SCRIPT NOTE: In this version of the pilot script, the character of Constable
Benton Fraser was known as "Benton Prescott."
"DUE SOUTH"
PILOT
Written by
Paul Haggis
Second Draft
TWO HOUR VERSION
February 11, 1993
PROLOGUE
FADE IN:
EXTREMELY CLOSE ON A GLOBE
The neat 3D kind you wanted when you were a kid, with the
mountain ranges that actually protrude. The globe turns,
starting on the North Atlantic and then finding Canada: Nova
Scotia, Labrador, Quebec... by the time we reach James Bay,
at the southern most tip or Hudson's Bay, we've pushed in
even tighter.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. JAMES BAY REGION OF NORTH-EASTERN CANADA - EVENING
The sun lies low on the horizon, casting long shadows on the
bitter cold landscape. One of the long shadows is moving --
it's attached to the leather boots that step into frame. The
boots continue their slow march over the hard ground, passing
the stiff carcass of a dead caribou. Only a few feet further
the boots come upon another caribou body, then two more. The
boots pause briefly beside a doe, then continue along the
gulch. They stop at a small patch of ice. The man squats and
touches the ice, and we see his handsome, weather-worn face:
SGT. ROBERT PRESCOTT may be a man near the end of his career,
but his eyes are as sharp and clear as the eagle that circles
above him. At six foot three, he still carries the physique
of a twenty year old.
Prescott takes a hunting knife from his Sam Browne belt and
raps the icy patch with the butt -- the thin ice breaks
easily. He sticks his finger into the icy water and measures
the depth of the shallow puddle.
A faint but distinct sound of a rifle bolt chambering a bullet
makes Prescott jerk his head up: his eyes find the source.
He slowly stands, keeping his eyes fixed on:
HIS POV - THE EDGE OF THE FOREST
There's no trace of whatever made the sound.
ANGLE ON PRESCOTT
His eyes haven't moved. When he speaks he doesn't raise his
voice, the still night carries it for him.
PRESCOTT SR.
You're going to shoot a Mountie?
They'll hunt you to the ends of the
earth.
EXTREME WIDE ANGLE
Taking in the full terrain. A shot echoes through the valley.
The small figure that was Sgt. Prescott Sr. stands for the
longest time, then falls to the earth.
DISSOLVE TO:
THE GLOBE
leaves James Bay and continues to circle west, passing over
Northern Manitoba and the tip of Saskatchewan before finding
the North-West Territories, a thousand miles away, where the
camera closes in.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. SOMEWHERE IN THE NORTHWEST TERRITORIES - NIGHT
Jagged rocks, howling wind, blinding snow and miles and miles
of more of the same. Not much goes on here. Which is why
were surprised when -- WHOOSH -- a team of dogs flies past
us, just inches from the camera, barking and snapping as
they pull their wooden sled. The driver CRACKS a whip in the
air. They're gone in a flash.
CUT TO:
INT. RCMP OUTPOST - NIGHT
This cinder block building has the distinction of being the
northern-most district office of the Royal Canadian Mounted
Police. We know that because we are focused on the regal
looking emblem of the RCMP. As we move away from the seal
and across the ordinary metal desks and stacking file boxes,
we realize this is hardly the rugged outpost of yore. Still,
it is peopled by a small contingent of dedicated keepers-of-
the-peace. True, they no longer wear the bright-red uniforms,
and the only chiseled chin belongs to an officer named Louisa,
but they are nonetheless Mounties. Right now they're all
trying to figure out why the water cooler doesn't work.
OFFICER 1
(defensively)
I pressed the little red button,
nothing happens!
OFFICER 2
Try the blue one.
OFFICER 1
I tried the blue one.
OFFICER 2
Did you shake it?
We follow TWO FEMALE OFFICERS headed for the teletype.
FEMALE OFFICER 4
I tell him the snow mobiles are frozen
dead. He says "I'll take a dog sled."
FEMALE OFFICER 5
A dog sled?? Is this guy living in
this century?
OFFICER 6
(as he passes)
I heard he was going over the pass.
FEMALE OFFICER 5
Don't be ridiculous!
OFFICER 2
(passing it on, in
awe)
Prescott went over the pass.
OFFICER 3
You gotta be kidding.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE - NIGHT
The dog team struggles over a rise, straining at the weight
behind them: the large, well-bundled form of a man tied to
the sled looks like we weighs well over two hundred and fifty
pounds. The black boots of the driver dig into the snow as
he lifts the rear of the sled over the hill. The unseen driver
cracks the whip.
THE DRIVER
Mush!
CUT TO:
INT. RCMP OUTPOST - NIGHT
We're still following the female officers.
FEMALE OFFICER 5
He's never going to make it! It's
fifty below out there: I froze coming
in from my car.
OFFICER 6
The guy is certifiable.
FEMALE OFFICER 5
Who did he go after, anyway?
FEMALE OFFICER 4
You wouldn't believe me.
FEMALE OFFICER 5
Who?
CUT TO:
EXT. THE FROZEN TUNDRA - NIGHT
The sled bounces over the frozen earth carrying its
encapsulated prisoner. The driver at the rear of the sled
doesn't notice the tip of a knife ease out of blankets. The
razor sharp blade slices through the rope that binds the
prisoner. With one lightening fast motion, a giant arm thrusts
out of the blankets and jams the deadly blade of the Bowie
knife hilt-deep into the frozen ground. The lead dog,
DIEFENBAKER, yelps as he's suddenly yanked back. Faster than
any human would react, the driver swings his knee-high black
boot in a high arc and kicks the prisoner's hand free of the
bone-handled knife, and the sled hurtles on into the darkness.
CUT TO:
INT. RCMP OUTPOST - NIGHT
FEMALE OFFICER 5
And you didn't stop him?!
FEMALE OFFICER 4
Yeah, I threw my body in front of
his dog sled.
FEMALE OFFICER 5
Somebody's gotta tell the
Superintendent.
OFFICER 6
That's the Sergeant's job.
FEMALE OFFICER 5
Then we gotta tell the Sergeant!
CUT TO:
EXT: TUNDRA - NIGHT
The lead dog, his fur matted with ice and mud, leaps over a
giant snow drift and pulls hard to the right. The sled mounts
the drift and skids sideways to a halt. The driver reaches
down, yanks the last rope free and grabs the prisoner. Without
pausing for as much as a breath, he throws the hulking
prisoner over his shoulder.
CUT TO:
INT. RCMP OUTPOST - NIGHT
Back over at the water cooler, Officer 1 has a battle plan
mapped out. He grabs hold of the water bottle:
OFFICER 1
Okay, when I lift, you jam your hand
down in there fast; ready and...
Female Officer 5 approaches.
FEMALE OFFICER 5
Sergeant?
OFFICER 1
Yeah?
Just then the doors at the end of the corridor fly open and
a figure steps in, engulfed in a swirl of blowing snow. All
heads turn.
KNEE HIGH BLACK BOOTS
Covered in mud, tromp the pristine linoleum with an even
confident stride. Moving up the legs, the man's clothes are
so encrusted with dirt and ice you'd never know there was a
uniform under there. As we come up the man's back we see the
mammoth prisoner hanging over his shoulder, helpless as a
dressed deer. Finally we see the distinctive hat, and we
know this is a Mountie.
ALL MOUTHS
hang agape. The Sergeant has momentarily forgotten that he's
holding the water cooler bottle, water spilling out onto his
shoes.
THEIR POV
For the first time we see CONSTABLE BENTON PRESCOTT'S face.
Six foot two, chiseled features, clear blue eyes, he looks
like he just walked out of a postcard. A small smile crosses
his lips as he passes the cooler.
PRESCOTT
See you got that fixed, Sergeant.
Officer 1 (the Sergeant) realizes what's happening and hands
the gushing bottle to Officer 2.
ANGLE ON THE HOLDING CELL
In the corner of the room. Prescott swings open the cage
door and drops the prisoner down on the stool in the corner.
PRESCOTT
Anything you need?
PRISONER
No, I'm fine, thanks.
Prescott locks the door and turns to see Female Officer 5
staring.
PRESCOTT
That's the last time he'll fish over
the limit.
As he walks away, she still hasn't closed her mouth.
MAIN TITLES
A STYLIZED MIX OF ANCIENT BLACK AND WHITE ARCHIVE FOOTAGE
AND STILL PHOTOS OF THE REAL MEN OF THE North West Mounted
Police and RCMP, combined with Hollywood's comical and
stereotypical view of the mounties over the years: Sergeant
Preston and Yukon King blurting out some of their cornier
lines, Nelson Eddy and Jeannette McDonald singing their hearts
out, and the lesser known serial heroes bringing evil-doers
to justice.
FADE OUT:
ACT ONE
FADE IN:
INT. RCMP OUTPOST - SUPERINTENDENT'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Constable Prescott stands as SUPERINTENDENT MEERS returns to
his desk, keeping his cool.
