Justin Murray

AN EYE FOR AN EYE

    

     Written by Justin M. Murray

OCTOBER 1, 2018

"An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world
blind."

                                    - Ghandi

INT. CATHERINE'S APARTMENT - MORNING

PRESENT DAY

An ALARM goes off beside CATHERINE'S bed. It's a cramped

twin.

A soulful Erykah Badu rhythm plays softly in her ear.

She rolls over and turns off the alarm. Her feet hit the
COLD hard wood. Her FACE is not seen. She arises, like the
morning sun, from her cramped twin bed.

We can't see her face just yet.

Her apartment is a small one-bedroom in a rough part of

Atlanta. It isn't much, but it's hers. The walls are barren
except for one picture of her MOTHER and SISTER. In the
picture, her FACE is wrapped in WHITE BANDAGES.

She goes to the bathroom to shower. She brushes her teeth

like every morning and goes to her closet to pick out
clothes for the day.

A light jacket, a pair of OLD pants, and shoes that are WORN
on both sides.

She makes herself breakfast. It's a small one this morning.

A LEFTOVER biscuit with a light spread of STRAWBERRY jelly.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 3

She nukes the biscuit and wraps it inside a PAPER TOWEL. She
grabs her keys and a small hand bag that she throws over her
shoulder.

She leaves and comes back to grab her scarf that's hanging
beside the door.

Her hands are SEVERELY scarred. They appear almost RAW.

A missing picture of Janee' is posted beside the door. She's

been missing since 2003. A calendar with the year 2011 is
posted.

INT. OUTSIDE CATHERINE'S APARTMENT - MORNING

She locks the door to her apartment and walks down the
steps.

Taking a DEEP breath, she pulls a pair of black sunglasses

from her bag and puts them on her face. It is clear she
wants to KEEP her face COVERED.

Her long hair is tucked into the scarf like a SOFT blanket.

EXT. STREETS - MORNING

There is a slight breeze. Fall is settling in and the WIND

is picking up briskly.

Her walk is METHODICAL. She's in deep contemplation while

she walks. Walking along the sidewalk, she passes school
grounds. Kids are RUNNING and PLAYING. Her walk takes her
past Martin Luther King Jr.'s old house.

EXT. ATLANTA BUS STATION - MORNING

She approaches the bus station and stands in line PATIENTLY

to buy her ticket. The attendant STAMPS it. Opelika, Alabama
a place of remembrance for her.

EXT. BUS - MORNING

She finds a seat on the bus that is towards the middle. She
chooses a WINDOW SEAT and stares out while others board. The
passengers are mainly middle-aged folks.

Just people trying to get from A to B.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 4

To her right is a family of four. A FATHER, MOTHER, and two

DAUGHTERS of about eight-years old. The youngest of the two
smiles at her. It is a wide-eyed gap tooth smile. There is a
FIREY warmth about it.

Her smile is lukewarm at best.

EXT. BUS - MORNING - MOVING

The bus starts moving and the wheels slowly turn. It's a
bumpy road to Alabama. Her head RESTS against the window
pane. Her eyes are tired.

Not from rest, but from WORRY. Along the way, there are many
trees. She COUNTS them.

She pulls out the biscuit and partakes in its cold flaky
goodness. Better than nothing.

Along the way, she eyes a small pamphlet that is in the

pocket of the seat in front of her. CURIOUS, she picks it
up. It reads "PLASTIC SURGERY".

She glances at the pages slowly. She is INTRIGUED and yet,

she is NERVOUS about what lays ahead.

A sign that reads: Alabama State line crosses her eyes. A

chill runs through her. FILLING her bones. The bus stops at
the Opelika bus station. She waits to get off.

EXT. STREETS OF OPELIKA - MIDDAY

When her foot touches the pavement she looks at the area and
it feels FOREIGN to her.

She begins walking again. This time her steps are

DETERMINED. She passes SEVERAL streets and alleyways. The
city if filled with abandoned shops and rundown buildings.

It's also Auburn Tiger Country.

Her journey takes her across a BARBERSHOP and from inside

she sees a host of black men. They are JITTERY and full of
LIFE.

She MARCHES on.

EXT. BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE - MIDDAY

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 5

As she comes to the end of her walk, her walk SLOWS. She
approaches a familiar house and stops.  

The house is in BAD shape. There are BURN holes throughout

the house.

