JFK Page #41

SHARON:

Mr. Miller's been waiting.

JIM:

(remembering)

Oh! Send him in.

(to Numa)

Denver oilman wants to support the

investigation.

(specifically to Bill)

Bill, I know what you're thinking,

but sometimes when it makes no sense

that's exactly when you just gotta

stick to it, head down.

Sharon shows in Mr. Miller, the Denver oilman. He's a self-

assured, impressive man in his 50's with a western accent,

cowboy boots and hat, and a well-cut gabardine suit.

JIM:

Welcome, Mr. Miller. Jim Garrison.

Would you care for some coffee?

MILLER:

Yes, thank you, Mr. Garrison. Your

coffee's almost Turkish down here

but I could get used to it.

Numa leaves. Bill indicates he'd like to sit in. Jim nods

okay. Miller pays no attention to Bill.

MILLER:

I'm glad you could find time to see

me. I flew down from Denver this

morning on my private jet.

JIM:

Yes, your letter indicated you were

in he oil business up there.

MILLER:

I've done quite well in Denver, Mr.

Garrison, but I have to admire someone

like you - and I have the means to

back up what I say.

JIM:

We can use all the support we can

get. I think these might interest

you.

Jim has gathered together a group of photos of the shooting.

Sharon bringing the coffee.

JIM:

They've been enlarged and show a lot

of detail...

MILLER:

Splendid, love to see them.

He glances at the photo but continues on across the room,

looking at the pictures on the walls.

MILLER:

Where were you? Europe, Pacific?

JIM:

Germany.

MILLER:

You were lucky. I spent three years

in the Pacific.

(he looks out the

blinds at Tulane

Avenue)

I've never seen an avenue with such

a profusion of bail-bonding companies.

Why is that?

JIM:

(nettled by Miller's

moving around)

I imagine because this is the Criminal

District Court Building

(showing a photo)

This is an enlargement of a potential

shooter standing behind the picket

fence. We...

We see a blurry blowup of something behind the picket fence.

Miller takes the photo, glances at it and sits down.

MILLER:

I know about that shot. A terrible

tragedy.

(Puts the photo back

on the desk)

How much do you have for carrying on

your investigation?

JIM:

If you must know, virtually nothing.

MILLER:

How many men are working with you on

this?

JIM:

Less than you would guess. Most

days two to three assistant D.A.'s.

A handful of police investigators.

MILLER:

That's all you've had all this time?

JIM:

That's it.

Jim expectant of some help. A pause. Then:

MILLER:

I admire you, Mr. Garrison. How did

you manage to make your way into Guy

Banister's operation?

The clock is ticking. Jim shares a look with Bill. The

cards are on the table.

JIM:

That was never in he newspapers, Mr.

Miller.

Miller smiles, stands, paces the room. He continues to ignore

Bill completely.

MILLER:

I'm going to be very frank with you.

You've done a great job, an astounding

job considering the limited resources

available to you. But the best you

can ever hope for is to stir up a

lot of confusion. You're not going

to do this country any good, and

you're not going to do yourself any

good.

(he sits back down

and looks directly

at Jim)

You don't belong here. On this Mickey

Mouse street with that cheap strip

of bail bond shops.

JIM:

The job manages to keep me pretty

busy.

MILLER:

Nonsense. You should be in a job

where you can make decisions that

have impact, affect the world. Here

you're trying to climb up the steep

side of Mount Everest.

He leans forward across Jim's desk, tapping his manicured

index finger on the desk. Clearly visible to Jim and to us

(in a close-up) is Miller's Annapolis ring tapping.

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