THE RECORD by Adrienne Lauer
A yellow glow.
Draw back to reveal the earth’s black crust--
EXT. WOODS – DAY
Encasing an underground mine fire.
The Allegheny Mountains in Pennsylvania. Late winter. Dense pine and barren oak.
A woman places an orange peel into a cage trap. This is BETA, late 30s. A featherweight blonde with guarded ambition.
She sets the trap and presses a stick inside. It triggers, SNAPS shut.
Beta carries a bag of oranges and a few empty traps on a wire hoop. She walks through the forest, alone.
BETA
Mrs. Weisz. Weisz. Weisz.
Each attempt sounds more German. A contagious smile. She nails it--
BETA (CONT’D)
Mrs. Weisz.
Beta stops. She stands at the edge of a circular clearing. Ninety feet across, dirt around the perimeter. A cluster of forest debris in the center.
She clears away leaves and sticks. A brown tarp lay under the pile.
Beta looks down on a concrete foundation. The beginning of a one bedroom house.
She makes a fist. Bites down on her thumb and muffles a scream.
EXT. TWO LANE ROAD – DUSK
IRIS’ POV
IRIS, 70, TAPS her walking stick along the pock-marked asphalt. She stops to inspect road kill.
A pheasant breathes quick and shallow. The walking stick pinches down on it’s neck--
ON IRIS
Calm, in control before a flash of rage tightens her face. She prods her stick down.
EXT. WOODS – DUSK
Iris carries the dead bird over the crest of a hill. A dump of a trailer home sits off in a burn scar.
She exudes disgust.
EXT. TRAILER – NIGHT
The pheasant, spread out on a piece of plywood. A boot on top of each wing. Beta grips the legs and pulls upward, peeling off a shell of feathers. Guts trail.
The plywood and bird, waist-high, on a makeshift table.
The bird’s dead eye stares at her.
BETA (O.S.)
How did you get a permit.
Beta pulls the head off, breaks the wings, trims the breast.
BETA (CONT’D)
Remember the big block of cement you poured in the ground.
INT. TRAILER – NIGHT
KITCHEN
Used and abused at some point. Gouges in the counter. Blocks of missing laminate. Sparse and tidy now, barely lived in.
A gas stove. All of the knobs are gone, but a single pot sits over a low flame.
Iris sits at the table, hands in her lap. Beta joins her.
IRIS
A beauty isn’t it. Nature is the cruelest mother.
She spoon-feeds Iris.
IRIS (CONT’D)
It’s a little chewy.
BETA
Was it stressed?
IRIS
You always leave the pot to boil. You’ve got to catch it before it gets away from you. Otherwise it becomes--
IRIS (CONT’D) BETA
Tough. Tough.
(sotto)
Beta moves the soup around in the bowl.
BETA
How did you get a permit?
IRIS
For what?
BETA
The house.
Iris chews her soup. Beyond thoroughly.
IRIS
What are you talking about?
Beta stares into the bowl.
BATHROOM
Iris is naked. She sits on a plastic chair set inside a stall shower, blindfolded. Her arms are limp. Her face, a twist of anger.
IRIS (CONT’D)
I’m freezing.
Beta in mid-undress, also blindfolded. She reaches in and pops the shower knob.
Iris lurches away from the water.
IRIS (CONT’D)
You’re trying to kill me.
Steam rises above them in the shower.
Beta stands over Iris and bathes her. Short and harsh strokes.
CHARLIE MANSON ON THE RECORD by Travis Larson
EXT. LOS ANGELES COUNTY HALL OF JUSTICE – AFTERNOON
A dozen TV REPORTERS practice their scripts. Harried PRODUCERS and CAMERA MEN pull gear from nearby vans and rush to lay- down extension cords that crisscross the sidewalk.
SUPER: “JANUARY, 1970”
TV REPORTER 1
Five months ago, it started here in Los Angeles. A grisly murder scene suggesting a strange religious rite –
MARY NEISWENDER (30’s? early 40’s? She’ll never tell) hurries past the men. She wears heels, a skirt and PRESS BADGE. She’s attractive, but more bookworm than beauty queen.