It's on its last leg. The roof is caved in slightly in the

front. The grass is more or less weeds and they're mounds of
ant hills forming a parliament against the concrete.

Standing completely still her GAZE if focused upon the

house. She looks intently upon its edges and takes off her
sunglasses.

Her face is SEVERELY scarred and burned. It is a HORRID

sight that would scare away the toughest of men.

FLASHBACK TO:

EXT. MAPLE - NIGHT - ALABAMA 1971

The night looks as if it has been lingering for several days

as EARL, FRANK, SKIP, and ROGER are all walking down Maple
street.

The various buildings of Opelika, Alabama appears sunken

behind them.

Earl is thirty-eight years old, about six feet and has an

athletic shape. His proud shoulders gives him a rough
demeanor. A combination of anxiety and poverty covers his
face.

Frank is stocky with a beer belly; he is the type to always

wear boots. ALWAYS.

Skip is short with a buzzcut. He is somewhat mentally

retarded, but he has a big heart along with a stuttering
problem.

Roger is an older gentleman with a gray beard. He's the son

of a sharecropper and likes to keep to himself. However,
when he has something to say, he'll say it.

FRANK
Y'all are some crazy son's of
bitches you know that?

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 6

SKIP
Uh Who are you call- call- callin'
crazy?

FRANK
I'm call- callin' you crazy. If you
think Foreman Troy is gonna' let
you off for the Fourth of July you
got another thing coming.

Skip drops his lunch box and it spills over the street. Earl
stops and helps him pick up the mess.

SKIP
But the Fourth of July is a nat-
national holiday.

FRANK
National Holiday? Holiday for who?
Not us! I ain't seen one picture of
a nigga' smilin' on the Fourth of
July. Not then and not now.

EARL
You don't know the first thing
bout' the Fourth of July.

FRANK
Way I see it. The white man don't
wants me to know and most
importantly, who gives a damn when
white folks got they freedom! Black
folks started off slavin' in this
country and we's still slavin'.

EARL
(standing up from helping
Skip)
You ought to learn a lesson from
the white man.

FRANK
Oh really? And what lesson can a
black man learn from a white man?

EARL
Not one white man was marching

(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 7

EARL (MORE)
peacefully when it came time for
them to earn they freedom. Not a
one! They took up arms and defended
themselves against their oppressor.
Now I'm not saying that black folks
should start rallyin' up and
lighten' fires and such, but one
thing for sure two things for
certain. Marching has got us a long
way but it's not gone earn us the
same freedom that white folks got.

SKIP
Amen! broth-- brother Amen!

FRANK
(stepping to Earl)
You sound like a man of action. But
I bet if it came down to it...

FRANK
If Foreman Troy spit in your face
you wouldn't lift a finger on his
lilly white head.

EARL
Well how bout' you spit in my face
and see if I don't beat you like a
dog in the street. I dare ya'.

Skip jumps between Earl and Frank.

SKIP
Alright fellas, break-- break it
up.

Roger is a ways up the street he slows his pace for no one.

ROGER
Y'all are some damn fools.

FRANK
What's dat old man talkin' bout'?

ROGER
(still walking)
That's da' problem with y'all young

(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 8

(MORE)
cats these days, all talk and no
bite. Ya' see it's easy to say all
dis' when ya' massa ain't
listening, but lo' and behold when
I tell ya' ain't a black man truly
free in this country. That be from
Martin Lutha' Kang on down to that
nappy haired boy dat clean up hair
at the barbershop. Black folks
ain't ever gonna' run thangs in
this country, so we might as well
just mind our own business.

SKIP
Where are you go-- going Roger?

ROGER
I can't be bothered by negros with
no sense. This world is goin ta'
hell in a hand-basket I tell ya'!

SKIP
(Yelling)
Roger! Wait!

Roger continues walking and throws his hand signaling he's

done with the conversation.

FRANK
Let him go Skip. He's a grown man,
he can walk himself home.

SKIP
But we always stick together.

EXT. MRS. PATSEY'S BAKERY - NIGHT

The night air has grown colder and the streets appear empty.
The soft melody of a chello plays in the background as Roger
continues walking.

He stops at Mrs. Patsey's bakery and looks into the window

at the different deserts and Chantilly cakes on display.
Along the way he is greeted by JERRY and SLIM JOHNSON.

