[image redacted]
PAGE 11 (5 panels)
6-panel grid, 2 wide by three high, left-hand panels wider than right, two bottom-left panels knocked together.
Panel 1. From this point on, our mystery man is referred to as Luther Grant. XCU as he rubs his head with one hand, eyes squeezed shut, panicked but trying to get himself under control.
CAP: THAT VOICE AGAIN.
CAP: RUN, SHE SAYS. BUT WHERE? HOW?
cap: BREATHE DEEP. GET IT TOGETHER.
Panel 2. Wider shot as Grant pats the pockets of his jacket, one hand inside a pocket. Give us some detail of the bathroom. It's shabby, disreputable: risque posters, faded and torn, on the walls. This is not what you'd call a legitimate theater...
CAP: AND THINK.
CAP: WHAT HAVE I GOT TO WORK WITH, BESIDES A LUMP
ON MY HEAD AND A CORPSE IN THE ALLEY?
CAP: A WALLET, KEYS, ANYTH--
Panel 3. Largest panel, extended down to the third row. Moodily-lit head and shoulders shot of Grant holding a 9mm semi-automatic pistol in front of him at eye level, dangling it by the barrel gingerly, with two fingers, like he doesn't want to touch it at all-- holding the gun like it was stinky dead fish, with a facial expression to match.
CAP: Oh, FUCK.
Panel 4. Three-quarters reverse, over Grant's shoulder, as he ejects the clip and inspects the gun--his face suddenly cool and professional.
CAP: OKAY.
CAP: NINE IN THE CLIP AND ONE IN THE CHAMBER.
CAP: HASN'T BEEN FIRED TONIGHT.
Panel 5. Sets the gun atop the toilet tank with one hand, the other again inside his jacket.
CAP: AND... WHAT'S THIS? I.D.?
CAP: ANOTHER PIECE OF THE--
[image redacted]
PAGE 12 (5 panels)
Same setup as previous page, but flipped upside-down.
Panel 1. Largest panel, extending into second tier. Grant's POV. CU Grant's hand holding a leather billfold, flipped open: the left half holds a driver's license with photograph and the full name GRANT, LUTHER visible; on the right, a policeman's badge. Scroll at the top reads PRECINCT 35. Badge number, center, is 714. Scroll at bottom reads DETECTIVE L. GRANT.
NO COPY
Panel 2. Reaction shot Grant, staring dumbfounded at the badge in his hand. Bathroom door visible behind him, and a faint voice coming through it.
CAP: HOLY CHRIST.
CAP: I WASN'T EXPECTING THAT.
VOX(out): I KNEW HE WAS TROUBLE, THE WAY HE COME
RUNNING IN HERE...
Panel 3. Grant turns towards the door, startled and frightened: the bdge slips from his fingers.
CAP: HOW COULD THIS BE--?
GRANT: HUH--?
SFX: NOK NOK NOK
VOX(out): POLICE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM!
Panel 4. Shot through the bathroom window--Grant looking up, gauging the possibility of escape. Show gun, still atop toilet tank--and, if angle permits, the badge lying on the floor.
CAP: HER VOICE. IN MY HEAD.
CAP: "RUN."
VOX (out): COME AROUND THAT CORNER, BLOOD ALL DOWN HIS
LEG AND HELL-BENT FOR ELECTION DAY, HE WAS...
CAP: NO.
CAP: NOT THIS TIME.
Panel 5. Grant down on one knee, facing down; picking up the badge with one hand, placing the gun (still broken open) on the dirty tile floor with the other. Grant is suddenly composed. He's turned obliquely towards the door, so it's visible in the panel--shouting coming through the door.
CAP: I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.
SHOUT (out): SIR, OPEN THE DOOR!
GRANT: ONE--ONE MOMENT, PLEASE.
CAP: I DON'T KNOW WHO SHE WAS.
[image redacted]
PAGE 13 (5 panels)
Page bisected vertically by a central horizontal panel, a big parallelogram running from lower left to upper right. The two resulting triangles are themselves bisected horizontally. A mood of swirling action and confusion in the weird angles and fragmented figures.
Panel 1. (Irregular tetragram at upper left) Grant straightens his tie, preparing to exit--double-checking the name on the badge.
CAP: DON'T KNOW IF IT WAS EVEN ME THAT KILLED HER.
