The Verdict Page #3

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He has been drinking for some time. He starts stumbling back

to the file cabinet. On the way his eye is caught by his

degrees hanging on the wall. He stumbles to them, picks them

up and walks over to the wastebasket and throws them in. He

goes back to the file cabinet, the phone starts ringing.

Galvin lets it ring, continues emptying the files into the

wastebasket, tearing some of them up as he does so.

He repeats softly to himself, as a litany, "It doesn't make

a bit of difference, it doesn't make a bit of difference..."

He starts back to the desk for the bottle, knocks the still-

ringing phone off the desk. He pours himself a drink.

As he downs it we hear -- softly -- from the phone on the

floor:
a MAN'S VOICE. "Frank. Frank. Frank. Goddamnit. Are

you there...? Frank..." Galvin pays no attention.

Drinks his drink and gazes at the wall -- now empty of

degrees.

ANGLE - P.O.V.

The empty wall. Galvin's P.O.V. The telephone heard Voice

Over insisting, "Frank..."

INT. GALVIN'S OFFICE ANTEROOM - NIGHT

MICKEY MORRISSEY, a man in his late sixties, dressed in suit

and overcoat, looking worried, unlocks the door to the dark

anteroom. Looks around. Sees something in the next room.

ANGLE - P.O.V.

Galvin asleep on his couch, clothed as before. Covered in

his overcoat, the bottle and glass next to the couch on the

floor, the sound of the phone off the hook.

ANGLE:

Mickey walks into the office. Stands

looking at Galvin.

MICKEY:

(harshly)

Get up.

(beat, more harshly)

Get up.

Galvin wakes up. Looks around. Swings his legs over the couch.

Drinks from the glass. Vacantly:

GALVIN:

Hi, Mickey...

MICKEY:

What the hell do you think you're

doing...?

(surveys the wrecked

office)

What's going on here...?

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