EXT. CITY STREETS (LOS ANGELES) -NIGHT
As OPENING CREDITS play, we study the city’s nighttime
pulse, ribbons of headlights moving and cross-connecting
like blood through the veins of a body -impressionistic,
even beautiful, but what we’re hearing
is soulful trumpet-based MUSIC, mellow and haunting, the
modern classic --JAZZ sound of a Wynton Marsalis,
putting a voice to our story. As CREDITS END, we...
POV -EXT. FREEWAY -NIGHT
Now the MUSIC is GONE, SOUNDS are MUFFLED and vision
blurred. We get the impression of urgent movement. We
hear BREATHING. There are VOICES, SHOUTS, even SCREAMS,
but MUFFLED, far away. Only the breathing is distinct.
We come to realize it is our breathing, and we are inside
someone, looking out. The man whose POV this is is on
the edge of consciousness and not far from death. He
lies on the pavement of a freeway at the site of an
accident only minutes after impact.
His VISION goes IN and OUT of clarity. People are
swarming around him and rushing by toward the carnage of
wrecked vehicles. A SIREN BLOOMS in the distance and
approaches haltingly. The man slips away, comes back
toward consciousness, slips again.
The crowd around the downed man parts to allow passage to
a police officer. It is a woman, Officer SHARON POGUE,
LAPD. She kneels at the man’s side, taking charge,
speaking, but we hear only SLIVERS of SOUND. He sees her
face clearly now, close above him.
Sharon is a dedicated professional and more. We see down
into her to a place of real caring. She stares into our
eyes and connects. We begin to hear her now --and there
are more SIRENS converging in b.g.
Can you hear me?
This one’s conscious!
Paramedics on the way!
We are slipping away again. Sharon holds us with her
eyes, and she grips our hand.
Wait. Wait. Listen to me. Can
you feel that?
She holds on tight. We see that our hand, held in her
own, is bloody.
That’s my hand. Hold it. Go on
--as hard as you can.
We watch our hand gripping hers, and as we hold on, the
sights and sounds around us grow more clear.
It’s over, and I’ve got you, and
you’re safe. You’re safe now.
You got that? Don’t let go.
Don’t let me go.
But our eyes unlock from Sharon’s and DRIFT TO a patch of
night sky. Her voice fades awawy. Our POV begins TO
LIFT, MOVING TOWARD that sky, as the blue-black night
begins to turn white. We GO INTO that white light and...
EXT. LOS ANGELES CITYSCAPE -DAY
We PICK OUT a police car from the traffic and FOLLOW.
The beat being patrolled is a mixed neighborhood with
some very rough edges.
INT. POLICE CAR -DAY
Officer Sharon Pogue is driving the car. It is two years
since we saw her at the accident site. Her partner,
ROBBY LEWIS, sips coffee and keeps one eye on the CAD
monitor which lists all area police calls. She slows
behind a car that is crawling along, an old 60s car,
driven by a young man and woman who sit very close on the
bench seat. The car’s ENGINE is MISSING and smoking.
That car is older than they are.
’67 Chevy Impala.
That’s what I said.
Needs a servicing.
Don’t we all.
Robby nearly spits his coffee, laughing at what Sharon
has said and trying not to choke. Sharon smiles, shaking
Get it together, officer.
As Robby smiles, Sharon looks ahead at the young couple
who each have an arm around the other. She is stroking
his neck. He is making gentle circles in her hair.
Sharon watches this, and for a moment her eyes reveal a
depth that may be loneliness, but she quickly pushes her
thoughts away and hits the HORN, startling Robby and
startling the people ahead who now disengage and drive