SUPERINTENDENT MEERS
And you felt it necessary to go out
there and get him now, in the middle
of one of the worst storms we've had
this year.
PRESCOTT
Yes, sir.
SUPERINTENDENT MEERS
...Why?
PRESCOTT
He broke the law, sir.
SUPERINTENDENT MEERS
Prescott, this motto -- "We always
get our man" - maybe no one mentioned
this, but it isn't really our motto --
some writer made it up. See, our
motto is "Maintain The Right". That
means... it doesn't matter what that
means, the point is, you just tracked
a man three hundred miles BECAUSE HE
CAUGHT TOO MANY FISH!!
PRESCOTT
He exceeded the limit by quite a
bit, sir.
SUPERINTENDENT MEERS
Do you know why they keep transferring
you further and further north,
Prescott?!
(tossing him some
paper)
Here, write out the word
"embarrassment" for me, we'll pin it
to your hat, so whenever you look in
the mirror, you'll know. How much
could a man fish over the limit that
would justify you recklessly
endangering your life, and the
reputation of this police force?!
PRESCOTT
(referring to his pad)
Four and a half tons, sir.
SUPERINTENDENT MEERS
(caught off guard)
...Tons of... fish.
PRESCOTT
He was dynamiting the rivers, then
scooping the salmon off the surface
with a backhoe. I destroyed the
plastic explosives, fragmentary mines
and nitroglycerine and then donated
the three truckloads of fish to a
local Inuit village. The tribal elder
said he'd call you with his thanks
as soon as their phone lines are
restored.
We can see that Prescott richly enjoys the pregnant pause
that follows. It's broken as Female Officer 4 raps on the
Superintendent's door and enters with a telex.
FEMALE OFFICER 4
Sir, there's a tribal elder on the
phone for you, and this just came in
over the wire.
She hands Meers the telex and throws a quick look to Prescott.
Something is very wrong. Meers looks up from reading the
telex. He is visibly shaken.
SUPERINTENDENT MEERS
(to Prescott)
...It's your father.
CUT TO:
EXT. JAMES BAY AREA - DAY
An area of vast wilderness, dotted with rivers and lakes. A
herd of caribou graze on a hillside. The only man-made sound
is a FAINT DULL ROAR which emanates from somewhere in the
distance. Then the roar is overtaken by the SOUND OF A PLANE
ENGINE APPROACHING. In the sky above, a six seater CESSNA
appears over a ridge.
CUT TO:
INT. CESSNA - CONTINUOUS
Prescott stares out his window, lost in thought, as the pilot,
BERT JENKINS, pours a cup of coffee from a thermos.
JENKINS
Time was, you could look out that
window and see nothing but geese.
Thousands of 'em. And that river
down there -- beavers used to cover
it like a bunch of hairy little ants.
Not anymore though. The government
kinda put 'em out of business.
EXT. THE GROUND BELOW - THEIR POV - CONTINUOUS
A huge monolith of a dam under construction comes into view.
Behind it lays a water reservoir which stretches as far as
the eye can see.
RETURN TO SCENE
PRESCOTT
Yeah. Everything's changing.
Diefenbaker, his lead dog, looks up from his feet, as if
offering sympathy. Prescott gives him a small pat.
ANGLE AHEAD
A small northern city comes into view.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. HOSPITAL MORGUE - DAY
A sheet is pulled back, revealing the lifeless face of Sgt.
Robert Prescott.
PRESCOTT JR.
Stares down at the body. For a second the shock registers,
but the stubborn face refuses to lose it's composure. Beside
him stands an imposing senior RCMP Officer in his fifties,
CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT GERARD.
GERARD
Still don't know what the hell he
was doing out there. Middle of
nowhere, ten below zero.
PRESCOTT
His log book...?
GERARD
He closed his last case over a week
ago. Should've been catching up on
paperwork.
Prescott lowers the sheet and nods to the orderly to remove
the body.
GERARD
But you know your Dad. He'd rather
freeze his rump off than hug a desk.
CUT TO:
EXT. RCMP HEADQUARTERS - DAY - ESTABLISHING SHOT
A two story building, larger and more impressive than the
one Prescott hails from. The sign over the entrance reads
"RCMP East Bay Regional Headquarters".
CUT TO:
INT. GERARD'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Gerard sets a small plastic evidence bag on the desk in front
of Prescott. By the way he talks we can tell Gerard and
Prescott Sr. were close.
GERARD
.303 calibre, standard hunting ammo.
It's the first week of the season --
every damned idiot up here suddenly
feels the need to kill something.
Near as we can tell, he must have
caught a stray bullet. Useless damn
way to die.
Prescott fingers the mangled remains of the bullet.
GERARD
Son, every officer on this post spent
the last three days combing that
gulch. If there was evidence of foul
play, we would have found it.
(Beat, then)
When was the last time you talked to
him?
PRESCOTT
...Christmas.
Prescott tries to disguise his feelings of guilt and remorse.
Gerard covers for him.
GERARD
I guess the more you know someone,
the less that needs to be said.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. GULCH - DAY
Tattered yellow police tape snaps in the wind. Prescott kneels
over the spot where his father's body fell. The once virgin
snow is now trampled down in all directions, criss-crossed
by the ski-marks of snowmobiles and heavy tire tracks.
Prescott studies the ground. He turns over a clump of snow,
stained with dried blood. The clump falls apart in his
fingers. Diefenbaker moves into frame, sniffs the ground
beside him, then moves off. Prescott watches as the dog heads
down the gulch, then follows.
CUT TO:
HUNDRED YARDS DOWN THE GULCH
a hawk pecks at something through the new fallen snow. It
catches the dog's scent and takes off. Diefenbaker lopes
into frame and sniffs the snowy mound, then moves off. A
moment later PRESCOTT kneels down beside the mound and brushes
away the snow. It's the frozen body of a dead caribou.
Prescott looks down the gulch -- a dozen more patches of
brown fur poke through the snow.
Suddenly, A KNIFE flies into frame, imbedding in the ground
by Prescott's knee. Prescott reacts instantly, rolling to
one side and drawing his Smith & Wesson service revolver.
The dog comes charging back and snarls. Prescott stills him
with a hand signal.
AN INUIT MAN stands at the edge of the gulch.
INUIT
You want meat, Mountie? Try the
supermarket.
The Inuit turns away and ties another fallen caribou to the
sled attached to his ski mobile. Prescott approaches. He
hands the Inuit back his knife.
PRESCOTT
You kill them?
INUIT
Nope.
PRESCOTT
You see some hunters come through
here?
INUIT
Lots of them.
PRESCOTT
They kill them?
INUIT
Nope.
PRESCOTT
Then who?
INUIT
No one. They just drank too much.
The Inuit man kicks over the engine of his ski mobile and
tears off through the woods, bouncing off the trunks of trees.
INUIT
(as he sideswipes
each tree)
Damn, get outta my way!... Damn,
will ya watch it?!
(Warning the trees to
move)
Comin' through, comin' through!...
Damn!
Prescott watches after him quizzically, then continues up
the hill, the dog following.
CUT TO:
THE WOODS
Prescott follows a deer trail along the ridge. He notices
something and stops: Another set of tracks have appeared
along side. He kneels and picks something out of the snow --
a .303 shell casing.
CUT TO:
CLEARING SOME DISTANCE OFF
The trail of footsteps joins several others. It looks like
half a dozen men stopped here briefly. Five of them went off
in one direction, the sixth is the trail he's been following.
Just a few feet away lie the rut marks of Jeep tires. Prescott
kneels and studies the boot prints. His dog noses up beside
him.
PRESCOTT
(to dog)
Do you know six people up here who
can afford new boots?
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. AIR FIELD - DAY
A light plane dips down from the sky and lands on a narrow
air strip. As it passes we see parked in the background the
three or four other prop planes that make up the East Bay
commercial airfield. Prescott and Bert Jenkins appear from
behind one of these and head across the tarmac toward the
airfield's lone hangar barn.
JENKINS
We get a lot of weekend hunters up
here. Yuppies, mostly. Wouldn't know
a deer from a tree stump.
PRESCOTT
I'm looking for a party of six. Would
have come in about a week ago.
JENKINS
I've been flying supplies mostly.
Try Herb Lantrell.
CUT TO:
INT. HANGAR - DAY
HERB LANTRELL, a chubby pilot in his forties, has a pocket
cellular phone pressed in his ear as he leafs through his
flight log.
HERB
(into phone)
Betty, honey, you got milk. I brought
home a gallon yesterday. Look in the
fridge.
Herb turns to Prescott who's waiting patiently.
HERB
(to Prescott, re:
phone)
Never shoulda bought the damn thing.
Now it's bring milk, bring butter,
I'm up ten thousand feet and she
wants me to stop at a 7 Eleven.
Prescott smiles. Herb runs a finger down a column in his log
book.
HERB
A week ago you say? Brought some
nuns up on a retreat. That help?
