a4a5274e6563d93830ce2749567ff04f907ea5ff
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http://www.imsdb.com/scripts/Bad-Lieutenant.html
BAD LIEUTENANT by
CREDITS . FIN
 After dropping off his two sons at Catholic school, the Lieutenant takes a few bumps of cocaine and drives to the scene of a double murder in The Bronx. Wandering away, the Lieutenant finds a drug dealer and gives him a bag of drugs from a crime scene, smoking crack during the exchange; the dealer promises to give him the money he makes from selling the drugs in a few days. At an apartment, the Lieutenant gets drunk and engages in a threesome with two women. Meanwhile, a nun is raped inside a church by two young hoodlums.
The next morning, the Lieutenant learns that he has lost a bet on a National League Championship Series game between the New York Mets and the Los Angeles Dodgers. He tries to win back his money by doubling his wager on the Dodgers in the next game. At another crime scene, the Lieutenant rifles through the car and finds some drugs which he stashes in his suit jacket. However, he is too impaired to secure the drugs, and they fall out onto the street in front of his colleagues. The Lieutenant tries to play it off by instructing them to enter the drugs into evidence.
At the hospital, the Lieutenant spies on the nun's examination, and learns that she was penetrated with a crucifix. Later that evening, he pulls over two teenage girls who are using their father's car without his knowledge to go to a club. As they have no driving license, the Lieutenant tells one of the girls to bend over and pull up her skirt, and the other to simulate fellatio while he masturbates. The following day, he listens in on the nun's deposition, where she refuses to identify her assailants.
While drinking in his car, the Lieutenant listens to the final moments of the Dodgers game and shoots out his car stereo when they lose. Despite being unable to pay the $30,000 wager, he doubles his bet for the next game. Eavesdropping on the nun's confession, he hears her state that she has no animosity toward her attackers, and sees the attack as an opportunity for God's grace to be bestowed on them. The Lieutenant drinks in a bar when the Dodgers lose again. After scoring cocaine in a nightclub, he tries to double his bet yet again. His friend refuses to make the wager, insisting that the bookie would kill him.
Continuing his drug use, the Lieutenant picks up his $30,000 share from the drug dealer and calls the bookie personally to place his bet. He then visits a woman (ZoĂŤ Tamerlis Lund) and does heroin with her. At the church, he tells the nun that he will kill her attackers, but she repeats that she has forgiven them and leaves. In the resulting emotional breakdown, the Lieutenant sees the crucified Christ and tearfully curses him before begging forgiveness for his crimes. The figure is revealed to be a woman holding a gold chalice, which turns out to have been pawned at her husband's shop.
The Lieutenant tracks down the two rapists and cuffs them together. He holds them at gunpoint and smokes crack with them as the Mets win the pennant. Instead of booking the two rapists, he takes them to the Port Authority Bus Terminal and puts them on a bus with a cigar box containing the $30,000. He insists that they take the bus and never come back to New York. After he leaves the terminal, he parks on the street in front of Penn Station. Another car drives up beside him, and a voice yells, "Hey, cop!" before two shots ring out. The film closes as bystanders gather around the car, realizing that the Lieutenant has been murdered.
After dropping off his two sons at Catholic school , the Lieutenant takes a few bumps of cocaine and drives to the scene of a double murder in The Bronx . Wandering away , the Lieutenant finds a drug dealer and gives him a bag of drugs from a crime scene , smoking crack during the exchange ; the dealer promises to give him the money he makes from selling the drugs in a few days . At an apartment , the Lieutenant gets drunk and engages in a threesome with two women . Meanwhile , a nun is raped inside a church by two young hoodlums . The next morning , the Lieutenant learns that he has lost a bet on a National League Championship Series game between the New York Mets and the Los Angeles Dodgers . He tries to win back his money by doubling his wager on the Dodgers in the next game . At another crime scene , the Lieutenant rifles through the car and finds some drugs which he stashes in his suit jacket . However , he is too impaired to secure the drugs , and they fall out onto the street in front of his colleagues . The Lieutenant tries to play it off by instructing them to enter the drugs into evidence . At the hospital , the Lieutenant spies on the nun s examination , and learns that she was penetrated with a crucifix . Later that evening , he pulls over two teenage girls who are using their father s car without his knowledge to go to a club . As they have no driving license , the Lieutenant tells one of the girls to bend over and pull up her skirt , and the other to simulate fellatio while he masturbates . The following day , he listens in on the nun s deposition , where she refuses to identify her assailants . While drinking in his car , the Lieutenant listens to the final moments of the Dodgers game and shoots out his car stereo when they lose . Despite being unable to pay the $ 30,000 wager , he doubles his bet for the next game . Eavesdropping on the nun s confession , he hears her state that she has no animosity toward her attackers , and sees the attack as an opportunity for God s grace to be bestowed on them . The Lieutenant drinks in a bar when the Dodgers lose again . After scoring cocaine in a nightclub , he tries to double his bet yet again . His friend refuses to make the wager , insisting that the bookie would kill him . Continuing his drug use , the Lieutenant picks up his $ 30,000 share from the drug dealer and calls the bookie personally to place his bet . He then visits a woman ( ZoĂŤ Tamerlis Lund ) and does heroin with her . At the church , he tells the nun that he will kill her attackers , but she repeats that she has forgiven them and leaves . In the resulting emotional breakdown , the Lieutenant sees the crucified Christ and tearfully curses him before begging forgiveness for his crimes . The figure is revealed to be a woman holding a gold chalice , which turns out to have been pawned at her husband s shop . The Lieutenant tracks down the two rapists and cuffs them together . He holds them at gunpoint and smokes crack with them as the Mets win the pennant . Instead of booking the two rapists , he takes them to the Port Authority Bus Terminal and puts them on a bus with a cigar box containing the $ 30,000 . He insists that they take the bus and never come back to New York . After he leaves the terminal , he parks on the street in front of Penn Station . Another car drives up beside him , and a voice yells , Hey , cop ! before two shots ring out . The film closes as bystanders gather around the car , realizing that the Lieutenant has been murdered .
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bad_Lieutenant
Bad Lieutenant
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<pre>                                     "BAD LIEUTENANT"

                                            by

                                Abel Ferrara and Zoe Lund

<b>                                         11/25/90
</b>
<b>                                       FIRST DRAFT
</b>
<b>                
</b>
               This story takes place during a World Series between the 
               Mets and the A's. Canseco plays for Oakland, and Strawberry 
               is still with New York.

<b>                                         DAY ONE:
</b>
<b>                                   GAME THREE: LT WINS
</b>
<b>               EXT: EARLY MORNING - LT'S HOME - QUEENS
</b>
               This typical QUEENS HOUSE is sandwiched between other 
               neighboring, nearly identical HOUSES.

               The MORNING SOUNDS Of FAMILY BICKERING, LAWN MOWERS, and 
               SHOUTED GOOD-BYES are heard coming from many HOUSES on this 
               close-knit block. A NEW BABY can be heard BAWLING inside 
<b>               LT'S HOUSE.
</b>
               LT, hurried and harried, stumbles out his FRONT DOOR. He 
               heads for his CAR, parked askew in the DRIVEWAY.

               LT is some 40 years old. His natural swagger makes up for 
               his lack of conventional good looks. He is obviously hung-
               over.

               LT squints, pained by the SUN. He fumbles with his SHADES, 
               puts them on.

               LT's TWIN EIGHT YEAR-OLD SONS trundle out the FRONT DOOR of 
               the HOUSE, bickering as they run to catch up with their Daddy. 
               The hefty TWINS wear ill-fitting PAROCHIAL SCHOOL UNIFORMS. 
               Their oversize PAROCHIAL SCHOOL BRIEFCASES threaten to trip 
               them up.

               LT's WIFE, BABE in arms, comes out to watch LT's lovely SEVEN 
               YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER head off toward her school on foot. Many 
               other members of LT's EXTENDED FAMILY hang out on the STOOP 
               and the LAWN.

               As the TWINS cross the LAWN, the bickering turns physical. 
               They start whacking each other with the BRIEFCASES. The TWINS 
               pile into LT'S CAR.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: MORNING - LT'S CAR - EN ROUTE TO/AT PAROCHIAL SCHOOL
</b>
               The CAR is obviously LT's home away from home. FOOD DEBRIS, 
               BEER CANS, VODKA BOTTLES and other garbage litter the 
               interior.

               An impressive HAND-GUN is visible between the seats.

               An old ICON of MOTHER MARY rides on the DASHBOARD.

               As the TWINS get in, LT tries to hide the GUN and the illicit 
               detritus.

               To little avail. The TWINS pay no mind to his machinations; 
               they have evidently seen it all before.

               As LT drives the TWINS to SCHOOL, the three play wild rough-
               house.

               The CAR swerves crazily.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         How many times are you gonna miss 
                         the bus? Huh? All the other kids can 
                         get up in the morning, but you guys 
                         wanna be driven around like the 
                         fucking President. I'm your goddamn 
                         chauffeur!

<b>                                     TWINS
</b>                              (each taking alternate, 
                              overlapping lines)
                         Shit, man. It wasn't our fault! -- 
                         You think Sis is so perfect, well, 
                         if she hadn't hogged the fucking 
                         bathroom, maybe we -- I thought Aunt 
                         Lu was dead! She was in there so 
                         long...

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Shut up! Listen!

               ON RADIO: Chatter about Mets winning last night's game. It 
               was the THIRD GAME straight that they've won so far. One 
               more game -- set for tomorrow afternoon -- and the Mets will 
               sweep the World Series. All listen. 

<b>                                     TWIN
</b>                         They're gonna win the Series in four!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         All the way with Strawberry!

<b>                                     TWINS
</b>                              (in unison)
                         Strawberry!

               The TWINS whoop and shout, celebrating LT's -- and their own -- 
               favorite player.

               They pass the PAROCHIAL SCHOOL BUS. It has stopped for a 
               moment taking on KIDS. LT cuts off the TWINS' tirade.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Shit, man -- there's your fucking 
                         bus I oughtta make you late! Make 
                         the nuns whack the shit outa ya both.

               LT and the TWINS banter back and forth, poke each other and 
               box around. The apparent hostility of their words is balanced 
               by the laughter and gung-ho play of the rough-housing. The 
               TWINS yell cat-calls as they drive past a BLONDE PEDESTRIAN. 
               LT joins in.

               ANGLE - Through the WINDSHIELD, the PAROCHIAL SCHOOL comes 
               into view. A CROWD of UNIFORMED KIDS is gathered outside. 
               SEVERAL NUNS turn the CROWD into two neat rows, and usher 
               the KIDS inside.

<b>               POV LT - THE NUNS
</b>
<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Get going.

               The TWINS get out. Join the line of students entering the 
<b>               SCHOOL.
</b>
               The instant the KIDS have left the CAR -- LT takes out some 
               COKE. Snorts it. He takes his GUN out of hiding.

               LT steers with his knees as he drives off toward the City.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: AFTERNOON - QUEENS - CRIME SCENE
</b>
               ANGLE - A CAR WINDSHIELD. Blood-spattered and shot up. The 
               DEAD BODIES of TWO GIRLS are in the front seat.

               LT gets out of his CAR and makes his way through the COPS 
               and GAWKERS.

               The BET COP comes up to LT.

<b>                                     BET COP
</b>                         Two Black kids came up out of nowhere 
                         and shot those chicks. Then they 
                         laughed as they walked away. The 
                         Press is gonna call it the "Giggling 
                         Man Murders." I'll tell ya. What a 
                         world.

               LT gives a cursory glance to the crime scene. A couple of 
               COPS greet him; LT keeps walking.

               The BET COP digs his attitude.

<b>                                     BET COP
</b>                         But hey -- we make the best of it, 
                         man, don't we? Huh? How about them 
                         Mets!

               FOLLOW LT - over to a GROUP of COPS. They greet him and 
               everyone immediately crams into a parked CAR. The CAR stays 
               parked for the duration of their meeting.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: AFTERNOON - UNMARKED COP CAR (PARKED) - QUEENS
</b>
               Now that LT, the BET COP and the OTHER COPS are inside the 
               CAR, they can do business. LT pays several COPS their WINNINGS 
               for last night's game. CASH and congratulatory banter is 
               exchanged.

               Now LT has to take their BETS for tomorrow afternoon's GAME, 
               the FOURTH GAME of the World Series. LT urges the COPS to 
               bet against the Mets.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         No fucking way they're gonna do it 
                         in four games straight.

<b>                                     COP ONE
</b>                         You serious, man? I wanna go Mets 
                         all the way!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Go ahead, man.If you've got shit for 
                         brains. But if you wanna win the 
                         bucks, go with Oakland.

<b>                                     COP TWO
</b>                         I thought Strawberry was gonna --

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I know that nigger like he's my 
                         brother. He ain't gonna let us off 
                         so easy. He'll make us sweat first. 
                         This game's going to Oakland. Not a 
                         doubt in my mind, man.

