.             And the LEGEND reads:             OCTOBER 13th - WORLD SERIES TRAVEL DAY             INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY - 1969             SURREAL IMAGES.  SOMEONE'S POV...             MEN and WOMEN, standing and sitting, seen only from teh waist             down.  All wearing dark cloths and speaking in hushed voices.             A recognizable VOICE?  The edge of a CASKET?  A NIGHTMARE.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - BEDROOM - LATE NIGHT - 1998             John is bathed in SWEAT.  He twists to CAMERA and his eyes             pop open.  A glazed, confused look pours out of them.             SEE past an empty bottle of BUSHMILLS on the night stand - a             clock READS 12:01 AM.             INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY             THE NIGHTMARE REPEATS - like some horrible instant replay.             MEN and WOMEN, standing and sitting, seen only from the waist             down.  All wearing dark clothes and speaking in hushed             voices.  FLASHES OF FACES SWIMMING INTO THE POV...indistinct,             blurring into each other.  Is that UNCLE BUTCH?  SATCH?             GIBSON?             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - BEDROOM / BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER             A terrified and disoriented John stumbles out of bed.  He             moves to the bathroom.  But he stops.  Something is wrong.             The bedroom has changed.  It looks like a DUMP.             John shakes his head, trying to blink away the nightmare.             But the room does not change back.  He goes to teh bathroom.             Splashes his face.  He looks up to the mirror and...             INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY             The same horrible instant replay.  Flashes of faces swimming             into the POV...             JOHNNY'S POV             He is CROUCHED UNDER A TABLE.  STARING AT THE CASKET.  Alone.             Bewildered.  Crying.             A MAN, seen only from teh waist down, approaches the table.             As he crouches down his face drops into the frame.  It is             FRANK.  His face etched in a terrible pain.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - EARLY MORNING             The kitchen looks different: dirtier, uncared-for.  John             looks different too: like a guy on the tail end of a lifetime             bender.  He cracks open a Bushmills.  Pours a couple of shots             into his instant coffee.  Several sips to settle his nerves.             He reaches for the cordless phone and HITS SPEED DIAL #3.                                 CASHIER (V.O.)                       Noah's Deli.  Can you hold?             Confused, John clicks down the receiver.  His hand is shaking             as he punches the speed dial button for the second time.                                 CASHIER (V.O.) (CONT'D)                       Noah's Deli.             On the slam of John's phone, we got to...             INT. JULIA'S APARTMENT - HALLWAY - MANHATTAN - MORNING             John knocks on the door.  It opens to reveal a Jamaican woman             clutching a crying infant, a toddler hanging off her leg.             Behind them we half recognize Julia's apartment.  We know             it's her apartment because of the BAY WINDOW and the view of             THE GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE.  But everything else is             different.  Different furniture.  Different pain job.             John stands speechless.  The Jamaican woman regards him...                                 JAMAICAN WOMAN                       Can I help you?                                 JOHN                           (relaxed)                       I'm looking for Julia Sullivan.                                 JAMAICAN WOMAN                       I think you have the wrong apartment.                                 JOHN                       But this is her place.  910 Riverside.                       Apartment 3C.                                 JAMAICAN WOMAN                       I'm sorry, but no one by that name lives                       here.             John just stands there, lost, questioning his grip on             reality.  Liquor on his breath, fear in his eyes, he is a             scary sight.  Jamaican woman does the smart thing - she slams             the door.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DETECTIVE SQUAD - COFFEE ROOM - LATER             ON SATCH, scavenging the fridge while absorbed in some             papers.             Through the open door he SPOTS JOHN across the squad room.             Even at that distance, Satch can see John's unsteady walk and             fucked up demeanor.  Satch's eyes go to stone.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - MEN'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS             John leans over the sink, wet paper towels pressed to his             face.  He barely reacts to the SOUND of the door.  He does             react to the silence that follows.  Satch stands in the             doorway...looking him over.                                 JOHN                       What?             A long silence.                                 SATCH                       Another rough night, huh?  That it?                                 JOHN                       Yeah.  That's it.             John moves for the door.  But Satch grabs him, slams him             against the wall.  Startled, John freezes.                                 SATCH                       Do not disrespect me.  Disrespect                       yourself all you want.  But not me.  Or                       anybody else around here.  You got that?             John shrugs, sagging against the wall.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                       This is getting real old, John.  And I'm                       tired up to here with it...                                 JOHN                       I'm sorry.  I just...you know...I...                                 SATCH                       And I'm tired of the I'm sorrys.  I don't                       need 'em.  What I need is a partner I can                       count on.                           (pause; softens)                       I care about you.  Not cause of me and                       your old man.  Not cause of your mom.                       But because of you.             Satch steps back.  An awkward beat.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                       We got the preliminary forensics on that                       skeleton.                           (opening door to the squad)                       Your gonna want to look at it.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DETECTIVE SQUAD ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Satch and John approach their adjoining desks.  Satch slides             an 8X10 PHOTO off the top of an OLD YELLOWED POLICE FILE and             hands it to John.  It is a picture of the skeleton discovered             behind the Greek Diner.  But what catches John's attention,             what picks at his subconscious, is the decaying GLASS TAPE             binding the wrists.                                 SATCH                       Bad memories...                           (re: photo)                       You imagine the odds...us diggin' up a                       Nightingale Murder?             John looks from the photo to the file on Satch's desk.  It             reads: NIGHTINGALE MURDERS.  John slowly sinks into his             chair.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                       She makes ten.                                 JOHN                       Ten?  No.  I remember this case.  Three.                       He killed three women.                                 SATCH                       What're you talking'?  You know better                       than anybody, John.  You've read this                       file a thousand times.             John fixes on the file.  Then slowly reaches for it.  It's             filled with police and forensics reports.  And PHOTOS.  Crime             scene shots of 9 DEAD WOMEN.  Linked by TWO gruesome details -             they were all GARROTED, wrists bound with GLASS TAPE.             John turns over the last PHOTO and his heart stops...his             universe crashing down on him.             CLOSE ON THAT PHOTOGRAPH: A MURDER VICTIM.  GARROTED.  GLASS             TAPED WRISTS.  JULIA SULLIVAN.                                 JOHN                       No.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Julia is at the door watching Frank tuck Johnny in.  Johnny             wears his Mets' cap and cradles his baseball glove.  He's in             that exhausted/excited kid moment before sleep sets in.                                 FRANK &amp; JOHNNY                           (very soft)                       Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack...I                       don't care if I never get back...             Johnny's eyes close.                                 JULIA                       Boy is he excited about the game                       tomorrow.                                 FRANK                       He ain't the only one.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - LATER             Marvin Gaye plays from the HI-FI.  Frank grabs a beer, as             Julia comes in -- putting on her coat while taking her keys             from a hook.  She's wearing her nurse's uniform.                                 JULIA                       I'm off.                                 FRANK                           (turning to her)                       Wish you weren't.                                 JULIA                           (stepping to him)                       Do you know how much I love you?             Frank takes her in his arms.  Starts to move her to the             music.                                 FRANK                       Yeah, actually I do.             They kiss.  And dance.  And kiss.  And dance.  He starts to             slip her coat off.  She laughs and wriggles away from him.             Naughty boy.  And she is out the door.             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - NIGHT - 1998             John pulls in past SAMANTHA'S CAR as she comes out the back             door with the Teddy Bear and other stuff she left behind.             John gets out of his car, clutching the 'Nightingale' file.             his eyes are red, swollen by tears and booze.                                 SAMANTHA                       John, are you all right?             The answer is no.  He looks terrible, as haunted as any man             could possibly be.  He doesn't mean to, but he snaps --                                 JOHN                       What are you doing here?             Samantha jumps, frightened.                                 SAMANTHA                       Ellen said you were working.  I just                       wanted to pick up the rest...             John turns, lost and ashamed.  Sam walks to her car and             starts to cry.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS             John enters, plunks the Nightingale file on the desk.;  He             stares at the FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH on the wall.             JULIA IS MISSING.   A look of loss in Frank and John's faces.             John fingers the Nightingale file.  A nightmare.             He hits the ANSWERING MACHINE BUTTON to hear Samantha's             halting message.  As that plays...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             John steps to teh counter and pours himself a stiff             Bushmills.  Turns and steps back into...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS             John collapses in the chair.  Stares at the words carved in             the desk - I'M STILL HERE CHIEF.  He rubs his fingers over             the smooth carving...his eyes going to the radio.             A quiet moment.  John slowly puts his hand on the squawk,             leans into the mic...                                 JOHN                       Dad, you there?  Can you here me?                           (silence)                       Dad?  I need you to be there.             A long beat.  The hum of static.  And then...                                 FRANK (O.S.)                           (through radio)                       Right here, Chief.  Sorry I lost you last                       night.  Damn thing keeps cutting out.                                 JOHN                       Dad...Dad... There's... I need to...             INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN.                                 FRANK                       Are you alright"?                                 JOHN                           (sipping Bushmills)                       Something happened, something...                                 FRANK                       What?  Johnny, what's wrong?                                 JOHN                       It's Mom.                                 FRANK                       What?  What is it?                                 JOHN                       She's not here.                                 FRANK                       Whatta you mean she's not here?                                 JOHN                       She...she died.  It's like it just                       happened.                                 FRANK                       She just died, your mother just died?                                 JOHN                       No Dad, it happened a long time ago, a                       long time ago for me.             A dreadful moment of silence.                                 FRANK                       When?                                 JOHN                       October 22, 1969.                                 FRANK                       Jesus Christ...that's...ten days from                       now.                           (beat)                       How?             Silence.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Johnny, I gotta know.             Long beat.  You could hear a fuckin' pin drop.                                 JOHN                       She was murdered.             Eerie silence as John's words hang in the air.                                 FRANK                       Murdered?  Why?                                 JOHN                       There was this case.  A serial.  He                       murdered three women, all nurses, between                       '68 and '69.  The papers called them the                       Nightingale Murders.  They never caught                       him.  But the killings just stopped.                                 FRANK                       What kinda twisted animal.                                 JOHN                       Dad, we did something.  Something to make                       it worse.                                 FRANK                       Whatta you mean...                                 JOHN                       He didn't just kill three women anymore.                       He killed ten.                                 FRANK                       What are you talking about?                                 JOHN                       Something we did changed the                       case...changed history.                           (beat)                       Mom wasn't dead.  But then after you                       didn't die in the fire something must                       have happened.  And this guy, this                       Nightingale guy, he kept on killing...it                       was like a spree...seven more women.                                 FRANK                       I gotta take her away, John.  I'm gonna                       take your mother away.  He can't hurt her                       if I take her away.                                 JOHN                       I don't know...                           (beat)                       What about the other women?                                 FRANK                       I'll warn them.                                 JOHN                       That'll never work.  They'll just think                       you're crazy.                                 FRANK                       What can we do?  You don't even know who                       this guy is.                                 JOHN                       No.  Nobody got...                           (realizing)                       Wait a minute.  I might not know who he                       is, but I know where he's gonna be.  I                       got the case file.  We know what he's                       gonna do before he does it.                                 