PRESCOTT
Not unless they were carrying
firearms.
HERB
From the look on some of them it
wouldn't have surprised me... Okay,
here you go -- bunch of dentists
from Chicago. Killed their limit and
went home early. Lot of latent
bloodlust, dentists.
PRESCOTT
You have the passenger list?
HERB
Sure.
(back to phone)
Foot Powder? I'd like to Betty, Betty
but I'm at three thousand feet and
heading for a cliff. I'll call you
if I pull out.
(hangs up, winks to
Prescott)
Has its advantages too.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSPITAL MORGUE - DAY
Prescott hoists the body of a caribou from his shoulders and
lowers it onto a gurney. He looks up to see the somewhat
puzzled look on the face of the CORONER.
CORONER
Pet, was it?
PRESCOTT
Think you can tell me what killed
it?
CORONER
Toss it in the freezer. It'll be a
few days.
PRESCOTT
Thanks.
Prescott exits.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
Outside the gates, the snowy roadway is lined with RCMP
vehicles, including several black sedans.
CUT TO:
EXT. GRAVE SITE - DAY
RANKS OF RCMP OFFICERS, in full dress red serge, stand at
attention by the grave site. A casket, draped with the RCMP
Corp ensign, rests in the foreground. On the opposite side,
Prescott stands alone, also in his red serge. A few paces
behind him is a group of civilians and dignitaries, including
Chief Superintendent Gerard. ASSISTANT COMMISSIONER JOHN
UNDERHILL addresses them.
UNDERHILL
Twenty-two years ago I came to the
Northwest Territories as a Corporal.
Even then, the name Bob Prescott was
spoken with awe among the ranks of
new recruits. It was said that he
could track a ghost across sheer
ice, and that a young officer would
have to move fast and drive hard
just to catch his shadow. Many have
followed the spirit and tradition of
the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. A
few have embodied it. Sgt. Robert
Prescott's name will always be among
them.
EXTREME WIDE ANGLE - CEMETERY
A ceremonial BLAST OF RIFLE FIRE flushes birds from the trees.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE BLIND MOOSE INN - DAY
A backwoods kind of tavern, the kind you'd expect to find
but rarely do anymore in the great white north.
GERARD (V.O.)
Yeah, we'd appreciate that...
INT. BLIND MOOSE INN - DAY
A wake is in progress. Trappers and construction workers mix
with Mounties and men in suits. A sizable pine bar runs the
length of the room, accompanied by a few rough hewn tables
and chairs, a couple of booths and a juke box. We find Sup.
Gerard on the ancient rotary pay phone.
GERARD
...I'm afraid that's all we've got...
I will, thanks.
Gerard hangs up and joins Prescott at the bar. GEORGE the
affable BARTENDER offers Gerard another drink.
GEORGE
(re: pay phone)
I'm going to start charging you rent
on that thing. You driving or can I
pour you another?
GERARD
Thanks, George.
GEORGE
Hell of a wake.
(to Prescott)
To your father, may he not give the
Angels a moments peace.
The three men drink. As George moves off, Prescott turns to
Gerard.
GERARD
You father and I spent too many nights
in places like this.
(re: his glass)
I see you picked up his habit.
Straight gingerale, it that?
PRESCOTT
(re: phone call)
...What did they say?
GERARD
I gave them your list of names,
they'll assign an officer to check
them out.
PRESCOTT
With respect, sir, the Chicago P.D.
is not going to make this a high
priority.
(a beat)
I understand there is an opening at
the Chicago Consulate.
GERARD
And you're going to what -- go
charging across the border, frisking
sportsmen at random? Ben, man to
man, if this really was a murder, I
want to find whoever did it and show
him the view from the end of a rope.
But I can't do that, and neither can
you. There were a hundred hunters
out in the woods that day, most of
them from God-knows-where. You found
six. They will check them out. Let
them do their job.
PRESCOTT
I realize I wouldn't be allowed to
work the case, sir, but it I'm in
the same city I can at least check
their progress.
GERARD
Tell me, Constable, how long you
been on the force now?
PRESCOTT
Thirteen years.
GERARD
And what's the biggest city you've
ever worked in?
PRESCOTT
...Moose Jaw.
GERARD
Yeah, and you were transferred out
after five weeks because you couldn't
adapt to such an urban lifestyle.
You're like your father: up there in
no man's land, there isn't a better
cop in the world. But in Chicago,
they'd eat you alive within minutes.
(a beat)
I'm sorry.
PRESCOTT
I understand.
Prescott takes something from his pocket and places it on
the bar in front of Gerard. It's his badge.
PRESCOTT
I also know you understand that
nothing is going to stop me from
finding my father's killer, and
bringing him to justice.
Prescott turns and exits. Gerard reaches over and picks up
the badge.
CLOSE ON BADGE
Gerard hands it to someone. We widen to see we are in:
INT. OFFICE OF ASSISTANT COMMISSIONER UNDERHILL - NIGHT
Underhill thumbs the badge. He looks up to Gerard.
COMMISSIONER UNDERHILL
Give him the transfer.
GERARD
Oh come on, Charlie, you think they're
going to let him do anything? He'll
have no jurisdiction...
COMMISSIONER UNDERHILL
Chicago P.D. are going to treat this
like any other request. The only way
they'll find this guy is if he's
picked up for a broken tail-light
and he blurts out a spontaneous
confession.
(with weight)
This was Bob Prescott. Give him the
transfer.
He hands Gerard back the badge. Gerard finally smiles, as if
he knows in his guts this is the right thing to do.
GERARD
God help Chicago.
CUT TO:
THE GLOBE
Circles west from James Bay, but we cut a sharp south-westerly
angle, passing through Northern Ontario, through Sault Sainte
Marie and down the great lakes to Chicago. A wing tip of a
small model plane sweeps dramatically into frame:
MATCH CUT TO:
EXT. CHICAGO O'HARE AIRPORT - (STOCK SHOT) - DAY
CLOSE ON A PASSENGER AIRLINER swooping in for a landing.
CUT TO:
INT. CHICAGO AIRPORT - DAY
A steady stream of passengers descend on the escalator. No
one takes the stairs. No one but Constable Prescott, of
course, his heavy nap sack and gear slung easily over his
shoulder. At the bottom of the stairs, everyone ignores the
two women in pseudo-nurse's garb that solicit donations.
NURSE
Help feed the hungry. Food for the
hungry.
Prescott stops, reaches into his inside jacket pocket, pulls
out what looks like a flat bar of beef-jerky, and puts it in
the Nurse's begging dish. The nurse picks it up with two
fingers.
NURSE
What is it?
PRESCOTT
Pemmican. If you're still hungry
when you finish it, drink water. It
expands in your stomach.
And he's off, not wishing to be thanked. The nurses just
stare after him, the Pemmican dangling there like a dead
mouse.
CUT TO:
INT. AIRPORT CONCOURSE - SECONDS LATER
In the crowd of deplaning passengers, a woman with a toddler
in one arm and two other children in a cart keeps pace with
Prescott, who carries her various and many bags along with
his -- the diaper bag pretty much obscuring his view.
PRESCOTT
Thing nothing of it, Ma'am. Whoooa!
That last sound was him striding onto the moving sidewalk
and zooming off ahead.
CUT TO:
INT. AIRPORT CONCOURSE - MOMENTS LATER
Prescott has a new walking companion, an "OPERATOR" who is
stringing him his best tale.
PRESCOTT
And they won't operate on your little
girl unless you give them the money
in advance?
OPERATOR
Man, without seeing the cash, they
won't give you an aspirin.
PRESCOTT
And you'll pay me back within a week?
OPERATOR
As God is my witness.
PRESCOTT
(taking out a bill)
I'm afraid all I can give you is a
hundred.
OPERATOR
(stunned to a dead
stop)
You're going to give a complete
stranger a hundred dollars?? You're
kidding.
PRESCOTT
I'd never kid about a child's life.
CUT TO:
EXT. O'HARE AIRPORT - MOMENTS LATER
Prescott waits in the queue for a taxi. When it's his turn
the cab pulls up, but Prescott notices an elderly lady behind
him. He holds open the cab door and offers it to her.
PRESCOTT
You take it, Ma'am
CUT TO:
EXT. SAME AIRPORT CAB STAND - MOMENTS LATER
Another cab pulls up, Prescott opens the back door, but now
a young lady stands behind him and he offers it to her.
PRESCOTT
Please.
CUT TO:
EXT. SAME AIRPORT CAB STAND - MOMENTS LATER
An elderly couple get the same consideration. He closes the
door after them.
PRESCOTT
No, you go right ahead.
CUT TO:
EXT. AIRPORT CAB STAND - MOMENTS LATER
Prescott opens the door of this new cab for himself, but a
rude businessman pushes right in front and takes his cab.
Another cab pulls up right behind, Prescott opens the rear
door but sees a man in a wheelchair behind him. He motions
for him to take it.