               Silence. The COPS think about it for a moment.

               BET COP speaks up first; hands LT some CASH. When he talks 
               to LT, his fawning posture is obvious.

<b>                                     BET COP
</b>                         I'm in. Here.

               COP ONE SHRUGS his assent, gives CASH to LT. The OTHER COPS 
               follow his example, place their BETS on OAKLAND.

               The COP BETS total $800 -- on OAKLAND. LT has obviously been 
               the bookie for this precinct for a long time. He takes care 
               of a lot of action and has these guy's faith.

               LT nods a goodbye, quickly gets out of the CAR. The BET COP 
               and the OTHER COPS remain inside.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: AFTERNOON - PAY PHONE - MIDTOWN - 38TH STREET & 3RD 
</b><b>               AVENUE
</b>
               LT pulls up alone beside a PHONE BOOTH and phones in the 
               COPS' bets and his own to LITE. More than an anonymous 
               connection to the BOOKIE, LITE is obviously LT's old friend -- 
               and a hustler just like himself.

               LT shouts into the PHONE and holds it close to his ear. The 
               TRAFFIC NOISE is loud and irritating.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (into the phone)
                         I got them all going for Oakland. 
                         With bullshit money. We'll cover the 
<b>                         $800.
</b>
<b>                                     LITE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         All right. What are you gonna do?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I want 15 on the Mets.

<b>                                     LITE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         How about 7 1/2?

               ACROSS THE STREET - TWO GUYS approach a BUSINESSMAN in a 
               raincoat and flash a KNIFE. The BUSINESSMAN gives up his 
               WALLET and his WATCH.

               LT pays no mind to the robbery.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Hey, man. Don't give me that bullshit. 
                         Don't pussy-out on me. The Mets are 
                         a fucking lock. I wanna make some 
                         money.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         Are you sure?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah. I'm sure.

               LT hangs up the PHONE, heads back toward his parked CAR.

               By this time, the BUSINESSMAN is running into the street, 
               waving his arms and screaming.

<b>                                     BUSINESSMAN
</b>                         Police! Police! Help me! Police!

               LT enters his car, drives off.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: EVENING - CRACK CITY
</b>
               LT arrives, leading a BUST. Lots of COPS. LT chases a handsome 
               young COKE DEALER, JC, cornering him a couple flights up a 
               staircase. Now they're alone and the phony pantomime is over.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Hey, man, gimme something cooked!

               JC gives it to him with a PIPE. LT takes a drag of CRACK. 
               Then LT gives JC a large BAG of COKE, labelled "Exhibit A".

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         It's good shit. From when they busted 
                         those Columbians uptown. You can cut 
                         it in half.

               JC nods, bemused by LT's manic behavior. JC, in contrast, is 
               mellow and in control. LT smokes; JC doesn't.

               LT COUGHS and SMOKES as he shouts to COPS downstairs (OFF).

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I got this guy. But there's someone 
                         across the street on the roof!

               The COPS (OFF) rush out of the building.

               JC watches LT smoking like a fiend.

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         That stuff'll kill you quick, man.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         What the fuck are you? A drug 
                         counselor or a drug dealer? And you 
                         don't even do your own product! What 
                         kind of businessman are you?

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         The rich kind.
                              (shakes his head)
                         Jeez, man. The way you smoke that 
                         shit is suicide.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Fuck you.
                              (takes a deep hit)
                         Just give me back a little something 
                         for the road.

               LT takes a handful of the COKE and puts it in a DOLLAR BILL; 
               pockets it.

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         See you in a coupla days. Have the 
                         cash ready.

               JC splits, runs up the stairs.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: NIGHT - ARIANE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM
</b>
               Religious/hip artifacts abound. It's a nice, if messy 
               apartment.

               However, it is definitely not large enough to merit the $3,500 
               that ARIANE quotes as her rent.

               ARIANE is LT's mistress.

               BOWTAY, her girlfriend, lounges on the COUCH. BOWTAY plays 
               the third when LT is in the mood for a menage a trois. She's 
               around a lot.

               BOWTAY is already zonked out on something. Maybe LUDES.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Got something good for us?

               LT gives her the COKE. ARIANE takes some immediately. BOWTAY 
               sloppily partakes.

               Before LT can even sit down, the GIRLS start bitching.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         I'm gonna need some bread, man. This 
                         ain't fair. I'm always here for you, 
                         and you can't even take decent care 
                         of me. My landlord is bitching like 
                         a motherfucker! You're two months 
                         behind on the rent, Lieutenant!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Didya ever think of moving to a 
                         cheaper apartment? $3,500 a month is 
                         crazy, man!

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         It's nothing. This is New York, man...
                              (beat)
                         Oh -- I forgot. Bowtay needs some 
                         cash to buy her new acting headshots 
                         out of the developers. It's a good 
                         investment, man. She could make 
                         serious money!

               ANGLE - BOWTAY on the COUCH. It's obvious that she's going 
               nowhere. And fast.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         We've been rehearsing a new monologue. 
                         From Shad's Saint Joan, you know? 
                         Bowtay does it wonderfully well.

               LT breaks out more COKE and some GRASS.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         All right, Bowtay. Show us your stuff.

               ARIANE lifts BOWTAY to her feet. BOWTAY staggers into the 
               center of the room, then falls back down on her knees. It 
               happens to be appropriate for the scene.

               BOWTAY begins to recite the monologue from the very end of 
               the play. "When will the world be ready to receive thy 
               saints?", etc.

               BOWTAY messes up a line; ARIANE lashes her with a BELT.

               BOWTAY doesn't move, continues reciting. ARIANE joins in 
               from time to time.

               LT is turned on.

               He begins KISSING ARIANE, then goes down onto the floor.

               BOWTAY is there already.

               Kinky trio sex scene.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: LATER THAT NIGHT - ARIANE'S APARTMENT - KITCHEN
</b>
               It's evidently an hour or so later.

               The KITCHEN is very bachelorette. No FOOD or COOKING 
               IMPLEMENTS in sight.

               LT is messing around, looking for something to DRINK. He 
               opens the REFRIGERATOR.

               POV LT - CU - The REFRIGERATOR is entirely empty, save for a 
               few suspect and peculiar items. There is nothing in liquid 
               form.

               LT hears ARIANE calling to him from the LIVING ROOM.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                              (OC - calling to LT)
                         There's nothing!

               It's clear from the SEX SOUNDS (OC), that ARIANE and BOWTAY 
               are still going at it.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                              (OC - calling to LT)
                         Go out and get some Diet Cokes.

               LT obeys. He leaves the KITCHEN.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: NIGHT - ARIANE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM
</b>
               LT passes through the LIVING ROOM, putting on his CLOTHING 
               as he heads for the DOOR to OUTSIDE.

               The GIRLS don't miss a sexual beat. They continue what is 
               now a menage a deux. They won't miss LT while he's gone.

               LT splits. No good-byes.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT/INT: LATE NIGHT - KOREAN DELI
</b>
               LT approaches the market where he intends to buy the DIET 
<b>               COKES.
</b>
               A display of FRESH FRUITS & VEGETABLES extends onto the 
               sidewalk.

               LT notices a SQUAD CAR, parked in front of the MARKET. LT 
               picks up his pace.

               Closer now, LT sees a YOUNG UNIFORMED COP outside, standing 
               with the KOREAN OWNER, an elderly man who doesn't speak much 
               English. The OWNER is agitated and out of breath. He argues 
               fiercely with TWO YOUNG BLACK KIDS.

               A SQUAD CAR is parked in front of the MARKET.

               LT gets an idea. He takes command.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to Cop)
                         What's going on?

               The UNIFORMED COP is a timid rookie.

<b>                                     COP
</b>                         Uh, Lieutenant, Sir -- The owner 
                         says they stole cash from the 
                         register. He was chasing them down 
                         the block when I caught up with them.

               The KOREAN OWNER is still agitated. He tries to give his 
               side of the story, mixing English and Korean. At the same 
               time --

               The TWO BLACK KIDS plead their case. They try to drown out 
               the OWNER. It all gets rather noisy.

<b>                                     YOUNG BLACK KID
</b>                         We didn't do nothing, man !

               LT shouts in the YOUNG BLACK KID'S FACE. It's shockingly 
               loud.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Shut the fuck up!

               LT turns to the UNIFORMED COP.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to Cop)
                         Go get me a Bud. A High Boy. And 
                         make sure it's fucking cold.
                              (indicates the 
                              situation at hand)
                         I'll straighten this out.

               The UNIFORMED COP looks at LT for a moment, then goes.

               LT is now alone with the KOREAN OWNER and the TWO YOUNG BLACK 
<b>               KIDS.
</b>
               LT turns to the OWNER.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         How much did they take?

<b>                                     KOREAN OWNER
</b>                         Five hundred dollars cash.

               The TWO YOUNG BLACK KIDS continue protesting their innocence.

<b>                                     YOUNG BLACK KID
</b>                         We didn't --

               LT whips out his GUN and shoots a deafening BLAST between 
               the TWO KIDS' heads.It almost takes off the left ear of one 
               and the right ear of the other.

               The TWO YOUNG BLACK KIDS are stunned. Speechless.

               The YOUNG UNIFORMED COP rushes out of the MARKET, GUN raised 
               in one hand, BEER CAN in the other. He's relieved that a cop 
               wasn't shot, but the whole situation makes him uneasy.

               LT grabs the BEER, points to the KOREAN OWNER.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (orders the Cop)
                         Take this guy down to the Precinct. 
                         I need to talk to him.

               The OWNER protests wildly in Korean as the flustered COP 
               ushers him into a waiting SQUAD CAR. They drive off.

               Now LT is alone with the TWO YOUNG BLACK KIDS.

               LT takes the KIDS inside at gunpoint.

               INT: The store appears to be deserted.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Gimme the money! Now!

               The TWO YOUNG BLACK KIDS have regained some of their cool.

               They are still belligerent.

<b>                                     YOUNG BLACK KID
</b>                         We told you, man. We didn't take no --

               LT jams his GUN down the PANTS of one of the KIDS. At the 
               same time, he whips out his BADGE and thrusts it into the 
               other KID'S FACE.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Give me the fucking money, assholes!

               They give LT the CASH. The KIDS stand there.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         What the fuck are ya standing there 
                         for? Be gone!

               The KIDS, stunned, split.

               LT swaggers around the store, GUN in hand, drinking the BEER, 
               assessing the inventory with a proprietary air. He pretends 
               to SHOOT at various products. Plays around.

               In the back aisle, LT aims his GUN at a BIG BOX of TOILET 
<b>               PAPER.
</b>
               While he holds the TOILET PAPER at bay, a THIRTEEN YEAR-OLD 
               KOREAN KID rises up from behind it, his hands up, terrified.

               LT LAUGHS, then puts the GUN away.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Take over until your boss gets back. 
                         Gimme a 6 of Diet Cokes and a 6 of 
                         Budweiser.

               On LT's smiling face, we --

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: DAWN - ARIANE'S APARTMENT
</b>
               BOWTAY is curled up on the floor, asleep.

               ARIANE is busy with a GOBLET, some TIN FOIL and other esoteric 
               stuff.

               LT comes through the door with the SIX-PACK of DIET COKES 
               and the SIX-PACK of BUDWEISER.

               He puts them down, takes a BEER for himself. ARIANE doesn't 
               turn around. She's busy preparing drugs.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         I got you a present. Better shit 
                         then you got, cop!

               LT comes and looks over her shoulder. He sees --

               A PILE of BROWN HEROIN on a TIN FOIL SHEET. ARIANE is 
               preparing the implements for "chasing the dragon."

               BOWTAY rolls over, sprawls on the floor in an even sexier 
               position.

               On her face, an expression of utter bliss.

               LT abandons the BEER.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Brown Downtown... There hasn't been 
                         any smoking brown on the street in --

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Who said anything about the fucking 
                         street. I've got more connects than 
                         you have, Lieutenant...

               ARIANE helps LT with the thin, TIN FOIL PIPE. She burns the 
               SMACK on the TIN FOIL SHEET for him so that he can manage to 
               inhale the PLUME OF SMOKE in time.

               He gets a nice, deep hit.

               ARIANE gracefully takes a hit of her own.

               They are both very high, already. Beginning to NOD OUT.

               ARIANE goes back to the IMPLEMENTS and prepares another hit.

               This time she catches the SMOKE in a SHERRY GOBLET and LT 
               drinks it.

               LT is very high now. A meditative, hallucinatory state.

               ARIANE takes a DIET COKE and lies down on the BED.

               She slowly sips soda through a straw. Her eyes are closed.

               LT sits in an EASY CHAIR by the WINDOW.

