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Frequency Movie Script

Writer(s) : Toby Emmerich

Genres : Thriller

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            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 & 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 & firemen run for it...

            INT./EXT. MANHOLE - CANAL & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & Johnny
            standing next to the little red bicycle.

                                FRANK
                      Okay, partner, whatta you say we tame
                      this bronco.

            CLOSE ON

            Johnny's eyes: SHAME & 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 & 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 &
            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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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 & 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.