CUT TO:
EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY - EVENING
Prescott walks along the shoulder, whistling as he heads for
the city. He passes the road sign that beams WELCOME TO
CHICAGO.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
CUT TO:
INT. POLICE STATION
At the front desk, SEVERAL UNIFORMED OFFICERS are lined up
bearing SUSPECTS in handcuffs. THE DESK SERGEANT hands the
cop at the head of the line his paperwork, and the cop moves
off with his suspect in tow.
DESK SERGEANT
Next.
Prescott steps up to the desk. The Sergeant is given
considerable pause by the sight of his wide-brimmed hat.
DESK SERGEANT
Look here, it's Nanook of the North.
PRESCOTT
(showing I.D.)
Constable Prescott, Royal Canadian
Mounted Police.
DESK SERGEANT
(impressed)
No kidding.
(peeks over the counter)
Gotta dog?
PRESCOTT
In quarantine.
DESK SERGEANT
I got a dog. Great Dane. Can't pull
nothin', though. Bad back.
PRESCOTT
I'm sorry to hear that. I'm looking
for the officer assigned to a
particular case. I was given this
case number.
Prescott hands him a piece of paper, the Sergeant punches
the numbers into his computer.
DESK SERGEANT
Uh-huh, uh-huuh.
(finds it. Enjoys
this)
Oh yeah, you'll like this fella.
Head down that hall, through the end
door, third holding cell on your
left.
PRESCOTT
His name?
DESK SERGEANT
Oh you can't miss him, just look for
Armani.
Prescott heads off.
CUT TO:
INT. HOLDING AREA - CONTINUOUS
Prescott displays his visitor I.D. to a UNIFORMED GUARD at a
desk, who lets him enter. Prescott walks to the third holding
cell on his left and looks in.
We PAN ACROSS the dangerous-looking detainees; gang members,
transients, pimps... to a handsome Latino man in his early
thirties, well-coifed, perfectly manicured and dressed in a
top-of-the-line Armani suit, Armani silk shirt and hand-
painted Armani tie. His name is RAY HERNANDEZ. A HUGE, WELL-
DRESSED GUY next to him examines the label in his jacket.
RAY
Of course it's original merchandise;
friend of mine found a truck full
just sorta sitting on the side of
the road.
HUGE WELL DRESSED GUY
Isn't this kind of a strange place
to do business?
RAY
Hey, at least in here you know who
you're dealing with.
PRESCOTT
Excuse me?
Ray and the perpetrators turn to look.
PRESCOTT
I'm looking for a Detective Armani?
The Huge Guy and his friends turn back to Ray, who tries to
look innocent.
RAY
(to huge guy and
friends)
What?... You mean... what?
(finally)
Guard?
CUT TO:
INT. DETECTIVE'S BULLPEN - MOMENTS LATER
Hernandez fires through the doors, followed by Prescott.
RAY
Okay, who let the Mountie into the
holding cell?!
Without looking, several detectives raise their hands.
PRESCOTT
I'm sorry. I believe it was an
unfortunate confusion about an
unfamiliar, idiomatic trade name.
RAY
What the confusion was: down here,
we don't bust in on some guy when
he's about to take down the biggest
operator in the garment district for
buying stolen merchandise!
PRESCOTT
So you were attempting to sell him a
truckload of illegally obtained men's
clothing.
RAY
That's right!
PRESCOTT
Isn't that entrapment?
RAY
(finds his desk)
What do you want from me?
PRESCOTT
(hands him paper)
I was told you were in charge of
this case.
RAY
The dead Mountie thing, like I
couldn't have guessed. Look, I got
the list of names, it's in my basket
there somewhere. The moment I get a
chance I'll run them through the
computer, pick up the phone, call
you with the information, and you
can get your Boy Scout points.
Anything else?
PRESCOTT
Yes. The dead Mountie was my father.
I'd appreciate it if you'd check the
names while there's till a chance of
catching the man who killed him.
Prescott turns and walks out, leaving Ray speechless. Prescott
hesitates at the door.
PRESCOTT
And he's not in the garment business.
RAY
...What?
PRESCOTT
Your operator. He had a hole in his
shoe. A big garment buyer wouldn't
be seen with a hole in his shoe. So,
like you, he's pretending to be
someone he's not.
Prescott turns and exits, leaving Ray to think about this.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. LARGE MODERN DOWNTOWN HOTEL - NIGHT
Prescott enters the modern monolith, his rucksack slung our
his shoulder.
CUT TO:
INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Prescott stares out the picture window at the foreign sight
below -- the lights of the city.
CUT TO:
ANGLE ON THE BED - LATER
Prescott lies there trying to sleep. He takes a deep breath,
but can't seem to get any air in his lungs.
CUT TO:
ANGLE ON HOTEL ROOM WINDOW
Prescott tries several ways to open the picture window but
the room is completely sealed.
CUT TO:
ANGLE ON AIR CONDITIONS CONTROL
Prescott manages to turn on the air conditioning.
CUT TO:
ANGLE ON THE BED
He lies there with the drone of the stale air being forced
into the sterile room.
CUT TO:
EXT. ROOFTOP OF HOTEL - NIGHT
Prescott rolls out his sleeping bag. Once inside, he takes a
deep breath and stares up at the sky. He rolls over on his
side and pulls something from his breast pocket. It's an old
crumpled photo of his father as a young recruit. The first
real signs of emotions creep onto his face.
PRESCOTT
(in a whisper)
I'll bring him in, Dad. You can count
on me.
He puts the photo away and closes his eyes.
CUT TO:
WIDE ANGLE - ROOFTOP AND SKYLINE - NIGHT
We pull way back to see what Prescott is up against -- one
man, out of place and alone amongst the thousands of strangers
in this city.
FADE OUT:
END ACT ONE
ACT TWO
FADE IN:
EXT. CANADIAN CONSULATE BUILDING (CHICAGO) - DAY
Over which we hear the voice of Prescott's new RCMP boss,
SUPERINTENDENT LEE ANNE MOFFAT.
MOFFAT (V.O.)
I think you know I wasn't pleased
about your being transferred here.
CUT TO:
INT. CONSULATE BUILDING - RCMP LIAISON OFFICE - DAY
This is the RECEPTION AREA of the small, nondescript office.
As Moffat continues to pontificate, CAROL, her assistant,
exits her boss's office and closes the door. From the
expression on her face we can tell she doesn't think much of
her boss.
MOFFAT'S VOICE
I'm sure you're really very good at
stomping your way through the ice
and snow, but this is a consulate
office, and...
INT. SUPERINTENDENT MOFFAT'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
We finally see SUP. LEE ANNIE MOFFAT, a young woman of thirty,
sharp, dedicated, ultra-urban, every inch the new RCMP.
MOFFAT
a cleft chin and a blue ribbon for
kayaking doesn't get you very far
down here. Do you even know what we
do here?
PRESCOTT
This is the Liaison Office, Ma'am.
As Chief Liaison Officer you work
closely with local law enforcement,
the various arms of the American
Criminal Justice Systems and
Intelligence Community on matters of
mutual interest.
MOFFAT
And you thought that sounded like an
exciting alternative to recovering
stolen snowshoes.
PRESCOTT
They said you needed an assistant.
MOFFAT
(smiles knowingly)
Oh, they did. Well, before you get
too enthused, let me put things in
perspective for you. Agencies like
the FBI and the DEA don't just
automatically rush to cooperate with
foreign security services. First,
they have to take you seriously.
That means having a reputation --
being just as tough and ruthless as
they are. Scotland Yard, they take
seriously. The Mossad, they take
seriously. The Mounties? We're just
polite people in funny hats who have
problems pronouncing the vowels 'o-
u'. You're trying to discuss methods
of breaking the international heroin
trade -- they're trying to get you
to say "ooot" and "aboooot" into a
tape recorder. We're a stereotype,
Prescott: one that I've worked very
hard to change. And you tromping
around in your size twelve mukluks
won't do much to help that.
PRESCOTT
I'll do my best to adapt.
MOFFAT
Don't bother. I have the perfect job
for you, Prescott. Just do me a favor --
while you're out there, try to avoid
the urge to burst into song.
CUT TO:
EXT. CANADIAN CONSULATE - DAY
From the brass plaque that identifies the consulate, we PAN
ACROSS the pillared entrance to:
PRESCOTT, standing at attention, in full dress red serge, as
motionless and unblinking as a Buckingham Palace Guard. Across
from him stand several KIDS, making faces trying to crack
him up. One finally spits his gum out onto Prescott's shoe.
The kids see someone coming and scatter. The someone is Ray
Hernandez, on his way to the consulate. Ray walks past
Prescott and enters the building.
RAY
'scuse me.
A beat later Ray returns, realizing it was Prescott.
RAY
It's you! I walked right past you, I
didn't recognize you standing there
like that.
Prescott continues staring ahead, as is his job. Ray doesn't
seem to clue into this. He leans up against the wall beside
him and taxes out a cigarette.
