Jennifer 8 Page #32

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The dead smile and rubber in action. St ANNE changes his notes.

St ANNE

O.K. I'm corrected. I'm

sorry, I made a mistake.

BERLIN:

With respect, Sir, you didn't make

a mistake. I know who you are, and

you're far too experienced for mis-

takes. Now if you have doubts over

the content, or veracity of my rep-

ort, I wanna be made aware of them?

St ANNE

Sure.

BERLIN:

I wanna be made aware of them now.

St ANNE

Do you want a lawyer, Sergeant?

BERLIN:

There you go again? "Do I want

a lawyer, Sergeant?" It's a game

question. What do I want a law-

yer for? I got nothing to hide ..

St ANNE

You don't?

BERLIN:

You know I don't. So let's quit

the bullshit and get down to it.

What's your "angle," Mr St Anne?

For the first time St ANNE moves his chair into BERLIN's space.

St ANNE

Where's the little gun, Sergeant?

BERLIN:

I've no idea.

St ANNE

You don't?

BERLIN:

If it isn't in the institute,

the man who shot Ross took it.

St ANNE

The man who shot Ross, used it ..

Implications are ganging up quicker than BERLIN can focus them.

And you don't know where that little

twenty-five calibre Walther's gone?

BERLIN confirms it. Looking very concerned. The wheels retreat.

St ANNE shakes out a cigarette and takes his time with matches.

O.K. Sergeant, here it is. I intend to

produce evidence, that will prove you

shot Frederick Ross with malice afore-

thought. My angle therefore, is to pre-

pare a case on behalf of your Chief, to

prosecute you for first degree murder.

129:
INT. ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.

The lights on the Christmas tree are off. That just about sums

it up. The word's out and it talks in barren silence as BERLIN

appears. TAYLOR and SERATO in conference at a desk. The former

looks. The latter turns away. BERLIN walks the room into close-

up. "Like some coffee, John?" Seems like ANN is the only benev-

olent face around. She gets a lost smile & bewildered shake of

his head. Disappears into his room And quietly closes the door.

130:
INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. DAY.

A picture of Ross fills the frame. Snapped the day they search-

ed the dump. Blasted with rain. A waterproof cape and a finger

raised in defiance. BERLIN shifts eyes from the bulletin board.

Pours a last inch of whisky and drinks. Eyes back to the board

for a last photographic/panoramic record of his time in Eureka.

The photo of Ross again before his eyes sweep quickly on. Pict-

ure of Amber Stone. Thumb tacks and maps and tape. Information

relating to specific areas in San Diego. Carlsbad/Ocean Beach/

Point Loma. "Jennifer Seven" "Jennifer Eight." But who gives a

f*** anymore? Two dead dogs on a refuse dump. And now the dead

face of a Dummy. BERLIN stares till someone knocks on the door.

St ANNE comes in smoking a cigarette and eating a ham sandwich.

St ANNE

You go home, John, get some sleep.

I don't wanna talk any more today.

BERLIN:

Aren't you gonna arrest me?

St ANNE

You know better than that ...

He will exit when he stops speaking. Before he does he wanders

the lab showing particular interest in the Dummy of Jennifer 8.

I arrest you, you'll get bail, and

be walking outta here anyway - and

I'll have no one to talk to - Your

Chief said he'd make you available

to me. If you go to the store, call

in, and let your duty officer know.

131:
INT. BOBBY'S BEDROOM. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. NIGHT.

BOBBY is in hysterics. A gale of tears. Fits his words between

them. His Mom does her best to cope with his grief and her own.

MARGIE:

Your Daddy would have wanted

you to be strong .. We gotta

be strong for Daddy, darling ..

BOBBY:

I don't want her in this house ..

I want my Dad. Why did she have

to come here .. I want my Daddy ..

132:
INT. KITCHEN. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DAY.

Fingers search out and identify phone numbers. Dial for inform-

ation and HELENA whispers "I need the number for a cab, please."

133:
INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.

The Camera's getting closer and so is St ANNE. And today there

is a definite change of mood. Still very measured. Still a pro-

fessional demeanor. But a bad sense of sh*t about to come down.

St ANNE

.. there was a gale that night .. all

the doors are swinging .. so this door

swings back and clips you .. and down

you go .. within 35 seconds of uncon-

sciousness, you're back on the fire es-

cape, and you're confused, really con-

fused .. you don't know if Tuesdays

come in two's or happen once a week ..

Bit of a cold coming on and near enough for BERLIN to catch it.

You see a figure coming up the stairs.

Ross ain't meant to be on the stairs?

He challenges you .. and this ain't a

piece of wood with a nail through it ..

this guy's got a 12 gauge Winchester

up your nose .. and he's drunk .. and

you're dizzy .. and your eye's fulla

blood .. you ain't thinking good, and

you're seeing worse .. Wow! .. it just

went off! .. You just put him down? ..

and you get hit by a Glaser, you stay

down .. But he ain't dead .. Now, you

realize you shot your partner .. "Oh,

Suzanna, how do I get outta this?" I

know .. The "Serial Killer" shot him ..

And here comes the malice, John .. 17

seconds later, you put another one in

his throat .. Isn't that what happened?

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