The Boondock Saints Page #16

He stands up and gives a lesson to the now eager detectives.

He points his two index fingers to the back of his own skull.

SMECKER:

The two bullets went in here, through

the top of the skull, criss-crossed

and exited through the eyeballs.

This one clue tells us three distinct

facts. Number one... Duffy.

DUFFY:

They shot him at a downward angle.

(makes connection)

They put him on his knees.

SMECKER:

Excellent! Number two. Greenly.

GREENLY:

Uh.

(thinking hard)

Sh*t, I, uh...

SMECKER:

It tells us that he was the last to

die. All these men

(fans across the

corpses with his

hand)

Were carrying. They came in, dropped

all in seconds and then took their

time with fag man. Didn't they,

Duffy?!

(psychotic laugh)

They sure as f*** did!

A wide-eyed Duffy joins with Smecker, by nodding his head.

Smecker is seducing all of them.

SMECKER:

And number three, Dolly.

DOLLY:

Uh... two shooters!

SMECKER:

Fan-f***in-tastic!

Greenly and Duffy want to know how.

SMECKER:

Now stay with me, boys. What did

they do to make two such identical

wounds? Did one guy put him on his

knees, pop a cap in, sit him back up

and shoot him again the same way?

No. Two men of similar height dropped

this guy down, each put some iron to

his head and boom! That's all she

f***in' wrote!

DUFFY:

What about one guy with two guns?

SMECKER:

Possible, but unlikely. The angles

are too extreme. A guy holding two

guns to the back of your head is

gonna shoot straight ahead. He

wouldn't cock out his elbows, makes

no sense. Besides, you telling me

one guy came in here and killed eight

men with eight extremely well aimed

shots in just a few seconds? No way.

Had to be at least two.

INT. PLAZA HOTEL SUITE LIVING ROOM NIGHT LATER

Smecker is now a complete mess. His hair is totally frazzled.

He is sucking on cigarettes long and hard. His clothes are

completely disheveled.

SMECKER:

Television,... television is the

explanation for this.

Smecker points toward the ceiling revealing a huge gaping

hole in it just above the living room.

SMECKER:

You see this is bad television.

(again pointing out

the hole in the

ceiling)

The little assault guys creeping in

through the vents and coming in

through the ceilings. That James

Bond sh*t never happens in real life.

Professionals don't do that. So we've

got this up here, which has novice

written all over it. And all this

down here that's simply a perfect

textbook assassination. So here's

our two possibilities. We either

have rank amateurs that got lucky or

consummate professionals that f***ed

up.

The detectives nod in agreement. They are now completely

taken in by Smecker's spell.

SMECKER:

Join me in a drink, gentlemen.

They go over and grab seats at the bar. Smecker mixes himself

a gin and tonic on the other side. He is calming down now

and going back into cool mode. He starts to tuck his clothes

back in and fix his hair. He leans over the bar and sips his

drink. The three detectives lean in.

SMECKER:

With the exception of my coffee boy,

you Boston detectives are starting

to show signs of intelligence. So, I

am going to make you privy to some

information that you would not

normally be. These men are all Russian

mob. Not like those two peons in the

alley the other day. These guys are

all syndicate bosses and underbosses.

I have a dossier on every man in

this room. Since the Iron Curtain

has gone down, the Russian syndicates

have started to come here. And in

the spirit of Glasnost the Soviets

have opened their borders to the

mafia. But the Italians, they're not

convinced that the grounds in mother

Russia are fertile enough for

organized crime yet. So they ain't

ready to commit. The Russians are

coming here anyway. They are

unwelcome. What we have here,

gentlemen, is possibly the beginning

of the first international mob war...

unless I've totally missed something.

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