FRANK                       So what should I do?  Call the police?                       You think they'll believe me?                                 JOHN                       They will if they catch him in the act.                       You can make that happen, Dad.  You can                       tail the victim and call it in at just                       the right moment.                                 FRANK                       I don't know, John.  I'm a fire fighter.                       This is...this is different.                                 JOHN                       I do know.  I'm a cop.  This is what I                       do.             John takes a long sip from the Bushmills.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       You ever talk to a victim's family?  The                       one's left behind?  They don't act like                       what you'd think.  There's panic and                       fear.  But mostly, it's like there's this                       logic problem.  And if they could only                       solve it, everything would be okay.                           (a breath)                       But if you look real close - look at                       their eyes - you can see it.  Just a                       glimmer.  But somewhere they know.  They                       know their world is never gonna be the                       same.                                 FRANK                       What if the radio stops working?  Christ,                       what if I can't reach you again?                                 JOHN                       Then you get Mom the hell out.  But Dad,                       those other women weren't supposed to                       die.  We don't try to stop this guy,                       we're gonna live with that for the rest                       of our lives.             Frank takes a deep breath, swallows some air.                                 FRANK                       What do I gotta do?             John grabs the THICK YELLOWED POLICE FILE.  Opens to homicide             report on Karen Reynolds.  CLOSE ON FORENSIC PHOTO             KAREN REYNOLDS' CORPSE                                 JOHN                       The next victim was Karen Reynolds...It                       happens tomorrow.                           (reading)                       Case file says she left St. Vincents at                       six.  Show'd up at Cozy's Bar around six                       thirty.  She walked outta that bar around                       seven-thirty.  They found her dead in an                       empty lot behind the place at eight                       o'clock.             Frank jots down teh info.                                 FRANK                       Why not just get the cops to watch the                       bar?                                 JOHN                       They'll question her.  Whatever they tell                       her could change what happens.                           (beat)                       No, I want you to follow her.  See if                       anybody's watching her, hittin' on her.                       I'm betting somebody's gonna walk outta                       that bar with her.  When they do, you                       call the cops.             Close on NIGHTINGALE FILE on John's desk.  Zoom in on the             date below KAREN'S HOMICIDE PHOTO: October 14, 1969.             The LEGEND reads:             OCTOBER 14th - 3RD GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES             INT./EXT. KOREAN GROCERY - EVENING - 1969             A woman waits to pay for a mini pack of Kleenex and some gum.             KAREN REYNOLDS.  A wool coat over her Nurse's uniform.             Frank's and John's voices continue over the scene.                                 FRANK (V.O.)                       What do I tell them?                                 JOHN (V.O.)                       Tell 'em there's a homicide in                       progress... cause by the time they show                       up there will be.             As Karen moves to the cash register, the CAMERA WIDENS TO             REVEAL FRANK, awkwardly pretending to read a magazine.             Frank readies to follow her when he suddenly trips over a             crate of vegetables and goes down on one knee.             Karen looks in the direction of the accident, and for a split             second, her eyes lock with Frank's.  Embarrassed, Frank looks             away as he rights himself.             Frank edges out of the grocery store as Karen steps into the             street and dodges traffic towards a corner BAR/RESTAURANT at             the end of the block, past a heavily overgrown VACANT LOT.             Frank follows Karen across the street and finds himself, just             as Karen enters the bar, at a point near the murder site             described by John.  He pauses to stare at it.             INT. COZY'S BAR &amp; RESTAURANT - MOMENTS LATER             Frank enters the place.  Sort of a singles atmosphere, but a             comfortable one.  It's HAPPY HOUR.  On the TV, the Mets' Gil             Hodges offers his analysis of Game 3.             Frank looks about, down the bar and into an area with booths             and tables.  A few folks at the bar.  A group of YOUNG WOMEN             laughing in a booth.  But NO KAREN REYNOLDS.  Frank's blood             runs cold in a spasm of panic when...                                 WOMAN'S VOICE                       Hey, Chuck.                                 BARTENDER                       Hey, Karen.             Frank wheels around just as Karen passes him from teh LADIES             ROOM.  There is the trace of a bump, enough for Karen to take             note of Frank.  Ad lib EXCUSE ME.  She then starts moving             down teh bar towards the booth of young women.             Frank checks out everyone in the bar, not knowing quite what             he's looking for.             Karen slips into the booth with her friends.  Ad lib HELLOS.             Frank orders a beer, but his eyes are fixed on the booth.             Karen and a friend take note of Frank staring at them.             Embarrassed, he turns away, checking his watch: 6:40PM.  And             at just that moment a SCRAGGLY MAN passes by, taking a seat             at the end of the bar.  We have seen this man before.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DET. SQUAD - MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             Satch and a YOUNG DETECTIVE stand at the sinks, washing up.                                 YOUNG DETECTIVE                       Is that really how you got the Son of                       Sam?  Parking tickets?             Satch shrugs a yes.  Wipes his hands and heads out into the             squad.  The Young Detective follows.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DETECTIVE SQUAD - CONTINUOUS             CLOSE ON SQUAD ROOM WALL CLOCK: 6:45PM             John's at his desk.  Keeps glancing at the phone, fiddling             with the NIGHTINGALE FILE... A PHOTOGRAPH OF KAREN REYNOLDS.             Satch passes John on his way to the coffee machine.                                 SATCH                       Any word on our bones?             John shakes his head no.  Young Detective joins Satch at the             coffee machine.  John overhears:                                 YOUNG DETECTIVE                       But how'd you think of it?                                 SATCH                       You're pulling over with a .44 bulldog                       tucked in your pants getting ready to                       blow somebody's brains out...I  figure                       the last thing you're thinking about is                       alternate side of the street parking.             Young Detective nods, impressed.  John is less impressed.                                 JOHN                       That's what we need here, Satch.  A lucky                       break.                                 SATCH                       That wasn't luck, Johnny boy.  That was                       smarts and ten plus on the job.             INT. COZY'S BAR &amp; RESTAURANT - NIGHT - 1969             BOTTLE OF RHEINGOLD drops into frame next to half empty one.                                 BARTENDER                       From the girls, pal.  All of 'em.             Frank glances at the women in the booth.  They're all looking             at him, smiling.  A big one from Karen.             His watch says 7:05.  Taking the new bottle, Frank steps from             the bar, past the Scraggly Man and walks to the booth.             Charmingly shy, Frank is kind of at a loss for words.                                 FRANK                       I was, uh, I'm not really...                                 YOUNG WOMAN #1                           (noting Frank's jacket)                       Fireman, huh?                                 FRANK                           (noting wedding ring)                       A married fireman.                                 YOUNG WOMAN #3                       Oh, what the hell.  Have a seat.  What's                       your name, fireman?                                 FRANK                       Frank.             And Frank takes a seat, sliding in next to Karen.  An awkward             moment for him as she takes a closer look at his face.                                 KAREN                       Do I know you?                                 FRANK                       I don't think so.                                 KAREN                           (puts it together)                       From the Korean market up the street.                           (laughing)                       Mr. Lee make you pay for those veggies.                                 YOUNG WOMAN #1                       You following her, Frank?  You're not                       some kind of stalker or something?                                 FRANK                       I follow fires, nothing else.             General laughter all around.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DET. SQUAD - NIGHT - 1998             John has a CORKBOARD set up next to his desk.  On it he has             arrayed several photos of the Nigthingale victims under the             dates of their murders.  He looks over at the photos, then at             the forensics photo of Karen Reynolds on his desk.  BRRING!             John shoots a look at the wall clock.  It reads: 7:45.                                 JOHN                           (grabbing the phone)                       Sullivan.                           (beat)                       You're kiddin'...                           (grabbing pen; scribbling)             Satch is alerted by John's sudden burst of energy.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       Mario, you are the best...right, right,                       right.  Spell it out for me.             INT. COZY'S BAR &amp; RESTAURANT - NIGHT - 1969             At the bar, the Scraggly Man stares at Frank and the women.             Franks checks his watch as he tells a story.  It's 7:50.                                 FRANK                       Yeah, it was a close call, but...                                 KAREN                       Close!  The news said it was a miracle                       you guys got out alive!                                 FRANK                       Close is just close if you're still alive                       to talk about it, y'know/             The women around him are clearly enraptured.             In B.G. - at the bar - the Scraggly Man, looking frustrated,             slides off his stool and strides out of the place.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - NIGHT - 1998/EXT             John hangs up the phone.  Satch looks at him, "Whatta we             got?"                                 JOHN                       Our lucky break.  Mario ID'd the dental.                       Mary Finelli...reported missing April 16,                       1968.                                 SATCH                           (looking at corkboard)                       April 16...?  That means she was the                       first.                                 JOHN                       Which means he probably knew her.                                 SATCH                       This case just got hot.  We pull on this                       string...             But for some strange reason John has stopped listening to             Satch.  Something else has got his full attention.  It is the             Nightingale file that lays open on his desk.  It is             changing...Karen Reynolds' forensic photo disappears. In fact             everything about her, all evidence of her murder - police             reports, photos, witness reports - is GONE.             John's eyes shoot to the corkboard.  The head shot of Karen             Reynolds and the date of her murder are also GONE.  John             looks between the file and the board.                                 JOHN                           (whisper)                       Dad...             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT - 1969             Frank and Julia stand on the porch, eyes on Johnny - up past             bedtime, proudly riding his bike up and down the street.                                 JULIA                           (a stretch and a yawn)                       I think I'm gonna head up, take a shower.                           (slight smile)                       You wanna tuck the monster in and join                       me?             Frank doesn't take the bait.                                 JULIA (CONT'D)                       What's the matter?             Beat.                                 FRANK                       There's something I gotta take care of.                       Something I need to tell you about.                                 JULIA                       Okay...                                 FRANK                       I've been talking to this...guy...this                       cop...on the HAM...and, uh, he...                                 JULIA                       Honey, what is it?  Just tell me.                                 FRANK                       I've been talking to Johnny...on the                       radio.                                 JULIA                       I know.  He loves that thing.                                 FRANK                       No.  Not our Johnny.  I mean, it's                       Johnny...but not now...in the future.             It takes her a moment to absorb what he just said.  And then             she gets it... he's talking about a game.                                 JULIA                       Sounds like fun.             She kisses him on the forehead and heads into the house.                                 JULIA (CONT'D)                       I'll be upstairs...if you want to play.                                 FRANK                       I'm serious.                                 JULIA (O.S.)                       So am I.             A quiet beat.  And then...                                 JOHN'S VOICE                           (over static)                       Karen Reynolds is alive and well.  We did                       it, Dad.             We are now...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1998 &amp; 1969                                 FRANK (O.S.)                           (over the HAM)                       I'll be damned.                                 JOHN                       Did you see him?  Do you know who he is?             INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN                                 FRANK                       No.  I just kept talking to her.                           (beat)                       There was a lot of guys in that bar -                       could'a been any of 'em.                                 JOHN                       It's okay.  This is working.  This is                       gonna work.                                 FRANK                       Whatta we do now?                                 JOHN                           (consults file)                       Sissy Clark, 190 Riverside Dr., apartment                       3C.  Tomorrow.                           (skimming file)                       She's a nursing student.  Paying her way                       as a cocktail waitress at the Peppermint                       Lounge, on west 63rd.  Left work at two A                       M...killed in her apartment, between two                       thirty and five.             Frank jots down the info.  Fires up a Lucky.                                 FRANK                       Got it.                                 