Untraceable Page #19

pilot was out sick, so the glory

went to a fill-in...an old Air

Force buddy of his...a guy who made

his living chauffeuring executives.

Click. The screen shows a Liberty Executive Charter photo

I.D. of Herbert Miller.

MARSH (O.S.) (cont’d)

Later, he told friends he was just

lucky. In the right place at the

right time.

Click, back to Cleary.

Click again, and now the VIDEO CLIP plays, muted.

The clip shows Cleary in distress, looking up at the circling

choppers, then over at three police cars that have stopped on

the highway thirty feet away.

.

Officers are crouched at their car doors, weapons drawn.

Cleary looks over the edge of the overpass and considers

jumping.

97.

One of the Officers, wearing a bulletproof vest, walks slowly

toward him, weapon lowered, trying to talk sense to him.

Cleary throws a leg over the railing and screams at him to

stop.

The Officer does not stop. He merely slows down, still

talking and advancing, urging him to lower his rifle.

As he gets closer, our chopper swerves dangerously low,

Cleary panics. In a flash, he puts the rifle in his mouth

and pulls the trigger.

The back of his head blows off.

Click. The frame freezes.

MARSH (cont’d)

The back of Cleary’s skull landed on

that roof. A Burger King. So did

his glasses. The piece of skull was

turned over to the coroner. But the

glasses were retrieved by the

assistant manager.

Click. The Burger King employee I.D. of Scott Hickman.

MARSH (cont’d)

He put them up for sale on ebay.

There were plenty of bidders, but

when word got out, the auction was

shut down.

Click, and Cleary’s body wilts and falls over the railing.

.

THE HELICOPTER CAMERA follows the body, as it falls fifty

feet then hits and bounces off a big, swiftly passing car.

Click, and the screen goes black.

MARSH (cont’d)

Every suicide is a tragedy for the

survivors, but this was far worse,

because it was broadcast live on

the 5 o’clock news. Kids home from

school saw it. Outraged parents

called in. The TV stations

apologized. Except channel 9.

They’d been having trouble in the

ratings...but not that afternoon.

The numbers were sky-high.

(beat)

Knowing a good thing when it fell

in their lap, they rushed a veteran

reporter to the scene...

98.

Click. The screen fills with a muted video clip of Jerry

Carver, slick and professional, holding a Channel 9

microphone, speaking to camera.

MARSH (O.S.) (cont’d)

He got lucky and landed an inter

view with the local businessman

whose Cadillac was hit by Cleary’s

falling body.

The frame widens, as Jerry begins to interview an agitated

ASIAN MAN, 50, standing next to his dented, gold Cadillac.

MARSH (O.S.) (cont’d)

When the interview ended, as a

courtesy to those who might have

missed it, Channel 9 aired the

video one last time.

The video starts over. Plays a little bit. Click. Marsh

freezes it.

BACK TO MARSH, addressing the group-

MARSH (cont’d)

Five years ago, that would have

been the end of it. But the

world’s changed. Within a few

minutes of Channel 9 airing the

footage for the last time, Andrew

Kinross had pulled it off his TiVo

and posted it on five different

shock-video sites. From there,

Cleary’s suicide was public domain.

The worst pain a family can endure

had become something for a billion

strangers to feed on, laugh at,

turn away from, gossip about.

.

(beat)

But Cleary didn’t have much family.

Just a son that he and his wife had

rescued out of foster care. Owen

was a brilliant kid, good with

mechanics...electronics...

computers. But he was troubled,

frail, withdrawn. He worked as a

freelance programmer. Out of his

basement.

(beat)

Owen adored his father. To be

confronted with his terrible death

again and again was more than his

psyche could withstand.

(MORE)

99.

MARSH(cont'd)

He began hacking into sites that

offered the clip and leaving

violent threats ...lashing out at

the uncaring mob that had turned

his personal loss into a sideshow

attraction. He was eventually

hospitalized. Put on suicide watch

himself.

(beat)

Six months ago, Owen was released.

He lives, alone now, in his

father’s house in Silver Springs.

Click. A photo of Owen fills the screen.

MARSH (cont’d)

The warrant’ll be here in a few

minutes.

Marsh glances at Box.

MARSH (cont’d)

What do you say we arrest the piece

of sh*t?

Then she looks back at the group, smiling.

EXT. MARYLAND HIGHWAYS -- LATER -- NIGHT.

VARIOUS SHOTS OF SHERIFF, POLICE, and UNMARKED CARS streaking

down the highway.

EXT. OWEN’S HOUSE -- LATER -- NIGHT.

FBI, SHERIFF and POLICE CARS glide up from both directions

and silently park. Heavily-armed AGENTS and OFFICERS

silently emerge and take up a perimeter.

INT. OWEN’S LIVING ROOM -- SAME -- NIGHT.

Everything is tidy, dark, and still.

OFFICER (O.S.)

Police! Open up!

A few seconds pass, then the door explodes into splinters.

Agents pour in, guns drawn. Among them are Marsh and Box.

Agent swarm upstairs. Marsh and Box run through the living

room, making for the rear of the house.

.

INT. OWEN’S SECOND FLOOR -- SAME -- DAY.

Agents pour down the hall, kicking down the doors, leaping

into the doorway ready to fire.

100.

INT. OWEN’S KITCHEN -- SAME -- DAY.

Marsh and Box stop at the basement door. Marsh and Box

exchange a look, then Box kicks in the door. It’s pitch

black inside.

Box blindly reaches in for the light switch. He finds it,

hits it, but nothing happens. Box looks at Marsh. His look

says, “You okay to do this?”

She is scared out of her wits, but she nods. Box, turned

sideways, points his guns and flashlight down the stairs, and

descends quickly. Marsh follows suit.

FOLLOW THEM DOWN THE STAIRS, their crossing beams of light

revealing a bloody mess. The smell turns their head. Marsh

stops, sucking wind, and manages to shout upstairs--

MARSH:

This is the place! This is it!

INT. OWEN’S BASEMENT -- MINUTES LATER -- DAY.

The lights are on. Agents, faces covered, wearing rubber

gloves, rip the soundproofing panels off the windows. As the

light shines in, Box and Marsh look around, mouths covered,

barely able to keep from vomiting.

The floor is sticky with dried blood. Flies buzz everywhere.

The last of the dead kitten. The rotting remnant of Miller’s

lower torso still outlined in the cement. A stained ironing

board. Piles of dead ants.

.

BOX:

Jesus.

Marsh shines a light to where all the computers were.

MARSH:

He moved out all his equipment.

BOX:

He knew you were getting close.

MARSH:

But I was off the case.

BOX:

I knew you’d come back, why

wouldn’t he?

Marsh throws him a look.

101.

EXT. CYBER DIVISION HEADQUARTERS -- LATER -- RAINY EVENING.

Rain falls on the mostly-empty lot.

INT. BROOK’S OFFICE -- LATER -- RAINY EVENING.

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