RAY
Okay, I acted like a jerk, I didn't
realize it was your father, I should
have checked into it earlier.
(offering him a
cigarette)
Want one?
(takes silence for a
"no")
Anyway, you were right about the
goombah in the cell. I dig around,
find out he's Internal Affairs, trying
to nail my ass for illegal entrapment.
Can you believe that? The man is
trying to entrap me into entrapping
him. It's like my old man used to
say, "Never trust a cop." In any
case, I figured I owed you one, so I
came to say... thanks.
Ray offers his hand. Prescott, of course, can't take it.
RAY
I apologized, what else do you want
from me?... Prescott...? Prescott...?
Ray waves a hand in front of Prescott's face. He takes some
delight in this realization:
RAY
You're kidding me! This is your job??
This is like your real job? I don't
believe this! Son of a gun! Hey, no
offense, I have the greatest respect
for people who can do something and
do it well, or in this case, do
nothing and do it well.
Ray laughs at his own stupid joke, then lowers his voice to
speak in confidence.
RAY
Anyway, listen, I checked out that
list of names for you and I have
something that may be something, so
we should talk.
(waits, expecting a
response)
You're putting me on, right? Okay,
okay, just tell me when you'll be
off and I'll come back.
(waits, no response)
You got a break coming up soon or
something?... would nodding your
head be some sort of Canadian
crime?... You sort of swayed forward
a bit there, was that a yes?... I'm
talkin' to a corpse.
The clock tower chimes twelve. Prescott shoulders his rifle,
turns with precision to stare at Ray, turns again and marches
away.
RAY
You know you have gum on your shoe?
CUT TO:
INT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY
It's getting close to rush hour as Ray and Prescott enter
through the front door.
RAY
So I called the American Dental
Association to check them out, and
every one on your list comes up as
members. Only one of them this Dr.
Lawrence Medley, isn't current with
his dues. I ask how delinquent the
guy is, they say twelve years.
CUT TO:
INT. SUBWAY STATION PLATFORM - CONTINUOUS
They turn onto the platform and head for the waiting train.
RAY
I call his practice, the nurse says
he can't come to the phone, seeing
that he's been dead twelve years.
This then makes me curious.
Ray wonders why they are waiting at the open train door.
RAY
You gonna get on or what?
PRESCOTT
(holding open door)
It just takes a few seconds to be
courteous.
(to woman with
groceries)
After you, Ma'am...
(to elderly man)
No, after you, sir.
ANGLE FROM FAR SIDE OF PLATFORM
The train pulls out of the station. Prescott and Ray are the
only ones left standing on the platform.
RAY
My bet is there aren't a lot of high
speed chases in Canada.
CUT TO:
INT. DENTIST'S RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Ray enters, still telling his story to Prescott.
RAY
So I say to myself, "How could this
Dr. Medley be on this hunting trip
last month, being as dead as he
appears to be?" I man, even with a
dentist, someone would have commented
on this.
(shows ID to
receptionist)
Detective Hernandez to see Dr.
Weingarten.
She disappears.
INT. DENTIST'S OFFICE - A SHORT TIME LATER
The dentist, DR. WEINGARTEN, digs an envelope of snapshots
out of his desk drawer and turns to Ray and Prescott.
DR. WEINGARTEN
No, not personally. In fact, he called
me. He'd heard about our annual
hunting trip, asked if he could come
along. Harry Prentice, periodontist,
he usually comes with, but this year
he had that accident.
(finds a photo he's
been looking for)
Here, this is him, Larry Medley, the
one sleeping in the corner. I think
that's the only one I got of him.
For some reason he was never around
when we were taking pictures.
CLOSE ON PHOTO
In Ray's hand; a group snapshot of several guys on a small
plane, the one sleeping in the corner is apparently the
mystery dentist, Larry Medley.
BACK TO SCENE
DR. WEINGARTEN
Not much of a hunter, didn't shoot a
thing. I came back with that fella.
Dr. Weingarten proudly indicates the stuffed beaver posed on
his file cabinet.
CUT TO:
INT. POLICE STATION - BULL PEN - NIGHT
THE NIGHT CROWD IS THINNER. PRESCOTT FOLLOWS Ray through the
double doors.
PRESCOTT
How do you know him?
RAY
I don't, I never said I did. I just
have this feeling I've seen him
before. Not so much his face as his
nose.
PRESCOTT
His nose?
RAY
It's like I have this ability.
Everyone's nose is distinctive, no
two people have exactly the same
nose. I just have this thing where I
never forget a nose. Call it a gift.
You know how to type?
PRESCOTT
A hundred words a minute, why?
CUT TO:
OVER AT THE COMPUTER - A SHORT TIME LATER
Ray looks over Prescott's shoulder as Prescott types.
RAY
June '86, I'm walking a beat, and I
get a call on this domestic violence
case. Very, very messy; guy had his
wife's arm in a car door and kept
slamming it, this was not one of
your more tender romances. Anyway,
when I saw the guy in the photo I
flashed on this guy's nose.
Ray indicates one in a list of names on the screen.
RAY
This puppy, Frankie Kohl.
Prescott highlights it and presses Enter. An arrest record
and mug shots appear for FRANK KOHL. Ray holds the dentist's
snapshot up beside the computer screen.
RAY
What do you think?
PRESCOTT
It's exactly the same nose.
RAY
What'd I tell you?
CLOSE ON COMPUTER PRINTER - MOMENTS LATER
The dot matrix printer spits out the information as Ray and
Prescott watch.
RAY
It stuck in my mind 'cause homicide
had been trying to nail him for a
mob hit. The best we could get was
six months for assault and battery.
Eight weeks later he was out -- and
the Italian population has been
dwindling ever since.
PRESCOTT
He's a hired killer?
RAY
Well, I don't think he hunts for
relaxation. Someone wanted your dad
out of the way enough to import a
professional. Any idea why?
PRESCOTT
No. You have an address?
He rips the computer paper off, hands it to Prescott.
RAY
It's not worth the cab fare to check;
he'll have been long gone.
PRESCOTT
...But you have an idea.
RAY
One lead. I follow up one lead. I
don't have time to make a career of
this case.
PRESCOTT
I understand.
EXT. POLICE STATION PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER
They head out into the huge parking lot in search of Ray's
car.
RAY
It's not that I wouldn't like to see
this solved, but if I'm going to get
anywhere, make a name for myself, I
have to pick and choose my cases,
and having my name in the Yukon
Gazette is going to do bumpkus for
my career.
PRESCOTT
Where are we going?
RAY
There's a place I know, lot of heavy
weights hang out there, the kind of
people who could reach out and touch
someone like this. I've been working
it for months, hanging out, fitting
in, they think I'm complete scum.
Down here, your reputation is
everything.
(stops, lost)
Where the hell did I leave the car?
Prescott pulls out his compass and refers to it.
PRESCOTT
Thirty-two degrees south.
RAY
Oh, right.
They walk away from us seeking thirty two degrees south.
RAY
What's your first name, anyway? I
can't keep calling you Prescott.
PRESCOTT
Benton.
RAY
So what's your first name?
PRESCOTT
Benton.
RAY
You have a first name?
PRESCOTT
Can we make a stop on the way?
CUT TO:
EXT. CUSTOMS WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
Ray waits outside behind the wheel of his immaculate black
Mustang. He checks his watch, then thinks he sees a small
mark on the dash board. He wets his finger and rubs at it.
Finally the passenger door opens revealing Prescott. Prescott
snaps his fingers and his great white dog bounds into the
car and starts licking his face and sniffing various body
parts. Ray immediately freaks out.
RAY
Whoa-whoa-whoa! What are you doing?
He's sniffing me! He's licking me!
PRESCOTT
(with a hand motion)
Diefenbaker. Back seat.
The dog leaps the seat.
RAY
He's on my seats! He has footprints
on my seats! I have dog hair all
over me!
PRESCOTT
I'm sorry, he's usually better
behaved. He's just excited to be out
of that quarantine cage.
Ray brushes the dog hair off himself, regaining his composure.
RAY
No, it's okay, I'm just not real big
on dogs. To tell the truth, they
terrify me.
PRESCOTT
Actually, you can't really call
Diefenbaker a dog.
RAY
...I can't?
PRESCOTT
He's really more of a wolf.
RAY
Wolf?!
Ray whips his head around to look. Diefenbaker returns his
stare. Ray forces a smile.
RAY
Hi.
Ray turns, puts the car into drive and takes off.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREETS - CONTINOUS
As they drive off:
RAY (V.O.)
Does he have to sit that close?
PRESCOTT (V.O.)
I think cars make him nervous.
RAY (V.O.)
...Really.
PRESCOTT (V.O.)
He'll be fine. He's probably just
hungry.
FADE OUT:
END OF ACT TWO
ACT THREE
FADE IN:
EXT. CITY STREETS - A SHORT WHILE LATER - NIGHT
Ray's convertible cruises through a seedy section of town.