JOHN                       Dad, I think I may be able to get you                       enough information to make sure the DA                       can nail this bastard.                                 FRANK                       How?                                 JOHN                       Coupla days ago they dug up a body in                       Washington Heights - Mary Finelli.  Girl                       disappeared in '68.  Turns out she was                       his first kill.  Which means he probably                       knew her.  Most serials know their first                       victim.  I'm gonna do some checking - see                       if I can put any of this together...                                 FRANK                       All right, I'm with you.                           (beat)                       I just hope we know what the hell we're                       doing.             A soft burst of static.  The signal returns a little fuzzy.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Tell me something good, Chief.  Tell me                       about the future.                                 JOHN                           (lighting up a Marlboro)                       Well they found out cigarettes give you                       lung cancer.             Frank takes a beat, contemplating the cigarette in his hand.                                 FRANK                       What else, John.  It must be different,                       huh?  Are people living on the moon?                                 JOHN                       Didn't happen, we got enough problems                       down here.                                 FRANK                       What are we like in...1998?                                 JOHN                           (lying)                       We're okay...we're good, Dad.                                 FRANK                           (groping for good news)                       Hey, what about the Amazin's?  They pull                       it off?                                 JOHN                       You really wanna know?                                 FRANK                       Yeah, you betcha.                                 JOHN                       Well, game five was the big one.  It                       turned in the bottom of the 6th.  We were                       down 3-0.  Cleon Jones gets hit on the                       foot - left a scuff mark on the ball.                       Clendenon comes up.  The count goes to 2                       2.  High fastball.  He nailed it.  Weis                       slammed a solo shot in the 7th to tie.                       Jones and Swoboda scored in the 8th.  We                       won, Pop.                                 FRANK                       Wow.             Julia walks into the study.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Hang on a sec, John.                                 JOHN                           (over the HAM)                       You there?             ON FRANK             realizing something.                                 FRANK                       Jules, I want you to say hello to                       somebody...                           (re: radio)                       I'm on with John - that guy I told you                       about.                                 JULIA                       The future guy?                                 FRANK                       Yeah, but, no kidding around, he's a good                       guy, a real good guy...             Sensing that somehow this is important to her husband, Julia             gives in, willing to play along with his radio game.  She             shares Frank's chair, he puts his arm around her.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       John, say hello to my wife...Julia.                                 JOHN                       H-hi.                                 JULIA                       Hey, future boy.  Frank tells me you're a                       cop?                                 JOHN                       Yeah, that's right.             Hearing voices, Johnny, Gordo and Elvis wander in from the             family room.  They are in their pj's...a sleepover.  Julia             gives them a smile, turns back to the radio.                                 JULIA                       My six year-old here keeps telling me he                       wants to be a policeman.  Right after he                       retires from the majors.  We just gave                       him a badge and a whistle for his                       birthday.                                 JOHN                       Yeah...I remember.                           (smiling)                       I used to play cops and robbers but y--                       ...my mom wouldn't let me have a toy gun.                                 JULIA                       You're mom sounds like she's got some                       smarts.                                 JOHN                       She's pretty special.                                 JULIA                       Are you a good cop, John?                                 JOHN                       I try to be.                                 JULIA                       Then I'll bet she's real proud of you,                       huh?                                 JOHN                       Yeah.  I just wish I'd told her how proud                       I was of her.                                 JULIA                       I'm sorry.  I didn't realize...                           (beat)                       But she knew, John.  A mother knows                       what's in her son's heart.             Little Gordo reaches for the microphone.                                 JULIA (CONT'D)                       I better go.  It's been good talking with                       you.             Julia scoops Johnny up, carrying him off to bed.  But little             Gordo does not follow...fascinated by the radio.                                 GORDO                       I wanna talk on the radio.             Frank laughs, as Gordo climbs up on his lab.                                 GORDO (CONT'D)                       This is the Space Cowboy.  I'm an                       intergalactic traveler from the                       Federation planet earth.                                 JOHN                       Gordo?                                 GORDO                       How'd you know my name, mister?             John sits back, marvelling at how young Gordo sounds.  A             thousand childhood memories playing in his head.  And then he             lights up...realizing the opportunity.                                 JOHN                       Hey, Gordo.  My name is Santa Clause.                       And I'm gonna give you the biggest                       Christmas present you ever had.             Gordo looks at Frank: is this for real?  Frank nods, smiling.                                 GORDO                       I better give you my address then.                                 JOHN                       Oh don't worry kid, I know where you                       live.  Now I want you to go upstairs and                       write this down, buy Yahoo.                       You got that Space Cowboy.  Y-a-h-o-o.                       It's a magic word and I never want you to                       forget it.                                 GORDO                       You got a deal, mister.  I mean Santa.             The sound of Julia's voice calling Gordo to bed.  Gordo             scampers out.  Static filters through both radios, then...                                 FRANK                       John, you still there?                                 JOHN                       I'm right here, Dad.                                 FRANK                       You all right?                                 JOHN                       Yeah, I think so...                                 FRANK                       Don't worry, Chief.  I'm not gonna let                       anything happen to her...no matter what.             BZZZZ-SHHH.  A burst of loud static.  The band goes dead.             John takes a beat to come down.  He gets up, making his way             into the KITCHEN.  There's a half-full bottle of BUSHMILLS on             the counter.  John reaches out to grab but the bottle.  But             then he stops.  It is time to stop.  John turns on the faucet             and dumps the booze down the drain.             The LEGEND reads:             OCTOBER 15th - FOURTH GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES             INT. FINELLI HOUSE - MARY'S ROOM - DAY - 1998             CLOSE ON             a white vinyl DIARY with a blue heart shaped padlock held by             a hand.  A page is turned and the name ALAN SILVER comes             clear.             RACK FOCUS TO             an old Catholic High School yearbook on the dresser below the             diary and a PICTURE of DARYL ADAMS, 18 years old.                                 JOHN'S VOICE                       Can I keep these for a little while?             On SOPHIA FINELLI, 55, a profound sadness sits at her core.                                 FINELLI                       Detectives' been through that stuff                       already back then.             John nods.  A beat.                                 FINELLI (CONT'D)                       You'll bring them back soon?                                 JOHN                       Promise.             John pulls a clear plastic BAG from his pocket with a patch             of the partially disintegrated clothing found on Mary             Finellis skeleton.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       Do you know this?             Mrs. Finelli gasps in recognition, her eyes turning to a             closet door.             John opens the door to reveal MARY's CLOTHES, lined up in             perfect order.  Visible among them is a "Candy Striper"             uniform... a perfect match with the patch John holds.                                 FINELLI                       Mary volunteered over at St. Vincents'                       after school.  She loved it...was going                       to become a doctor.             Silence.  Tears start to run down her cheeks.  John             understands this woman's pain.  He looks around the room at             Mary's possessions.  Faded pictures.  Mary and her family.             Mary and her friends.                                 FINELLI (CONT'D)                       Her room...I just couldn't...it should                       only be her room...you know?             John does know.                                 FINELLI (CONT'D)                       I'm happy you found her, Detective.  It                       makes it easier...now, to know for sure.                       You know?             Silence again.  John nods.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - MEN'S ROOM - AFTERNOON             John and Satch stand at the urinals.                                 JOHN                       Okay, lemme walk you through it.                                 SATCH                       Mind if I shake it off first...so's I can                       concentrate better.             John waits for Satch to finish.   Then, as they head out into             the hallway...                                 JOHN                       Three guys show up in both the yearbook                       and diary.             INT. DETECTIVE SQUAD - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             The first guy passed away ten years ago.  The second one died             in Vietnam.             The room has a HOLDING PEN opposite the door.  A table is             pushed up against the door wall and a more elaborate layout             of the murder victims, paperwork, and calendar/timeline             graphs sit on the table and are pinned on a cork board.  Mary             Finelli's uniform is there.             John shows Satch a photo in Mary Finelli's year book.                                 JOHN                       The third one is Daryl Adams.             Satch looks, nods, and steps back.  Waits for more.  John             hands him Daryl Adams' rap sheet.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       I ran him through BCI...got a hit.                       Busted for sexual assault: March 22,                       1970.  Eight days after the last                       Nightingale murder.                                 SATCH                       So you figure the murders stop 'cause                       he's off the street.  Then by the time he                       gets paroled, he's smartened up enough to                       control himself?                                 JOHN                       Not the first time that's been true.  I'm                       telling you, I got a feeling about this                       guy.  This is the guy, Satch.                                 SATCH                       Uh, huh.                                 JOHN                       What?                                 SATCH                       I'm just trying to figure what interests                       me more: the possibility that Daryl is                       the guy, or you making him absolutely the                       guy.             EXT. NEW YORK ST. - PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - EVENING - 1969             SISSY CLARK steps off a BUS.  She crosses the street towards             the club.  The bus moves out and WIPES FRAME, revealing Frank             sitting at the intersection on his Harley.             Sissy enters the club.  Frank guns the Harley into an alley.             INT. PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - EVENING - MOMENTS LATER             Business is light at this hour.  The BARTENDER is setting up.             The Flying Nun plays on a couple TV's over the bar - the             audio drowned out by loud Motown music.             Frank enters and looks around.  No Sissy.  This time he does             not panic.  He sits at the bar.             INT. RESTAURANT - KITCHEN - DUSK - 1998             CLOSE ON             the 47-year old face of Daryl Adams.  A notably unimposing             guy.  He is not a happy camper.             He is one of two PLUMBERS installing fixtures in the kitchen             of a new place.  Several other people are at work getting the             kitchen ready.  So as not to be overheard...                                 DARYL                       That was over thirty years ago.  I paid                       for that and then some.                                 JOHN                       You go to Xavier High School, Daryl?                                 DARYL                       Yeah.                                 JOHN                       You remember Mary Finelli?                                 DARYL                           (mentally steps back)                       What are you saying?                                 JOHN                       You know what I'm saying.                                 DARYL                       No, I don't.                                 JOHN                       Well, I think you do.             INT. PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - EVENING - 1969             HAWAII FIVE-O plays on the TV's, the ROLLING STONES over it.             Frank sits at the same place we last saw him, watching Sissy             and scanning the crowd, trying to find a face that might give             him pause.             Sissy, looking sixty and terrific in her Go-Go waitress             outfit, moves about doing business.  She steps to the             bartender t0 give her drink orders and pick up prepared             drinks, coming within inches of Frank.                                 SISSY                       Give me a couple Bloodys, Gus, and a                       Dewars on the rocks.             She casts a friendly eye at Frank.                                 SISSY (CONT'D)                       How ya doin' there?                                 FRANK                       Just fine.  You?                                 SISSY                       Right now, just fine.  Ask me later,                       fireman.             And she's off with the drinks.  He checks his watch.  It             reads: 9:35PM.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             A clock on the wall reads: 9:35PM             The Nightingale murders display has been removed.  Daryl sits             at the table in the middle of the room.  John sits opposite             him.  Satch leans against the two-way mirror wall.                                 JOHN                       Sexual assault, Daryl.  