TV REPORTER 2
– victims had been stabbed, dozens of repeated stab wounds. The word “WAR” carved into LaBianca’s chest and “DEATH TO PIGS” written in blood –
TV REPORTER 3
– accused of killing seven people, including actress Sharon Tate, Charles Manson allegedly led a sadistic cult whose followers were willing to murder on command in order to please him –
TV REPORTER 4 holds up a NEWSPAPER, the LONG BEACH PRESS TELEGRAM (LBPT), it screams “Exclusive: Manson Speaks.”
TV REPORTER 4
– Manson finally broke his silence. And, for the first time since his arrest nearly two months ago, he spoke by phone to a local reporter –
Mary smiles. She passes TV REPORTER KEMPER of CBS (40’s, his longest monogamous relationship has been his hair drier, but he’s sharp). He applies pancake make-up.
TV REPORTER KEMPER
Neiswender! Uncle Walter wants to know how you did it. Give us an interview.
She turns, intrigued –
MARY
I’d love to, but I’m late for –
BUMP. A CLUMSY CAMERAMAN lugging gear runs into a distracted Mary. Her ankle twists as she almost goes to the ground.
CLUMSY PRODUCER
Oh my god. So sorry.
TV REPORTER KEMPER
That foot okay?
MARY
I’m fine – I brought a spare.
It does hurt, but worse she’s BROKEN A HEEL. To it, quietly –
MARY (CONT’D)
You’re not getting out of this.
And now, her watch says she’s late. Damn it. She notices a GRIZZLED PRODUCER who secures a cable with DUCT TAPE.
MARY (CONT’D)
Excuse me. Yeah, can I borrow that?
The Grizzled Producer throws her the roll. Mary looks at the shoe again. Not quite what she needs. She spots the open doors on Clumsy’s news van.
MARY (CONT’D)
Got a cordless screwdriver in there?
CLUMSY PRODUCER
Yeah, for lights and gear we –
MARY
And maybe a two-inch wood screw?
MOMENTS LATER
Mary takes the cordless and the screw from Clumsy. Her shoe and separated heel sit on the van’s bumper.
MARY (CONT’D)
(re: shoe, to Clumsy)
Could you hold them? No – other way. Okay, watch your fingers.
WHIRRRRRRRRR.
She sinks the screw through the sole and into the heel. Then wraps it all twice in tape. Tests it. The men are impressed.
TV REPORTER KEMPER
What do you say: you, me and Cronkite in every living room in America.
MARY
Sorry, got to run.
TV REPORTER KEMPER
Tomorrow, then.
She passes a handful of HIPPIE GIRLS (15-20, attractive but dirty) and longhaired CLEM (17, he rubs his hands as if washing them. Way too many drugs, man). They sit on the curb.
TV REPORTER 6
– meanwhile, some of Manson’s most ardent followers, dubbed “the family,” descend each day on the Hall of Justice to observe the proceedings –
Clem spots Mary and FOLLOWS her, unnoticed, toward the –
INT. HALL OF JUSTICE – POLICE CHIEF DAVIS’ OFFICE
Mary stands at the desk of POLICE CHIEF DAVIS (50s, stout, wavy white hair). He plays it by the book and he’s not happy.
MARY
I understand yesterday’s interview was a bit unorthodox –
CHIEF DAVIS
Unorthodox? He doesn’t have phone privileges.
MARY
But he does have visitor privileges.
CHIEF DAVIS
The gag order is clear, and it –
MARY
And so is the First Amendment, and I’ll report whatever I damn well please.
CHIEF DAVIS
Judge Dell’s order applies to him.
MARY
Then slap him with contempt. Add a few extra days to his sentence. But you’re asking for the death penalty, so I’m not sure that’s much of a deterrent.
(a change of tone)
Chief, he put me on the list – your list. I have an appointment.
He looks at his clipboard. She’s right, but he hates it.
CHIEF DAVIS
And you’re his “friend”?
WRONG WAY HOME Teleplay by Jamie Parker
TEASER
FADE IN:
EXT. WASTELAND – DAY
Heat waves shimmer across flat, sun-scorched earth. The trunks of petrified trees dot a landscape long ago abandoned by rain. Prairie turned to desert.
The only other notable features are the rusted, half-buried shell of an old car and the remains of a collapsed water tower in the distance.