GRANT: I'M A POLICE OFFICER, GENTLEMEN.
GRANT: Ah, LUTHER... GRANT. Um. DETECTIVE LUTHER GRANT.
CAP: PRESUMABLY.
Panel 2. (Right triangle at lower left, point down) XCU Grant's hand turning the doorknob to open the door.
CAP: BUT IF I'VE GOT ANY CHANCE AT ALL...
GRANT: I'M--I'M UNARMED. DISARMED.
GRANT: AND I'M OPENING THE DOOR...
Panel 3. (Central parallelogram) From behind Grant, silhouetted in the open bathroom doorway; his hands are up, one holding his ID & badge. Beyond him we see the two uniformed cops from Page 10: the taller of the two, BOZEMAN, has the muscles and the mustache. The shorter, SHREVE, has a pot-belly and a big, beaky nose. Both men have their guns drawn and trained on Grant. Behind them is the elderly Theater Manageress, eyes wide with shock.
GRANT: ...NOW.
CAP: ...THIS IS IT.
Panel 4. (Right triangle at upper right, point up) Tight three-shot: Bozeman and Shreve at the foreground, guns drawn, tense, ready for anything.
SHREVE: KICK YOUR WEAPON TOWARDS OFFICER BOZEMAN, THERE.
GRANT (op): I'M, ah, GLAD TO SEE YOU GUYS.
Panel 5. (Irregular tetragram at lower right) Shot of the hallway past Bozeman and Shreve. MLS the Manageress, running away, glancing backwards in fear: she has apparently decided this Not a Good Place for her to be.
GRANT (op): I'M NOT SURE WHAT HAPPENED OUT THERE, BUT
THERE IS SOME BAD CRAZINESS GOING ON--
SHREVE (op): Mm-Hm. I'M GONNA HAVE TO CHECK THAT BADGE, SIR.
[image redacted]
PAGE 14 (5 panels)
2x2 grid with a small inset at lower right.
Panel 1. MS three shot. Shreve's putting his gun back in its holster with one hand, has Grant's billfold in the other--inspecting the badge, grim, businesslike. Grant's hand still out to Shreve, having just passed him the billfold, very nervous. Bozeman hovers nearby, gun lowered but still watchful.
GRANT: OF COURSE.
GRANT: LOOK, I JUST CAME TO A WHILE AGO. I THINK
I'VE HAD SOME KIND OF HEAD TRAUMA...
SHREVE: SIR.
Panel 2. A 90-degree shift--the effect of the camera slowly circling Grant as he stands still. We're behind Grant's back. Shreve stands behind Grant with one hand on his shoulder, passing the billfold to Bozeman with the other. Grant's unsteady on his feet, stumbles awkwardly forward. He turns to us in profile, eyes wide. Bozeman is holstering his gun, leaning forwrad to see the badge.
SHREVE: FACE THE WALL, HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK.
GRANT: WH-WHAT--?
SHREVE: NICE TRY, SIR. BUT YOU'RE UNDER ARREST.
SHREVE: BOZEMAN, TAKE A LOOK AT THIS.
Panel 3. An oblique shot along the wall, with the long hallway receding in the distance and the theatrical posters visible down its length. Shreve, angry, moves in to push Grant up against the wall, his hand behind Grant's head, shoving hard. Grant's face turned towards us, mashed against the wall, features distorted, anguished. Bozeman, looking at the badge, smirks hideously.
GRANT: BUT--YOU CAN'T--
BOZEMAN: Heh. JESUS.
BOZEMAN: WHERE'D YOU GET THIS BADGE, A CRACKERJACK BOX?
GRANT: I--I DON'T UNDERSTAND--
Panel 4. Tight XCU Grant's face, horrified, realizing: he's been set up. Edges of the other figures--Bozeman closest, moving in to restrain Grant's arms, Shreve stepping away.
BOZEMAN: THERE'S NO 35TH PRECINCT IN THIS CITY, JACKASS.
SHREVE: SUSPICION OF MURDER AND IMPERSONATING AN OFFICER.
SHREVE: BOZEMAN, CUFF HIM.
Panel 5. Inset. Flashback/photostat of Page 5, panel 5, CU the little girl.
GIRL: RUN.
RUN. Opi8. Soon.
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