               LT NODS OUT while watching the SUNRISE. What we see appears 
               to be HIS DREAM. From the melting RED SUN, we --

<b>                                                               DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: DAWN (MEANWHILE)  CHURCH/CONVENT 
</b>
               BLOOD! TWO KIDS are raping a NUN, attacking the SECOND NUN, 
               and shitting on the ALTAR. Going berserk. They steal PURPLE 
               ROBES and the CHALICE.

               From the FIRST NUN, on her back on the altar, her robes ripped 
               open, a heart-rending pieta, we --

<b>                                                               HARD CUT TO:
</b>
<b>                                         DAY TWO:
</b>
<b>                               GAME FOUR: LT LOSES $15,000
</b>
<b>               INT: LATE AFTERNOON - LT'S HOME - QUEENS
</b>
               ANGLE - CARTOONS on TV.

               LT has overslept, out cold on the COUCH. A LITTLE GIRL sits 
               on the floor, two feet from the TV, watching CARTOONS. Various 
               other members of LT's over-extended FAMILY can be seen moving 
               around the house, going about their business.

               A CARTOON EXPLOSION wakes LT. He jumps up in a panic.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Did I win? Shit! The game!

               LT bounds off the COUCH, Still half-asleep, he crawls to the 
               TV, turns on GAME FOUR. The LITTLE GIRL starts CRYING.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to background family 
                              members)
                         What's the score? What's the fucking 
                         score?

               An ANCIENT AUNT pokes her head into the LIVING ROOM.

<b>                                     ANCIENT AUNT
</b>                         I dunno...

               She disappears again.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to himself)
                         Why me, man?

               LT leans into the TV, transfixed, as --

               ON TV: STRAWBERRY makes a fantastic catch of a Canseco drive 
               with runners on base. LT CHEERS.

               DOORS SLAM (OFF). The TWINS have come home from school.

               They burst into the LIVING ROOM, loud as Hell. Furious about 
               something they out-curse each other.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to the Twins)
                         Shut the fuck up! Did you see that?

<b>                                     TWINS
</b>                              (shrug - in unison)
                         It's 7-0: Oakland.
                              (single Twin)
                         That nigger could have let it drop 
                         and gone home.

               LT curses and stomps around. The TWINS mimic his every move. 
               All three are pissed. The rest of the FAMILY pays no mind.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: EVENING - LT'S CAR
</b>
               LT is furious. He COKES UP. DRINKS heavily.

               Tired of the SPORTS STATIONS, LT turns on 911. There is a 
               call for an uptown MURDER SCENE.

<b>                                                               HARD CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: NIGHT - 153RD/MARTIN LUTHER KING - CRIME SCENE
</b>
               CU - A YOUNG BLACK DEALER, eyes open, shot dead.

               LT drives up, sizes up the scene. It's fresh territory. He'll 
               milk it for what it's worth.

               LT ignores his colleagues, the COPS ON THE SCENE. He knows 
               some of the DEALERS and STREET CHARACTERS on the sidelines.

               He heads straight for them.

               LT greets an impressively beautiful, six foot tall 
               TRANSVESTITE. He takes her aside.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Hey, Veronica baby, looking good! 
                         What's going down?

               LT slips a HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL into VERONICA'S well-filled 
<b>               BRA.
</b>
<b>                                     VERONICA
</b>                              (confidentially - to 
<b>                              LT)
</b>                         Willie got shot by one of his boys.
                              (giggles)
                         But there's a ki under the back seat.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I'll put it in my trunk.

               LT saunters up to the MURDER CAR, DEAD WILLIE still in the 
               front seat. LT is obviously berserk to get the KI, but he 
               can't show it. LT susses out the situation.

               Around him, POLICE TECHNICIAN-TYPES are busy lifting 
               fingerprints and analyzing the CAR and WILLIE -- to no 
               apparent avail.

               LT uses his Lieutenants' privilege to enter the MURDER CAR 
               and begin his own investigation.

               TIRE TRACKS are discovered nearby. The OTHER COPS are 
               distracted.

               LT takes his shot. He reaches for and finds the KI of COCAINE 
               under the BACK SEAT. LT slips it under his COAT and emerges 
               from the MURDER CAR.

               Outside the MURDER CAR, LT makes to stand up. In the act, he -- 
               DROPS the BAG of COKE!

               LT is stunned. He can't believe the KI is actually in the 
               shitty, gutter water, in plain view of the other COPS.

               The COPS spot the KILO of COKE. Even those COPS that were 
               far away, somehow know what has happened. They quickly gather 
               round the MURDER CAR, LT, and the KI.

               The PLASTIC BAG filled with WHITE POWDER floats on the DEEP 
<b>               PUDDLE.
</b>
               LT is silent wrath incarnate.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (soft, sardonic)
                         I guess he was a bigtime dealer...
                              (beat)
                         What d'ya know... A kilo of 'caine...

               Among the gathered COPS, only a SERGEANT is not quite 
               convinced.

<b>                                     SERGEANT
</b>                         Where the fuck did that come from?

               The other COPS ignore the query.

               LT walks away.

               LT has successfully covered himself, but he walks off cursing 
               and mumbling.

               VERONICA is laughing demonstratively in the background.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to himself)
                         I can't fucking believe it...

               LT is further away now from the scene of WILLIE'S murder and 
               his own debacle. LT overhears something. Cuts off his 
               muttering.

               A group of COPS are talking about the big news from the early 
               morning.

<b>                                     COP A
</b>                         But I still can't fucking believe 
                         they'd rape a nun, man...

               LT stops in his tracks. The erotic import of this conversation 
               has seized LT's imagination. He heads toward the cluster of 
               COPS, cuts in.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to the Cops)
                         What's this shit about a nun getting 
                         raped?

<b>                                     COP B
</b>                         Where the fuck have you been? It 
                         happened this morning, up at St. 
                         Dominiek's in Spanish Harlem. A coupla 
                         punks tore up the place and then 
                         gave it to the nuns but good.

               The COPS turn away, continue to talk among themselves. LT 
               walks away.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: NIGHT - A CITY HOSPITAL PARKING LOT
</b>
               LT pulls up. Parks near a group of OTHER COPS, waiting by 
               their CARS.

               HOSPITAL fauna passes by in the background: DOCTORS, NURSES, 
               PATIENTS in all stages of recovery or relapse. The HOSPITAL 
               itself rises in the background. It looks like a prison.

               LT leaves his CAR, heads for the GROUP of COPS. He joins 
               them, sits down on the HOOD of a nearby CAR. The COPS are 
               all DRINKING heavily.

               Present are the BET COP, and several other FAMILIAR COPS 
               from previous scenes.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         What's going on?

<b>                                     FIRST COP
</b>                         They raped a nun and tore up the 
                         church -- they even took a crap on 
                         the altar. Up in Spanish Harlem.

<b>                                     SECOND COP
</b>                         She was only seventeen...

               A COP opens his TRUNK -- he has a BAR inside. The COPS, 
               including LT, respond enthusiastically. DRINK UP.

<b>                                     FIRST COP
</b>                         Who the fuck could do this?!

<b>                                     OLD IRISH COP
</b>                         The young nun's just a kid from 
                         Ireland. Imagine having to come here 
                         to have that happen!

<b>                                     SECOND COP
</b>                         Jesus... What's she gonna tell her 
                         mother?

<b>                                     OLD IRISH COP
</b>                         I'm gonna kill those motherfuckers.

               The COPS keep DRINKING. All of them lounging around on or 
               beside the CARS.

               LT watches quietly, taking it all in. As if following the 
               motto: "He who defines himself, confines himself."

<b>                                     THIRD COP
</b>                         The Church already put up a $50,000 
                         reward!

<b>                                     FIRST COP
</b>                         Well, one of us is gonna get it. I 
                         mean -- get them.

               The FIRST COP raises a TOAST.

<b>                                     FIRST COP
</b>                         Here's to payback for the nuns!

               The COPS all whoop and cheer.

<b>                                     SECOND COP
</b>                         Anyone got any leads, at all?

<b>                                     FIRST COP
</b>                         We got shit to go on. Only that list 
                         of inventory -- what they stole from 
                         the church.

<b>                                     THIRD COP
</b>                         Y'know they actually stole those 
                         wacky purple robes? And they took 
                         the chalice -- with the Host still 
                         inside!

<b>                                     SECOND COP
</b>                         What did they want with the Host?

<b>                                     THIRD COP
</b>                         They were hungry. I dunno. They didn't 
                         want to hock the Host, they wanted 
                         to hock that golden chalice.

               COPS avoid each others' eyes. Competition has begun. No one 
               shares information, each after the reward for himself.

               LT bursts out, swings into high gear.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Leave it to the Catholic Church, 
                         man. Girls get raped everyday, and 
                         now they're gonna pay 50 G just 
                         because these chicks wore penguin 
                         suits!

               Some of the COPS laugh, others are offended.

<b>                                     OLD IRISH COP
</b>                              (to LT)
                         What's your fucking problem?!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         The Church is a racket.

<b>                                     OLD IRISH COP
</b>                         So what. Are you a Catholic?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Sure!

<b>                                     OLD IRISH COP
</b>                         Do you believe in God?

               LT doesn't reply. He's thinking.

               The BET COP and a couple of OTHER, FAMILIAR GAMBLER COPS 
               move in. They've got nothing on their minds but the World 
               Series.

<b>                                     BET COP
</b>                              (to LT)
                         To Hell with this God stuff. How's 
                         that Strawberry? He does what ever 
                         you want him to, huh Lieutenant? 
                         Even strike out!
                              (beat)
                         I bet you won a shitload on Oakland. 
                         How much, huh?

               LT comes down off the CAR HOOD. Now he has to feign pride in 
               his supposed big bet on OAKLAND.

               LT has to convince the COPS to keep betting -- he can't afford 
               to pay them all off. Unfortunately, the COPS all think LT 
               just scored big, himself.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         More than you did.

<b>                                     GAMBLER COP TWO
</b>                         Well, let's see some green!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         If you know what's good for you, 
                         you'll keep staying on Oakland!

<b>                                     BET COP
</b>                         Oakland? Is that how you're going?

               LT nods "yes." An outright lie.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah. Sure. Don't you get it? The 
                         series has gotta last seven games. 
                         The last two did, didn't they? It's 
                         a racket. Do you have any idea how 
                         much money they make selling 
                         television-time for commercials during 
                         the series? Especially if it's a New 
                         York team? They won't close the gold 
                         mine after only four games. It'll 
                         last a full seven. Too many people 
                         wanna milk it for what it's worth. 
                         You'll see!

<b>                                     BET COP
</b>                         All right... I'm in. After all, you're 
                         the expert. Ain't that right, LT?

               SEVERAL COPS, including some of the COPS who have been hanging 
               out in front of the HOSPITAL, go double or nothing on OAKLAND. 
               LT takes their BET MONEY -- $900.

               One COP doesn't go along with the deal. LT painfully pays 
               him off.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         You'll be sorry, man. But if you 
                         wanna be a sissy, here's your bread.

               LT sits back on top of his CAR, DRINKING heavily. He toasts 
               STRAWBERRY. The others are uneasy. Why toast STRAWBERRY?

<b>                                     COP ONE
</b>                         Strawberry? I thought we were going 
                         with Oakland.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         We are, man! That's the point! If 
                         the Mets win, it's thanks to 
                         Strawberry. If Oakland wins, it's 
                         thanks to Strawberry. Nothing can 
                         happen out there on the field that 
                         don't gotta do with Strawberry. So 
                         here's to Strawberry!

               The others join in the TOAST, but are uneasy.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: LATE NIGHT - CORRIDORS OF A CITY HOSPITAL - HUNTING FOR 
</b><b>               THE NUN
</b>
               The HOSPITAL is an inferno. LT exploits his cop privileges; 
               shows his BADGE to the GUARDS.

               He wants to get into the inner sanctum. Beyond where even 
               COPS were allowed to go. He wants to get to the NUN.

               A sexy NURSE stops him.

<b>                                     NURSE
</b>                         Can I help you?

               LT can't help but check her out and flirt.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I'm in charge of the investigation. 
                         Just checking security.

<b>                                     NURSE
</b>                              (Suspicious)
                         Security?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Do you want those guys coming back? 
                         For the nun? Or for you?

               The NURSE looks at him, unsure, then walks off down the 
<b>               CORRIDOR.
</b>
               LT continues his hunt.

               He comes upon a DOOR that is plastered with "QUARANTINE" 
               SIGNS. One too many, perhaps. LT senses the NUN is inside.

               He has to open the DOOR, but hopes he won't get a blast of 
               disease in his face. He CROSSES himself -- wearing a smirk, 
               but nonetheless. Going on instinct, LT opens the door a crack.

               He's right. It's the NUN. He positions himself outside the 
               DOOR, keeping it open a few inches. He peeks inside without 
               being seen.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: LATE NIGHT - THE NUN'S HOSPITAL EXAMINING ROOM
</b>
               From just outside the door, LT peep-toms on the NUN while 
               she is being examined. He sees her stark naked, laid out on 
               a table, her legs spread wide apart.

