Edge of Darkness Page #3

Synopsis: Thomas Craven is a detective who has spent years working the streets of Boston. When his own daughter is killed outside his own home, Craven soon realizes that her death is only one piece of an intriguing puzzle filled with corruption and conspiracy, and it falls to him to discover who is behind the crime.
Genre: Crime, Drama, Mystery
Director(s): Martin Campbell
Production: Warner Bros. Pictures
  1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.6
Metacritic:
55
Rotten Tomatoes:
56%
R
Year:
2010
117 min
$43,290,977
Website
1,420 Views


at your pain, I think.

Though I'm sure I cannot

imagine its full dimensions.

I've taken up enough

of your time.

I'd like to talk to

her friends if any.

Yes, of course. I'll see what

I can do. I'll tell Personnel.

Give you a list. Of contact

numbers and so forth.

Can I ask you a question?

What does it feel like?

- David.

- You ready for this?

- I'm ready for anything.

- We have a DNA match.

Oh, really?

Give me the skinny.

You got no buzz of

this guy? Nothing?

This guy was a professional.

This guy was a hit man.

What's the matter? You

were looking at something.

Tell me what you're

looking at.

It says in the evidence log the

hair you found was 2,5 inches.

So he cut his hair.

Not as recently as

a week ago.

- So what are you saying?

- I'm not saying anything.

Hair can stick to a hat

for a long time. Years.

Decades.

Why would a pro blow off

two barrels with a shotgun

instead of saving

one for his target?

Creeping up on a bereaved

man at a murder scene

is not very bright.

Mr. Craven, we have

things to talk about.

Like your name and

what you're doing here?

Like who shot

your daughter.

You know who

shot my daughter?

If I was looking for a man who

might have shot your daughter,

and I had a limited imagination,

of which I do not,

I might have looked at the

poor bastard you found today.

A known killer.

An unusually well known

killer. Makes you think.

- What are you burning?

- None of your business.

Yeah, go ahead.

- Cigar?

- Not celebrating just now.

I know you don't smoke.

I saw your DARPA file.

That's my way of telling you

you've got a DARPA file.

Are you going to tell

me what that is?

Defense Advance Research

Project Agency.

Their slogan is:

"Scienta est Potentia"

And I know you know Latin.

Sto sursum. You know what

that means, yeah?

- Stand the f*** up.

- Please do so.

Well it seems like you're

no one in particular.

Just some English guy,

standing on my lawn,

with a District of Columbia

drivers license.

Thank you.

- Is Northmoor part of DARPA?

- Well, that's hard to tell.

Why are you here?

Your daughter was flagged as

a possible terrorist threat to

United States of America.

I said "flagged",

I didn't say she was.

It's funny the Boston Police

Department didn't come up

- with that one.

- Funny if they had.

What the f*** are you

burning out there?

F***ing Christ.

My English friend Mr. Davenport,

about 6 feet tall, 220 pounds,

is enjoying a cigar.

Did he put it out?

You said my daughter

was a terrorist.

I didn't. But someone did.

Who are you, Mr. Jedburgh?

I'm a friend of the corps.

And I'm a bit f***ing

cold out here.

Pills, pills, pills.

Not like when we were kids.

When it was pills, pills, pills

in a very different context.

You're not much of a

partier, are you Craven?

Do you believe in fun?

What, do you mean recently?

What's your interest

in my daughters death?

I don't like the look of it.

Tell me what you think.

Do you recognize?

Should I?

They broke into a US classified

nuclear research facility,

then drowned in the Connecticut

river making their escape.

Now I know that sounds like

bollocks. But it's not.

Northmoor isn't federal.

I checked.

So if you're saying my daughter

was involved with these people

the most you can get her

for is trespassing.

Her apartment was tossed.

Her computer was stolen.

And do the police know

that you know that?

No.

You're a smart f***er.

What does Northmoor do?

What have they done?

The people who drowned

belonged to "Night Flower".

Tree huggers. Militants.

New Age fuckups.

Sometimes they

blow sh*t up.

Infrequently, and

not very well.

You can look them up.

The organization itself,

not the dead guys.

They are classified.

She wasn't an activist. Not the

type. My daughter wasn't a joiner.

She was more like me.

If she did anything, whatever

she did, she did it alone.

There's a point where anyone

can become an activist.

I mean you see something

so wrong, you have to act.

Even if it means

the end of you.

Lets just say

she was involved.

Her companions died.

Then she came home.

She didn't say anything.

She meant to, she wanted to,

but she didn't make it.

I'm going to advise my

department of one,

which is me, to let you

continue your investigation,

even if you sometimes burn

the evidence in your backyard.

And you, an officer

of the corps.

I'm not going to

arrest anyone.

I never do.

Will you try to stop me?

It depends.

See you around.

I do sometimes like that

feel like Diogenes.

You know the guy who

walked around with a lamp.

Looking for an honest man.

How did it turn out?

Well, for him?

I don't remember.

But you and I have

done pretty good.

Bonne chance.

I thought you were going to

wait until I was a nice guy.

As a career move man, I

seriously need to be seen

telling you to f*** off.

You have no idea,

you don't understand.

Go home! Go home!

There's nothing you

can do to me.

There are times when you

dont have a choice what

kind of f***ing guy you are.

You understand that because

you're doing it right now.

May I?

Drinking the good stuff because

your job is going so well?

Is this an intervention?

If it is I'd like to call a

few people that don't

whack me around because

Im afraid for my life.

I assumed you'd be

some kind of scientist.

Didn't think your daughter

would go for a grease monkey?

Something like that. Yeah.

If you want to beat yourself up.

And what if I said she said

I reminded her of you?

Except drinking.

Something to do with the

absence of bullshit and

no patience for

Broadway musicals.

You're looking at me

like I'm crazy.

Somebody shot my girlfriend,

have you factored that in?

What do you know

about Night Flower?

- Politics don't interest me.

- What did interest you?

Emma.

Look. I'm under contract.

I have a five year contract.

I'm surveilled. I'm going to

loose my f***ing job

if I talk to you no

matter who's dead.

How did my daughter get

people through the security

in a classified nuclear

R&D facility?

There's a rumor

she had help.

- You?

- No.

I passed the polygraph

at work.

What happened?

Come on, level with me

here, I'm not a cop.

Now it's just you and me.

What happened?

You got somewhere

else we can talk?

You didn't pass the polygraph,

they just told you you did.

Emma was writing to

Senator Pine.

And at some point she went

to this grease ball loco.

A lawyer to see about

getting out of her...

What was the name

of the lawyer?

- Sampson... Sanderman.

- Sanderman.

Anyway, said nobody

could help her.

Whistleblowers always

sound like psychos.

And I didn't get

back to her.

So she helped out these

Night Flower a**holes.

She got them in through

the cooling tunnels.

She didn't go in herself.

But she was there.

How was Emma

exposed to radiation?

She wasn't.

That's what Im saying, she

didn't go into the tunnels,

they were exposed, but she

couldn't have been exposed,

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William Monahan

William J. Monahan (born November 3, 1960) is an American screenwriter and novelist. His second produced screenplay was The Departed, a film that earned him a Writers Guild of America Award and Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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