The Lodger Page #6
so f***ing open minded.
Yeah, right. What do you want? It's late.
It's not Isenschmidt. It's Tumblety.
Bunting is Tumblety, and that black bag
is in that guesthouse. I'm sure of it.
Chandler, there's still nothing
to connect any of this to Bunting.
We find that black bag, and there will be.
Let's go.
Wait, wait, wait. You mean right now?
Listen, this prick Smith has
been already through my apartment.
He's got two of LAPD's finest staked out,
waiting for me. We don't have much time.
Chandler, why do you care so much about
what Smith knows or doesn't know?
We're all after the same guy.
Well, since when have
you started defending Smith?
You told him?
- Hey, look, you can't just go over there.
- Bullshit!
This a**hole has got one more murder,
- then he f***ing disappears.
- Okay, just one second.
Let me get dressed.
We still have to call Smith.
The only prints I found
match those of a woman,
presumably the wife.
Same as those in the main house.
- That's it. I'll tell the Captain.
- Okay.
We're done here.
It's clean, no black bag, no prints.
Nobody's been back here, Chandler.
Let's go. Smith wants to talk to us.
No, there's something else.
They knew we were getting close.
Why else would they all leave
in the middle of the night?
I'm gonna take another look around.
Oh, what? You think I should go with you?
Just don't touch anything.
- Let's get everybody out of here.
- Okay. There's nothing.
- It's clean.
- Get someone in here to open this thing!
You f***ing left him out there?
- It's stuck.
- Just open the damn thing!
Bingo.
- Jesus, God.
- Right.
No, you'd better do this.
I wouldn't want to taint anything.
Yeah, it's Smith.
Get a car over to 19000 Sunset.
There's a security guard there,
his name is Joe Bunting.
He works in the security booth.
No, no, no. Just hold him until I get there.
Get over to the lab right away.
Run them for prints
and against the ink
in both of the earlier letters.
Call me as soon as you get results.
I don't care what time it is.
Well, it looks like LAPD got their man.
- Hold out your hands.
- What for?
There's clearly been nobody living here,
and my guess is that
we won't find prints anywhere.
Will we, Manning?
Now hold out your hands.
I'll be there in 15 minutes.
Okay. Bye.
You have the right to remain silent.
- Anything you say can and will be used...
- What, you think I planted all of this?
You have the right to an attorney.
- Oh, don't f***ing do this!
- Shut up, Manning. It's over!
When you get through here,
take him down to the station.
Do you understand these rights
as I have read them?
Excuse me. We're looking for Joe Bunting.
Tape it up. Get everybody out of there.
Yeah. Smith.
Bunting's gone AWOL, sir.
Nobody knows where he is.
Well, find him, God damn it!
- Hey, Amanda.
- Hey, Matt.
- Are you guys coming out later?
- No, I got a lab due tomorrow.
- That's a bummer.
- Yeah. Later.
See you.
- Everybody out.
- Take a look at this.
- I have to take you in.
- This is a map of London.
These red marks, they're the exact location
of all the Whitechapel murders in 1888.
George Yard, Buck's Row, Hanbury Street,
double murder at Mitre Square,
and the last murder at Miller's Court.
Now this is West Hollywood,
and the red marks are the locations
of all the Sunset murders over the last week.
- So?
- So, there's one too many.
- We've got a match.
- With what?
The red ink is a positive match
with the ink from the last letter,
and there are traces of blood
mixed in with it.
We've got a pair of Raptor boots
the exact same size as the footprint
and we're testing fibers
from some burned clothes
we found buried at the side of the house.
Yeah, I suppose you think
I planted all that, too.
- Thanks.
- See, this one... This one's new.
Oh, God! No!
Get me the f*** out of these things, now!
It's an apartment building, 19015 Sunset.
All right, what else do we have
on Mary Jane Kelly
other than she was the last victim?
She was butchered beyond recognition.
In her own room.
Answer, damn it!
- Which one?
- 221.
Amanda!
Hey, get out of there!
What the hell is going on?
- Who are you?
- Who are you?
I'm Amanda's father.
You know where she is?
Yeah, I just saw her
- She was headed to the House of Blues.
- Sh*t!
- What about her? Is that her?
- Yeah, it is. Thank God!
Hey!
- Oh, Christ! No!
- Sh*t!
Amanda, get down! Police!
- Are you all right?
- I'm okay.
- Are you hurt?
- I'm okay.
Stay with her. I'll be back.
- I'll be back.
- No, don't...
- It's okay.
- He's headed back to the house.
- Don't!
- Stop! Police!
Requesting Code 3 back up.
Suspect heading to 129 Whitechapel Street.
Police. Come out!
Come out! It's over!
Sh*t.
Right here.
He's inside the house.
Give me that flashlight.
Go back. Go back around the front.
Oh, my God!
Drop it! Now!
What was that?
Oh, my God.
Oh, Jesus.
It's unbelievable.
It explains how she was able to
get so close to each of her victims.
She's advanced schizophrenic.
She never recovered from
a traumatic childbirth about 8 years ago.
Seems the OBGYN really messed things up,
and after two days of an intense labor,
finally does a cesarean,
but the baby is dead. Stillborn.
After the baby died, about 8 years ago,
the first wave of murders began.
Sometime after that,
to escape the horrors of her experience
and later her own brutally violent behavior,
she retreated into her imaginary world.
It's amazing, really.
She's an extraordinarily intelligent woman,
and she describes everything
in meticulous detail.
She talks mainly
about two imaginary characters.
Timmy, which is the name
of her stillborn son,
and a lodger, whom she invented recently,
a kind of romantic fantasy,
and also to complete the self-delusion
that she was not the person
imitating Jack the Ripper
and killing these young women.
It's all in her mind.
She believes that Timmy
and the lodger exist
in the same way
that she believes you and I exist.
So she's completely insane?
She simply invented a person
who was obsessed with Jack the Ripper
through whom she could literally
conduct exhaustive research
and act out these brutally savage crimes.
And you have to remember that
your evidence against Rodriguez
was always circumstantial.
She could never have done all of this
as Ellen.
- Captain, we're gonna bring her out, okay?
- Car's ready.
Thank you.
Don't worry. We'll look after Timmy for you.
Timmy?
Timmy died 7 years ago.
At 2:
30 this morning, the LAPD and the FBI,working with the L.A. County Sheriffs
here at the West Hollywood Station,
arrested Mrs. Ellen Bunting
at her house on Whitechapel Street
in West Hollywood.
Mrs. Bunting will shortly undergo
a complete psychological...
Why didn't you go with Smith?
You don't think it's her.
Hello?
I saw the sign out front,
about the room for rent?
Oh, yes, please. Come in.
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Lodger" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_lodger_20721>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In