               The DOCTORS, NURSES, COUNSELORS work on the NUN as if they 
               are automatons. They don't grasp either the humanity or the 
               trotitism of the scene. LT does. The image of The Alabaster 
               Nun turns him on no end. Yet there is also a deeper pathos 
               to the scene.

               And the NUN is spectacularly beautiful. She doesn't speak. 
               Looks like a Pieta.

               A DOCTOR in a WHITE-COAT reads the MEDICAL REPORT to a FEMALE 
               COP. The FEMALE COP writes down the details on a hard-backed 
               pad. As if it's a parking ticket.

               The moving contrast between the words and the image seems to 
               be apparent to LT -- and the NUN -- alone.

<b>                                     DOCTOR
</b>                              (to Female Cop)
                         They inserted a crucifix eleven 
                         centimeters into her vaginal aperture, 
                         breaking the hymen membrane. Then 
                         they pursued the same course with 
                         their natural organs of sexual 
                         penetration. They used a sharp object, 
                         probably a hunting knife with a curved 
                         blade, to carve a cross between her 
                         shoulder blades, entering the flesh 
                         an average of nearly one centimeter 
                         throughout the area of the wound. 
                         They --

               Finally, as if she knew he was there all along, the NUN looks 
               up at where LT is hiding and boldly meets his eyes.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: VERY LATE NIGHT - ARIANE'S APARTMENT
</b>
               LT has been there for some time. They are alone. They've 
               both been DRINKING and COKING.

               LT is carrying on about the NUN. As he speaks about various 
               subjects, his tone changes radically. From contempt and 
               cynicism to profound reverence. From decadence -- to awe. 
               ARIANE, too, manages to switch from one attitude to the other.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Have you ever seen a naked nun? I 
                         tell you, man, I went to school with 
                         the nuns, I've seen hundreds since 
                         then and I've never even seen a nun's 
                         belly button, you understand? But 
                         this nun, let me tell you. What a 
                         beautiful lady...
                              (snaps out of his awe)
                         And where'd the Church get the 50 G 
                         in the first place? The fucking Church 
                         is the biggest scam going. You know 
                         what's the real killer? It costs 
                         $8,000 per kid for them to go to 
                         parochial school. I've got three 
                         kids in there already, with two on 
                         the way! Christ. That fucking reward 
                         is my money, man! But that's Church 
                         policy. The Pope is the world's 
                         biggest bookie. Makes people bet on 
                         their own salvation! Double or nothing 
                         on Heaven. You go to Hell -- then go 
                         to Hell. In the beginning was the 
                         Word, and the Word was bullshit.

               ARIANE can't stop thinking about the rape.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         I can't get over what those guys did 
                         to her. I just can't.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         They're alive, aren't they? Come on, 
                         man! Everyone's making such a fucking 
                         fuss, just because she's a nun. Just 
                         because she wears a penguin suit, 
                         the church puts up 50 G for the guys 
                         who dared to rape her. Do you think 
                         they'd put up a dime if you got raped? 
                         Of course not. Or even for your little 
                         sister? The virgin? Like shit they 
                         would.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Susie's not a virgin anymore.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         She's fucking nine years old! Jesus 
                         Christ.

               ARIANE suddenly starts up.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         And the nun's not a virgin anymore, 
                         either. Will they make her leave the 
                         convent?

               LT thinks for a moment.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Who knows? Who knows what their policy 
                         is.
                              (sudden dreamy 
                              reverence)
                         But I'll tell you, man, that nun... 
                         She was beautiful. Just beautiful... 
                         Tall... Real tall... I've never seen 
                         anything like it...

               LT snaps out once again, grabs the TELEPHONE. He dials LITE.

               He's not in. LT leaves ARIANE'S NUMBER on LIMELITE'S BEEPER.

               Hangs up.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to himself)
                         Lite, man... Where the fuck are you?

               ARIANE can't get the image of the rape out of her mind.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         It's horrible. They burned her breasts 
                         with cigarettes. Christ.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah? At least she's alive! I see 
                         people get killed every day! Worse 
                         yet, tortured first and then killed! 
                         The nuns got off easy. Jeez. Cigarette 
                         burns. Everyone's all upset about 
                         fucking cigarette burns. I'll show 
                         you cigarette burns!

               LT stubs out his CIGARETTE on the back of his hand. He does 
               the move with intensity and bravado.

               ARIANE responds by calmly doing the same. But she does it 
               entirely impassively, and rubs the CIGARETTE into her flesh 
               longer than LT did.

               ARIANE comes over to LT and starts kissing and licking his 
<b>               CHEST.
</b>
<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Do you believe in God? Do you believe 
                         that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?.

               LT hesitates.

               ARIANE kneels down in front of LT. As if in prayer.

               She starts giving him head.

               Before he can answer The Question, he is saved by the bell. 
               The PHONE RINGS. LT picks up immediately. It's LITE.

               As LT speaks to LITE, ARIANE continues to give him head.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to LITE; over the 
                              phone)
                         Yeah, I know, I know all about it. 
                         Enough already about the fucking 
                         nuns. Yeah. Yeah. So just take the 
                         bet. Don't give me any hassles, man. 
                         Just put in my bet. 30 G's. Yeah. 
                         And I got $900 from the cops on 
                         Oakland. Yeah. Right. Strawberry's 
                         gonna knock em dead. Of course he 
                         is! You know that! Yeah. Yeah. Have 
                         faith, man! OK. Right.

               LT hangs up, thinks ARIANE won't resurface the God Question.

               ARIANE does, even as she gives him head. Every time she 
               speaks, she pulls away and it frustrates him. This dialectic 
               continues throughout the scene.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Do you believe in God?

               LT thinks about it, even as ARIANE gets him hotter and hotter.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         The Church is a fucking racket. I 
                         know how they operate. I've been 
                         part of the racket since the first 
                         time some faggot priest spilt water 
                         on my head. My Aunt Lu says I was 
                         crying all the way through. Yeah, I 
                         know their game inside out. Now I'm 
                         free of it and I'm gonna stay that 
                         way.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         I'm not talking about the fucking 
                         Church. Fuck the Church. But tell 
                         me. Do you believe in God?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         What's to believe?

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         That Jesus Christ was the Son of God 
                         and he came to die for your sins.

               LT can't respond. He's distracted by his own pleasure.

               ARIANE does something OC that causes LT sudden pain.

               LT cries out. Snaps to attention. Looks at ARIANE.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Your sins, Lieutenant!
                              (beat)
                         And look around you! Where do you 
                         think all this shit came from?

               ARIANE gives him head again. LT is more excited now than 
               before she hurt him.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         People.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         You believe that man is the be-all 
                         and end-all?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         OK. OK. Fine. But -- do you believe 
                         in God?

               As if in answer. LT begins to RECITE THE ACT OF CONTRITION

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I believe in God the Father Almighty, 
                         Creator of Heaven and Earth...

               This turns on ARIANE. She stops talking. Writhes and grapples 
               him.

               LT is reaching climax. When describing Jesus rising again --

               LT has an orgasm.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT INT: VERY LATE NIGHT - LT'S CAR
</b>
               LT drives, DRUNK and fired-up. He has a BOTTLE of VODKA in 
               the CAR.

               POV LT - A CAR with only one TAILLIGHT. A Cyclops in the 
               darkness. Under a STREETLIGHT, JERSEY PLATES are visible. So 
               are the two inebriated, leather-clad GIRLS inside. LT pulls 
               them over.

               LT comes on to them. He's way out there. The GIRLS are 
               smashed.

               LT notes their "Heavy Metal" CROSSES, and questions them.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         You wouldn't put some religious trip 
                         on me, would you?

<b>                                     JERSEY GIRL
</b>                         Uh-uh... What?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Good. Show me your papers.

               LT looks at their PAPERS. Points to the name to which the 
               CAR is registered.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Who's this person? It ain't you, and 
                         it ain't you, so who is it?

<b>                                     GIRL
</b>                         My Aunt.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         So you took the car from you Aunt. 
                         Stole it. Am I right?

<b>                                     GIRL
</b>                         We were gonna give it back! We're on 
                         our way home, now!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah, yeah.

               LT gets into the CAR, looks around. He finds a BAG OF POT.

               LT waves the POT in front of the GIRLS.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Now why don't I just call up your 
                         Aunt right now and tell her what's 
                         gone down. How about that?

               The GIRLS are petrified.

               LT grins. He takes out his own ROLLING PAPER, starts to ROLL 
               a JOINT with their POT.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Well, I'm sure we could arrange 
                         something... Unless you fancy a few 
                         days in jail...

               He blackmails them into humiliating sex scenes. On a side 
               street off Eleventh Avenue, LT plays it out until dawn.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>                                        DAY THREE:
</b>
<b>                               GAME FIVE: LT LOSES $30,000
</b>
<b>               EXT INT: DAWN - THE CHURCH/CONVENT
</b>
               LT drives up erratically and parks his CAR in front of the 
<b>               CHURCH/CONVENT.
</b>
               LT stumbles into the CHURCH. Alone now, he notes various 
               aspects of the DESECRATION, but can't see much because he's 
               blind drunk.

               The enormous, graphically bloody CRUCIFIX confronts him.

               He collapses immediately into a PEW. Sleeps.

<b>               TIME PASSES
</b>
<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: MORNING - CHURCH/CONVENT
</b>
               LT wakes up. Ruckus all around him. The COPS are there in 
               force -- including some of the guys from the BAR, the UPTOWN 
               MURDER and the HOSPITAL PARKING LOT. They are privately 
               checking out the Scene of the Crime, looking for leads that 
               will give them an advantage. Everyone wants the TWO NUNS to 
               talk. The NUNS are in a circle of interrogators. At first, 
               LT can't even see them.

               The ELDERLY NUN was attacked but not raped. They carved 
               crosses on her.

               In the background, the questioning has already begun. The 
               interrogators become increasingly frustrated. It can be heard 
               in their voices. They want the reward, and -- despite a 
               certain constipated "respect" in their attitude -- the COPS 
               are willing to browbeat the NUNS to get it.

               LT silently bums a COFFEE off a COP and staggers into the 
               ring.

               LT hangs back in the crowd, staring at the YOUNG NUN as the 
               COPS interrogate both NUNS.

<b>                                     COP 1
</b>                         Can't you tell us anything? Sisters? 
                         Anything at all?

               The ELDERLY NUN speaks up.

<b>                                     ELDERLY NUN
</b>                         They broke my glasses. I didn't see 
                         anything, but I did hear them. They 
                         were young. And there were two of 
                         them. They spoke Spanish. One of 
                         them was named Julio.

               LT, on the sidelines, turns to an OLDER COP. LT mutters his 
               commentary

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (to Older Cop)
                         Julio. Great. There are 20,000 spics 
                         named "Julio".

               The ELDERLY NUN lowers her head. Shamed.

<b>                                     ELDERLY NUN
</b>                         I would tell you more if I could. I 
                         am so sorry, Officers.

               Now the COPS are magnetized by the YOUNG NUN. She does not 
               appear to need GLASSES. Evidently, she could give the COPS 
               what they want.

<b>                                     COP 2
</b>                         What about you, Sister? Won't you 
                         tell us anything?

               LT watches the YOUNG NUN as --

               POV LT - The YOUNG NUN smiles a quiet, intractable smile.

               COP 2 is screaming mad, but tries to hide it.

               LT has observed their interaction. Though he would have loved 
               to have heard some information from the YOUNG NUN, her 
               defiance gives him even more pleasure.

               The MONSIGNOR comes forward to "translate" the NUNS' stubborn 
               silence. He is possessed by a conventional sort of ambition -- 
               this is his big chance. He would like to be Cardinal some 
               day, but never will be. He enjoys the spotlight as he 
               pontificates.

<b>                                     MONSIGNOR
</b>                         Listen. One nun is nearly 80 years 
                         old. I'm not from this Church, of 
                         course, but I assume they'll be 
                         getting her a new pair of glasses. 
                         Apparently she's legally blind without 
                         them. The Sister who suffered a rape 
                         is just 17. She arrived from Ireland 
                         only a couple of months ago. This -- 
                         event -- is just too much for them 
                         to take!

               The MONSIGNOR clears his throat demonstratively, takes a 
               dicitous tone.

<b>                                     MONSIGNOR
</b>                         Listen. The Church would like to 
                         know who did it just as much as the 
                         NYPD. These arrant criminals broke 
                         the laws of man, and the laws of 
                         God. The Church wants nothing more 
                         than to see them behind bars. That's 
                         why we're offering the $50,000 reward 
                         to whomever brings them in. I'm sure 
                         our hero will be one of New York's 
                         Finest.

               The YOUNG NUN shoots the MONSIGNOR an offended look.

               It appears for a moment as if the YOUNG NUN makes eye contact 
               with LT. But he can't be sure.