Neon signs indicate cheap bars and all-night liquor stores.
Hookers and drug dealers beckon to passing cars.
RAY (V.O.)
You won't find this on most of your
tourist maps.
CUT TO:
INT. RAY'S MUSTANG - CONTINUOUS
Diefenbaker sleeps out of sight in the back seat as Ray points
out the areas of interest.
RAY
I wouldn't go walking around here by
yourself.
PRESCOTT
Really?
RAY
Trust me on this. There's the place
there.
They pass the bar and pull up around the corner, parking up
the block from a liquor store, where several gang members
hand out. Ray turns off the ignition and pushes a button --
the roof on the mustang raises automatically. Prescott watches
this with interest.
PRESCOTT
Hm.
RAY
(re: dog)
Just tell him to stay... and not to
eat my seats or anything.
PRESCOTT
I'll try.
RAY
(nervous)
What do you mean "try"? He's not
trained?
PRESCOTT
No, he's very well trained. He's
just deaf.
RAY
I have a deaf wolf in my car?
PRESCOTT
Two years ago he jumped off an ice
floe into Prince Rupert Sound and
pulled me out. His ear drums burst
from the cold.
RAY
(impressed)
I didn't know wolves saved lives.
PRESCOTT
Well, he doesn't always. I mean,
he'll save you if he sees you.
RAY
...Right.
Ray reaches for the handle and opens the door a crack.
Immediately Diefenbaker hops over the seat and stands right
on top of Ray, wanting to get out.
RAY
(very quietly)
He's on me. Tell him to get off.
PRESCOTT
I can't, he's facing the wrong way.
Tell him yourself. Just try to
enunciate.
Ray over-enunciates, very quietly.
RAY
Please get off me.
Diefenbaker immediately hops in the back seat.
RAY
He reads lips?
PRESCOTT
I've never been sure. If so, he's
self-taught.
Prescott opens his door.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
The two men get out. Prescott looks back in the car.
PRESCOTT
Stay.
(closes the door and
walks away with Ray)
Sometimes I think he just pretends
not to understand.
Round the corner, passing the young gang members who eye
Prescott with some curiosity.
PRESCOTT
(to gang members)
Evening.
Prescott and Ray walk past the kids. Prescott pauses.
PRESCOTT
(to Ray)
One moment.
Prescott walks back to the gang members.
PRESCOTT
Excuse me, my friend here tells me
this isn't a very good neighborhood.
I wonder if you'd watch the car for
us.
GANG MEMBER
...Absolutely.
PRESCOTT
Thanks.
Prescott catches up with Ray, who just stares at him.
PRESCOTT
I just asked them to watch the car.
RAY
I think they were already watching
it.
The moment Prescott and Ray are out of sight, the gang members
run to the car, fling open the door and run straight into
Diefenbaker. One snarl and they run for their lives.
EXT. BAR - CONTINUOUS
Ray and Prescott approach the bar. Prescott reaches out for
the door handle.
RAY
Whoa-whoa-whoa. We can't just go
marching in there. I have a history
with these people, they think I'm
one of them, understand?
PRESCOTT
So, you want me to blend into the
crowd.
RAY
No, I want you to walk in wearing a
hat that says "I'm a Canadian, shoot
me dead."
Prescott glances up at his Mountie hat.
PRESCOTT
Oh.
He removes the hat and tries to tuck it under his bulky
jacket. Ray just stares at Prescott's forehead.
RAY
You know you have a hat line imbedded
in your forehead?
Ray gives him the once over; it's hopeless.
RAY
This is not going to work.
PRESCOTT
Perhaps if we identified ourselves
and questioned them directly, they'd
co-operate.
RAY
And what would make them do that?
PRESCOTT
Their basic respect for the law.
RAY
...I think we'll do this my way.
Just stay here and
(off his stature)
maybe squat down a little.
PRESCOTT
And if you get in trouble?
RAY
I'll do a moose call.
Ray opens the door and disappears into the dark bar. Prescott
turns back to the car and signals for Diefenbaker, but he's
not there. Prescott looks down, Diefenbaker sits waiting at
his heels.
PRESCOTT
Don't think you're fooling me. Let's
go.
Prescott starts off. Diefenbaker doesn't move. Prescott comes
back and enunciates clearly:
PRESCOTT
Let's go.
Diefenbaker follows him, they disappear around the side of
the bar.
INT. BAR - NIGHT
Not exactly your friendly neighborhood hangout. The floor is
encrusted with years of beer and peanut shells. Through an
archway we see a pool room at the back. At the bar, almost
every seat is taken. CHUCK the bartender looks up as Ray
takes the stool in front of him.
RAY
Hey, Chuck. How's my main hombre?
The Bartender glowers at Ray in unpleasant recognition.
RAY
Do me a favor. I'm looking for a
friend.
CHUCK
You're in the wrong neighborhood,
Hernandez. You got no friends here.
Chuck moves down the bar. Ray moves with him.
RAY
Chuck, I have nothing but friends.
Everybody likes me, I do business
with everybody.
(leans in)
I'd like to do a little business
with Frankie Kohl. You seen him
around?
Ray slides a twenty across the bar.
OVER AT A BOOTH
A guy looks up, having heard the name. The guy stands casually
and we follow him into the pool room. He whispers in the ear
of a guy who sits in the corner, shelling peanuts. The guy
turns and we see it's FRANKIE KOHL. Kohl nods to the informant
and moves to the wall where his coat hangs on a hook. He
pulls it back to reveal a sawed-off shotgun in its home-made
holster.
BACK AT THE BAR
Chuck fingers the twenty.
CHUCK
You know, Hernandez, it's the
strangest thing. Every time I
introduce you to someone, cops appear.
RAY
I had some unreliable people working
for me. It happens. What can I say?
Two BIG THUGS slams ray forward into the bar as the other
pulls the automatic out of Ray's belt-loop. Ray turns to
take the two on, but reconsiders when he sees half a dozen
other unlikable-looking patrons gathering, pulling knives
and clubs.
CHUCK
You've been made, man.
RAY
Hey, I carry a gun, does that make
me a cop? Look at yourselves. Wouldn't
you carry a gun if you had to talk
to people like you. Look at this guy
with the scar, you tell me that's
not scary.
The guy with the scar breaks a bottle on the bar.
RAY
Okay, okay, I've offended some of
you. Let me make it up to you. I
know, I know, I'll give five hundred
dollars to anyone in this room who
knows what a moose sounds like.
They stare at him like he's from another planet. Suddenly
the back door bursts open, the result of a kick from size
twelve boots. All heads whip around to see the man silhouetted
against the street lights, Constable Benton Prescott, hands
on his hips, looking like a matinee hero.
PRESCOTT
Excuse me. May I have our attention,
please?... Thank you. Anyone carrying
illegal weapons, if you'd place them
on the bar, you're under arrest.
Nobody moves.
BIG THUG
You a cop?
PRESCOTT
Yes sir, I am. Constable Prescott,
Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
Simultaneously EVERY CUSTOMER IN THE BAR pulls out a weapon.
Guns and knives are everywhere.
PRESCOTT
That's good, now place them on the
bar.
Of course they don't do any such thing.
ONE FELON
Grabs his knife by the blade and hurls it at Prescott.
PRESCOTT
Slips to the side and the knife embeds itself in the door
frame.
PRESCOTT
(re: knife)
You realize I'm going to have to
confiscate that.
The Felon just stares at him in disbelief.
RAY
Slowly inches his hand down toward his second gun, strapped
to his calf.
OVER IN THE CORNER
Frankie Kohl coolly finishes putting on his coat.
BACK WITH THE OTHERS
A YOUNG THUG decides to challenge Prescott.
YOUNG THUG
Hey Dudley Dooright, you haven't got
any jurisdiction here.
PRESCOTT
That's true, son...
(pointing)
However, that gentleman does.
All eyes turn to:
RAY
Who almost had his gun out of it's holster.
PRESCOTT
Ray, want to show them your I.D.?
All eyes and weapons turn to Ray, who freezes.
PRESCOTT
(approaching Ray)
Now if you'll step back, Detective
Hernandez and I will collect your
weapons.
YOUNG THUG
(to Prescott)
You haven't even got a gun.
Prescott reaches under his coat and pulls out his gun.
PRESCOTT
I carry a standard .38 calibre Smith
& Wesson service revolver.
Ray breathes a sigh of relief.
PRESCOTT
But without a local license I'm not
permitted to use it. That's why it's
empty.
RAY
(to Prescott, dying)
You know, when this is over you and
I should probably have a talk.
Prescott sets his gun on the bar.
PRESCOTT
I don't think force is going to be
necessary. These gentlemen don't
want any further trouble with the
law. Isn't that right, sir?
The Big Thug raises a bottle to whack Prescott in the head.
Something makes him freeze -- the sound of claws tapping on
wood. The Big Thug looks to his right: staring him in the
face is Diefenbaker, standing on the bar. One snarl is enough
to convince the thug to drop the bottle. Prescott catches it
with ease.
