Erin Brockovich Page #3

ED:

Erin -- hi. Sorry you had to wait.

Here, sit down, sit down.

He clears a stack of papers off a chair, places down a mug

of coffee.

ERIN:

Thanks a lot.

(as she sits)

I tell you, I never thought just

standing would take it out of me,

but ever since that shithead hit me,

it feels like my whole body's put

together wrong.

Ed gives her a look of pro-forma sympathy.

ED:

(sits)

Jesus, you poor thing. Did anyone

ask if you want some coffee?

ERIN:

Yeah. I'm fine.

ED:

Great. Well, listen... whoever did

this to you made one hell of a

mistake, and you and me, we're gonna

make him pay for it.

He sips coffee like it's a healing potion, takes out a pad

and paper, gets ready to write.

ED:

Why don't you tell me what happened?

CUT TO:

INT. SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA COURTROOM - DAY

Erin is on the stand, wearing the most conservative thing

she owns:
a red, form-fitting mini dress, telling her story

to Ed, who's questioning her.

ERIN:

I was pulling out real slow, and out

of nowhere, his Jaguar comes racing

around the corner like a bat outta

hell...

She glances at the defendant's table, where a DOCTOR sits

nobly. His WIFE and two beautiful KIDS are behind him. A

frigging Norman Rockwell painting.

LATER IN HER TESTIMONY

ERIN:

They took some bone from my hip and

put it in my neck. I didn't have

insurance, so I'm about seventeen

thousand in debt right now.

STILL LATER:

ERIN:

...couldn't take painkillers 'cause

they made me too groggy to take care

of my kids.

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