Lost Souls Page #3

DEFENSE ATTORNEY (O.S.)

On the day of the murders

(dramatic pause)

what did the defendant request?

MR. SILBERMAN (O.S.)

He asked to go home early. He said he

was bothered by all the people who kept

telling him what to do.

DEFENSE ATTORNEY (O.S.)

(to the jury)

Tell the jury how many people work in

that office with you and Mr. Viznick.

MR. SILBERMAN (O.S.)

Just me.

There's a general MURMUR at this disclosure and... In the

first row, wearing his press credentials like all the other

prominent members of the media, sits PETER KELSON. Peter's

in his early 30's, fit, handsome, well-dressed, even

seductive. The ubiquitous success story, cynical, edgy and

focused, he's all or nothing. Peter takes notes in a leather

book, graph paper, his own color-coded system, meticulous

annotation. He stares intently at the defendant.

INT. MAYA'S ROOM IN THE SEMINARY - DAY

A woman's arm and hand are visible as she writes -

CLOSE ON:

piece of notebook paper covered with a nonsensical collection

of vowels and consonants.

We TILT UP to see Maya, who tosses the sheet onto a pile of

rejects. She takes a sip of coffee. Stale. Maya reacts.

Finishes a cigarette. Puts it out in a plain glass ashtray.

Lying next to her pack of cigarettes, a vintage Zippo,

inscribed, "peace and f*** you."

To Maya's left is Birdson's legal pad. On it he has written

rows of numbers in neat, precise handwriting. Maya has drawn

red lines at regular intervals, showing a repeating pattern

of 11 numbers in a row.

In the b.g., her used, always, "ON," 24" TV is airing a

daytime talk show. Guy describes his girlfriend's affair AD

LIB. Maya reacts to the insanity of the show.

On the wall above Maya's table that serves as her desk, is a

varied collection of crayoned drawings from the children in

her day-care class, a postcard from Louisiana depicting New

Orleans, a postcard-sized copy of Modigliani portrait of a

woman, and an old photograph of Maya and her sister.

CLOSE ON:

The page she just discarded "IF R EQUALS ONE" at the top and

letters of the alphabet matched up with a series of numbers.

Birdson's cryptology book is visible to Maya's right, as she

works off her newest piece of paper, labeled "IF S EQUALS

ONE." Maya moves to her mini fridge. Looks inside. Pulls

out a soda. Pops the tab. Spray startles her a moment.

Wipes off her fingers. SLAMS the door.

TIME CUT:

Comparing numbers and letters with a second piece of paper,

Maya notes that the first number, 24, gives her the letter

"P." The next number, 13, produces an "E." She writes those

down. Flicks a long ash into a half-full ashtray. Gulps

air.

TIME CUT:

Maya continues the coded procedure. The next three numbers

equal a "T," an "E" and an "R." Finally spelling "Peter."

Maya gets up. Stretches. Ashtray getting full. Taps out a

single cigarette from her shirt pocket. Lights it. EXHALES

deeply. Excited and scared at the same time.

TIME CUT:

Maya checks her newest numbers, adding the letter "K." Tamps

out her cigarette into an ashtray with earlier cigarette

debris. Small stacks of used up paper. Maya stares at her

results, exhausted.

INT. HALLWAY/COURTHOUSE - DAY

An explosion of CHATTER as the CROWD empties from the

courtroom. Many of the MEDIA rush to a press room across the

hall.

As Peter heads that way, we see he enjoys some celebrity

status. Heads turn and fingers point as he goes by. Peter

stops a tall, Asian 26 year-old who's striding by with a

thick packet.

This is MICHAEL KIM, Peter's researcher.

MICHAEL:

Mr. Kelson, here's the stuff you wanted

on pathological narcissism.

PETER:

What about that psychic, what's his

name, Szabo?

MICHAEL:

He can see you Thursday.

PETER:

(shaking his hand)

I think it's gonna be a waste of time.

MICHAEL:

(trying to reassure his boss)

The police used him as a witness in this

case.

PETER:

(unsmiling, but he likes

Michael)

I'll be at Bedford tonight, if you need

me.

MICHAEL:

(big smile)

Nice suit.

Peter takes off, weaving his way through the crowds. And as

he enters a MEN'S ROOM:

INT. MEN'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Peter saunters up to a urinal. A rough looking man in his

late 40's comes out of a stall and approaches Peter. This is

a tough cop named MIKE SMYTHE.

SMYTHE:

(smiling, friendly)

Hey! Mr. big shot.

PETER:

(smile emerging)

Mike. Oh, the christening. I meant to

call...

SMYTHE:

(releases his hold)

Yeah, right. I don't know why I

bothered inviting you guys. I knew you

wouldn't show.

Peter finishes. Zips up and goes to wash his hands. Smythe

looks in the mirror, too, noticing a food stain on his shirt.

He dabs at it half-heartedly.

SMYTHE (CONT'D)

So, Viznick's got a meet with his lawyer

in the ayem.

PETER:

(his interest is piqued)

Really? You know, seeing these guys

away from the court, the facade slips.

You catch things.

SMYTHE:

Yeah, yeah. I've heard it before. Just

be sure you spell my name right. Nine

o'clock?

Smythe hands Peter a tiny penlight.

PETER:

What's this?

SMYTHE:

So you can see where you're going when

you crawl up his a**hole.

Off Peter's smile, we:

INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - AFTERNOON

The typical particle board and wallpaper set that looks

better on the small screen. Two chairs, one with Peter and

one with the glossy blonde, perfectly styled, TV personality,

SALLY PRESCOTT.

THE FLOOR MANAGER silently finishes the countdown as a make

up man touches up Peter before rushing off the set.

SALLY:

As a part of today's story on the trial

of mass murderer George Viznick, we

welcome Peter Kelson, author of the

current best-seller, VICIOUS INTENT.

Thank you for joining us, Peter.

PETER:

Thanks for having me, Sally.

SALLY:

Peter, you're now writing a book about

the Viznick case. You seem to be making

a career of studying sensational

murderers. I have to ask, how does it

make you feel when you sit in courtrooms

day after day, face to face with alleged

killers?

PETER:

Well, long-term exposure to things like

this tends to give you a sort of

clinical understanding of the subject.

After awhile, you begin to make friends

with it, so to speak.

SALLY:

It's as if you are saying the closer you

get to evil, the less evil it becomes.

PETER:

No, the less mystifying. Good and evil

are only illusions. There is no such

thing as evil with a capital "E." That

suggests some third party bad guy

pulling all the strings.

SALLY:

(a bit mesmerized)

You're referring to the defense's

efforts to prove that George Viznick is

tormented by "demonic voices?"

PETER:

There weren't any voices.

SALLY:

Not even from some mental illness, as

the prosecution asserts?

PETER:

As if there's another cause for little

voices? No, Sally, Viznick's a

manipulator, he's clever, he has what I

call malignant narcissism.

SALLY:

What do you mean by that?

PETER:

Well, we all have a degree of

narcissism, Sally, but a malignant

narcissist is dangerously self-obsessed.

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