PRESCOTT
Thank you.
Ray grabs his second gun and waves it wildly about in what
can best be described as a blind panic.
RAY
Okay! Okay! Weapons on the bar! You
heard the man! You, Ugly, knife on
the bar! Now!
As Prescott goes about politely taking the weapons from the
customers.
PRESCOTT
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you very
much. Thank you.
Ray notices a guy in a long flowing coat heading for the
back door.
RAY
Yo, Batman.
The guy in the long coat stops. From a reverse angle we see
it's Kohl, his hand on his pump shotgun. He turns with a
smile, raises the gun and...
PRESCOTT
Slams into Ray, knocking him to the floor just before the
BLAST tears a hole in the bar.
KOHL
Pumps again and fires repeatedly into the crowd.
CUSTOMERS
Scatter and dive for cover as shotgun blasts explode around
them. Prescott and Ray split and roll for cover around them.
THE INFORMER
Who tipped off Kohl grabs a cue stick and swings it at Ray's
head.
DIEFENBAKER
Flies off the bar and clamps his jaws onto the cue stick,
yanking it out of his hands, as
RAY
Brings a boot up into the informer's groin.
RAY
Good dog.
Ray takes a flying leap for the pool table, trying to get an
angle on Kohl.
KOHL
Pumps his 12 gauge and blasts away at the pool table, until
it disintegrates into a pile of rubble.
PRESCOTT
Ducks out and looks to the back door. Two large guys try and
grab him, he simply bangs their heads together and they hit
the floor. Another swings a knife, Prescott neatly avoids
the lunge and decks the guy with one punch. He steps out of
the back door to see:
CUT TO:
EXT. BACK ALLEY AND STREET
Kohl's car screeches around the corner and disappears.
BACK AT THE DOOR
Ray bounces a thug out into the alley and appears in the
doorway beside Prescott.
RAY
I think we're on the right track.
CUT TO:
EXT. PHONE BOOTH - NIGHT
A young hustler is prying open the change box with a crowbar.
Behind him someone taps at the window. The hustler ignores
it. He hears the tap again, swears and looks up to see the
barrel of a shotgun staring back at him. The kid drops the
prybar and takes off. Kohl steps into the booth. One more
push on the prybar opens the box. As Kohl dials, he takes
the change from the box and feeds it into the slot. After
the second ring someone answers.
KOHL
(into phone)
It's me. I thought you said there
weren't going to be any
complications... Yeah, a big one,
and it's wearing a hat... No, I'll
take care of him myself, but he's
going to cost you twice as much as
the last one.
Kohl hangs up and leaves the booth.
FADE OUT:
END OF ACT THREE
ACT FOUR
FADE IN:
INT. POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - DAY
Ray and Prescott stand across from CAPTAIN WALSH's desk.
Capt. Walsh is a huge African-American man in his early
fifties with the patience of Job and a much feared dry wit.
He speaks as he casually refers to a letter of complaint.
CAPT. WALSH
...one solid oak bar, sixteen tables,
twelve chairs, one etched mirror --
six by nine -- one antique pool table,
two doors, thirty-three bottles of
liquor and a Miller Lite neon clock.
Does that sound like a fairly accurate
list of the damages, Detective
Hernandez?
RAY
I don't believe the pool table was
an antique, sir.
CAPT. WALSH
Well, we'll never know, will we
Detective, because all that's left
is a bag of felt.
RAY
I sought refuge behind the item in
question when the suspect pointed
the shotgun in my direction and
repeatedly fired, sir.
CAPT. WALSH
The suspect; I'm glad we got around
to that, because I'd hate to think
we were responsible for all this
damage without a very good reason.
Now, you say you identified him by
his nose.
RAY
(no sense fighting
this)
Yes, sir.
CAPT. WALSH
Did you say something about his nose,
causing him to fire repeatedly into
the bar?
RAY
No, sir, I never spoke to the suspect.
CAPT. WALSH
His nose was just so offensive that
you decided to pursue and arrest
him.
RAY
Captain, the suspect is a known felon,
and I had this hunch that...
CAPT. WALSH
You had a hunch, you coupled that
with your positive identification of
his nose and this was the basis for
your investigation. An investigation
which resulted in injury to...
(reading)
seven people: three with broken limbs,
two with gun shot wounds, one
hospitalized with a concussion and
one who claims to have been bitten
by a wolf.
RAY
The wolf was just trying to help,
sir.
CAPT. WALSH
They usually are.
PRESCOTT
If I could say something, sir.
CAPT. WALSH
Of course you could, young man. I'm
not exactly sure how a Mountie fits
into this case, but I like to keep
an open mind. You are?
PRESCOTT
Constable Benton Prescott, Assistant
Liaison Officer, attached to the
Canadian Consulate, sir. It was at
my urging that Detective Hernandez
went to the bar.
CAPT. WALSH
(turns to Ray)
Ahhh, so, it wasn't just a hunch
about a nose, you went there at the
urging of a Mountie.
(as if casually
interested)
Detective, how many open, unsolved
cases are on your desk right now?
RAY
...Forty-one.
CAPT. WALSH
Hm. And you, Sergeant Preston...
PRESCOTT
Prescott, sir. Constable Prescott.
CAPT. WALSH
My mistake. Constable Prescott, HOW
MANY OPEN, UNSOLVED CASES ARE YOU
WORKING AT THIS MOMENT?
PRESCOTT
One, sir.
CAPT. WALSH
One. See, now I find that interesting.
I guess that's because you pursue
one case to it's conclusion, then do
the same with the next and the next
in some sort of orderly, police-like
fashion. While Det. Hernandez has a
different approach to solving crimes.
He just sort of has hunches that
lead him here and lead him there and
whenever he thinks he has too many
unsolved cases on his desk, he gets
a hunch about someone else's nose.
(to Ray)
Do you at least have a solid lead on
this suspect that might give a
superior officer the impression that
this case will soon be... I know we
hate to use this word... solved?
RAY
No, sir.
CAPT. WALSH
Then, as intrigued as I am about
this case, I suggest you return to
that desk, pick up any one of those
forty-one open files and keep your
nose in it until you have an epiphany.
RAY
Yes, sir.
Ray and Prescott share a look as they exit.
CUT TO:
INT. BULLPEN - CONTINUOUS
Ray heads back to his desk with his tail barely showing
between his legs.
PRESCOTT
I'll write up a report. I'm sure
he'll see this was my responsibility.
RAY
(just wanting to be
rid of him)
Yeah, thanks.
(finding a note on
his desk)
You leave this number for a Doctor
Somebody?
PRESCOTT
He called?
RAY
So it says.
PRESCOTT
(re: phone)
May I?
Ray motions for him to help himself. Prescott dials.
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. CORONER'S OFFICE - NORTHERN CANADA - NIGHT
The Coroner removes his rubber gloves to answer his ringing
phone.
CORONER
Coroner's Office... I was just about
to put this thing in the mail to
you. I did that autopsy on that
caribou you dropped off for me, I
gotta tell you, I got a hernia hefting
that thing onto the table. I also
got a cause of death for you. It
drowned.
PRESCOTT
I'm sorry?
CORONER
Drowned. Lungs were full of water.
That do anything for you?
PRESCOTT
(recalling, to himself)
It drank too much.
CORONER
(humoring him)
Yeah, that's another way of looking
at it. I'll mail you the report.
BACK AT RAY'S DESK
PRESCOTT
Thank you, I'd appreciate that.
Prescott hangs up, puzzling at this non-sequitur. He digs
into his pocket for change.
PRESCOTT
How much do I owe you?
RAY
Just an explanation.
PRESCOTT
A hundred yards from where my father
died, I found the carcasses of several
dozen caribou. The coroner says they
drowned.
RAY
And I thought they were such great
swimmers.
PRESCOTT
These didn't have to be. They drowned
on dry land.
Prescott hands Ray several dollars.
PRESCOTT
For the call. I appreciate you putting
yourself out for me.
Ray watches Prescott walk away and through the double doors.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CANADIAN CONSULATE (RECEPTION AREA) - EARLY EVENING
Prescott enters through the front door loaded with dry
cleaning and shopping bags. CAROL, Moffat's assistant, smiles
at him sympathetically.
CAROL
She's been asking for you. See what
happens when you stop making them
get their own coffee?
PRESCOTT
I don't mind.
CAROL
Well, better you than me.
He strides off down the hall.
CUT TO:
INT. SUP. MOFFAT'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
As Prescott enters, Superintendent Moffat looks up from he
stack of paperwork.
MOFFAT
You're late.
PRESCOTT
There was a bit of a delay at the
dry cleaners.
MOFFAT
I thought true-blue types like you
didn't believe in excuses, Prescott.
She takes the shopping bag from him and inspects the contents.
PRESCOTT
You're right, I'm sorry. Perhaps if
I'd noticed the smoke earlier...