Five years.  But                       you got lucky, right?  You got away with                       something else.  Something you figured                       nobody knows about.                                 DARYL                       What I know is what I told you.                                 JOHN                       Let me tell you what I know, Daryl.  You                       went to Saint Xavier with Mary.  You                       lived five blocks from her.  You liked                       her.  But she ain't interested.  That                       must've hurt, huh?                                 DARYL                       So what?                                 JOHN                       So, what'd you do about it, Daryl?                                 DARYL                       Nothing.             Satch can see this is going nowhere.             INT. PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - EVENING - 1969             The 11 O'clock NEWS is on TV.  A "Super" shows the Mets won             Game 4.  Score 2-1.  Mets lead series: 3-1.             CREEDENCE CLEARWATER PLAYS out of the sound system.             Sissy takes the order from a LONG HAIRED GUY  down the bar,             his back to the camera, and starts towards the cash register             area.  The bartender serves Frank another club soda.  As             Frank drinks the bartender pulls a PACK OF CIGARETTES from             his shirt pocket.  But the pack is empty.                                 BARTENDER                       You spare a smoke?                                 FRANK                       I'm trying to quite.  Turns out those                       things'll kill you.             The bartender laughs, as Frank stands and heads for the             bathroom.             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             A CLOCK reflected in the two-way mirror.  12:15PM.             Satch stands drinking a cup of coffee behind the mirror.             Before him, through the glass, sits Daryl Adams, with John             pacing like a panther ready to spring.             Suddenly, he slaps down crime scene homicide photos of             several women in front of Daryl, who blanches...                                 DARYL                       Oh, my God!  What is that?!  Why you                       showing me this shit!?  JESUS!  JESUS!                       Get those away from me!                                 JOHN                       Nicky Moore.  Patty Ryan.  Mary Finelli.                       These names mean anything to you,                       asshole?  Julia Sullivan!  She mean                       anything?  She means something to me!             John looks like he's about to hit Daryl, but he glances             towards the two-way mirror, controls himself.             INT. PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - EVENING - 1969             Nilsson's EVERYBODY'S TALKIN' fills the air.             A sexy WOMAN approaches Frank wearing an Emma Peel body suit.             Sissy stands nearby, giving drink orders to the bartender -             she can't help but smile at the following.                                 WOMAN                       You fight fires, honey?                                 FRANK                       Yep.  That's what I do.                                 WOMAN                       I bet you do.             The bartender leans into the PA at the bar and announces.                                 BARTENDER                       Last call.             Frank flashes his wedding ring at the sexy woman.  Smiles at             her and shrugs "I'm sorry."             INT. 23RD PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             The clock reads 1:30AM.             John sits at the end of the table, opposite Daryl.  His quiet             masks the dark menace he is barely in control of.  Daryl             stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights.             Satch sets a Coke before Daryl and starts to leave the room.                                 SATCH                       I gotta take a leak.                           (to Daryl)                       You need to use the head?  You can,                       y'know.  If you want to.             Daryl shakes his head "no."             INT. PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - EVENING - 1969             End of the night.  The place winds down.  An old movie on the             TV's.  Elvis' SUSPICIOUS MINDS plays softly.             Frank watches as Sissy picks up her last tip and heads to the             back to change into her street clothes.                                 SISSY                       See you, Fireman.  Don't talk so much                       next time.             Frank smiles, checks the time.  2:00AM.  He looks around.             Nobody suspicious about.  He starts up for the bathroom...             INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             Satch enters with a fresh cup of coffee, settles back to             watch.             INTERCUT - INTERROGATION AND OBSERVATION ROOMS             With great ceremony John removes his watch, his gun, and             lastly, his badge, and sets them off to one side.                                 JOHN                       You know, Daryl, sometimes, despite all                       the training we cops go through. Despite                       all that we are taught about right and                       wrong.  Despite all that we would like to                       honor in ourselves, we can come to a                       place where we don't give a fuck.  Know                       what I mean?             And John starts up from his seat and walks toward Daryl.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       You are going to tell me what I need to                       know, Daryl.             SUDDENLY, in the door strides...                                 SATCH                       John.             John freezes.  Looks towards Satch.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                       Got a minute?                                 JOHN                       Yeah.  Sure.             Satch opens the door and steps out.  John collects his watch,             badge and gun and follows.             INT. SQUAD HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS                                 SATCH                       He ain't our guy, John.                                 JOHN                       Just cause he didn't want to look at the                       photos doesn't mean he isn't the doer.                       Not everyone fits the profile.             Long beat.                                 SATCH                       If he was gonna give something up he                       would'a done it already.             John pauses for several seconds, then nods slowly.             INT. PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - MEN'S ROOM - EVENING - 1969             SUSPICIOUS MINDS filters in.  Frank zips up, heads to the             sink.  Bends over to wash his hands, and suddenly.             His face is smashed on the edge of the sink.  He twists to             the floor, fighting to maintain consciousness.             A black Frye boot explodes into Frank's gut.  He rolls over,             looks up at the LONG HAIRED GUY from the bar.  Frank seems to             recognize him.  We know him too - SCRAGGLY MAN.  But we don't             know his name yet.  So we'll call him...                                 KILLER                       You following me?             CLOSE ON             Killer's eyes, evil fuckin' black dots.  He lifts Frank to             his knees.  Then rips a fist into Frank's face.                                 KILLER (CONT'D)                       I asked you a question, asshole.             Frank is clearly incapacitated.  Killer lifts him to his feet             so they are eye-to-eye.                                 FRANK                           (barely able to speak)                       Mary Finelli...             A look of absolute shock wipes across the Killer's face.                                 KILLER                       Who the fuck are you?             Caught off guard, Frank is able to slam his knee into             Killer's balls.  Killer goes down like a stone, but Frank is             too battered to take advantage.             He collapses on top of Killer, who pushes him off, scrambles             up, and delivers a massive kick to his head.  Frank is out             cold.             Quickly, Killer rolls Frank over and rifles his pockets             finding his WALLET.  He grabs something from it, then tosses             it aside.  He then takes something out of his pocket, a thin             leather garrote.  He coils it around his hands and snaps it             taut.  He bends down to start the job when suddenly, the             bathroom door opens and...             TWO very stoned MEN stumble in.                                 STONED MAN #1                       Whoa, dude.  Is he okay?                                 KILLER                       Yeah.  He just needs a little time                       kissing the porcelain.             And Killer muscles Frank into a toilet stall and puts his             head in the bowl.  He closes the door, quickly leaving.             In the stall, Frank spills onto the floor, his legs sticking             out into the bathroom.  His face flush to the tile, his eyes             trying to focus on something lying just outside the stall...             His WALLET.             EXT. 23RD PRECINCT - PARKING LOT - NIGHT - 1998             John gets in his car.  Sits there, staring into the night.             INT. PEPPERMINT LOUNGE - MEN'S ROOM - EVENING - 1969             Frank starts to come around.  He reaches out and grabs his             wallet off the floor.  His money still there.  Credit cards,             too.  But something's missing.  His DRIVER'S LICENSE.             SUDDENLY PANIC SEIZES FRANK.             INT. APARTMENT HOUSE STAIRWELL - LATER             Frank tears up the stairs...             INT. APARTMENT HOUSE CORRIDOR - SISSY'S DOOR - CONTINUOUS             Frank bangs on it.  Scared.  Desperate.                                 FRANK                       OPEN UP, OPEN THE DOOR...ah...ummm...THIS                       IS THE POLICE.             Frank keeps banging on the door.  A NEIGHBOR'S DOOR swings             open a crack.  AN OLD LADY peers out from behind a security             chain.  Frank stops banging.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       It's okay, Ma'am.  I'm the police.             Old Lady skeptically looking him up &amp; down - noticing Frank's             bruised face.  She quickly closes the door.             Frank reaches inside his jacket pocket, pulls out a small             bent metal wire, homemade LOCKPICK.  He goes to work on             Sissy's lock.  CLICK, CLICK, CLICK - got it.  He opens the             door, steps inside.             INT. SISSY'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS             It's dark.  And then a sound...scratching and popping, the             sound of a PHONOGRAPH NEEDLE makes when it reaches the end of             the vinyl and is scratching against the label.             The wind catching a curtain allows the shaft of a street             light to beam brightly into the room, and in one swift             moment, Frank is staring at a NIGHTMARE: Sissy Clark's             murdered body.  Her dress hiked above her waist.  Her panties             ripped off.  Paper stuffed into her mouth. Her hands bound             with glass tape.  Frank is transfixed and sickened by Sissy's             twisted face, her eyes frozen open in horrible death.             EXT. SISSY'S APARTMENT HOUSE - CONTINUOUS             Frank staggers out of the building towards his Harley.  He             bends over and blows his dinner, then mounts the bike and             kicks the motor over.  As he roars off down the street, WE             SEE in the building window...             THE OLD LADY looking down at him.             The LEGEND reads:             OCTOBER 16th - FIFTH GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - MORNING - 1969 &amp; 1998                                 FRANK                       He killed her John.  He killed her and I                       didn't do a thing to stop it.             INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN.                                 JOHN                       It's not your fault, Dad.                                 FRANK                       Yes it is...we did this.  We changed                       everything.                           (pausing)                       I've been having bad dreams, Johnny.                       Dreams where I die...in the fire.                           (soft)                       I was supposed to die in that warehouse.                                 JOHN                       No.             ANGLE ON             Frank.  Trembling, overcome by an awful combination of fear,             guilt and shame.                                 FRANK                       This is wrong...it's like we cheated...                                 JOHN                       I know...                           (beat)                       But Dad, you can't go back.  You didn't                       die in that fire.  And no matter what you                       do, nothing is gonna change that.  So all                       we can do is deal with this...and try to                       make it right.                                 FRANK                       I don't think I can.  I'm not a cop.  I                       can't.   I can't stop this guy.                                 JOHN                       But we can, we can do it together.                       Spirit and guts, remember?                                 FRANK                       Johnny, I know, but...             Frank starts to light up a Lucky.  But he stops, stubbing the             cigarette out.                                 JOHN                       I need you to believe in me.  To believe                       that we can do this.                                 FRANK                       John, he's got my driver's license.                                 JOHN                       What?                                 FRANK                       He took my driver's license, John, he                       knows where we live.                                 JOHN                       He took your wallet?                                 FRANK                       No, he tossed the wallet, but he kept the                       license.                                 JOHN                       He touched your wallet!  Where's your                       wallet?                                 FRANK                       In my pocket.                                 JOHN                       We got him!  Dad you got him!                                 FRANK                       What?                                 JOHN                       His prints.  You've got his prints.  I'll                       run them through criminal index.  You                       gotta get me that wallet.                                 FRANK                       How the hell am I gonna do that?                                 JOHN                           (thinks)                       Listen to me, very carefully, take your                       wallet out, just touch it on the corners.                                 FRANK                       What...                                 JOHN                       Please, Dad, just do it.                                 FRANK                       Okay, okay...             Frank does as John asks.  Taking out his wallet.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       I got it.                                 JOHN                       Right, now I need you to tape it up on                       the outside, where he touched it, so the                       prints keep.                                 FRANK                       Huh?                                 JULIA                       Then you gotta hide it somewhere.                       Somewhere where nobody's gonna find                       it...for 29 years!                           (looking around the room)                       Put it under the loose floorboard by the                       window!                                 FRANK                           (getting it now)                       I gotcha, I gotcha Chief!                                 JOHN                       It's gonna work, Dad.  We're gonna stop                       him.                                 