Copycat Page #21

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An FBI man intrudes... with a printout of a driver's

license. He shows to Andy...

FBI:

Mister Saks. We gotta Peter Foley,

medical technician in a fertility

clinic in Oakland. We got a home

address in Daly City.

ANDY:

(looking at license)

That's him.

SAKS:

Got him!

THE FBI AND THE COPS ALL RISE AND ARE ON THEIR WAY OUT.

QUINN:

I called our SWAT Commander...

(to Saks)

He's ours now... You come watch

our boys in action...

And walks away...

SAKS:

(under his breath)

Well, thank you, too.

CUT TO:

EXT. OLD FRAME HOUSE, DALY CITY - NIGHT

SWAT TEAM SURROUNDING THE HOUSE, WITH GREAT QUIET AND EFFORT

TO CONCEAL THE OPERATION. QUINN in command over a SWAT

COMMANDER -- JENSEN. There are ambulances, a fire truck,

search lights. SWAT TEAM, AND FBI all wear bulky flack

jackets, with yellow ID stencilled on the back. Quinn sees

M.J., huddled in her old oversize jacket, gestures M.J.

should have a flack jacket like theirs. She taps her chest,

where she has a bullet-proof vest under her shirt.

THE HOUSE:
VARIOUS SHOTS, SILHOUETTED FIGURES MOVING TO

VANTAGE POINTS FOR THE ASSAULT.

ON A VIEW INCLUDING A CELLAR WINDOW: LIGHT INSIDE. AS

CROUCHED SWAT MAN RUNS BY WE SEE: PETER INSIDE, PASSING BY,

GLANCE OUT...

INT. PETER'S BASEMENT

PETER HESITATES, LOOKING OUT. HE FLICKS OFF LIGHTS. MOVES

PURPOSEFULLY OUT OF FRAME... WE HEAR A MOAN (O.S.).

A HAND GASPS THE HANDLE OF WHAT LOOKS LIKE A GUN; AS IT IS

BROUGHT UP INTO A WIDER VIEW IT HAS A LONG BARREL WHICH

SUDDENLY SHOOTS FLAME: A PROPANE BARBECUE LIGHTER...

EXT. HOUSE

THEY ARE ALMOST READY FOR THE FIRST MOVE; THREE SWAT MEN BY

THE DOOR. ANOTHER TWO PREPARING TO MOVE FORWARD AND

ANNOUNCE THEMSELVES.

SWAT COMM:

(on bullhorn)

Peter Foley, we are the police.

Will you please come to your front

door, and come out with your hands

above your head...(etc.)

INSIDE A SMOKE ALARM BEGINS TO GO. LIGHT FLICKERS IN CELLAR

WINDOWS.

SWAT MEN AT THE DOOR: THEY SMASH THE LOCK AND CHARGE IN. M.J.

AND OTHER DETECTIVES WITH THEM.

INT. HOUSE

A dozen men pour into the house from front and back,

converging in the dimly lit living room. SMOKE OBSCURES

EVERYTHING. The dining room and kitchen are empty. M.J.

FOLLOWS CONTINGENT THAT RACES UPSTAIRS. OTHERS FAN OUT

THROUGH THE WHOLE STRUCTURE. FIREMEN COME BEHIND LOOKING

FOR THE FIRE.

INT. PETER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

SMOKE IS THINNER HERE. The room lighted only by the

glowing TV screen. The WIFE still in bed, shot through the

head. Others crowd in, kicking in closet and bathroom

doors. M.J. IS BY THE BED JUST TURNING TO START ABACK

DOWNSTAIRS LOOKING FOR PETER.

SWAT MAN emerges from the bathroom with the body of NASTY

LITTLE DOG, holding it by the tail:

THEN THE FIRE DEPARTMENT'S WARNING SIRES SHRIEK: THEY MEAN

EVERYBODY OUT... FIREMEN CHARGE FOR EXITS...

AS THEY CHARGE THROUGH DOWNSTAIRS...

M.J. CAN SEE TWO FIREMEN AT THE BASEMENT DOOR. SMOKE BILLOWS

FROM UNDER IT. BEHIND IT WE HEAR SCREAMING. THE FIREMEN

SMASH THE DOOR, DROPPING TO THE FLOOR AS THEY DO...

M.J'S POV:
BLACK SMOKE BILLOWS OUT ACROSS THE CEILING

THEN EXPLODES INTO WHITE HOT FLAME. SHE HAS STEPPED FORWARD

SO SHE CAN SEE OVER THE FIREMEN DOWN INTO THE BASEMENT: IN

THE SUDDEN FLARE SHE SEES A MAN, WITH TIN-RIMMED GLASSES AND

BLACK LEATHER CLOTHING ENTIRELY ENGULFED IN FLAME RUNNING UP

THE BASEMENT STAIRS; BEHIND HIM THE BASEMENT IS BURNING.