MOFFAT
...Smoke?
PRESCOTT
It seems the pressing machine short-
circuited. By the time I got the
cashier out, racks A through E were
already in flames. I could only save
this.
He hands her a pink sweater on hanger.
PRESCOTT
It's a little singed.
MOFFAT
You ran into a burning building to
save a mohair sweater? Pardon me if
that sounds like sheer stupidity.
PRESCOTT
Yes Ma'am.
MOFFAT
You don't agree?
PRESCOTT
(without cracking a
smile)
No. Stupidity would have been if I'd
gone back in for the ski jacket.
MOFFAT
I'll make sure you get a medal.
PRESCOTT
Thank you, Ma'am. That won't be
necessary.
Moffat has to smile and shake her head.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. PRESCOTT'S CUBICLE - LATER THAT NIGHT
Prescott sits at the desk in his nondescript cubicle, cradling
a phone.
PRESCOTT
(into phone)
Thank you, I appreciate the
information... Yes, I will. Goodbye.
He sets down the receiver and looks up to see Moffat standing
in the doorway, holding a chinese take-out container.
MOFFAT
The guest list?
PRESCOTT
(hands it to her)
Just finished.
MOFFAT
(re: list, dryly)
Gee, twelve people for dinner and
not one of them is planning to
overthrow the government of Canada.
PRESCOTT
(with a smile)
Not that they would admit it.
MOFFAT
Little bit different than you're
used to. No smugglers to catch, no
one trapped on an ice floe that needs
rescuing.
PRESCOTT
We had our quiet days up there too.
MOFFAT
Somehow I doubt anywhere you are
stays quiet for long.
(looking at list in
her hand)
A PhD in Criminology, and I'm asking
Wayne Gretzky if he's ever been a
member of a subversive organization.
He smiles. She returns it. The glacier starts to melt.
MOFFAT
Thanks for staying. Not that I
would've given you much choice.
She heads out, turns in the doorway:
MOFFAT
You hungry?
INT. MOFFAT'S OFFICE - LATER
Moffat pours the remnants of a bottle of wine into her glass
as Prescott tries to master the use of chop-sticks. No matter
how hard he tries, the slippery contents of the take-out
carton elude him.
MOFFAT
...So, the guy declares bankruptcy,
moves to the states -- leaves his
creditors holding the bag for just
under a million. Happens all the
time, right?
(re: wine)
You sure?
Prescott passes. As she carries on with her story, Prescott
gives up on the chopsticks. He takes out his pocket knife
and sharpens a point on one of them.
MOFFAT
Except a few months later this
passport request crosses my desk.
Same guy, and he needs his papers
quick because he's planning a forty-
five day cruise. So, in between
escorting the Prime Minister's wife
on shopping trips, I do a little
checking.
Prescott uses his newly-sharpened chopstick to try and spear
the contents of the take-out carton -- only he punctures the
bottom and it springs a leak. Prescott notices with interest
the stream of liquid hitting his lap. He puts his finger
over the hole in the carton.
MOFFAT
And low and behold, our guy just
bought himself a two hundred thousand
dollar house -- with cash. Not to
mention a dock on the lake, a boat...
Prescott makes a second attempt at spearing some food. He
comes up with something that he eyes with suspicion.
MOFFAT
(noticing)
It's squid.
PRESCOTT
I can see that.
MOFFAT
I thought you northern he-men ate
anything. Never had octopus?
PRESCOTT
No, mostly we just wrestle them.
MOFFAT
(back to her story)
I could have arrest him right there
on the spot. But being a good little
Mountie, I notify the Commercial
Crime boys in Ottawa. It took them
all of five hours to get down here
and take the case out of my delicate
little hands.
PRESCOTT
It was your case.
MOFFAT
And headquarters was very grateful.
So grateful, in fact, that when they
redecorated, the boss sent me his
couch.
PRESCOTT
It's a very nice couch.
MOFFAT
I'm thinking of having it framed.
(re: his food)
You finished, or would you like to
harpoon some wontons?
PRESCOTT
I'm pretty much full.
CUT TO:
EXT. CANADIAN CONSULATE - NIGHT
Moffat locks the door after them and hails a cab.
MOFFAT
Taxi!
The cab pulls to the curb. Prescott opens the door for her.
As if an afterthought:
MOFFAT
You know, we even heard about him
down here. Your father was quite the
man.
PRESCOTT
(quietly)
Yes. He was a great man.
She lingers a moment, then:
MOFFAT
Goodnight, Prescott.
PRESCOTT
Night, Ma'am.
Prescott hands the driver a bill.
PRESCOTT
(sotto)
Walk her to her door.
CABBY
(re: the bill)
This is Canadian.
PRESCOTT
So is she.
The cab pulls off. Prescott turns away and walks into the
night. He passes two homeless people sitting on a bus bench.
A beat later he doubles back.
PRESCOTT
...You eaten yet?
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON AN ICE SAW - NIGHT
As it cuts into the frozen surface of LAKE MICHIGAN. We widen
to see Prescott sawing a hole in the ice, the two homeless
men watching. Prescott kicks the ice through the hole.
HOMELESS MAN
So that's how it's done.
Prescott hands each of them a fishing line and hook wound
round a stick.
PRESCOTT
(re: fishing hole)
You're welcome to share it. Or you
can cut your own.
HOMELESS MAN
Thanks.
The homeless man takes the ice saw and he and his friend
head off to find their own spot. Prescott drops his line in
the water, sits and looks out at:
THE CITY
Viewed from the lake.
BACK ON THE LAKE
Prescott digs into his vest pocket and pulls out a small
bound notebook. On the inside, in faded ink, is written the
name "Sgt. R. Prescott", in his father's cramped hand. It
takes a moment for him to get up the courage to read. When
he does, we hear his father's voice.
PRESCOTT SR. (V.O.)
I don't know what he must think of
me. He's barely tall enough to reach
my belt; at least he was last time I
saw him. If his mother was still
alive she could tell him the things
that I can't: how much I miss him,
how proud I am of him. When I said
good-buy last time he shook my hand.
Never a tear; not a complaint. Seven
years old and he's already a stronger
man than I'll ever be. Someday I'll
tell him.
FADE OUT:
END OF ACT FOUR
ACT FIVE
FADE IN:
EXT. LAKE MICHIGAN (JUST OUTSIDE THE CITY) - NIGHT
Prescott sits fishing as we last saw him. He turns when he
hears Ray's footsteps on the ice.
RAY
You know how easy it is to find you
in this city? I just look for anybody
doing something really strange, ask
them, and they tell me where you
are. If you doubt this theory, ask
the half dozen guys frying pickerel
on a manhole cover in the middle of
State Street.
(re: his catch)
You know what kind of toxins are in
those things?
PRESCOTT
You solved all forty-one cases?
RAY
(sits)
I got restless, I made a few calls...
(admits)
Truth? I checked every snitch I ever
knew; no one's talking. No one knows
Kohl, no one wants to know me.
(picks up journal)
What's this?
PRESCOTT
My father's journal. I was just
reading.
RAY
Looking for anything you missed?
PRESCOTT
...Yeah.
RAY
(reading date on
journal)
1966. Going back aways. Find anything?
PRESCOTT
No.
RAY
Look, I know how you feel, if it was
my old man...
(stops, realizes)
Well, if it was my old man, I'd be
the last person he'd want on the
case. He didn't exactly have a lot
of faith in me. Funny, he's been
dead five years and I still feel
like I'm trying to prove myself to
him.
(a beat)
Your father want you to be a cop?
PRESCOTT
I don't know.
(flipping through
notebook)
All these years, I can't remember
his asking me to do anything for
him. Not one thing. This is the only
times he's ever needed my help.
Ray lets that sit.
RAY
...You have any other family?
PRESCOTT
No.
RAY
Come on. I'll show you why you're a
lucky man.
As Ray rises, we:
CUT TO:
INT. HERNANDEZ HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT
Ray and Prescott are seated at the table surrounded by Ray's
family. Surrounded is exactly how Prescott feels. There's
Ray's Two sisters, MARITA AND LUCIE; HUGHIE, Marita's husband,
and Ray's MOTHER, a commanding woman in her sixties who is
somehow managing to serve dinner while her FOUR GRANDCHILDREN
run in endless circles around the table. The youngest one is
wearing Prescott's hat.
MOTHER
Marita, you are not getting an
annulment.
Mrs. Hernandez turns to Prescott, who is staring at his
burrito, not sure how to pick it up.
MOTHER
Don't be shy, Benny, use your fingers.
PRESCOTT
Yes, Ma'am
During the following exchange, Prescott looks for the best
way to pick up, attack or bury the huge burrito on his plate.
Each attempt leaves more on his plate than in his hands.
MARITA
Mama, how can you say that"! -- the
man's a beast!
MOTHER
A man who buys his wife a leopard
print housecoat is not a beast.
MARITA
For an anniversary present?! Three
years and all he can come up with is