Secret in Their Eyes Page #6

your godfather.

Oh, yeah, yeah. I came for the

picnic for 10 minute, maybe.

Music was sh*t.

That... Is that a Glock 9?

That's standard issue, right?

- Why did you run from us?

- (chuckles)

You serious?

I'm ratting on the

sickest sleeper cell in LA.

I get spotted chatting with

two cops, I'm a dead man.

Wait.

Are you the guys who took my comic book?

Yeah, fuckhead.

I'm the guy that took your comic book.

Carolyn Cobb.

I think you raped her

and killed her, Pac-Man.

Hmm.

Yeah, that would be smart

'cause I don't have enough

heat on me as it is, do I?

So...

I think you met her at the picnic,

convinced yourself that

she was interested in you,

and then maybe after a couple

of days following her around,

you went up to her,

declared your undying love,

and when she told you to piss off,

you raped her and killed her

and dumped her body in the trash,

doused in bleach.

- Bleach?

- Where'd you hide the van?

I'm... I'm trying to do good.

- Pretty girl.

- Okay, you should be thanking me.

I'm not even saying I'm

blaming you for taking the shot.

- Excuse me.

- Yeah.

You need to walk away. He

has a lawyer in the building.

- He hasn't made any calls.

- He has friends here, remember?

Look, I just need a few more minutes.

No, that won't be necessary.

Mr. Marzin has been a very

good friend to this office.

I thought I made that clear to you.

May I see the file, please?

Hmm.

(chuckles)

Mr. Marzin.

You're free to go. We're sorry

if we've inconvenienced you.

- This is not your doer.

- How do you know?

Read the file. Carolyn Cobb,

5'7", 130 pounds, an athlete.

"The damage to the right parietal

bone and left mandible of the victim

indicated that the attacker was of

extraordinary physical strength."

You see? We're looking

for a brute, not a kid.

You can't overpower a girl like that

with two noodles for arms. It's laughable.

And then, of course, there's the bleach.

A clear sign of premeditation.

Your killer knew enough to douse

the victim thoroughly inside and out

so as to destroy all the DNA evidence.

Now, that takes smarts. It

takes strategic thinking.

What is your level of

education, Mr. Marzin?

What is it, high school? Less than that?

We're looking for an intellect.

This one likes to sit in his room

and draw comic books with monsters

and maybe jack off to

the posters on his wall.

Which brings me to the final

piece of exculpatory evidence.

Which means, Mr. Marzin,

evidence which proves your

innocence of the charge.

"Examination of the

decedent's vaginal walls

indicate injuries at a

depth of nine inches."

We're looking for someone with a hammer,

not a peanut.

(groans)

- You have no idea what he...

- Women always know.

Men carry themselves one way, boys another.

Don't they? Don't they, Mr. Marzin?

- (groans)

- And that right there.

Trying to look down my blouse.

That's something a boy would do.

So you run along, little one.

- You run along.

- (sighs)

We're sorry for the mix-up.

(breathing shakily)

(grunts)

"Peanut."

Is that what you said, you cocky b*tch?

Gosh. How impressive.

Am I swooning?

Go home, loser.

Draw yourself some more monsters.

- You want some of this, b*tch?

- We're done here.

- You want what she got?

- What?

Here's what she got!

You don't touch her! You don't touch her!

You don't touch her!

- Son of a...

- You don't touch her! I'll kill you!

Ray! Ray!

- Goddamn it!

- Ray! Ray, enough!

Ray! Ray. It's okay. Get off! Ray!

It's okay. Ray!

Ray! It's okay.

He said it!

- You okay?

- We got him.

Lock him up.

- (sighs) Oh, God.

- You okay? You okay?

(engine stops)

(phone buzzing)

RAY:
You're letting him go, aren't you?

You think I'm stupid, sir?

That's two questions. Which one

do you want me to answer first?

- Hello, Claire.

- You and I had an understanding!

Yes, that you would bring me

a case. But you don't have one.

Just this half-assed

confession from Marzin,

who claims it was beaten out of him.

- And he's got the injuries to prove it!

- He attacked Claire!

You want me to trade a whole

mosque full of potential arrests

for a comic book and a

picture from a picnic?

Put me in the goddamn mosque! I'll

get you more names than he will!

If that'll get you out of my office.

You looked me right in the eye.

You told me you'd prosecute.

I also told you nothing comes before

our efforts in counterterrorism. Nothing!

Now, you drop this right now or I'm sending

you back to the Bureau! You understand me?

That boy is officially untouchable!

Untouchable?

He's guilty.

Welcome to the war.

(elevator whirring)

There's a time to shut up, Claire, and

there's a time to tell your boss the truth.

When he's being a horse's ass,

that's when you tell him the truth!

You really turned him around in

there. You just knocked him flat.

- But it's your case!

- We don't have a case!

You wanna tell Jess that, or should I?

- (elevator dings)

- (doors slide open)

(presses button)

(presses button)

- Son of a b*tch!

- Ray. Ray. Come on. Come on.

(chortling)

(bell dings)

(chuckles)

Jess.

(presses button)

- (alarm bell rings)

- Cover your ears.

- What?

- You don't wanna hear this.

Let's kill him.

Let's kill him. Let's do it

now, before we lose him again.

We just do it and that's it. He goes.

Nobody will miss him.

We'll make the case on the mosque

without him, and Carolyn gets to rest.

And then what?

What would a few bullets

get me? A lifetime in jail.

So he dies without ever serving a day,

and I spend the next 50 years

envying him.

Does that sound like justice to you?

(slaps button)

(exhales) You're both working for a liar.

(scoffs)

That's the trouble with you, Ray.

You think that matters.

(horn honking)

(bell dings)

(door closes)

So, then... would 26 be too old?

Yes. Who's the guy?

- Would 25?

- Who's the guy?

He's a student like me.

- How old is this...

- Twenty-one... ish.

That's clever.

You start me at 26, so that 21,

which is really 22, sounds reasonable.

I admire that.

Thank you.

- But I'm still not gonna say yes.

- Mom!

- What?

- He already asked me out.

But it would mean missing

your office picnic.

This just gets worse and

worse. I want you to be there.

I only have three

more months with you,

and then you're 2,000 miles away,

and it's dorm life and frat parties,

and I'll seem boring by comparison.

Come, please.

Come.

(sighs, breathing shakily)

I think I have to quit.

You wanna bet on whether I get

called back to New York tomorrow?

Claire.

Yeah?

If I am...

(phone buzzing)

A van's just been found

wrecked on Grand Street.

Driver fled. Inside smells like bleach.

He tried to move it. He tried to move it!

Give me the keys. I'll drive!

We find anything in there that ID's Marzin,

we might actually have him.

Maybe you won't have to go.

- (flames roaring)

- Oh.

Oh, God.

Welcome to the war.

You think Morales did this?

Of course he did.

He had to.

(sirens approaching)

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