FRANK                       Hang on.             Frank fishes around the desk drawer for some electrical             tape...quickly ripping off strips of tape...covering the             wallet.  Then he goes to the window.  Crouches on the floor,             digging his nails around edges of the loose floorboard.             BACK TO JOHN             getting up.                                 FRANK (O.S.) (CONT'D)                           (over the HAM)                       Okay.             John scrambles to window.  Crouches down on floor, reaching             to find: FRANK'S WALLET COVERED IN ELECTRICAL TAPE!             John goes back to the radio.                                 JOHN                       We're in business.  Just sit tight...and                       don't worry.             And John is up, grabs gun &amp; shield.  Sprints for the door.             INT. POLICE FORENSICS LAB - DAY - 1998             CLOSE ON SPLIT COMPUTER SCREEN:             LEFT SCREEN: A FROZEN IMAGE - A BLOWN UP THUMB PRINT.             RIGHT SCREEN: HUNDREDS OF FINGERPRINTS FLASH ON AND OFF - THE             COMPUTER IS SEARCHING FOR A MATCH.             BINGO.  The right screen freezes.  A THUMB PRINT... A MATCH!             Pull back to reveal John, standing over a forensic computer             technician, HECTOR.  Hector hits a few more keys, a             photograph pops on the screen - it is NOT DARYL ADAMS!                                 JOHN                       What the hell?             Hector hits another key, the man's name and photo pops up...             CARL SHEPARD             HE'S 30 YEARS OLDER than when he tangled with Frank in the             men's room last night, but this is the killer- Carl Shepard.             Below Shepard's photo, various biographical information:             social security, address, current employment, and a New York             City Police Department Discharge - September 1973.             ON JOHN             A strange look of recognition.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       The old neighbor's son...the cop.  But                       he's dead.                                 HECTOR                       What are you talkin' about?  I know this                       prick.  He worked outta Brooklyn North.                                 JOHN                           (realizing)                       He never died...             EXT. SHEPARD RESIDENCE - LATER             John exits his car to find Fred Shepard watering his plants.                                 JOHN                       Just came by to wrap up over there.                       Thought I'd say "hello."                                 SHEPARD                       Glad you did.  Come on in.  Buy you a cup                       of coffee?             INT. SHEPARD RESIDENCE - CONTINUOUS             They enter the living room.  No Mrs. Shepard.  John's eyes             fix on the police academy graduation PHOTO of CARL SHEPARD.             His gaze then shifts to photos of Mrs. Shepard.                                 JOHN                           (beat)                       Wife around?                                 SHEPARD                           (a startled half-laugh)                       No.  No.  Well, sort of.  In my heart.                       Been dead 29 years.                                 JOHN                       Oh.  Sorry.  How so?                                 MR. SHEPARD                       Well, she, Eve was murdered, Detective.                       An ugly one to tell you the truth.             John's breath catches.  His look shifts back to the photo of             Carl Shepard.             Mr. Shepard reaches to open an album.  There are several             photographs of the young Mrs. Shepard.  A couple where she is             dressed in a NURSE'S UNIFORM.             John is stunned.  One can only imagine what is now racing             through his mind.                                 MR. SHEPARD (CONT'D)                       The mother of a cop, and they never found                       the bastard who did it.             Blown away, John looks out the window to where Mary Finelli's             skeleton was found.                                 JOHN                       Happens that way sometimes.                           (beat)                       Son still on the job?                                 MR. SHEPARD                       Nah.  Doin' P.I. work now.  Got caught up                       in them Knapp Hearings.  Set up by some                       dirty cops who needed a fall guy.  Hurt                       him bad.  Would've broken his mother's                       heart.             John can only stay inside himself and wonder at the madness             of the world.             INT. BROOKLYN WATERFRONT RESTAURANT - LATER             John walks past the lunchtime crowd, makes his way to the             BAR.  Grabs a stool two...seats away from...Carl Shepard.             John orders a soda, glances over at Shepard.  Their eyes             meet.  John holds his gaze.  A slight nod...                                 JOHN                       You used to be on the job?                                 SHEPARD                       Yeah, long time ago.  I know you?                                 JOHN                       I look familiar?                                 SHEPARD                           (looking him over)                       No.  What house you work?             John gets up, slides next to Shepard.                                 JOHN                       The 2-3.  Homicide.                                 SHEPARD                       A hot shot, huh?                                 JOHN                       Nah, just working the job.                                 SHEPARD                       I hear that.                                 JOHN                       As a matter of fact, I caught a case that                       goes back to your day...one of the                       Nightingale murders.             Beat.                                 SHEPARD                       No kiddin'?                                 JOHN                       No.  Missing teenager.  Disappeared                       thirty years ago.  Found her bones last                       week.  Buried behind some old diner, up                       by Dyckman street.  Mary Finelli.             John waits again for Shepard's reaction...                                 SHEPARD                       Huh.                                 JOHN                           (sipping drink)                       Talk about dumb luck.  Odds of anybody                       finding that girl, thirty years later.                       And then the chances of hitting a                       dental...forget about it.  Bets part is                       she's the first victim.  She knew the                       doer.  I'm betting those bones are gonna                       do a lot of talking.             Shepard says nothing, but his eyes are burning into John.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       The past is a funny thing.  We've all got                       skeletons in the closet.  You just never                       know when they're gonna pop up and bite                       you in the ass, Carl.             John slips something on the bar, next to Shepard.  It is a             crime scene photo of Shepard's murdered mother.  He reels             back, totally losing his veil of composure.  He is freaked.                                 SHEPARD                       Who are you?                                 JOHN                       I'm the train wreck you didn't see                       coming.  And I'm gonna steal your life                       away.  You went down 30 years ago.  You                       just don't know it yet.             And with that, John gets up, leaving Shepard stunned.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - DAY - 1969 &amp; 1998             Johnny and Gordo sit cross-legged in front of the TV.  THE             WORLD SERIES is on.  Game 5.  First inning.             Julia is busy bringing in groceries from her car.             INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN.                                 FRANK                       You're telling me this maniac is a cop?                       What the hell am I supposed to do with                       that one?                                 JOHN                       Call the FBI.  Use a pay phone.  Don't                       give 'em your name, Dad.  Just tell 'em                       that it was Shepard who killed Finelli                       and Clark and the others.  That he's the                       Nightingale.             In the B.G. of Frank's house a DOORBELL RINGS.  Julia can be             seen going to answer it.  It is Satch.  There are ad lib             greetings that we don't clearly hear.                                 JOHN (CONT'D)                       Tell them where Finelli's body is buried.                       They'll be able to connect him to her.                       Same high school.  Same class.  I'm                       betting they search his place they find                       some souvenirs.             Satch steps into the study...1969.                                 FRANK                       Okay, I'm on it.                           (sees Satch)                       Hey.                                 SATCH                       Hello, Frank.             Frank's hand lifts off the squawk bar.  He notes Satch's tone             and demeanor.                                 FRANK                       What are you doing here, Satch?  You off                       today?                                 JOHN (O.S.)                           (over the HAM)                       Dad, you there?                                 SATCH                       Frank, we need to talk...                                 FRANK                           (into radio)                       John, hold on a second.                           (to Satch)                       I'm in the middle of something important                       here.  You mind if...             Frank suddenly spots something through the front window.             Satch's partner, PHIL HAYES, and TWO UNIFORMS out at the             curb.             Half a penny drops.  All his senses go on alert.  And             instinct kicks...he hits the squawk bar.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Satch, you gotta just give me...Satch is                       here John.  You hear me?  Satch is here.                                 SATCH                       I'm sorry, Frank, but you need to come                       outside.             Frank releases the squawk bar.             Johnny and Gordo remain fixed on the game, oblivious to             anything else.  In the kitchen, we can see Julia moving             around putting away the groceries.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                           (over the HAM)                       Dad, what the hell is going on?                                 FRANK                           (into mic)                       Just a minute, John...okay?  Don't go                       away.             Julia now becomes aware of the tension in the voices in the             other room.  She looks outside and sees Phil and the             uniforms.  She looks at Frank and Satch with confusion.             Frank hits the squawk bar again.  He wants John to hear this.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       What is going on here, Satch?  What are                       those guys doing out there?                                 SATCH                       I think you know, Frank.                                 FRANK                       No, I don't.                                 SATCH                       Let's go outside and talk.  We need to do                       that.                                 FRANK                       About what?                                 SATCH                       Let's go.  Do us both a favor.             A long beat.  Frank sees Julia staring at them.  She is now a             bundle of growing anxiety.  Frank stands up.                                 FRANK                       Okay.                           (to Julia)                       It's okay, Bud.  I'll be right back.                           (into radio)                       Stay there, John.             And then he and Satch walk out the front door.             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FRONT YARD - CONTINUOUS             ...and towards a spot halfway between the house and the cops.             From inside the house, Johnny and Gordo have begun to take in             the activity.                                 SATCH                       Where were you last night, Frank?             The rest of the penny drops.  Frank stalls, trying to think                                 FRANK                       What do you mean?                                 SATCH                       Do you know where I found this?             And he hands FRANK his missing DRIVER'S LICENSE.  Frank looks             like a truck hit him.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                       415 Greenwich St.  #302.  Under the body                       of a murdered woman.                                 FRANK                       No.  This isn't what you think.                                 SATCH                       I wanna be wrong here.  But we need to go                       to the precinct and talk about it.                                 FRANK                       Okay, okay.  I need to go say something                       to Julia and finish up with the guy on                       the radio.                                 SATCH                       You can talk to Julia.  Forget the radio.             Frank nods.  Takes stock of the cops by the cars and heads             back into the house.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - CONTINUOUS             Julia, who has been watching through a front room window with             Johnny, moves to meet Frank.  Behind Frank, Satch signals             Phil and the uniforms that all is okay, giving Frank a couple             of steps on him.             Frank steps into the house and wraps his arms around Julia,             turning so he can see both Satch outside and where he wants             to go inside.                                 FRANK                       Trust me, Bud.  Do that for me.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS             Frank moves Julia toward teh desk, lulling Satch a moment,             then quickly steps to the HAM radio and hits the squawk bar.                                 FRANK                       John, you there?                                 JOHN (O.S.)                           (over the HAM)                       Yeah, Dad.  What the hell is going on?                                 FRANK                       Satch is busting me for Sissy Clark's                       murder.  John...             Julia stares dumbfounded at Frank.                                 SATCH (O.S.)                       Frank.             Satch strides by Julia and reaches to take Frank's elbow.             Frank wheels at the sound of his name and the touch, and he             lurches back from Satch.                                 FRANK                       ...you gotta help me, Chief.             -- and the movement yanks the mic cord to the radio tight,             dragging it to the edge of the desk.             Johnny tears into the room and clutches onto his mother.             "Daddy, Daddy!"                                 SATCH                       That's not the deal, Frank.  Don't do                       this to your family.             And Frank throws his hands up in front of his chest in an "I             give up" gesture.                                 JOHN (O.S.)                       Dad!  Dad!  What's going on?  Satch?!             And the HAM radio CRASHES to the floor in 1969.                                                            SMASH CUT TO:             1998.  The HAM RADIO TRANSFORMING...a large dent appearing in             its casing before John's eyes...dials cracking.             Dread creeps into John's face as we SMASH CUT TO:             JOHN'S POV             We see what John sees in 1998.  But we also go inside his             mind and glimpse flashes of new childhood memories.  Memories             of seeing his father arrested for murder.  Images that match             JOHNNY'S POV from moments ago in 1969.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY - 1969             Frank sits at a metal table bolted to the floor, Satch sits             across.  