Minority Report Page #17

EXT. A WALLED ESTATE - DAY

Overgrown with vines and shrubbery of every possible variety.

Anderton gets out of his vehicle and moves to a wooden gate.

A rusted NO TRESPASSING SIGN is nailed to it.

Anderton rings the BELL. No answer. He peers through a

crack in the gate. We then...

BEGIN TO CRANE UP

As Anderton moves to the wall, and starts climbing the vines.

He gets to the top of the wall, looks out at...

GARDENS:

Wild and out of control. A small ivy-covered STONE HOUSE is

nestled into a corner of the property. Smoke rises from the

chimney. Anderton starts down the other side of the wall.

EXT. THE GARDENS - DAY

As Anderton jumps to the ground. His shirt is ripped; his

arms scratched from what he realizes are THORNS embedded in

the vines.

We hear RUSTLING as, behind Anderton, several of the plants

unfurl to their full dimensions of eight feet and wrap their

vines around Anderton's neck and torso.

He breaks free. We hear CLASSICAL MUSIC O.S. and Anderton

moves through the gardens towards it. He stops, dizzy,

touches his forehead and then looks off at...

A GREENHOUSE:

Where we see A WOMAN, 50, dressed in a wide-brimmed hat and

gardening attire, attending to the plants, gently spraying,

then wiping each leaf with a small, square cloth...

Anderton staggers into the greenhouse, something now quite

wrong with him.

ANDERTON:

Dr. Hineman --

Quick as a flash she holds up her cane and a six-inch BLADE

extends from the tip to Anderton's throat. She looks down

the length of it at Anderton, his ripped clothing, bruised

face, and scratched arms.

IRIS:

You're trespassing.

He starts to sway, touches his forehead.

IRIS:

Something wrong?

ANDERTON:

I'm a little dizzy...

She casually leans on the cane, shoving the blade back up

inside.

IRIS:

Yes, I'm afraid that would be from

the Doll's Eye.

ANDERTON:

The what?

IRIS:

The vine -- the Baneberry that

scratched you during your illegal

climb over my wall...

She leads Anderton over to a wooden table just inside the

greenhouse where she's got AFTERNOON TEA set up.

IRIS:

It's not a true Doll's Eye, of

course, but a little hybrid of my

own design.

Anderton staggers, grabs hold of the table for support.

IRIS:

It's quite something, once the

poison gets into your bloodstream,

you'll start to see what I can only

describe as the most extraordinary

display of blue objects.

Anderton struggles. She watches him a moment.

IRIS:

This just isn't your week, is it,

Chief?

He pulls his gun. She shakes her head...

IRIS:

Now now...

She easily takes it away from him, jacks the clip onto the

table, then calmly pours a cup of tea.

IRIS:

You have three minutes to tell me

what you're doing here before I

feed you to a few of my more

predacious plants.

ANDERTON:

I'm... not... a... killer.

She studies him a moment, then tears a leaf from a plant, and

calmly begins crumpling it up into the tea...

IRIS:

You better drink this. Soon you

won't be able to swallow, and then

you'll be totally buggered.

He looks at the cup, hesitates, tries to pick it up.

IRIS:

Drink all of it.

She pours the rest into his mouth. He sits back, waits for

the antidote to take effect.

IRIS:

Take a moment to right yourself.

She picks up some pruning shears and goes to work on an

orchid.

IRIS:

Just what is it you think I can do

for you?

ANDERTON:

You can tell me how someone...

could fake a prevision.

IRIS:

And how would I know that?

He looks at her.

ANDERTON:

You invented precrime.

She chuckles bitterly at that one.

ANDERTON:

What's so funny?

IRIS:

If the unintended consequences of a

series of genetic mistakes and

science gone haywire can be called

invention, then yes, I invented

precrime.

ANDERTON:

You don't seem all that proud.

IRIS:

I'm not. I was trying to heal

them, not turn them into...

something else.

ANDERTON:

Heal who?

IRIS:

The innocents we now use to stop

the guilty.

ANDERTON:

You're talking about the precogs...

IRIS:

You think the three in the tank

come from a test tube? They're

merely the ones who survived.

She sits down, pours herself some tea.

IRIS:

I was doing genetic research at the

Woodhaven Clinic in Rhode Island on

Renning's Syndrome, a neurological

condition that affects the cerebral

cortex of children. Most of these

kids were abandoned or forgotten.

Very few of the kids lived past the

age of twelve.

She looks away, remembering it all now...

IRIS:

It began as play. A guessing game

like you play with any toddler,

except these children always

guessed right.

(then)

And then the nightmares started.

They were all different, but all

the same. They were all about

murder. And the murders were all

happening.

ANDERTON:

And how did Lamar become involved?

IRIS:

Back then, he was still a DA, and

quite a few parents of my patients

had passed through his courtroom.

You have to understand, these

people were the dregs of society.

But once they saw their children...

he decided he would do whatever he

could for them. He's that way, you

know, paternal about certain

things. Precrime. The precogs.

You.

ANDERTON:

(keeping her on track)

You say some of the children died?

IRIS:

So many of them... despite what we

did for them. Or maybe because of

what we did to them.

(then, bitter)

It doesn't matter. It's a perfect

system now, isn't it?

ANDERTON:

I'm not a murderer. I've never

even met the man I'm supposed to

kill.

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