Jennifer 8 Page #12

Synopsis: A big-city cop from L.A. moves to a small-town police force and immediately finds himself investigating a murder. Using theories rejected by his colleagues, the cop, John Berlin, meets a young blind woman named Helena, who he is attracted to. Meanwhile, a serial killer is on the loose and only John knows it.
Genre: Crime, Drama, Mystery
Director(s): Bruce Robinson
Production: Paramount Home Video
  5 wins.
 
IMDB:
6.3
Rotten Tomatoes:
39%
R
Year:
1992
124 min
525 Views


BERLIN:

No! Get me to that garbage dump!

I'm gonna find that f***ing dog!

36:
EXT. CITY DUMP. CITY OF EUREKA. NIGHT.

Gloom congeals around flashlights. A winter mist falling down.

TRIMBLE and Doberman watch as BERLIN goes at it with a shovel.

A dozen graves already dug and he's halfway into another. Des-

pite the cold he sweats in shirt sleeves. Also breathless and

rests to catch his wind. "Don't you have to go to bed?" No he

doesn't. He wants to see the victim. Digging recommences with

TRIMBLE supplying the light. BERLIN suddenly stops. "Get that

lamp down here." White lime. Black fur. They've found the Dog.

BERLIN begins an examination holding a tiny flashlight in his

teeth. Eyes excitedly back to TRIMBLE and gesturing towards a

bag. "That bag there. You find a knife and a paira long-nosed

pliers." TRIMBLE does it relishing the snap of a switch-blade.

BERLIN still busy with the light in his mouth. TRIMBLE pissed

because he can't see what's happening. BERLIN removes a crump-

led bullet from the back of the Labrador's skull. Holds it up

for scrutiny. Small calibre. Badly distorted. "Looks like a 22?"

BERLIN:

You didn't shoot him did you?

TRIMBLE:

Me .. I love dogs .. Ask him?

37:
INT. ANTI ROOM/ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.

LETTERS BIG AS A HOUSE. And Loud. The printer reciprocates as

fast as its mechanics are capable. Details coming in from San

Diego. VICAP Case Number/F.B.I. Case Number/Victim Status/etc

etc. Letters smacking into paper too fast to read. But one de-

tail is repeated constantly and underlined. "Identity Unknown."

Transmission ends and BERLIN hauls at least a yard of homicide

out of the machine. Can't believe what he's looking at. "Jesus.

He hit six." Reads as he walks back into the big room and gets

interrupted by a call. "Miss Robertson. Holding." He heads for

the phone with eyes following ANN "Find Ross for me, will you?"

BERLIN (Phone)

Berlin .. yeah .. that's nice of

you, Helena, but I already found

out .. black, yes .. No, no, of

course not, good of you to call ..

You heard a what? .. A hollow car?

A hand shoves papers at the edge of his vision. TAYLOR looks a

mite cheesy. "You got a minute for this?" And BERLIN nods sure.

Yes, I'm still here .. Why didn't

you mention that? .. I see .. Al-

right, we should talk again .. No,

I'm just south of my eye-lids in

it right now .. How about Sunday?

38:
EXT. COAST ROAD. HUMBOLDT BAY. EUREKA. DAY.

The first shining day of November. Sand dunes and an infinite

stretch of beach. Behind the sea-break is a lagoon and a tiny

harbor. Berlin's Mercedes descends the coast road towards it.

39:
EXT. HARBOR. HUMBOLDT BAY. EUREKA. DAY.

Ross's boat is a 35 foot fisherman. Shining brass and varnish.

But like him it's getting on and often grumpy. This last qual-

ity presently evident in both. Engine roaring and ROSS is cov-

ered in oil. BERLIN has to shout above the racket to be heard.

BERLIN:

.. I put the slug in for a ballis-

tics report, the man tells me, for

get it. Soft lead, it's worthless ..

I think, f*** it. And f*** Citrine.

I call a friend of mine in Los Ang-

eles, and he runs our whole damned

show through a main-frame looking

for anything similar to our ladies

shot with a twenty-two - you don't

believe what he finds in San Diego ..

ROSS detours eyes to wave at his Son. "Watch those revs there."

Would you shut it down a min-

ute, Ross? This is important.

ROSS signals BOBBY to turn off. And the diesel splutters down.

ROSS:

Alright, let's take a walk around

the block .. I gotta buy a gasket ..

40:
EXT. QUAY/HARBOR. HUMBOLDT BAY. DAY.

Seagulls and sunshine and probably Saturday because the place

is busy. ROSS walks with BERLIN up a wooden quay. Their journ-

ey will take them across a small bridge towards a Marine Shop.

BERLIN:

Six girls over a period of 18

months, and give or take a head

or two, the M.O.'s exactly the

same. Dark hair. No hands. All

shot with a high velocity twen-

ty-two in the back of the head.

ROSS:

How come the F.B.I. don't put

anya this together? They work-

ed over "Jennifer" for months?

BERLIN:

They possibly did - but they nev-

er had a head, so they never had

a bullet - and they never got an

I.D. - not on any of em - never

bust a homicide unless you know

who your victim is - we're the

first to get a positive identity.

ROSS:

Identity of whom? You got a girl,

doesn't even have a driver's lic-

ense? .. She's untraceable, John ..

You need fifty detectives on this.

BERLIN:

That's what I'm here for. I want

you to come and see Citrine with

me? He's not gonna here it from

me but I know he'd listen to you.

ROSS:

Listen to me saying what?

BERLIN:

I wanna take that f***ing Blind In-

stitute to pieces .. Every address

book, every phone call, everyone in

and outta there in the last 5 years ..

ROSS:

For a dead dog?

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Bruce Robinson

Bruce Robinson (born 2 May 1946) is an English director, screenwriter, novelist and actor. He is arguably most famous for writing and directing the cult classic Withnail and I (1987), a film with comic and tragic elements set in London in the 1960s, which drew on his experiences as "a chronic alcoholic and resting actor, living in squalor" in Camden Town. more…

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