I Am Sam Page #14

Sam rushes into the coffee shop in his new suit.

GEORGE:

You look great, Sam. What time do you

have to be in court?

SAM:

Half day, half day. I take the stand at

two.

George leads him behind the counter. THE STAFF BEAMS.

Euphorically, Sam approaches the huge espresso machines.

GEORGE:

Okay, we need two grande cappucinos, non

fat.

SAM:

Sprinkles or Cinnamon?

INT. STARBUCKS - 11:00 A.M.

Sam is doing great. He's humming as he prepares a triple

latte with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker.

INT. STARBUCKS - 12:00 P.M.

The place is packed, including a GROUP OF JAPANESE TOURISTS.

Sam zips around, trying to juggle between the blender, the

espresso machine, steamed milk, icemaker, all the while

glancing up at the clock. Sam hands three cups to customers,

the foam overflowing, coffee spilling out.

A CUSTOMER takes a sip and SPITS IT OUT.

GUY:

What is this? I ordered an Americano,

not a latte.

SAM:

Americano, Americano, not a latte.

Working as fast as he can but still NOT FAST ENOUGH, Sam

unconsciously drinks the latte.

INT. STARBUCKS - 12:45 P.M.

Hyped on coffee, Sam is zooming around and he's a mess.

Shirt hangs out, coffee stains on it, his hair wild.

Frazzled, he forgets to put the lid on the blender and turns

it ON. A mint mocha frappuccino SPLATTERS HIM in the face.

At that moment, George comes out of his office.

SAM:

I'm going to be late! I'm going to be

late!

GEORGE:

I'll call a taxi.

SAM:

No, no, I can't wait. I can't wait.

I've got to go right now.

Sam heads out, the coffee drink still dripping from his face.

EXT. STREET - DAY

Walking a hundred miles an hour, Sam barrels down the street

out of his mind. Cars are jammed up. He walks over them, a

man possessed.

INT. COURTROOM - DAY

Everyone is in their places, waiting.

TURNER:

Your Honor, if the defendant doesn't

have enough interest in his daughter to

even show up -

RITA:

Your Honor, I'm sure he'll be here any

moment. This is an extremely important

day to Mr. Dawson.

At THAT MOMENT, Sam bursts through the doors. Suit stained,

hair sticky with frappuccino. Rita's jaw drops.

RITA (CONT'D)

Your Honor, may I have a moment with my

client?

JUDGE MCNEILY:

Make it brief, Ms. Harrison.

Rita heads towards Sam. Up close, he looks even worse.

RITA:

What the hell happened?

(sniffing the air)

What is that smell? Mint?

Sam, determined, heads for the stand. Rita grabs Sam's

shoulders and tries to focus him. Looks deep into his eyes.

RITA (CONT'D)

Sam, look at me. Look at me!

(he does)

I will guide you like last night.

(Sam hugs her)

Not that part of last night, the other

part. Now you can do it. I know you

can. Lucy needs you.

SAM:

(a mile a minute)

Lucy needs me.

RITA:

Yes, slow down because Lucy needs you.

SAM:

Lucy needs you.

JUDGE MCNEILY:

Ms. Harrison. We need you!

INT. COURTROOM - LATER

Sam, on the stand, talks a mile a minute from the coffee.

RITA:

How will you be able to pay for private

tutoring?

SAM:

There's a free program at the YMCA.

Lucy can go there.

RITA:

But don't you ever think it would be

better for Lucy if she lived with a

permanent foster family and you could

visit whenever you wanted?

SAM:

The Fosters don't know her. Why can't

she live with me and they can come visit

if they want to. I'm firm on this. And

I'm getting firmer. Lucy belongs with

me.

RITA:

Why?

Sam puts his finger to his chin and starts his "Let me

see..." Rita gives him a look; he lowers his finger and

starts talking very fast from the coffee. The STENOGRAPHER

desperately tries to keep pace.

SAM:

Paul wrote the first part of the song

"Michelle". He said to John, "Where do

I go from here?" John had been

listening to Nina Simone. There was a

line in it that went something like, "I

love you, I love you, I love you..."

They put that into the song. It

wouldn't be the same song without that.

It made the song complete. That's why

the whole world cried when they broke up

on April 10, 1970.

ON RITA:

Well, he has some kind of point.

MARY, the Stenographer, is still typing.

JUDGE MCNEILY:

Did you get that, Mary?

INT. COURTROOM - LATER

Turner fires questions at Sam - a mile a minute.

TURNER:

When you were Lucy's age, were you

living at home?

SAM:

No.

TURNER:

Were you living with your mother and

father?

SAM:

No.

TURNER:

Well then where were you living?

SAM:

(very quietly)

In an institution.

TURNER:

So your parents put you in an

institution?

SAM:

Only after my mom got sick.

TURNER:

What about your father? Where was he?

SAM:

Gone with the wind when Sam was born.

TURNER:

So, you weren't raised by your mother?

SAM:

I saw her I saw her.

TURNER:

When?

SAM:

Christmas, Easter and my birthday.

TURNER:

Oh, once a year on your birthday. So in

a way, the people at the institution

were your parents. Were they nice to

you?

SAM:

Some yes. Some on. Some yes.

TURNER:

Did they hit you?

SAM:

Sometimes. Sometimes they did

sometimes.

TURNER:

Like when you hit Lucy's friend at her

birthday party?

RITA:

Objection! Nobody hit anybody!

TURNER:

Let me rephrase that, strong-armed. So

what role model do you call upon as a

father when you're parenting Lucy? The

head of the institution? The Principal

the warden?

SAM:

No. Not Mr. Whitehead. Not him.

TURNER:

Then who?

SAM:

Myself.

TURNER:

you have the mental capacity of a seven

year old. So you ask yourself, a seven

year old -

SAM:

I am not a seven-year old.

TURNER:

How to parent a fellow seven-year old?

SAM:

Yes. No. What was the question?

TURNER:

The question is:
what makes you think

you can be a parent? Your background?

Your IQ? Your friends who can't even

testify for you?

RITA:

Objection -

SAM:

My friends -

RITA:

Objection -

SAM:

My friends love Lucy even if Rita

thought they weren't smart enough to

testify. Even if she said you'd wipe

the floor with them.

ON RITA:

Trying to telepathically reach Sam.

TURNER:

Excuse me, Mr. Dawson, your lawyer just

objected; that means you didn't have to

answer the question. You can't even

follow the simple rules you've watched

here day after day. You really think

you can raise a seven-year old? A ten

year old? A thirteen-year old?

(in his face)

That means she'll be six years more

advanced than you.

Sweat pours down Sam's coffee stained collar. He searches

for words. Then from the clearest place inside himself:

SAM:

I've had a lot of time to think about

whatever it is that makes somebody a

good parent. It has to do with

constancy. It has to do with patience.

It has to do with listening. To

pretending to listen when you can't even

listen anymore.

The court is riveted by Sam's eloquence. Rita's amazed.

SAM (CONT'D)

It has to do with love, like she says...

Rita's antenna goes up: who's "she?"

SAM (CONT'D)

And I don't know where it's written that

a woman has a corner on that market,

that a man has any less of those

emotions than a woman. Billy has a home

with me! It's not perfect! I'm not a

perfect parent! Sometimes I forget he's

just a little kid...

(whispers from the courtroom)

We built a life together and we love

each other and if you destroy that, it

may be irrep, irrep, irrep...

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