Phil stands.  Two cups of coffee on the table.  The             room is very bare.  Cinder block walls.             Padded locks and bars over the windows.  A small metal             cabinet against the far wall.  Satch and Phil smoke.  Frank             does not.                                 FRANK                       Carl Shepard.  Detective out of the 15th                       precinct.             Satch stares at Frank with utter incredulity.  Phil lights a             smoke, tossing the pack and the matchbook on the table.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       I swear, Satch.                                 SATCH                       Uh, huh...                           (beat)                       Uh, huh.  And you got this from the guy                       you were talking to on the radio when I                       came in?                                 FRANK                       As nuts as that sounds, yes.                                 SATCH                       Uh, huh.                                 FRANK                       Satch, would you listen to me here.  Just                       you and me.  Can I talk to you here,                       alone?             Satch looks over at Phil.                                 SATCH                       Give me a little time with this guy.             Phil nods his understanding, steps out of the room.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                       Frank, this is not the time to be worried                       about covering up if you had a thing with                       this girl.                                 FRANK                       He's not gonna stop, Satch.  He's gonna                       keep on...                                 SATCH                       Are you listening to me?  You're in a                       world of shit.  An eye witness has you                       outside the dead girl's apartment.  We                       got your prints all over the place.  Plus                       the fucking driver's license, Frank.                           (beat)                       You gotta give me something here.                       Something I can believe.             It's quiet for a moment.  And then a sound filters in under             the door.  The sound of cops cheering.  It's the World             Series.             Frank sits up - takes a beat.                                 FRANK                       What if I could prove it to you, Satch?                                 SATCH                       How's that?                                 FRANK                       What if I told you that in the bottom of                       the 6th we're gonna be down 3-0.  And                       Cleon Jones is gonna get hit in the foot.                       It's gonna leave a scuff mark on the                       ball.                                 SATCH                       Frank, please...                                 FRANK                       The next batter, Clendenon, hits one                       outta the park.                                 SATCH                       Frank, this is insane...                                 FRANK                       In the bottom of the 7th, Weis is gonna                       hit a solo home run.  Jones and Swoboda                       are gonna score in the 8th.  The Mets are                       gonna win 5-3.                           (beat)                       Go watch the game, Satch.                                 SATCH                       Go watch the game?  Go watch the fucking                       game?  Frank, they're gonna make you for                       Sissy Clark's murderer.  It matches the                       Nightingale's profile.  You understand                       what that means?             We hear the bolt slide, the knob turns and the door opens.                                 PHIL                       His wife is here.  She wants to talk to                       you.             Satch nods okay to Phil.  He closes the door.                                 SATCH                       Whatta you want me to tell her?             Frank struggles for an answer...but comes up speechless.             Satch looks like his heart is breaking.  Unable to comprehend             how Frank could have slipped this far.  A long beat, then...                                 FRANK                       She's in harm's way.  He's gonna be                       coming for her.             Satch snorts, incredulous.  Frank reaches over the table and             takes his hand, deadly serious.                                 FRANK (CONT'D)                       Promise me, as a friend.  October 22,                       don't let her out of your sight.             Satch nods okay.  They have an understanding.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - SGT'S DESK - MOMENTS LATER             Satch walks down the stairs.  Julia alone on the bench.             She sees Satch approaching, stands up, looking at him for an             answer, for an explanation...for hope.                                 SATCH                           (after a beat)                       Let's walk, get a cup of coffee.             Julia nods okay.  They exit the precinct house and into...             EXT. 17TH PRECINCT - CONTINUOUS             ...the street.  Around the corner we catch sight of someone             familiar - someone Julia and Satch don't recognize: Shepard.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - SGT'S DESK - CONTINUOUS             Shepard approaches the desk, flashes his shield at Sergeant.                                 SHEPARD                       You got a collar in here for the                       Nightingale murders?                                 DESK SGT.                       Yeah.                                 SHEPARD                       I'm working with one of the victims outta                       Brooklyn North.  You mind I take a shot                       at him?                                 DESK SGT.                       That's Deleon and Hayes' collar.                                 SHEPARD                       They around?                                 DESK SGT.                       Just missed Deleon.  Hayes is up in the                       squad.                                 SHEPARD                       Where's the collar, in the cells?                                 DESK SGT.                       No, I think he's up in interrogation.                                 SHEPARD                       I'll go find Hayes.             Shepard turns, gliding through the lobby like a shark...             INT. COFFEE SHOP - MOMENTS LATER             Satch and Julia sit at a booth in the back.  Satch stirs his             coffee, trying to start a very hard conversation.  As he             struggles to begin, the camera notices something in the B.G.             At the counter: a few stray people gathered around watching             the WORLD SERIES on an old TV.             AUDIO COMES UP.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS             Shepard passes the COFFEE ROOM.  It is packed with             detectives, gathered around a TV...watching the game.  Phil             Hayes is among them.  And as Shepard passes, Phil half             catches a glimpse of him as he glides down the hall and             enters.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank looks up to see Shepard, who quickly closes the door             behind him... and unholsters his gun.  An eerie moment.                                 SHEPARD                       On your feet.             Frank waits a beat.  Then very slowly, he stands.                                 SHEPARD (CONT'D)                       Now turn around, face the wall.             Frank steps back, slowly turning.  Shepard holsters the gun.             Kicks Frank up against the wall as he reaches into his pocket             and takes out the leather garrote we saw in the Peppermint             Lounge Bathroom.  He coils it around his hands.                                 SHEPARD (CONT'D)                       How did you know?             Frank is trembling.                                 FRANK                           (facing the wall)                       You twisted animal...                                 SHEPARD                       Evidence says you're the animal.                           (snapping garrote tight)                       That's why you hung yourself.             But Frank turns.                                 FRANK                       You try putting that thing around my neck                       and I'll rip your throat out.  You want                       me dead, use the gun.             Shepard smiles, unfazed...                                 SHEPARD                       Let me draw you a picture.  You live at                       1060 41st Ave.  You have a wife who works                       at New York Hospital.  And a six-year old                       at P.S. 130.             Shepard gives Frank a look that would make a Marine Drill             Sergeant shit his pants.  Shepard knows Frank's weakness, the             one thing that would make him submit to death.             Closing his eyes, Frank turns to face the wall...But the door             handle rattles, someone is outside coming in.  Shepard             quickly yanks Frank away from the wall, shoving him in a             chair at the interrogation table.             The door opens.                                 PHIL                       What the hell is going on here?                                 FRANK                       You got to help me.  He's trying to kill                       me.             Shepard just laughs.  Phil scans the room - everything looks             normal, a cop questioning a perp.                                 SHEPARD                       Mind if we take it outside?             Phil shrugs okay.                                 SHEPARD (CONT'D)                           (to Frank)                       I'll be right back.             Shepard and Phil step out - bolting the door behind them.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS             Shepard and Phil stand outside the door.                                 SHEPARD                       ...didn't mean t step on your toes.  They                       sent me up from downstairs, I thought                       you'd be in there with him.                                 PHIL                       What are you looking at him for?             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank's expression‎ begins to harden.  His eyes search teh             room.  CLOSE ON his EYES.  He looks like John - controlled             rage piercing through that Sullivan thousand yard stare.             He stands, turning around, looking for something, anything             that he can use to get the hell out of there.             His mind's racing, fire fighter training kicking in.  And             then he looks up - just below the ceiling, above the door - a             2'X2' ELECTRICAL CONDUCTOR BOX.             Follow Frank's eyes to something else.  An AIR CONDITIONER             MOUNTED IN THE WINDOW.             Frank goes to the window.  Runs his fingers along the air             conditioner's thick electrical cord - thinking.  He unplugs             it.  And then he RIPS cord out of the unit, exposing wire.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS             A loud cheer rises out of the coffee room - the game is             heating up.  Shepard and Phil are still standing outside the             interrogation room.  Shepard flashes a smile, having said             something that makes Phil laugh...                                 PHIL                       Yeah, half the uniforms are either at the                       game or on the street.  It's gonna be a                       riot if they pull it off.                                 SHEPARD                           (glancing down the hall - in                            direction of sound of TV)                       What's the score?             INT. COFFEE SHOP - CONTINUOUS             Julia's crying.  Satch has no words to comfort her, now way             of explaining any of this.  He reaches out across the             table...taking her hand.  And as they sit quietly.             CAMERA tracks towards the counter.  And we hear something             that Satch does not.  The sound of a voice.  TV ANNOUNCER.             THE SERIES...                                 TV ANNOUNCER (O.S.)                       Cleon Jones thinks he's hit.  I think the                       ball hit him in the foot...             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank uses the heel of his shoe to rip the plug off the other             end of the electrical cord.  Both ends now have exposed             wires.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - COFFEE ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Close on a MATCH.  Pull back to reveal Shepard lighting             Phil's cigarette, then one for himself.  They are inside the             squad's coffee room now.  All eyes on the TV:                                 TV ANNOUNCER                       Hadges is coming outta the dug out.  He's                       calling for the ball.  Can we get a shot                       of the ball?             Shepard inhales deeply, sneaking a glance down hall at the             closed interrogation room door.             INT. COFFEE SHOP - CONTINUOUS             Satch looks past Julia, distracted, curious.                                 SATCH                       Can you excuse me for a second?             Julia seems bewildered as Satch gets up out of the booth,             making his way through the restaurant and towards the TV.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank, in full throttle, drags a chair against the wall.             Climbs on the chair, uses a dime to unscrew the ELECTRICAL             CONDUCTOR BOX.             He then unscrews the master fuse and SHOVES ONE END OF THE             ELECTRICAL CORD'S EXPOSED WIRE AROUND THE FUSE CYLINDER.             After re-tightening the fuse, and careful not to touch the             other end of the cord, he jumps off the chair.             FOOTSTEPS.  Frank freezes.  Someone's walking down the hall.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - COFFEE SHOP - CONTINUOUS             Wall to wall cops.  Mesmerized by the game, especially Phil.                                 TV ANNOUNCER                       There's a scuff mark on the ball!  The                       umpire has reversed his decision.  He's                       sending Jones to first base!             The cops erupt.  Cheering.                                 SHEPARD                           (yelling over the noise)                       You mind I go back at teh fire boy for a                       while?  I won't lay a hand on him, just                       want to see what he's got?                                 PHIL                       Go ahead, knock yourself out.             Shepard gives Phil one last smile, then slips out - casually             heading down the hall...towards the interrogation room.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank, sweating bullets now, takes the two coffee cups off             the table and pours their contents ON THE FLOOR.  The coffee             forms a SMALL PUDDLE which Frank is careful not to let slip             over the door saddle.             He puts the cups down.  Then opens the cabinet, rifling             through, finding a can of LYSOL spray.             Sounds of cops cheering filter in under the door.             INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY - CONTINUOUS             Satch is riveted to the TV as Clendenon steps up to the             plate.  Strike on.             Satch jumps - Julia has come up behind him, touching him on             the shoulder.  She looks mad: how the hell can he be watching             the ball game at a time like this?                                 JULIA                       What's going on, Satch?             Beat.                                 SATCH                           (dumbfounded)                       I don't know.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - SQUAD ROOM - CONTINUOUS             All eyes on the TV.  Another strike to Clendenon.  0-2 count.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             The door knob turns.  The door half-opens.  Shepard sticks             his head in, scanning the room.  He relaxes a bit when he             sees Frank sitting quietly at the table.             