FADE IN:

EXT. CITY STREETS (LOS ANGELES) -NIGHT

CREDIT SEQUENCE.

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...

DISSOLVE TO:

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.

SHARON:

Can you hear me?

(shouting, off)

This one’s conscious!

VOICE (O.S.)

Paramedics on the way!

We are slipping away again. Sharon holds us with her

eyes, and she grips our hand.

(CONTINUED)

2.

CONTINUED:

SHARON:

Wait. Wait. Listen to me. Can

you feel that?

She holds on tight. We see that our hand, held in her

own, is bloody.

SHARON:

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.

SHARON:

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...

DISSOLVE TO:

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.

SHARON:

That car is older than they are.

ROBBY:

’67 Chevy Impala.

SHARON:

That’s what I said.

(CONTINUED)

3.

CONTINUED:

ROBBY:

Needs a servicing.

SHARON:

Don’t we all.

Robby nearly spits his coffee, laughing at what Sharon

has said and trying not to choke. Sharon smiles, shaking

her head.

SHARON:

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

on.

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