CHASE MADISON kneels to inspect something on the ground.
We don’t see her face yet. She’s covered head to toe in tattered, mismatched garb meant to protect from the sun and dust. A walking post-apocalyptic thrift shop.
Barely visible in the dirt are a set of SHOE PRINTS. Beside them a smaller set. Looks CANINE. The tracks lead in the direction of the...
EXT. WATER TOWER RUINS – MOMENTS LATER
Much of the metal and wood has been picked clean by scavengers, but Chase manages to find a spot of shade; the only protection from the sun for miles around.
She retrieves a canteen from her pack and removes the covering from her face to take a sip.
She’s young. Seventeen. There’s beauty beneath the dirt and grime of nomadic life on the wasteland.
Chase caps the canteen and returns it to her pack. She looks around, but there’s not much to see out here.
She’s startled by the sound of a dog BARKING in the distance. She’s on high alert now scanning the horizon for the source of the sound. It’s hard to tell.
She listens...
The dog BARKS again and Chase zeroes in on where she thinks it is. Runs in that direction.
EXT. KANSAS WASTELAND – LATER
CLOSE ON THE DOG... a small black terrier (like Toto from the Wizard of Oz). Mangy. Emaciated. The dog is tied to something with a piece of rope...
PULL BACK to reveal the something to be the CORPSE of a woman laying near a small puddle of water. The corpse is wearing a thin, tattered coat and a dingy, blue gingham dress. Woefully underdressed for the elements.
She’s been dead a few days at most, but what skin is exposed is extremely damaged by the sun and blowing sand.
A small pack lays open near the body. Its contents scattered about. The few food items that were in the back have been devoured by the dog, which then moved on to the corpse.
The dead woman’s lifeless eyes stare up at the sky. Her mouth is agape as if her final moments were spent gasping for air.
The dog’s barking becomes more frantic as Chase approaches. She stands just out of reach as it pulls furiously at the rope tethering it to the body.
CHASE
Hey there.
The sound of Chase’s voice only seems to agitate the dog more.
CHASE
Shhh... It’s okay.
Chase fishes a piece of dried meat out of her pack and holds it out to the dog, which stops barking and sniffs at the air.
CHASE
That’s it. Good boy.
Chase inches toward the dog. It shies away, but its hunger is too powerful. Chase tears off a small piece of the meat and tosses it in front of the dog, which it quickly inhales.
CHASE
Good isn’t it?
The dog starts wagging its tail, wanting more. Chase ventures closer. The dog no longer seems to mind.
CHASE
There you go...
Chase reaches out carefully to pet the dog while offering it another piece of the meat.
It GROWLS quietly but allows the touch.
CHASE
Good boy.
She gives it the rest of the meat. Moves in closer and quickly scruffs it. The dog YELPS and thrashes as she pulls it into her arms, careful to keep its snapping jaws pointed away from her body.
CHASE
It’s okay. Hush now.
She closes her eyes and then--
CRACK!
Chase snaps the dog’s neck, killing it instantly.
CHASE
I’m sorry.
She sits there for a moment, cradling the dog before cutting it free from the corpse.
Chase turns her attention to the puddle of water. Oddly, the first thing she does is lean in and smell it. From her coat she pulls out a small cylindrical device and dips one end into the puddle. Then she waits...
After several moments the device BEEPS. She’s not surprised to see a RED LIGHT flashing. The water’s not potable.
Chase goes into her pack and pulls out a book. Hand bound with twine. As she flips to the back we get glances of torn page fragments. No complete ones.
One fragment is recognizable as a piece of a NEW YORK CITY SUBWAY MAP. on the corner of another page we glimpse a year... 2045.
From the back of the book Chase pulls out a map, which she unfolds and lays out on the ground in front of her.
It’s hand drawn and none of the geography would be recognizable. But there are names written that would be: VEGAS. RENO. SALT CITY. CHEYENNE.
Chase folds the map in half and focuses on section in the middle. A number of locations on the map have been marked: some in RED, some in BLACK. Some sort of system for tracking progress.
From her pack she gets two MARKERS; one black, one red. She draws a line, then a dot. Uses the red marker to draw a red X through it.