Shepard opens the door a little further, takes a half step             into the room...and into the puddle of coffee!             Frank raises his arm.  He's holding the live electrical cord.             Shepard: What the fuck?  Frank flicks the cord...which lands             like a snake at Shepard's feet...in the puddle of coffee.             5,000 volts surge through Shepard's body.             SPARKS AND SMOKE SHOOT OUT OF CONDUCTOR BOX...             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - SQUAD ROOM - CONTINUOUS             CLOSE ON TV.  Clendenon still up.  1-2 count.  The wind up...             But something is wrong with the TV.  A spark shoots out of             the back of the set.             And then the entire 17th Precinct goes DARK.  Frank has             shorted out the electrical system.             The cops look at each other in a moment of pissed confusion.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY             Frank lunges over the table, smashing a wooden chair over             Shepard's head.  He's in overdrive.  Kicking the still live             cord out of the coffee puddle, he then drags Shepard's body             into the room, shutting the door.             Frank quickly rips off Shepard's SPORTS JACKET, pocketing             Shepard's WALLET and BADGE.             And then, moving very fast, Frank grabs the LYSOL can and the             matches Phil left on the table.  He LIGHTS A MATCH and holds             it IN FRONT OF THE LYSOL CAN.  He points the can at the             ceiling - at the FIRE ALARM SENSORS.  Hits SPRAY button -             Professional Fire Fighter ingenuity - HOMEADE BLOW TORCH.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS             FIRE ALARMS sound off.  SPRINKLER SYSTEM kicks in, water             gushing from the ceiling.  Cops begin to move, investigating.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank cracks open the door and slips out.  As the door             closes, Shepard's eyes pop open.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS             Sprinklers rain down on Frank as he moves down the hall.             Through the darkness he can see someone coming. It's Phil.             Frank covers his face...searching for a place to disappear.             INT. COFFEE SHOP - CONTINUOUS             Nobody breathes.  All eyes on the TV.             The count is now 2-2.  The pitch is a high fastball.             Clendenon takes a massive swing.  He nails it.  HOME RUN!             The coffee shop breaks into cheers.  Everyone screaming their             heads off.  Everyone except Satch, who just stands there, in             complete and utter shock.  Julia looking at him             questioningly.                                 SATCH                           (yelling over the madness)                       He was right!  Everything he said.  He                       was telling the truth.                                 JULIA                       Then you believe him?                                 SATCH                       Yeah I do.  You bet your life I do.             And they hug.  The weight of the world sliding off Julia's             shoulders.  But someone is trying to get Satch's attention.             It is the counter man, he's holding a phone.             Satch takes the phone, beat, his face goes ashen.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                       I'm on my way...             He drops the phone, heading for the door.                                 SATCH (CONT'D)                           (to Julia)                       Wait here, I'll send a uniform.             And Satch is gone.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS             Power is still off.  Sprinklers still gushing.  Amidst the             chaos, a bathroom door swings open.  A man steps out.  A cop.             Leather jacket, gold shield.  It's Frank.  He slips through             the madness, heading down the hall and towards the stairs.             EXT. 17TH PRECINCT - CONTINUOUS             Satch races down the crowded block...dodging celebrating             Mets' fans...bolting up the precinct steps into the house.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Phil runs in.  Scanning the room.  But it is empty.  No             Frank.  No Shepard.  Just a puddle of coffee on the floor.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - SGT'S DESK - CONTINUOUS             Satch charges into the lobby.  The lights start to flicker             back on.  Chaos giving way to order.             Satch heads for the stairs.             And there is Frank, wearing Shepard's jacket and shield.  But             in his hurry, Satch has not spotted him.             Frank quickly steps behind a pillar as Satch tears by him and             up the stairs.             Stay with Frank as he turns...calmly walking by the             Sergeant's desk, gliding out the precinct door and...             EXT. 17TH PRECINCT - CONTINUOUS             ...disappearing into the street.                                 FRANK                           (little smile)                       Elvis has left the building.             INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY - 1998             John stalks down an apartment building hallway, gun drawn. He             reaches a door.  Two locks and a bell.  Fuck 'em.  John             smashes his bulk into the door...one...two...three times.  It             bursts off its hinges.  John charges in.             Place is empty.  Like somebody got the hell out in a hurry.             A few odds and ends left behind in the haste...including a             pile of unpaid bills.  CARL SHEPARD.             John's eyes glaze over in rage and fury.  But then he sees             something that makes him stop and think.  There is a             telephone on the floor, in a corner.  John stares at the             phone, wheels spinning.  He reaches in his coat and takes out             his notebook.  Flipping through pages.  Notes on Shepard:             social security, address, DMV registration, and a series of             phone numbers...home, office, cellular.             John runs to the phone.  Punches in the cell number.  Ring.                                 SHEPARD                           (over phone)                       Hell-                                 JOHN                       You have the right to remain silent.  If                       you give up that right...             INTERCUT SHEPARD AND JOHN             Shepard is in his car, over a bridge, on the run...                                 SHEPARD                       Who the fuck is this?                                 JOHN                       Anything you say can and will be used                       against you in a court of law.                                 SHEPARD                       Sullivan?                                 JOHN                       You have the right to speak to an att --                                 SHEPARD                       Fuck you, asshole.                                 JOHN                       It's a small world, Carl.  And I'm gonna                       find you.  Real soon.             INT. SHEPARD'S APARTMENT - WEST 74TH ST. - DAY - 1969             CLICK, CLICK -- dead bolt turning...             Front door opens and SHEPARD WALKS IN.  His '69 apartment is             far nicer than the place we just left John in '98.             Shepard runs to the bathroom.  Rips off the toilet's tank             lid, reaches down and pulls out a .357 Magnum Colt Python,             wrapped in clear plastic.             He rips off the plastic, shoves the pistol in his waistband,             heads into the kitchen.             He gropes behind the refrigerator, close on an envelope glass             taped to back of the fridge.  Shepard's hand finds the             envelope...he rips it loose.  And then he opens it -             revealing its contents, souvenirs, POLAROID PHOTOS OF THE             NIGHTINGALE MURDERS, WOMEN'S JEWELRY, NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS...             Shepard takes out a match to burn the photos.  But then...             The broom closet door bursts off its hinges.  Frank instantly             on top of Shepard.  The souvenirs go flying in the air.             Frank pummels Shepard's head and back. But Shepard smashes             his elbow in Frank's Adam's apple, lands a solid uppercut             square on Frank's nose.  Frank's eyes watering up, VISION             BLURRING.             CLOSE ON             Frank's hand, groping for the handle of a glass pitcher atop             the kitchen counter.             Shepard reaches for his gun, points the .357 at Frank's head.             Shepard's finger squeezing the trigger. It's over.  But...             FRANK SMASHES THE GLASS PITCHER down on Shepard's skull.             Shepard drops.  CRACK, the gun fires, BLASTING AIR.             FRANK scrambles for the window.  He's outta there, expertly             thundering down fire escape.             EXT. ALLEY BEHIND SHEPARD'S APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS             Frank hits the pavement, twisting his ankle.  Hears metal             rattling, looks up.  Shepard's clattering down after him.             Shepard tries to get off a shot through the fire escape grid.             BANG!  The shot ricochets wildly.  Frank takes off, limping             and staying close to the building out of the line of fire.             The streets are still empty, the city glued to their TV's.             Frank hits CPW.  He glances left, right, straight ahead.             Central Park.             Frank runs into the park.             INT. SHEPARD'S APARTMENT - W. 74TH ST. - DUSK             The door is kicked open.  Satch and Phil enter, guns drawn.             They take in the damage from the fight.  Following the trail             of blood back to the kitchen. And there, strewn across the             floor are Shepard's photos of his victims, the newspaper             clippings, the jewelry, and the envelope with the glass tape             still on it.             Satch knows.             EXT. CENTRAL PARK BRIDGE - UNDER CONSTRUCTION - CONTINUOUS             Frank hears pounding footsteps - Shepard is catching up.             Frank's adrenaline kicking in, sprints around a bend in the             path, reaches long wooden bridge spanning Central Park Lake.             The bridge is being restored.  Barricades across the             entrance.             Frank hurdles over the barricades, runs onto the bridge.             Shepard trips in the dirt.  Gets back up, reaches the bridge,             knocks over a barricade, runs to the middle of the bridge.             FRANK'S DISAPPEARED.  Shepard stops, listens - nothing.             EXT. CENTRAL PARK BRIDGE - UNDERNEATH - CONTINUOUS             Frank dangles below the bridge, holding onto the steel girder             of substructure - 8 ft. above water.  Not moving a muscle,             not making a sound, barely even breathing.             CLOSE ON SEWER RAT             Crawling on Frank's arm.  Caught off guard, Frank flinches,             sending the rat tumbling.             EXT. CENTRAL PARK BRIDGE - TOP OF BRIDGE - CONTINUOUS             Bridge side railings have been removed for construction.             Shepard hears something hit the water.  Rushes to the side of             the bridge, points his gun at the water.  BANG!             Shepard leans out further aiming the gun at the water.             Shepard's outstretched arm only a few feet from Frank's head.             Frank silently swings his body forward reaching out...             Snags Shepard's arm, pulling him hard, over the side.             SHEPARD FALLS, grabs for something, anything.  Wraps his arms             around Frank's leg, hangs on tight.             Frank struggles, kicks wildly, trying to shake Shepard off.             Shepard hangs on with his left arm.  Pulls out the gun with             his right.  He aims it at Frank's head.  Cocks back the             hammer.             FRANK LETS GO.  KERPLUNK.  They plunge into:             EXT. CENTRAL PARK - LAKE - CONTINUOUS             Murky water, thick with dirt and slime, 5' deep.             Frank's hanging on to Shepard's arm, trying to wrestle the             gun free.  But Shepard's using his free hand to gouge Frank's             eyes.  Frank bites down hard on Shepard's wrist.             The gun sinks silently to the muddy lake bottom.             But Shepard gets both hands on Frank's throat.  Shoving his             head into the shallow water.  Shepard's grip is like a vise,             Frank futilely tries to pry Shepard's fingers open.             Frank is blinded by polluted water.  Starting to lose             consciousness.  Desperately, he searches the muddy lake             bottom for the gun.  But he's getting weaker, fading out...             Then he feels something.  A BRICK, fallen off the bridge,             half buried in the mud.  Frank struggles to dig it up.             Summons his last ounces of strength, yanking it back and             forth, it's getting loose.             But Shepard's hands are squeezing tighter.  Frank finally             goes limp.  A few last bubbles float to the surface.  Shepard             smiles.  Catching his breath, slightly loosens grip on             Frank's lifeless neck.             Frank springs off the lake bottom, rises out of the water             like a jack-in-the-box.  Holding the brick with both hands,             he swings.  CONTACT.             The brick smashes against Shepard's head.  Knocking him to             yesterday.  He drops like a rock.             Frank waits for Shepard to come up for air.  Nothing.             Frank crawls out of the water, collapsing onto the             embankment.  He just lies there, heart pounding, chest             heaving.             And suddenly, Frank is startled by a MASSIVE ROAR - the sound             of eight million New Yorkers screaming in unison.  The Mets             have just won the World Series.             Frank laughs, slowly getting to his feet.             EXT. CENTRAL PARK WEST &amp; 65TH - PAY PHONE - DUSK             Frank's dripping blood and filthy lake water.  The streets             have instantly erupted with celebrating Mets' fans.  A giant             party.  Cars whiz by, honking their horns, passengers leaning             out, pumping fists in victory.  Frank has to yell above the             racket.                                 DESK SGT.                           (over phone)                       17th Precinct.                                 FRANK                       Detective Deleon.                                 DESK SGT.                           (over phone)                       Hold on.             INT. 17TH PRECINCT - SQUAD ROOM             The Nightingale evidence from Shepard's kitchen floor is             spread all over the squad room.                                 SATCH                       Deleon.             INTERCUT FRANK.                                 FRANK                       Satch, you gotta listen to me...                                 SATCH                       Frank.  We know.  We know it's Shepard.                                 FRANK                       No kidding.  I'm on the corner of 65th                       and CPW.  Come get me.             Frank clicks down the receiver, slides in a dime, dials             another number.  A beat, then...                                 JULIA                           (over phone)                       Hello?             Frank smiles, and we dissolve to             EXT. CENTRAL PARK - LAKE - NIGHT             The area cordoned off.  Detectives and uniforms.  EMS wagon.             An inflatable boat is being placed in the lake.  Two police             frog men are climbing into their gear.             Pan over the scene to find Frank and Satch.  Frank's got a             blanket wrapped around him.  They talk quietly as Satch walks             Frank to a waiting green and white squad car.                                 SATCH                       You missed a hell of a game, Frank.                                 FRANK                       Next time lets put some money on it.                                 SATCH                           (to the uniform driver)                       Get him home safe.             Satch sticks out his hand...Frank takes it.  They hold each             other's grip for some moments.  Frank starts to say "thank             you", but Satch silently cuts him off.             Frank climbs in the car.  Satch closes the door, taps on the             roof, Frank is on his way home.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S ROOM - LATER             JOHNNY is asleep in bed.  Elvis sleeps at the foot of it.  