Jerry is a lean and pointy man, wearing overalls and one of

his buttons is undone. His beard doesn't connect.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 9

Slim is wearing a pair of beat up work pants and steel toe

boots.

He resembles an out of shape lumberjack. He's HULKY. Both

aren't a day over thirty-five. But smoking a pack a day will
do that to you.

He and Jerry share a heavy "bama" dialect.

JERRY
(standing a by a nearby truck)
Hey boy what you doing eying Mrs.
Patsey's Bakery?

ROGER
I'm just minding my business sa'
didn't mean to offend.

JERRY
Hahaha. I ain't eva' seen a dead
nigger talk. What about you Slim?

SLIM JOHNSON
I can't say I have Jerry. Now that
I think of it though, that nigger
Pete lynched a while back, he was
just a screamin' and a hollerin'
and I coulda' sworn he wrung his
neck lika' hen.

Pats Roger on the back like a friend.

SLIM JOHNSON
Now, where exactly are you heading
to boy?

ROGER
I was just heading home sa'. Not
trying to cause no trouble.

SLIM JOHNSON
(he circles him like a shark)
You sure bout that? Cuz' it looks
like you was about to rob Mrs.
Patsy's bakery. I know an old
nigger like yourself wouldn't do
something foolish like steal from a

(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 10

(MORE)
bakery would ya'?

ROGER
No sa'. Stealing ain't ma game. I
was just headin' to my wife. The
good lord don blessed me wit'
clothes on my back, a roof over my
head, a full belly. He even give me
a good woman who'll rub me down
when I'm tired.

Jerry LEANS against the driver-side of the truck. He crosses

his legs and folds his arms.

JERRY
If you got a good woman like that
at home, then what was you doin'
lookin into her store for? Seems
like to me I'd be tryna' get home
on the double.

SLIM JOHNSON
Say, that's a good point.

He is behind Roger now. Right next to his ear.

SLIM JOHNSON
You seem like a smart spook. So
what you doin' walkin' round by
your lonesome?

Roger has a slight ARROGANCE in his voice. He is tired of

repeating himself.

ROGER
Like I said I was just mindin' my
business.

Slim hits him against the face. HARD. He falls.

SLIM JOHNSON
Are you mocking me boy?

Roger tries to regain focus. He is BLEEDING from the mouth.

SLIM JOHNSON
I'm sick n' tired of niggers
talkin' back in this town. I'm
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 11

SLIM JOHNSON (MORE)

tired of it!
(walking toward Jerry)
Niggers are gonna' learn their
place in this town. One way or
another.

Jerry hands him a cigarette.

JERRY
What do you want to do with him?

SLIM JOHNSON
(while smoking)
We're gonna' do what we always do.
We're gonna' feed em' to the
wolves.

He FLICKS the cigarette.

Roger attempts to get to his feet. Slim KICKS him in the

face.

END SCENE

EXT. RAILROAD - LATER

There are few stars in the sky. The night appears red.
Roger's eyes are coated with blood. His arms are tied behind
him as he looks upward.

Slim and Jerry look down at him.

ROGER
Where am I?

SLIM JOHNSON
Look around boy.

Looking to his left and right

ROGER
Are we at the tracks?

SLIM JOHNSON
Tracks?

His LAUGH is obnoxious. ARROGANT.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 12

SLIM JOHNSON
Hell this ain't the tracks. Not for
you anyway. This here's your
funeral boy.

Roger realizes he'll be dead soon. The weight of it crashes

on him and crushes his lungs.

ROGER
My... wife.

Slim crouches. He is but a foot away from his face.

SLIM JOHNSON
She can't hear you out here.

ROGER
Please sir. I... I...

Roger whimpers. His face is beaten and the deep cuts are
over-flowing with blood. The pain hasn't gotten the chance
to numb yet.

SLIM JOHNSON
Shhh... All that hollerin' ain't
necessary. Now, I don't give a damn
about you or ya' wife or if y'all
have any little nigglets runnin'
wild out here. But what I do care
about is the integrity of my city.
And I won't have you filthy monkeys
dirtying it up. See, my daddy was
murdered by one of you savages,
because your kind don't know how to
pay back a debt. So, I'm here to
collect. Jerry...Call the wolves.

Jerry WHISTLES. Three large dogs jump from the bed of a

truck. They RACE to Roger. Their canines are sharp. They
haven't eaten all day.

Roger lets out a cry that is unheard. His pain bleeds into
the earth and soils the grass.

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