               LT leaves the crowd, disappears out the DOOR.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: LATE AFTERNOON - RUSH HOUR - LT'S CAR - 54TH STREET AT 
</b><b>               FIFTH AVENUE
</b>
               LT is driving through HEAVY TRAFFIC while listening to GAME 
               FIVE on the RADIO. He COKES UP. He mumbles to himself.

               GAME FIVE is close, and features STRAWBERRY. As LT listens, 
               he reacts physically to the changing status of the game.

               He drives crazy through the streets, pounds the ceiling. 

               He's so COKED, he's bouncing out of his skin. LT drinks VODKA 
               out of a PINT BOTTLE in his COAT.

               STRAWBERRY overthrows a sacrifice fly from Canseco and the 
               A's WIN.

               LT shoots out the CAR RADIO. LT LOSES! He's $30,000 down. 

               Covering himself, he puts the LIGHTS on top of his CAR. Turns 
               the SIREN on. Screaming CURSES, he drives through the streets, 
               careening like a madman. PEDESTRIANS run away in terror.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: AFTERNOON  "WHITE" CHURCH  HIS DAUGHTER'S FIRST 
</b><b>               COMMUNION
</b>
               CU  LT'S EIGHT YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER takes the WAFER for the 
               first time.

               LT is dressed to kill. Looks like a corpse.

               He watches his DAUGHTER'S First Communion and is truly moved.

               Remembers his own past.

               While the rest of the attendant EXTENDED FAMILY, FRIENDS, 
               and SOME COPS enter the COMMUNION PARADE, LT stands alone at 
               the back of the CHURCH like an usher. He holds the COLLECTION 
               BASKET and quietly watches the whole scene.

               LT, his betting friend who is not a cop comes up beside him.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         OK asshole. You owe thirty grand. 
                         Now what are you gonna do?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I wanna go double or nothing on the 
                         next game.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         Double or nothing? Are you fucking 
                         out of your mind?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I'm not gonna let that bastard take 
                         my money

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         Take your money? This guy will blow 
                         up your house and everyone in it!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (stoic)
                         There's just no way the Mets will 
                         lose this game. Gooden is pitching 
                         and Strawberry is ready to break 
                         out.

               LITE looks his friend up and down as if he's lost his mind.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         Fuck Strawberry. You're gonna end up 
                         owing 60 G to a homicidal maniac!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         That's my problem. Just put in my 
                         bet.

               LITE gestures assent, but is not happy. He waits a moment, 
               looks around.

               POV LITE - LT'S FRIENDS and FAMILY. LT'S DAUGHTER in her 
<b>               COMMUNION DRESS.
</b>
               From the pristine interior of the "WHITE CHURCH" we --

<b>                                                               HARD CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: AFTERNOON  THE CHURCH/CONVENT
</b>
               The interior of the CHURCH/CONVENT is still desecrated. In 
               stark contrast to the "White Church" (above, Scene 22).

               POLICE ROPES have cordoned off certain desecrated areas of 
               the CHURCH. In other places, MOPS and SLOPPY BUCKETS of SHIT- 
               WATER wait for someone to finish cleaning up.

               LT appears to be entirely alone in the CHURCH. He is desperate 
               for clues. He searches for leads and perhaps, for something 
               else...

               CU - He lights a CANDLE, gives a QUARTER --

               Then LT lights his CRACKPIPE ever the FLAME.

               Suddenly the NUN appears.

               LT hides, watches as the NUN enters the CONFESSIONAL Once 
               she is ensconced inside, LT stealthly approaches the 
               CONFESSIONAL and from right outside -- a tantalizing proximity -- 
               he listens as she confesses to the PRIEST. (This is an elderly 
               PRIEST with a striking, unusual voice. Not the MONSIGNOR 
               from the COPS' interrogation of the NUNS. Scene 20.)

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. 
                         It has been two days since my last 
                         confession. Father, my sin is a 
                         terrible sin. A sin of omission. 
                         There was another sin that happened 
                         at the same time, and in the same 
                         place, but my sin I think was graver 
                         stil.

<b>                                     PRIEST
</b>                         Sister, we all know what happened to 
                         you yesterday morning. I expected 
                         that you would want to speak to me 
                         about it. But you could have come to 
                         my office. Your being here, in the 
                         confessional, implies that you, 
                         Sister, have done something wrong. 
                         You haven't. I assure you. I feared 
                         you might have misplaced feelings of 
                         guilt. If you condemn yourself because 
                         you experienced feelings of... 
                         curiosity or even... pleasure, you 
                         mustn't --

               The NUN LAUGHS. At first, it sounds like crying. But it is a 
               strange, low laughter.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         Father, if it was so trivial, so 
                         natural, so -- No. I have sinned. 
                         And you must listen if you are to 
                         prescribe an appropriate act of 
                         contrition, and to absolve me. Father, 
                         what would you do if you had but one 
                         day in which to use your arms to 
                         serve God?

<b>                                     PRIEST
</b>                         It's funny, you knew. But the first 
                         thing I think of is kneading the 
                         bread that I help bake for the soup 
                         kitchen. Maybe that's because my the 
                         muscles in my arms still hurt.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         I also thought of that bread, Father. 
                         And of that night six days ago when 
                         the Mother Superior died, and I kept 
                         the cool, damp cloth on her forehead 
                         freshly moist. Father, what would 
                         you do if you had but one day in 
                         which to use your legs to serve God?

<b>                                     PRIEST
</b>                         I think of running for help, and 
                         falling to my knees in prayer.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         As I have prayed day and night since 
                         the desecration of this church 
                         yesterday morning -- and my sin. You 
                         see, Father --

<b>                                     PRIEST
</b>                         Yes, Sister?

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         Yesterday morning, God gave me but 
                         one chance to use something else to 
                         serve Him. Not my arms or my legs, 
                         but something I used for the first 
                         time, for the last time, and will 
                         never use again. My vagina.

               Outside the CONFESSIONAL. LT reacts to the explicit word. 
               Shock. Titillation and fascination.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         Those boys, those sad, raging boys... 
                         They came to me as the needy do. And 
                         like many of the needy, they were 
                         rude. Like all the needy, they took. 
                         And like all the needy, they needed.
                              (beat)
                         Father. I knew them; They learn in 
                         our school. And play in our 
                         schoolyard. And they are good boys.

<b>                                     PRIEST
</b>                         You knew them?
                              (beat)
                         Who were they, Sister? Who are these 
                         boys? What are the names of these -- 
                         good boys you knew?

               Outside the CONFESSIONAL, LT stiffens. This could be the 
               clue he needs to solve the case.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         I could tell you their names now, 
                         and I know you'd be bound by a sacred 
                         vow to keep my secret. But I cannot 
                         tell you their names. For I, too, am 
                         bound. As I am bound now to confess 
                         my sins. So listen, Father Listen.
                              (beat)
                         I am a nun. What did I give those 
                         boys that they could not have found 
                         elsewhere? Nothing. Nothing at all. 
                         There were always two of us in the 
                         act. The act was half my own. It 
                         does not seem to me the act was half 
                         the act of a once of Christ.
                              (beat)
                         It is the lost chance that will remain 
                         on the ledger of my sins. Not the 
                         loss of my virginity. The rape forced 
                         upon me a choice. As a vessel of the 
                         spirit. I could have imbued my vagina 
                         with God. Or, I could have turned 
                         away from God and voided my body of 
                         spirit, so that all that was left 
                         for those boys was a lump of flesh. 
                         I chose the second path. The easier, 
                         path. The path of the material world. 
                         The path no nun has the right to 
                         take. And so, I sinned.
                              (beat)
                         My vagina spread, but spread no word. 
                         It opened, on nothingness. It gave 
                         nothing at all and left nothing 
                         behind. No trace of my act, yes my 
                         act. For I was there, too, remains 
                         in the landscape of God.

               The NUN'S description of the RAPE is both a turn on for LT 
               and a matter of profound curiosity. Something divine. His 
               silent reactions embody both decadence and awe. This apparent 
               paradox can find unified expression in his character, though 
               at other moments it threatens to tear him apart. The tension 
               between the two polarities will propel him toward his destiny.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         Jesus turned water to wine. I ought 
                         to have turned bitter semen to fertile 
                         sperm -- hatred to love. And maybe 
                         to have saved their souls. They did 
                         not love me. I ought to have loved 
                         them. As Jesus loved those who reviled 
                         him. I ought to have surprised those 
                         boys. Instead, they surprised me, 
                         and got no surprise at all. No, they 
                         did not rape a nun. But a nun has 
                         been raped. And the nun must now 
                         atone for her sin. For a God-given 
                         part of her was wasted. A part which 
                         other women use for procreation, for 
                         conjugal fulfillment, for expressions 
                         of love. I had but one chance. And I 
                         did nothing but react in pain.
                              (beat)
                         When those boys placed their hands 
                         upon my breasts, they had nothing 
                         but an assortment of skin cells in 
                         their grasp. They ought to have felt, 
                         through me. The bosom of their 
                         Redeemer. When they lay on top of me 
                         and looked down into my eyes, they 
                         saw fear. They should have met the 
                         eyes of a lover, And felt the presence 
                         of the Prince of Peace...
                              (beat)
                         My vagina. I shall never have again. 
                         And never again shall I encounter 
                         two boys whose prayer was more 
                         legible, more poignant, more 
                         anguished. Two young men who threw 
                         themselves upon the altar and took 
                         me with them. And I did nothing for 
                         them. I can only hope that someone 
                         will.

               LT can't help but start up. As if, telepathically, the NUN 
               knew he was there and cried out to him. Asked him to complete 
               her mission.

               LT senses the confession is over. As the PRIEST begins to 
               speak again, LT snaps to and returns to his original hiding 
               place, near the CANDLES.

               LT watches as the NUN exits the CONFESSIONAL, KNEELS, holds 
               her ROSARY BEADS, and begins to whisper the ACT OF CONTRITION -- 
               what LT recited as ARIANE gave him head.

               The NUN does penance. LT watches her, still hidden, and 
               transfixed.

               Cut from THE NUN to --

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: EVENING - ARIANE'S APARTMENT
</b>
               CU - LT fucking a NUN.

               Its ARIANE.

               This time LT doesn't rebel against the religious import of 
               these last days. Rather, he incorporates it into their sex. 
               He has dressed ARIANE as a NUN. Now it is silent pantomime 
               that expresses both decadence and awe.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: LATE NIGHT  LT'S HOME  QUEENS
</b>
               FOLLOW LT as he walks through his home late at night. Each 
               room has several FAMILY MEMBERS in it, all asleep. Even the 
               TWINS sleep in tandem, on matching BUNK BEDS.

               LT sits down in the KITCHEN. All is silent, peaceful.

               A moment passes.

               LT stands up and goes over to the REFRIGERATOR. He takes out 
               a CARTON OF MILK.

               Sits back down. DRINKS the MILK.

               LT calmly looks at what's on the KITCHEN TABLE.

               A PILE OF BILLS, note attached from his WIFE: "Pay These."

               A GROUP OF PHOTOS from the COMMUNION, already quickie 
               developed. They are spread out all over the TABLE.

               A MORNING TABLOID NEWSPAPER, STRAWBERRY featured on the COVER.

               LT finishes looking at the various artifacts of his life. He 
               sighs, leans back, appears to be -- dare we say it -- at 
               peace.

<b>               FADE TO BLACK;
</b>
<b>                                                               HARD CUT TO:
</b>
<b>                                        DAY FOUR:
</b>
<b>                                GAME SIX: LT LOSES $60,000
</b>
<b>               EXT: LATE AFTERNOON - SHEA STADIUM - THE SIX GAME OF THE 
</b><b>               WORLD SERIES
</b>
               The MASSIVE CROWD ROARS.

               The STADIUM is decked out in the RED, WHITE, and BLUE BUNTING 
               signifying the WORLD SERIES. A ROW OF UNIFORMED COPS is in 
               the front row. Among them --

               LT. He watches STRAWBERRY as --

               With winning runs on, STRAWBERRY takes strike three, to lose 
               the game.

               As STRAWBERRY walks off the field, he and LT face off.

               One on one.

               LT has lost the $60,000 bet. He knows how heavy this is. 
               That his life is new in danger.

               The CROWD vents its rage. The deafening SOUND takes on a 
               sensuous rhythm and becomes DANCE MUSIC, as --

               From EXTREME CU - the BLACK FACE OF STRAWBERRY, we --

<b>               FADE TO BLACK;
</b>
<b>                                                                FADE UP TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: EVENING - LIMELIGHT NIGHTCLUB
</b>
               Half-nude DANCERS whirling in and out of sight, round and 
               round in the strobe-flashed darkness.

               The DANCE MUSIC steals ones senses, makes conversation nearly 
               impossible. People communicate in pantomime.

