Frequency Page #17

John is bathed in SWEAT. He twists to CAMERA and his eyes

pop open. A glazed, confused look pours out of them.

SEE past an empty bottle of BUSHMILLS on the night stand - a

clock READS 12:
01 AM.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY

THE NIGHTMARE REPEATS - like some horrible instant replay.

MEN and WOMEN, standing and sitting, seen only from the waist

down. All wearing dark clothes and speaking in hushed

voices. FLASHES OF FACES SWIMMING INTO THE POV...indistinct,

blurring into each other. Is that UNCLE BUTCH? SATCH?

GIBSON?

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - BEDROOM / BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER

A terrified and disoriented John stumbles out of bed. He

moves to the bathroom. But he stops. Something is wrong.

The bedroom has changed. It looks like a DUMP.

John shakes his head, trying to blink away the nightmare.

But the room does not change back. He goes to teh bathroom.

Splashes his face. He looks up to the mirror and...

INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY

The same horrible instant replay. Flashes of faces swimming

into the POV...

JOHNNY'S POV

He is CROUCHED UNDER A TABLE. STARING AT THE CASKET. Alone.

Bewildered. Crying.

A MAN, seen only from teh waist down, approaches the table.

As he crouches down his face drops into the frame. It is

FRANK. His face etched in a terrible pain.

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - EARLY MORNING

The kitchen looks different: dirtier, uncared-for. John

looks different too: like a guy on the tail end of a lifetime

bender. He cracks open a Bushmills. Pours a couple of shots

into his instant coffee. Several sips to settle his nerves.

He reaches for the cordless phone and HITS SPEED DIAL #3.

CASHIER (V.O.)

Noah's Deli. Can you hold?

Confused, John clicks down the receiver. His hand is shaking

as he punches the speed dial button for the second time.

CASHIER (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Noah's Deli.

On the slam of John's phone, we got to...

INT. JULIA'S APARTMENT - HALLWAY - MANHATTAN - MORNING

John knocks on the door. It opens to reveal a Jamaican woman

clutching a crying infant, a toddler hanging off her leg.

Behind them we half recognize Julia's apartment. We know

it's her apartment because of the BAY WINDOW and the view of

THE GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE. But everything else is

different. Different furniture. Different pain job.

John stands speechless. The Jamaican woman regards him...

JAMAICAN WOMAN:

Can I help you?

JOHN:

(relaxed)

I'm looking for Julia Sullivan.

JAMAICAN WOMAN:

I think you have the wrong apartment.

JOHN:

But this is her place. 910 Riverside.

Apartment 3C.

JAMAICAN WOMAN:

I'm sorry, but no one by that name lives

here.

John just stands there, lost, questioning his grip on

reality. Liquor on his breath, fear in his eyes, he is a

scary sight. Jamaican woman does the smart thing - she slams

the door.

INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DETECTIVE SQUAD - COFFEE ROOM - LATER

ON SATCH, scavenging the fridge while absorbed in some

papers.

Through the open door he SPOTS JOHN across the squad room.

Even at that distance, Satch can see John's unsteady walk and

f***ed up demeanor. Satch's eyes go to stone.

INT. 23RD PRECINCT - MEN'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

John leans over the sink, wet paper towels pressed to his

face. He barely reacts to the SOUND of the door. He does

react to the silence that follows. Satch stands in the

doorway...looking him over.

JOHN:

What?

A long silence.

SATCH:

Another rough night, huh? That it?

JOHN:

Yeah. That's it.

John moves for the door. But Satch grabs him, slams him

against the wall. Startled, John freezes.

SATCH:

Do not disrespect me. Disrespect

yourself all you want. But not me. Or

anybody else around here. You got that?

John shrugs, sagging against the wall.

SATCH (CONT'D)

This is getting real old, John. And I'm

tired up to here with it...

JOHN:

I'm sorry. I just...you know...I...

SATCH:

And I'm tired of the I'm sorrys. I don't

need 'em. What I need is a partner I can

count on.

(pause; softens)

I care about you. Not cause of me and

your old man. Not cause of your mom.

But because of you.

Satch steps back. An awkward beat.

SATCH (CONT'D)

We got the preliminary forensics on that

skeleton.

(opening door to the squad)

Your gonna want to look at it.

INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DETECTIVE SQUAD ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Satch and John approach their adjoining desks. Satch slides

an 8X10 PHOTO off the top of an OLD YELLOWED POLICE FILE and

hands it to John. It is a picture of the skeleton discovered

behind the Greek Diner. But what catches John's attention,

what picks at his subconscious, is the decaying GLASS TAPE

binding the wrists.

SATCH:

Bad memories...

(re:
photo)

You imagine the odds...us diggin' up a

Nightingale Murder?

John looks from the photo to the file on Satch's desk. It

reads:
NIGHTINGALE MURDERS. John slowly sinks into his

chair.

SATCH (CONT'D)

She makes ten.

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