In             the shadows next to them, Julia sits very still in a rocking             chair, half-asleep, half-awake.  Staring out the window.  Her             eyes are bloodshot.  She has been through hell.             A faint STAIRWAY CREAK.  Elvis stirs.  He looks up to SEE:             FRANK standing in the doorway.  He looks a wreck.                                 FRANK                       Hey, bud.                                 JULIA                       Frank...             And she is out of the chair.  They meet in a hug.  Over her             shoulder Frank takes a long look at his sleeping son.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - LATER             Relatively cleaned up, but very bruised, Frank is at the             desk, trying to repair the DISASSMBLED RADIO.  Julia comes in             and sets down a cup of coffee.  She kisses him on the top of             his head, casts a wondering eye on the radio, and leaves.             EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - NIGHT - 1998             John pulls into the driveway and stops.  He stares out the             window, exhausted.  And then something catches his attention.             A SOUND.  Coming from inside the house.  The HAM RADIO?             He bolts from the car, runs to the door, scrambles to get the             backdoor key into the lock, as --                                 FRANK (O.S.)                           (over the HAM)                       John, John?  You there?  Johnny?             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS             John barrels into the kitchen, leaving door ajar, and runs...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS - 1969 &amp; 1998             John hits the squawk bar on the HAM which...                                 JOHN                       I'm here, Dad.  I'm here.             INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN.                                 FRANK                       We did it, John.  We stopped him.             A short pause, John looks confused.  He sits down.                                 JOHN                       Wait.  Something's wrong.  I don't...                                 FRANK                       What's wrong?                                 JOHN                       I don't remember.  Why don't I remember?             WHACK!  CLOSE ON FRANK, the back of his skull smashed by the             butt of a .45 wielded by CARL SHEPARD.             FRANK hits the floor with a thud, Shepard looming over him,             reaching for a set of handcuffs.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1998                                 JOHN                       Dad?  Dad?  What's...             WHACK!  The butt of a .45 smashes the back of JOHN's skull.             He tumbles to the floor...fighting to stay conscious.             CARL SHEPARD stands over him, the gun pointing at his head.                                 SHEPARD                       My turn to steal your life.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1969             Shepard stands over Frank.  Frank tires to struggle up.             Shepard forces him back down, tromping a boot into his chest.                                 SHEPARD                       You're a clever fuck, fireboy.             And he snaps a handcuff on one of Frank's wrists then             wrenches him to a steel radiator in the family room where he             circles the pipe to the floor with the handcuff chain and             attaches the other cuff to Frank's other wrist.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1998             John is woozy.  He reaches down to his holster - it is empty!             Shepard has got John's 9mm in his left hand.  Holding the .45             to John's head, Shepard pops the clip out of the 9mm and             tosses it aside.  He then snaps a handcuff around John's             wrist, begins dragging him to the radiator.             John's FOOT ERUPTS up into Shepard's groin.  The .45 goes             flying across the room.  For a suspended moment, both men are             riveted to the .45 spinning on the floor.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Frank, struggling to breathe, is slumped by the radiator             staring up at Shepard's groin.  The .45 goes flying across             the room.  For a suspended moment, both men are riveted to             the .45 spinning on the floor.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Frank, struggling to breathe, is slumped by the radiator             staring up at Shepard, who is staring back with pure menace.             The SOUND OF A SHOWER can be heard upstairs.  Shepard looks             up.  Smiles.                                 SHEPARD                       Time to meet the family.                                 FRANK                           (struggling to breathe)                       This is between you and me.                                 SHEPARD                       Not any more.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BATHROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Julia luxuriates in a steaming shower.  Singing, softly.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             A BRUTAL STRUGGLE FOR THE GUN between John and Shepard.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Frank desperately tugs at the handcuffs.  Steel bites down on             his wrists.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS             Julia smiles as she sees a figure through the curtain.                                 JULIA                       Hey, Bud.  Want to join me?             And the shower curtain flies open to reveal SHEPARD.                                 SHEPARD                       Sure do.             Julia lets out a bloodcurling scream and plasters herself             against the shower wall.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank reacts to the scream and tears with everything he has             in him to rip away from the radiator.  No way.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Johnny stirs awake at the sound of the scream...             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             John and Shepard are in a desperate TUG OF WAR over the gun.             They KICK viciously at each other.  Butting heads.  But John             is still woozy from the head wound and Shepard is still very             strong.  BANG!  The gun goes off.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Julia is paralyzed against the wall.  Staring into the dead             as-marble eyes of Shepard.  He looks her up and down.                                 SHEPARD                       Nice.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS             Frank's wrists are bleeding.  He can't get out.  But then he             sees something.  Something he can use.  His WATCH.  Frank             struggles to unfasten the watch strap.  He does it.  He             pinches the metal clasp with his thumb and forefinger and             guides it to the keyhole in the left handcuff.  He works it.             Nothing.  Then CLICK.  He's out!             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             John Shepard fight furiously.  But John has managed to get             control of the .45's TRIGGER.  He squeezes it.  BANG.             ANOTHER ONE.  BANG!  BANG!             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BATHROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Shepard's hands are moving towards Julia's breasts.  SUDDENLY             she lashes out, DIGGING HER NAILS DEEP INTO SHEPARD'S             FACE...TEARING FLESH, DRAWING BLOOD.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             CLOSE ON SHEPARD, struggling with John.  A LARGE SCAR ETCHES             ONTO HIS FACE, in the exact spot where Julia dug her nails in             29-years ago.  BANG!!  BANG!!             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BATHROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Shepard grabs Julia by the throat.  Slams her against the             wall, knocking her unconscious onto the shower floor.  He             touches the GASH on his face, stares at the blood.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             BANG!  BANG!  John keeps squeezing that trigger.             CLICK.  CLICK.  No more bullets.             Shepard lets go of the gun, heave John over and grabs him by             the neck...strangling him.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BATHROOM - NIGHT - 1969             Shepard is on top of Julia in the shower.  He uncoils the             garrote, snaps it taut, and starts around her neck.             And then a SOUND.  Instantly recognizable.  Beyond adequate             description.  But once you've heard it, you don't forget             it...             CHUUT, CHUUT, CHUUT: THE SOUND OF A 12-GUAGE PUMP-ACTION             SHOTGUN RATCHETING AROUND THE CORNER.             Shepard's head spins about.             FRANK STANDS IN THE DOORWAY, SHOTGUN AIMED AT SHEPARD'S FACE.                                 FRANK                       Get your fucking hands off my wife.                                 SHEPARD                       Don't.  Don't do it, Frank.  You're not a                       killer.             He is right.  Frank hesitates.  Shepard LUNGES, grabbing the             shotgun barrel.             BOOM!  Frank FIRES.  BUCKSHOT RIPS THROUGH THE AIR.             SHEPARD'S RIGHT HAND EXPLODES...blood spattering everywhere.             Like a wounded animal, Shepard bolts, blowing past Frank.             Frank gently wraps Julia in a towel.  The fading sound of             Shepard thundering down the stairs.  Out the door.             And then softer footsteps.  Coming closer.  Johnny appears in             the doorway.  Safe and sound.             INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT - 1998             SHEPARD RIGHT HAND GOES LIMP AROUND JOHN'S NECK.  HE STARES             IN SHOCK AS HIS HAND BEGINS TO DISFIGURE.             John starts to choke back to life...             And then something happens.  Some kind of SHOCK-WAVE ripples             through the house -- bending light - bizarrely distorting             everything in its path, including Shepard and John.             The shock-wave is over.  But the house is different.             Changed.             Shepard scans the changed room - disoriented, bewildered.             CRASH!  John pounces.  Pounding blows to Shepard's head.             John is on top of Shepard, hands on his neck.  As John             squeezes the life out of him, Shepard struggles to reach down             his leg with his good hand...             There's something down there.  An ankle holster.  Shepard             strains to get his hand on the gun.  He does.             In a flash, Shepard has the gun to John's temple.             CLICK.  Shepard cocks back the hammer.                                 SHEPARD                       You were the kid.  I remember now.             Keeping the gun pressed against John's temple, Shepard gets             to his feet.                                 SHEPARD (CONT'D)                       But this time, no Daddy.             John closes his eyes.  It's over, he knows he's gonna die.             SILENCE.  Then a sound.  A sound we've heard before.  A sound             you never forget.  Music to our ears.             CHUUT, CHUUT, CLICK: THE SOUND OF A 12-GAUGE PUMP-ACTION             SHOTGUN RATCHETING A ROUND IN THE CHAMBER.             Shepard looks up to see: MAN HOLDING SHOTGUN.             B-O-O-O-M: SHOTGUN BLAST:  Buckshot ripping into Shepard.             Impact lifting him off his feet.  He lands dead on the floor.             CLOSE ON JOHN'S FACE             Opening his eyes.  Looking up at the doorway.  Blinking             through shotgun smoke, trying to focus.  Not believing what             he sees.             FRANK SULLIVAN - AGE SIXTY-NINE             John looks up at his father, speechless.                                 FRANK                       I'm still here, Chief.             EXT. LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL FIELD - MORNING - SOME YEARS             LATER             We are soaring high above a baseball diamond.  Clear light             air, you can see for miles.  Float down to the field...             The first taste of Spring and Softball.  Picnic baskets.             Flowers.  Kites flying.  Children running.             The bleachers filled with families and loved ones.             Among them sits SAMANTHA.  She's smiling, she's             glowing...she's pregnant.  PULL BACK to reveal SATCH, GORDO,             ELLEN &amp; GORDY JR.  A dalmation puppy scampers at their feet,             barking in recognition as...             Frank Sullivan steps into the batter's box.             CLOSE ON             Pitcher: 22 year-old African-Amerasian, a muscular beanpole.             Embroidered on the back of the his FDNY jersey is his             nickname: PHIRE POWER.             Quick shot of first baseman.  GRAHAM GIBSON - once a nervous             PROBIE, now a seasoned vet.  And one hell of proud father.                                 GIBSON                           (to pitcher)                       Take it easy on him son, he's older than                       Moses.             Frank sneers at Gib, then glances up at GIB's WIFE in the             bleachers.  She looks familiar, it's the girl Frank saved in             the warehouse 29-years ago.             PHIRE POWER twirls his arm...             Frank takes a big swing...contact...the ball fouls back             behind the plate.  Towards the parking lot.  Where among the             old Chevys and Fords sits a brand new MERCEDES.  The custom             license plate reads: YAHOO.             CRASH!  Frank's foul ball comes down hard.  As the Mercedes'             windshield spiderwebs we hear an off-camera scream...             It is Gordo, jumping up, running across the field.  From the             parking lot his eyes meet Frank's.  An I'M SORRY shrug, and             Frank turns his attention back to the game.             The next pitch is high and outside.             Frank takes a looping swing...driving the ball to the gap in             right center.  Frank jogs to first.  An easy single.             From first, Frank glances over at the third base coach:             JULIA.  Her hair pinned up under a Mets cap, Julia puts two             fingers in her mouth and belts out a loud whistle as...             The next batter steps out of the dugout.  It is John             Sullivan.             CLOSE ON             John as he makes his way to the plate.             Check out his eyes: they're different, he looks like his             father.  They've got that Frank Sullivan sparkle.             John steps into the batter's box, cocks back to wood.                                 FRANK                       Bring me home, son!  Bring me home!             PHIRE POWER uncorks the fastest softball pitch you've ever             seen.  John jumps on it.  Rips a massive shot to deep center,             way over the fence.             The crew in the stands are on their feet, cheering.             Frank rounds third, John catches up.  A double high-five from             Julia and they jog home together.  The game is over.             Frank puts his arm around John.  Heading for the bleachers.             A little boy totters up to them.  Jumping into John's arms.             His name is Frank Jr.                                 JOHN                       Hey there, Chief.             John gives his son a kiss, glances up at Samantha in the             bleachers.   They share a smile.  And as they step off the             field, his little boy reaches up, takes John's hat off his             head and puts it on his own...                                 FRANK JR.                       Elvis has left the building...             CLOSE ON             John's face.  In his eyes, bliss.             CUE Bruce Springsteen's: TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME.             END CREDITS ROLL OVER:             Archival film footage.  1969 World Series.  Game Five.  The             last pitch.  Mets win.  Shea stadium erupts.  Fans stream             onto the field.  Lifting the players on their heads.             The madness continues for a while, then slowly fade to Fifth             Ave.  Mets' ticker tape parade.  It's a hell of a party.                                                       <a href="javascript:checkVirus('grpid%3Dya44%26fldid%3DHmM3%26dataid%3D49%26fileid%3D1%26regdt%3D20130131195832&url=http%3A%2F%2Fcfile256.uf.daum.net%2Fattach%2F220C2850510A4E2A14F238')"><img src="https://t1.daumcdn.net/daumtop_deco/icon/icon.hanmail.net/editor/p_txt_s.gif?rv=1.0.1" border="0" alt="첨부파일" class="vam"/> 프리퀀시.txt</a>