               LT pushes his way through the CROWD He cranes his neck, 
               desperately searching for someone. At last, he spots his 
               target.

               POV LT - A RESIDENT COKE DEALER. His FACE is visible, floating 
               above the writhing crowd.

               LT pursues him. Finally catches him.

               They mime the deal. LT buys some COKE for immediate use.

               LT does the COKE off his wrist as he moves through the CROWD.

               LT trembles, frantic and manic-high, as he goes to his meeting 
               with LITE. LT plows his way through the CROWD, heading toward 
               the back of the club and the entrance to the V.I.P ROOM.

               Even this state, when he sights ACQUAINTANCES. LT turns on 
               the charm and works the room.

               LT nears the V.I.P. ROOM.

               POV LT - The entrance to the V.I.P. ROOM is guarded by a 
               PURPLE VELVET ROPE and an effete DOORMAN.

               When the DOORMAN sights LT, he lifts the ROPE, nods 
               respectfully at the habitual patron.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: EVENING - LIMELIGHT NIGHTCLUB - THE V.I.P. ROOM
</b>
               LT arrives.

               The V.I.P. ROOM is more laid-back, less populous than the 
               throng-filled cave outside. The MUSIC is muted here, and 
               more interesting.

               PARTIERS sit at the BAR, or at COCKTAIL TABLES. CHIC WAITRONS 
               serve the clientele: HOTSHOT BOHEMIAN REGULARS, DRUG DEALERS 
               and HOPEFUL RICH ADDICTS. In the privacy of the V.I.P.ROOM, 
               drug use is hardly concealed.

               LT sashays over to LITE'S table, sits down. LT has taken on 
               an attitude of false bravado. He greets LITE with a crazy 
               grin. LITE is grim, doesn't respond in kind. He's not amused.

               LT orders a VODKA.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         Do you have the money?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (giggles)
                         What money?

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         Don't bullshit me.

               LT keeps doing COKE off hs wrist, even as ne speaks to LITE. 
               LT can't seem to wipe the smile off his face.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I don't got it. Not tonight. You 
                         can't get blood from a stone.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         This psycho can.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Oooo... Big fucking scary guy. Just 
                         put $120,000 on tomorrow's game.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                              (laughs in his face)
                         You're a fucking joke, you know that?
                              (turns grim)
                         He's been waiting for the money since 
                         the fucking game ended. And I've 
                         been waiting here since -- forget 
                         it. Listen up. You're gonna get us 
                         both fucking killed. You know that!

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Uh-uh. I'm gonna win. Just make sure 
                         the bet gets in.

               A COCKTAIL WAITRESS delivers LT's VODKA. LT orders another 
               one, flirts with her -- she's gone in a flash. LT downs the 
               VODKA in one shot.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         You do know that he's gonna blow up 
                         your house, kill your wife and kids --

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Good. I'll give him an extra 10 grand 
                         for his trouble. I hate that 
                         motherfucking house and --

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         He's gonna kill you, man. Do you 
                         hear me, motherfucker? You. Dead. 
                         Get it?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I've been dodging bullets since I 
                         was fourteen. No one can kill me. 
                         I'm fucking blessed. I'm fucking 
                         Catholic.

               This breaks LT up. He laughs until he cries. LITE watches 
               the spectacle. Falls silent. They sit quietly for a moment.

               LT, impatient with the delivery of his second VODKA, takes a 
               bottle cut of his COAT and re-fills his GLASS. DRINKS it 
               down.

               LITE tries changing the subject.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         How's the case going?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         What case?

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         The fucking rapists, man. The punks 
                         who raped that nun. The $50,000 reward 
                         from the Church! Remember?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah. Sure. Yeah. We're on it bigtime. 
                         Lots of leads. You bet.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         That 50 G could help you --

               LT looks as LITE as if he's crazy. He shakes his head. Sing-
               songs at him as if trying to teach an impaired student.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         The Mets are gonna win the Series. 
                         They're a lock.

               A change comes over LT. He leans in, gets seriously excited. 
               LT is possessed by his memory of this afternoon's game.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Get this, man. I was at the game 
                         today. Face to fucking face with 
                         Strawberry! Jesus! I saw him 
                         strikeout. And you know what? He 
                         looked at me, and I looked at him, 
                         and he laughed and I laughed and it 
                         was like we were all alone in that 
                         whole stadium and only we understood 
                         that it was all a racket, that he 
                         struck out on purpose, and that he's 
                         saving it up for the Big One. 
                         Tomorrow. Today I understood for the 
                         very first time that --

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         You've really got a problem.

               LT shakes his head. Repeats himself in that sing-song, 
               didactic way.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         -- that there was never any other 
                         way it could have gone.
                              (beat)
                         Never any other way. So you had better 
                         just put in my fucking bet. $120,000 
                         on the last game. The Big One. Come 
                         on! Are you a bookmaker, or fucking 
                         what?

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         Here. Look I'll give you the psyho's 
                         number You call him yourself and 
                         tell him wnat you want.

               LITE stands up. He writes the BOOKIE'S NUMBER on a MATCHBOOK 
               and gives it to LT.

               LITE leans over and gives LT a final warning.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         You couldn't pay 60. You lose, you'll 
                         be in for 180. To a guy who kills 
                         people for nothing.

               LT LAUGHS. He's already onto the next thing. He checks out 
               the GIRLS at the other TABLES.

               LITE takes to go. Then decides to try once more to get LT's 
               attention.

<b>                                     LITE
</b>                         I was supposed to meet him at midnight 
                         with the 60. It's already 1:00 AM. 
                         Be careful. I mean it.

               LT is still laughing as LITE leaves the V.I.P ROOM.

               Before going out the door, LITE turns to look one more time 
               at his friend.

               POV LITE - LT is engaged in a clumsy come-on. Oblivious. The 
               last thing LITE sees is LT grabbing a COCKTAIL WAITRESS' LEG 
               and falling out of his chair. LT LAUGHS all the way to the 
<b>               FLOOR.
</b>
               LITE lowers his head and exits.

               LT gets up a moment later, brushes himself off, and swaggers 
               out of the V.I.P. ROOM.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: NIGHT - THE LIMELIGHT CLUB
</b>
               LT is in the throng again. The MUSIC blasts, the PARTIERS 
               push and shove...

               LT elbows his way through the crowd.

               He makes moves on GIRLS. Banters with PATRONS. At the DOOR, 
               he hesitates before going out, dallies with the BOUNCER.

               LT felt safe in the CLUB. New he's gotta go OUTSIDE. He's 
               shit-scared.

                EXT. LT leaves the CLUB for the STREET, looking over his 
               shoulder all the way.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: NIGHT - STAIRWELL OF J.C.'S APARTMENT BUILDING
</b>
               LT enters an APARTMENT BUILDING, faces a dark and sinister 
               staircase.

               STRANGE NOISES come from the APARTMENTS ABOVE.

               LT climbs. He hugs the wall, GUN at the ready. To LT, it 
               seems some gothic horror may await him at any turn.

               On one landing, he comes upon a PIT-BULL. A GRANDMOTHER pulls 
               him back inside an APARTMENT by the LEASH.

               On another landing, he sees a JUNKIE SHOOTING UP in the 
               shadows. On another landing, a BIG GUY comes barreling out 
               of his APARTMENT and down the stairs, almost bringing LT 
               down with him.

               On another landing, a guy is taking out very PECULIAR GARBAGE. 
               It might be body parts to an active imagination. At last, he 
               reaches the DOOR to the APARTMENT for which he's been looking.

<b>                                                               HARD CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: NIGHT - J.C.'S STRAIGHT PUERTO RICAN APARTMENT
</b>
               A cheerful apartment. Quite different in atmosphere from the 
               STAIRWELL, above.

               A large, multi-generation PUERTO RICAN FAMILY sits around 
               the dinner table, eating CHICKEN ON RICE AND BEANS. JC is at 
               the table.

               RELIGIOUS ARTIFACTS abound.

               A CODED KNOCK on the DOOR.

               JC jumps up to answer it.

               It's LT. (The hideous stairs led here.)

               JC lets him in.

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         How are you doing, man?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Very good. Very good. The Mets are 
                         gonna win tomorrow.

               JC notes LT's bizarre manner. Decides to humor his paranoid 
               catatonia.

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         I know. Here. Just a moment.

               JC reaches into a bookcase, looking for something.

               Meanwhile, LT looks around the room.

               POV LT - A SHRINE is in the corner. CANDLES are lit before 
               PLASTER SAINTS, AFRICAN DEITIES, other icons abstruse and 
               exotic. A large "MADONNA AND CHILD", painted on black velvet, 
               hangs above the SHRINE. The MADONNA AND CHILD are BLACK.

               LT takes this all in. JC startles him.

               JC is holding a CIGAR BOX. He opens it. It's full of CASH. 
               JC hands it to LT.

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         This should be it. Oh, wait.
                              (to an old woman at 
                              the table)
                         Mamacita?

               MAMACITA takes some VIALS of CRACK out of her APRON.

               SMILES. JC takes them from her, give them to LT.

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         There. Now you've got your profit 
                         and more. You'll have more product 
                         day after tomorrow, right?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (very spaced)
                         Uh - right. Sure. The Mets are gonna 
                         win tomorrow.

<b>                                     JC
</b>                         I know.
                              (beat - looks at LT 
                              with concern)
                         Take care of yourself, man, OK? Be 
                         cool.

               LT nods, puts MAMACITA'S CRACK VIALS in his pocket. He notices 
               that --

               POV LT - CU - The CIGAR BOX is inlaid with a CROSS, made of 
               costume jewels. Other strange symbols surround it. It could 
               be cursed -- or blessed.

               LT turns to go. The DOOR closes behind him. He's gone.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: NIGHT - STREET NEAR ARIANE'S APARTMENT
</b>
               LT walks through the streets on the way to ARIANE'S. He 
               carries the CIGAR BOX.

               Suddenly, a SHOT rings out.

               ZOOM IN ON - CU LT  Horror. Doubtless it was meant for him. 
               LT panics. Freezes. As in a dream, he cannot run.

               POV LT - RAPID. ERRATIC. HAND HELD - LT looks for SNIPERS in 
               the anonymous dark WINDOWS on the anonymous darks walls that 
               create the mescarole canyon of the STREET.

               LT is entirely alone. He is stock-still, victim of his own 
               terror.

               Suddenly. LT can move. He takes out his GUN, presses himself 
               against the nearest WALL. From that position, he hears --

               A BRASH FEMALE VOICE, coming from somewhere in the darkness.

               It is almost as loud as the "SHOT".

<b>                                     BRASH FEMALE VOICE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         Hey motherfucker! Take that backfire 
                         up the ass!

               LT can't believe that there is no "SNIPER", there was never 
               any SHOT. It was a BACKFIRE!

               ANGLE - The CAR in question passes by. It HONKS, defiantly.

               Evidently, it is the CAR that had BACKFIRED.

<b>                                     BRASH FEMALE VOICE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         Fuck you.

               LT is still pressed against the wall, GUN at the ready. He 
               cannot be relieved. The terror is with him.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: LATE NIGHT - ARIANE'S APARTMENT
</b>
               LT rushes in, triple bolts the DOOR behind him. He immediately 
               pulls the DRAPES.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Someone just took a shot at me...

               Ariane laughs.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Sure, baby Sure And you don't do 
                         cocaine, either.

               LT turns on her. Adamant. Pleading with her to believe him.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         It's not the drugs, Ariane, it's -- 
                         it's someone who wants to kill me.
                              (beat)
                         You gotta believe me!

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                              (shrugs)
                         Why?

               ARIANE walks away, speaks with her back to LT.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Just kick back, baby. Make yourself 
                         at home.
                              (suddenly pissed)
                         But of course it won't be nobody's 
                         home, if you don't come through with 
                         the fucking rent!

               LT lays his COAT down on the BED. Puts the CIGAR BOX of MONEY 
               under it.

               LT sits down near the PHONE. He lights his CRACKPIPE with a 
               MATCH from the MATCHBOOK on which LITE wrote the BOOKIE'S 
               NUMBER. Then he tries to reach the BOOKIE. Some sort of wacky 
               Mob joint answers.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Hello? Is LARGE there?

<b>                                     MOB VOICE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         No.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Look, man. Lite gave ne this number. 
                         OK? Just take a message. Tell Large 
                         to fucking call me right away at 123-
                         1234. Got it?

<b>                                     MOB VOICE
</b>                              (CO -- phony humble)
                         Sure, I get it...
                              (laughs)

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I'm a good friend of Lite's, man. 
                         It's urgent that --

               The MOB VOICE (CO) HANGS UP ON LT.

               LT tries to strangle the PHONE.

<b>               LT REDIALS.
</b>
               The line is BUSY.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Christ! Shit! I could kill them all 
                         with my bare hands.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Who?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Those fucking Mob assholes.