INT. BASEMENT

LOW ANGLE LOOKING UP STAIRS: FLAME ALL AROUND -- PETER'S

PHOTO COLLAGES ON THE BULLETIN BOARD BURNING. THE MAN

RUNNING UP THE STAIRS ALMOST MAKES IT TO THE TOP BEFORE

HE FALLS BACK DOWN INTO THE CAMERA. AT THE TOP, WE SEE M.J.

AND THE FIREMEN'S APPALLED FACES. THE SCREAMING DIES OFF...

EXT. HOUSE

FLAME NOW ENGULFING THE BASEMENT AND GROUND FLOOR: FIREMEN

AND M.J. RACING OUT COUGHING AND CHOKING.

THEN:
A HUGE HOT FLOOM OF AN EXPLOSION: FLAMES THREATEN TO

CONSUME THE ENTIRE HOUSE. FIREMEN SWARM BACK TO KNOCK DOWN

FLAME FROM OUTSIDE.

M.J., QUINN, ETC., WATCHING THE EVIDENCE GO UP IN SMOKE.

THEIR FACES LIGHTED BY THE FLAME.

CUT TO:

INT. HELEN'S OFFICE - NIGHT

She has now changed into a pair of sweat pants and a

T-shirt. SUSAN SCHIFFER IS ON TV: WITH SHOTS OF THE FIRE

BEING SNUFFED OUT.

SUSAN:

I am here with Lieutenant Quinn of

the Homicide Division and (title)

Saks of the FBI. Can you tell us

what happened here, tonight?

During the following we move to PETER'S HOUSE where Quinn

and Saks are being interviewed.

QUINN:

Susan, the San Francisco Police

Department, assisted by the FBI,

developed evidence that the serial

killer, referred to as the Copycat

killer was an individual who

resided at this address. Upon

being asked to step out of the

house to be interviewed, the

suspect set fire to the house

possibly to destroy evidence of his

wife's murder. We found her dead

of gunshot wounds in an upstairs

bedroom. He himself died in the

fire.

(to shouted

questions)

No, we'll wait until we've located

any relatives who should be

notified. Witnesses saw the

individual burn to death, they were

unable to reach him in time to save

him. We're glad, as the entire

city must be glad, this reign of

terror is ended. No, no more at

this time. Thank you...

END OF HELEN STARING STONILY AT THE SCREEN: SHE DOESN'T

BELIEVE IT FOR A MOMENT.

CUT TO:

INT. TASK FORCE ROOM - NIGHT

M.J., wearily enters. Others quietly entering, slipping out

coats, talking and drinking at some distance. M.J. takes

off her shoulder holster and gun and puts them down on her

workspace. NIKKO is at little distance cleaning out his

desk. He comes down to her as she sits...

NIKKO (V.O.)

I heard. Good police work.

M.J.

Just horseshit luck.

NIKKO:

Don't ever forget how good you are.

He is standing behind her and leans over to almost touch her

hair with his lips...

NIKKO:

I love you.

He goes. M.J. twists in misery and fury... Her phone is

ringing on another line; she punches it...

NJ:

Halloran.

HELEN:

I don't believe it.

M.J.

Helen.

(beat)

I saw him die. I saw him burning on

the basement stairs, he never

reached the top.

HELEN:

They never kill themselves. How do

you know it was him. You never met

him. You never even saw a

photograph...

M.J.

Helen -- let go. You've got to let

go.

HELEN:

He hasn't done Bundy. He's done

every one of the others, hasn't he?

If there are three dead Chi Omega

college girls tomorrow, how will

you feel? Go there. See if there

could be any way for him to escape.

M.J.

This has been the worst 48 hours of

my life. I'm going home. I'm going

to try to get drunk.

HELEN:

If there's a one percent possibil-

ity, can you live with yourself

when he kills again?

M.J.

Oh, shut up, and don't be so damn

self righteous.

CUT TO:

INT. M.J'S CAR - NIGHT

M.J. is now almost dead with fatigue. She barely misses

hitting another car. She drives on until she is forced to

stop at a traffic light. All during this:

RADIO NEWS:

...You're on the air, who's

this...Ron, that's not my right

name... that's okay, Ron. What are

you afraid of?... I don't want

anybody to know my name, because

I'm a friend of Peter Foley? I

know him from the gay community? He

was cruising the night...

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