               LT makes the strangulation gesture again. ARIANE laughs at 
               him.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         C'mere. You got some good blow, right?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Then c'mere. I got something for 
                         you.

               ARIANE pulls out a pristine NEEDLE.  LT comes but flinches 
               at the sight.

               Apparently BOWTAY overheard that drugs are on the way. BOWTAY 
               appears out of the KITCHEN.

               BOWTAY sits down near by, awaiting her DOSE.

               ARIANE starts preparing the DOSE. She's got all the 
               paraphernalia: SPOON. COTTON, a CANDLE FLAME, etc.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         First I'll put your Uptown in the 
                         spoon, then, to make it more exciting, 
                         I'm gonna add some Downtown. They 
                         call this thing a speedball, honey, 
                         but then you must know that...
                              (beat -- she leans in)
                         First time shooting up?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Nah...

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Sure it is. You're a virgin. Just 
                         like that nun. And I'm gonna rape 
                         you.

               That decides it for LT. He sits down like a little boy and 
               lets ARIANE shoot him up with the potent mixture of COCAINE 
               and HEROIN.

               ARIANE shoots up BOWTAY, next.

               They do it on the BED, exploiting all possible erotic 
               connotations.

               When LT rushes, he gets totally paranoid. Jumps at sounds, 
               sneaks to the WINDOW, hears noises that aren't there.

               Then he flips, and becomes crazy-bold. Opens the DRAPES. 
               Sticks his head out the WINDOW, waves his GUN at specters.

               Then he becomes shit-scared, again. His behavior is lunatic.

               ARIANE LAUGHS at his antics.

               Finally LT becomes wildly sensual. Revealing himself with 
               total abandon. Dances. In the midst of this --

               The PHONE RINGS LT is seriously startled. Then he realizes 
               who it may be. He slowly answers the phone.

               LT can hardly speak. He is NUDE, and communicating from 
               another world syllable by syllable.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (into the phone)
                         Large?

<b>                                     LARGE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         All right, cop. I want my money.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         It's still my money. If you want to 
                         have a chance at any part of it, 
                         shithead, you will take my $120,000 
                         and bet on tomorrow's game.

<b>                                     LARGE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         What about the money you owe me on 
                         yesterday's game?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Fuck yesterday's game. The World 
                         Series is seven games not six. Put 
                         in my bet.

<b>                                     LARGE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         Let me think about it.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         There's nothing to think about. Either 
                         you put in my bet or you ain't getting 
                         nothing.

               BIG SILENCE on the PHONE.

<b>                                     LARGE
</b>                              (CO -- lethal)
                         Oh, really?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah, really. I'm no fucking asshole, 
                         man. I'm a fucking cop!

<b>                                     LARGE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         OK, cop. I want you to give yourself 
                         and your friends on the force a 
                         message. Tell them I've got my own 
                         reasons to be very interested in 
                         whomever did the job on the nuns. 
                         I'll double the Church reward if you 
                         bring those punks direct to me. 100 
                         G cash. Get it?

               LT absorbs this, then bursts out.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Fuck the nuns, man! I'm talking about 
                         Strawberry! Is the bet down?

               LARGE takes a moment.

<b>                                     LARGE
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         Here's the deal: You meet me tonight 
                         across from the Garden. 33rd & 8th. 
                         At the beginning of the Ninth Inning. 
                         We'll listen to the end of the game 
                         together. You bring your cash, I'll 
                         bring mine.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Yeah, sucker. You better be there!

               LT HANGS UP, turns to ARIANE.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Can you believe the nerve of this 
                         fucking guy? He kills people for 
                         fun, and then, he puts up 100 G to 
                         bring in some guys who raped a nun. 
                         What a sick fuck. Man...

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         Who?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         A wiseguy. Paying 100 Grand for the 
                         rapists if I turn then over direct 
                         to him.

               ARIANE'S eyes light up.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         But you could do it, baby. We could 
                         use the bread...

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         You mean you could use it.

               ARIANE SHRUGS, waves his dig aside.

               LT leaps up. He's on a manic roll. Conceives an insanely 
               captivating, impossible idea. As he speaks, he speeds more 
               and more until he seems to be reciting a rapid-fire tongue 
               twister perfect.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I got it, man! I will find those 
                         kids. And I'll get the 50 G from the 
                         Church! Then the kids'll go to jail.
                         I'll be in charge, of course. After 
                         a little while, I'll break the fuckers 
                         out -- and I'll turn them in to 
                         shithead I was just talking to. And 
                         pick up his 100 G. No. I'll hit him 
                         up for 200 G. Or 250 G. l can do it -- 
                         'cause I've got the kids. Then, of 
                         course, there's the 180 G I'm gonna 
                         pick up on the Game tonight -- when 
                         the Strawberries win!

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                         "The Strawberries"?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         The Mets. So anyway, chalk up another 
                         180 G for the Game. Jesus Christ! 
                         That's almost half a million dollars. 
                         Ariane! Wait. That's not good enough, 
                         I'll ask the shithead for 280 G for 
                         the kids. Then it'll be a perfect 
                         500 thousand. Yeah. Perfect. 280 G 
                         for the kids. Yeah, it's good I 
                         prepared, or I wouldn't have thought 
                         to --

               ARIANE has been grooving on it until now. She sees a problem 
               they've overlooked.

<b>                                     ARIANE
</b>                              (cuts in)
                         How come all those guys who're looking 
                         to get 50 from the Church haven't 
                         come up with shit? You got some kinda 
                         inside track?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (nods -- dead serious)
                         I'm a Catholic.

               ARIANE LAUGHS, decides to go with it.

               LT, out of breath from his tirade, lets the Downtown half of 
               his dose kick in but good.

               He sits down in the same EASY CHAIR in which he nodded out 
               the morning of the desecration.

               Nodding out, he stares out the same WINDOW. His eyes close.

               As it was that morning only four days ago, the SUNRISE is 
               blood red.

               As if it is LT'S DREAM, we --

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>                                        DAY FIVE:
</b>
<b>                     GAME SEVEN: LT GETS DOUBLE OR NOTHING: $120,000
</b>
<b>               INT: DAWN THROUGH HIGH NOON  CHURCH/CONVENT
</b>
               CU - The ALABASTER NUN. She is lying cross -- probably has 
               been all night.

               VARIOUS ANGLES. The still-desecrated CHURCH in all its 
               enduring glory. Shafts of blood-red dawn-light. The NUN.

<b>               TIME PASSES. 
</b>
               VARIOUS ANGLES. Mid-morning; The NUN is still lying cross.

<b>               TIME PASSES.
</b>
               VARIOUS ANGLES. High Noon. The NUN is still lying cross.

               Suddenly --

               LT appears in the doorway, a black silhouette against the 
               white light of noon. For a moment, he watches her from a 
               distance.

               The NUN knows he is there. After a time, she gets up, goes 
               to the altar, kneels. As if waiting for him.

               LT staggers down the center aisle. He's carrying the CIGAR 
<b>               BOX.
</b>
               LT joins the NUN, kneeling next to her at the altar.

               ANGLE - The CHALICE is still missing.

               They are all alone. At the ALTAR, before the CRUCIFIX, LT 
               confronts the NUN face to face. The NUN holds her ROSARY 
<b>               BEADS.
</b>
               LT finally speaks. He thinks she'll be turned on by his offer 
               of "help".

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Listen to me, Sister, listen to me 
                         good. The other cops'll just put the 
                         guys through the system. They're 
                         juveniles. They'll walk! Get it? But 
                         I'll beat the system and do justice. 
                         Real justice. For you.

               The NUN turns to run.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         I have already forgiven them.

               LT is desperate. He lunges forward. Pleads with her.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Come on lady! They put out cigarettes 
                         on your tits, man! Get with the 
                         program! Don't you want them behind 
                         bars? Or away from the world for 
                         good? How could you forgive these 
                         motherfu -- excuse me. These guys. 
                         How could you? Deep down, don't you 
                         want them to pay for what they did 
                         to you? Don't you want the crime 
                         avenged?

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         I have forgiven them.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Nun! These boys still have their 
                         weapons, Sister. Your forgiveness 
                         will leave blood in its wake. What 
                         if they do it to other nuns? Other 
                         virgins? Old women who die from the 
                         shock? Do you have the rights let 
                         these boys go free? Can you bear the 
                         burden. Sister?

               The NUN turns to him, simple and pure, pure and simple.

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         I have prayed for days, Lieutenant. 
                         I have prayed for the souls of the 
                         boys who raped me. And I have prayed 
                         for my own soul, too. I know what I 
                         must do. And I know what I must not 
                         do.
                              (beat)
                         But you -- you -- it is you who needs 
                         to pray. Now, why do you want to 
                         kill these boys? Why -- really?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (takes yet another 
                              tack)
                         Look. Sister. No one has to get 
                         killed. We can solve this together. 
                         You and me -- as one. These boys are 
                         lost sheep. Both Catholic -- did you 
                         know that? And they're sick, Sister. 
                         With a stress of the mind and of the 
                         soul. They need help. Not just jail. 
                         Not just psychiatry. They need the 
                         help that only the Church can give. 
                         Please help me to help them. Help me 
                         find them before the others do. The 
                         night is full of evil men, chasing 
                         these boys with guns and clubs. We 
                         have charity and love on our side. I 
                         know that together, we could find 
                         them first, even in the dark...

<b>                                     NUN
</b>                         The good reasons are not always the 
                         real reasons. Talk to Jesus, 
                         Lieutenant. Pray.
                              (beat)
                         You do you believe in God -- don't 
                         you? That Jesus Christ died for your 
                         sins?

               This blows him away. He has nothing to say to that.

               The NUN has finished her morning prayers.

               For a moment, she looks deep into LT's eyes.

               Then she gets up and leaves LT alone in the CHURCH.

               LT comes face to face with the mammoth CRUCIFIX. He is 
               transfixed.

               POV - LT - JESUS on the CROSS.

               Soon, LT hears a VOICE.

               LT is not shocked or even surprised. He speaks to JESUS as 
               to someone he's known all his life.

<b>                                     JESUS
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         I forgive you.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Me?

<b>                                     JESUS
</b><b>                              (OC)
</b>                         I forgive you.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         You can't forgive me. After what 
                         I've done.
                              (beat)
                         I've fucked up bigtime. I've been 
                         bad. Real bad.

<b>                                     JESUS
</b>                         I forgive you.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Please. Please don't forgive me. 
                         I've always hated you for that.

               POV LT - The CRUCIFIX takes on an hallucinatory radiance. 

               Taking that aura with him, JESUS comes down off the CROSS, 
               and moves toward LT, who is still kneeling at the ALTAR.

<b>                                     JESUS
</b>                         I forgive you.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Why? Why can't you hate me? Hate me! 
                         Please! Help me!
                              (confused)
                         Hate me! Help me! Hate me!

<b>                                     JESUS
</b>                         I forgive you.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Why? Jesus! Why me? Why can't I wash 
                         the ashes from my forehead, year 
                         after year after year? And why am I 
                         still drunk on your blood, the taste 
                         of your flesh on my tongue? Worst of 
                         all, why can't I feel the nails in 
                         my palms, the spear in my side, the 
                         crown of thorns round my head? Why 
                         do I have to know, over and over, 
                         that it was you. You who died; died 
                         for my sins! And that I will die for 
                         nothing. Why?

               JESUS kneels down, knee to knee, face to face with LT.

<b>                                     JESUS
</b>                         I forgive you.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Why do I dream every night of the 
                         whore who brought you water on your 
                         road to death? And why have I never 
                         forgotten that if she, then I --

               LT averts his eyes. When he looks up again --

               JESUS is back on the CROSS. Inert, and yet --

               LT rises, moves around the interior of the CHURCH. He 
               stumbles, struggles, pleads. Falls, rises, falls and rises 
               again -- as if wrestling with an invisible assailant.

               He collapses in a corner.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Oh God, my God. it's goddamn good to 
                         be good. Forgive me. Father, for I 
                         have sinned. It's still goddamn good 
                         to be good.

<b>                                     JESUS
</b>                         I forgive you.

<b>               EPIPHANY. BLOODY CHRIST ON THE CROSS. HALLELUJAH!
</b>
               In the aftermath of his revelation, he notices, cleanly, a 
               hunched, ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN carrying something toward the 
<b>               ALTAR.
</b>
               He staggers toward her. Yes. The ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN has the 
<b>               CHALICE!
</b>
               LT grabs the CHALICE. The ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN doesn't let 
               go.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         The chalice. Tell me! Who gave it to 
                         you! Tell me where the fuck you got 
                         it! Take me there! Now!

               At first, she doesn't speak at all. LT begins to CRY. Begs 
               her to tell him. Then he wields his PISTOL, repeats his plea. 
               Then breaks into TEARS.

               She speaks at last.

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         I can't tell you.

               Gun in hand, LT gets down on his knees.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         In the name of God, you must.

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         My husband will give me Hell, Mister.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         We've already got Hell, Sister.

               She meets LT's eyes, seems to understand something. Calmly, 
               she tells him what he needs to know.

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         It's very hard. He's a -- you're not 
                         a cop, are you?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         No. Not a cop.

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         My husband is a fence. He got this 
                         chalice from a couple of kids. Just 
                         yesterday, I think. I stole it out 
                         of his shop so as to return it to 
                         where it ought to be. It's a holy 
                         thing, you know. A holy thing.

               The ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN lets go of the CHALICE. Now LT holds 
               ten CHALICE in his hands, alone. He speaks as if entranced.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         A holy thing.
                              (beat -- snaps to)
                         Let's go.

               Suddenly purposive, LT grabs the ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN by the 
               arm. Starts pulling her out of the CHURCH. He holds the 
               CHALICE with the other arm, picks up the CIGAR BOX on his 
               way out. Manages to carry both items.

               When LT and the ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN reach the door to outside, 
               they both pause to GENUFLECT.

               Then LT grabs her again and they rush out.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: AFTERNOON - BARRIO STREETS - EN ROUTE TO THE FENCE
</b>
               LT walks the ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN swiftly through the streets 
               toward the FENCE'S SHOP.

               He still holds the CHALICE and the CIGAR BOX.

               PEOPLE watch them pass and make way. As if they realize that 
               something is happening -- on several levels at once. The 
               GAME has begun. It is on TV in every BAR and SHOP WINDOW. In 
               both English and Spanish. Slowly but surely, the Mets are 
               losing.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               INT: LATE AFTERNOON - THE FENCE'S SHOP
</b>
               LT and the ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN enter the SHOP. LT is wielding 
               the CHALICE and the CIGAR BOX. He has true madness m his 
               eyes.

               POV LT - The GAME is playing on a couple dozen TV's in the 
               FENCE'S SHOP' The Mets are still losing!

               The FENCE, and elderly Black man, is sitting in one of many 
               EASY CHAIRS. He doesn't seem surprised to see his WIFE. Or 
               the CHALICE. Or LT! It's as if he expected them.

<b>                                     FENCE
</b>                         You took the chalice.

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         Yes.

<b>                                     FENCE
</b>                         You brought it back to the Church. 
                         And then it made it's way back to 
                         me, again.

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         Yes.

               Th» FENCE bursts out LAUGHING.

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         Are you all right, honey?

<b>                                     FENCE
</b>                         I was gonna bring it back myself.

               The ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN is obviously relieved.

<b>                                     FENCE
</b>                         Jesus, woman! What did you think? 
                         You thought I'd get mad like I did 
                         that time you took that set of pots 
                         and pans? That was twenty years ago. 
                         And how do you compare pots and pans 
                         and a chalice?

               LT speaks up suddenly.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         They both hold stuff you eat.

               After a beat, the FENCE and his WIFE start LAUGHING. LT joins 
               in.

<b>                                     FENCE
</b>                              (to LT)
                         So what are you doing here?

<b>                                     ELDERLY BLACK WOMAN
</b>                         He wants to know who brought in the 
                         chalice.

<b>                                     FENCE
</b>                         That's no mystery. Julio and Paolo 
                         brought it in,
                              (beat)
                         You don't want to hurt those boys, 
                         do you? I mean, they sure as Hell 
                         have got something coming, but it 
                         ain't what the Law wants to give 
                         them. You understand?
                              (beat -- shakes his 
                              head)
                         No. How could you understand.

               The FENCE seems to study LT.

               POV FENCE - LT. Wretched.

               The FENCE thinks again.

<b>                                     FENCE
</b>                         Well -- maybe you do. But I don't 
                         know where those boys are at right 
                         now. You'll have to ask around. Those 
                         boys on the corner'll know. You'll 
                         have to get it out of them. But they 
                         know.

               POV LT - Through the WINDOW of the FENCE'S SHOP, a busy DRUG 
               CORNER is visible.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                              (spaced)
                         Thank you. And I'll make sure the 
                         chalice gets back where it belongs.

               LT leaves. CHALICE in hand.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: LATE AFTERNOON - THE STREETS IN THE BARRIO - MONTAGE
</b>
               LT stumbles through the streets, questioning people about 
               "JULIO and PAOLO". No one knows anything. LT stops people at 
               random, getting really desperate. He shows people the CHALICE, 
               asks them if they've seen it before. No one has.

               LT plays both ADDICT and COP as it suits his needs. By now, 
               he looks more like a homeless man than anything else. But 
               none of his play-acting or lethal threats get him anywhere.

               The GAME is everywhere, and the Mets are still losing.

               Finally, LT approaches a hustling STREET DEALER. He cops. 
               The STREET DEALER is wearing a WALKMAN, so the deal goes 
               down in mime.

               Now, LT speaks and wants to be heard.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Hey -- Have you seen Paolo or Julio 
                         around?

               The STREET DEALER uses his WALKMAN and the resulting 
               "deafness" to excuse his total lack of response.

               LT starts MOUTHING WORDS silently at the STREET DEALER. No 
               response. Then, he -- silently -- begins to shout.

               The STREET DEALER's alarmed that he seemingly can't hear at 
               all above the WALKMAN music. He moves the WALKMAN away from 
               his ears but doesn't take it off.

<b>                                     STREET DEALER
</b>                         What the fuck you want.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         You know, my Uncle used to wear a 
                         walkman all the time. The walkman 
                         looked just like yours. And you look 
                         something like my Uncle. But one day 
                         he was standing in a puddle -- the 
                         puddle locked just like that one --

               LT points to a PUDDLE in which the STREET DEALER is now 
               Standing.

<b>                                     STREET DEALER
</b>                         And what?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         And he got electrocuted.

               The STREET DEALER tries to consider what this crazy guy has 
               just told him, but before the STREET DEALER can even react. 
               LT leans in on him, shows his GUN and then his BADGE.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Look -- I don't know you, and you 
                         don't know me, but I'm really in the 
                         mood to kill someone today and you 
                         are at the end of my gun.
                              (beat)
                         Have you ever had days like that? 
                         Yeah, you have, so now you understand 
                         where I'm coming from.
                              (beat)
                         Tell me! Where is Julio and Paolo ?

               The STREET DEALER answers with absolute ease. That was all 
               it was about? No problem.

<b>                                     STREET DEALER
</b>                         They were at that abandoned building 
                         last night. Second floor. They're 
                         probably still there now. It's next 
                         to the old Convent. Downtown a ways. 
                         You know the place...

               CU. LT - It hits him. The CRACKHOUSE where the kids hang out 
               has always been right next to the CHURCH/CONVENT where it an 
               began! It suddenly makes sense to him.

               LT completes re transaction, pays the STREET DEALER for the 
               DRUG BAGS. He takes the CASH out of the CIGAR BOX, revealing 
               dozens of thousands of dollars.

               The STREET DEALER stares at the wretched man with a box full 
               of cash.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT: EVENING - EN ROUTE TO THE CRACKHOUSE
</b>
               LT, carrying the CHALICE and the CIGAR BOX, heads back 
               Downtown toward the CRACKHOUSE -- and the CHURCH/CONVENT.

               In BARS, TV STORE WINDOWS, in snatches of strangers' 
               conversation, the FINAL GAME IS EVERYWHERE. The whole city 
               has stopped to watch it. LT is practically the only person 
               in the street.

               Worst of all, the Mets are seriously behind. They are 
               definitely LOSING.

               LT drags himself onward.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT INT: EVENING - THE CRACKHOUSE
</b>
               LT busts in. Fires shots, collars the KIDS. The KIDS are 
               wearing the PURPLE ROBES from the CHURCH/CONVENT. They also 
               wear gold CROSSES. LT HANDCUFFS them.

               The other CRACKHEADS race out.

               There is even a TV in the CRACKHOUSE -- playing the GAME! 
               The SOUND is Off. The Mets keep losing. If anything will 
               force LT to kill/and or take the KIDS into custody, this 
               would seem to be it.

<b>                                     JULIO
</b>                         Who the fu--

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Shut up. Let's watch the game.

               LT sits down next to the KIDS. SMOKES with them, watches the 
               Game. LT must hold the PIPE for them, as they are HANDCUFFED.

               LT gets them super-high, and himself likewise. He still holds 
               his GUN.

               The KIDS go along with it. Taking it moment to moment.

               All three, despite the situation, are heavily into the Game.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Strawberry...

<b>                                     PAOLO
</b>                         Yeah...

               After a moment, LT gets up. The KIDS understand that they 
               must do the same.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Give me the robes.

               The KIDS hand over the PURPLE ROBES and LT puts them on.

<b>                                     JULIO
</b>                         You're not a cop are you?

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         No.

               LT exits. Taking the KIDS along. He carries the CHALICE and 
               the CIGAR BOX.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT INT: EVENING - LT'S CAR AND STREETS EN ROUTE TO RENDEZ-
</b><b>               VOUS
</b>
               VARIOUS ANGLES - LT drives toward the fatal rendez-vous with 
               the BOOKIE. He is wearing the PURPLE ROBES from the 
               CHURCH/CONVENT and has the CHALICE and the CIGAR BOX.

               LT has the KIDS handcuffed in the back seat. (The Scene 
               mirrors Scene 2. in which LT drove his own TWINS to school.)

               The FINAL GAME (SEVEN) is on the RADIO. LT is listening, but 
               also not listening.

               LT talks wildly about Jesus Christ. And about the misery 
               they pass in the street. He waves his GUN wildly, punctuating 
               his speech with potentially lethal gestures. He aims the GUN 
               at JULIO and PAULO, then at himself, then out the window, 
               then at the KIDS, again.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Jesus died for your sins, you 
                         motherfuckers! Not me. No. I didn't 
                         die for your sins. No, not me. Jesus 
                         went and did it.
                              (beat)
                         So why did you do what you did? If 
                         you want to live, tell me now, 
                         motherfuckers! Tell me now!

               LT turns around and looks at JULIO and PAOLO, both of them 
               HANDCUFFED in the back seat.

               POV LT - CU - JULIO and PAOLO both have TEARS running down 
               their cheeks. Silently.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         I forgive you.

               LT starts CRYING too, at the same time CURSING at the TRAFFIC.

               He drives wildly toward the Port Authority Terminal.

               The Mets are coming up from behind -- but it is a long shot. 
               LT doesn't seem to care. He stares into space.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT:/INT: EVENING - LTS CAR - THE PORT AUTHORITY TERMINAL
</b>
               LT stops his CAR -- next to a BUS in an underground tunnel.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         Get out.

               The KIDS do. LT follows fast.

               AT THE BUS: He makes them board at GUN POINT.

<b>                                     LT
</b>                         If you think you're not getting on 
                         this bus, you're dead wrong. No 
                         fucking way are you gonna miss this 
                         bus, man! You were probably the kind 
                         of kids who had your father drive 
                         you to school cause you couldn't 
                         catch the fucking bus. But no more, 
                         man. You're getting on this bus and 
                         you're taking it to the last fucking 
                         stop. So get on the fucking bus, 
                         man, 'cause you're life ain't worth 
                         shit in this town.

               LT uncuffs them and the KIDS get on the BUS, dumbstruck.

               LT hands JULIO the CIGAR BOX. His "salvation."

               The KIDS don't even know what is inside. They take it.

               LT gets back into his CAR, takes off.

<b>                                                                    CUT TO:
</b>
<b>               EXT/INT: EVENING - LT'S CAR - AT 33RD STREET & 8TH AVENUE - 
</b><b>               AT THE RENDEZ-VOUS WITH THE BOOKIE
</b>
<b>               EXT: LT PULLS UP AT THE APPOINTED SPOT. HE AWAITS THE 
</b><b>               ARRIVAL OF THE BOOKIE.
</b>
               INT: STRAWBERRY is up. The GAME can go either way. Suspense.

               But not on the face of LT. He is dressed in the PURPLE ROBES, 
               the CHALICE beside him in the CAR.

               The BOOKIE pulls up and -- without getting out of his CAR -- 
               He SHOOTS LT in the head.

               The BOOKIE speeds off. (We never saw him behind the dark 
               windows,} LT is dead in his CAR.

               On the RADIO, the GAME is ending. STRAWBERRY hits a HOME RUN 
               and the -- Mets win, the CROWD ROARS.

<b>               END CREDITS.
</b>
<b>                                           FIN
</b></pre><br>
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	<td><h1>Bad Lieutenant</h1><br><br>
	    <b>Writers</b> : &nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="/writer.php?w=Abel Ferrara" title="Scripts by Abel Ferrara">Abel Ferrara</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="/writer.php?w=Zoe Lund" title="Scripts by Zoe Lund">Zoe Lund</a><br>
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How much money does the Lieutenant give the two rapists?
How much money does the Lieutenant give the two rapists ?
He gives them $30,000.
He gives them $ 30,000 .
$30,000
$ 30,000