ROSEWOOD, ESQUIRE

Written by

R.G. Bailey

rgb338@gmail.com
Frankfurt, Germany
+49 174-739-1530
INT. LAWYERS OFFICE, DAY

A young man, BENJAMIN JEROLDS, is welcomed into the office of

ARNOLD ROSEWOOD, a grizzled, bespectacled man in his 50s. The
room is full of leather upholstery and dark-wooded
bookshelves full of thick well-bound books.

ROSEWOOD
My apologies, my assistant doesn’t
work weekends, and neither do I.
But for your father... of course,
every sensible exception can be
made.

Please, take a seat.

Benjamin, with sleepless eyes, sits down in a leather chair

as the lawyer makes his way to his own seat opposite the
large mahogany table.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
You’ll just need to sign here, and
initial, here... and here.

The young man wears a crisp new suit. It’s too big, he plans
to grow into it. He has to wriggle his hand a bit to clear
the sleeves as he signs the slip of paper.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
There we go.

Rosewood takes a folder from a shelf behind him and puts it

on the table. Opens it. Pulls two thin reams of paper,
setting one aside and placing the other in front of him. He
reads.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
Dear Benjamin. If you’re hearing
this now, that means I’m gone. And
the doctor was more optimistic than
the cancer was deadly.
Benjamin sniffles and shuffles in his seat.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
First things first.

I love you. And I loved your

mother. You two were the best part
of my life. Know I left you with
only fond memories and no regrets.
 2.

Well, perhaps one regret, and that

is I’m not talking to now, man-to-
man. For what you will hear now may
shock you, but I pray you find the
strength to forgive.

Rosewater licks his lips, adjusts his spectacles slightly.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
I have a favorite saying. It’s
cliché but nothing ever ringed more
true to me. That is: A man makes
his own way.

I am, or was, a self-made man.

However, I had a rough start in
this world. Orphaned, left to my
own mechanisms on the streets of a
mean city. But the solitude and
strife made me strong. Stronger
than I could have dreamed. So
strong, in fact, the reaper caught
me by surprise. I thought I’d grow
forever like some Californian
redwood, despite my roots in the
concrete carpets of Chicago.

Rosewood flips the page.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
And so I ask you? What do I want
for you? My son? To have that same
strength? Be the tall mighty tree
that grows from stone? Do I want
you to be a man that makes his own
way?

Yes. Yes. That is what I want from

you. I want the world to look up at
you and see the man you’ve become
and be amazed. More importantly, I
want you to see that in yourself.

Rosewood takes a sip from a small glass of water. Clears his

throat.

Mr. Rosewood, who I assume is

reading this, told me I’d leave
behind somewhere in the
neighborhood of thirteen million
dollars after Uncle Sam took his
share.

Benjamin gulps and seems to straightens up in his chair.

 3.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
That’s thirteen million more than I
had when I was your age.

Now here’s the part that I never

told you.

There’s an orphanage in Chicago.

Brown’s Boarding School. I spent
the worst years of my life there.
Stewing in the misery of my
parents’ deaths, bunking with forty
other children. Eating slop and
crying into my pillow every night.

However... they put clothes on my

back, and food in my belly. And
just enough education to step out
into the world and find my proper
footing. I always said if I got out
and made something of myself, I
would give something back. Make it
a better place for the ones I’d
left behind.

But I admit, I got caught up in

other things... in my business, in
my life. I lost the time to do
right by my upbringing. Justice to
my saviors.

Yet here we are. My time is up. My

ghost is cast to the wind and I
must make things right.

I hereby leave all of my fortune to

Brown’s Boarding School. May the
generations of lost youth find a
better life, and may my son find
his own way. I love you son. You’ll
hate me now, but I know someday
you’ll learn to see this in the
same light. You’ll make your own
way. Love, your father.

Rosewood stops, puts the paper down and looks at Benjamin.

Benjamin sits, breaths heavily... He’s contemplating...

BENJAMIN
Do you have any copies?

ROSEWOOD
Well yes, of course.
 4.

He points to the other stack of pages on his right.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
I have another copy here you can
take with.

BENJAMIN
Change it.

ROSEWOOD
What? I can’t. This is your
father’s last will and testament.
His sacred last wish.

BENJAMIN
It’s not right. Change it...
What portion of the thirteen
million would you take to change
it?

ROSEWOOD
How dare you!? Do you think I would
insult your father like that? What
kind of man do you think I am!?

Rosewood grabs the extra copy of the will and flings it

across the table.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
It’s time for you to leave.

Benjamin looks at the sprawled paperclipped copy. He reaches

into his pocket, pulls out a revolver and pulls the trigger
with a shaking hand. Rosewood gasps, shot in the belly.

ROSEWOOD (CONT'D)
What.. what are you doing?

BENJAMIN
Making my own way.
Two more shots. Rosewood contorts, slipping almost to the
floor, then goes still.

Benjamin, pale and trembling still, snatches Rosewood’s copy

of the will, bits of the man stain the final pages. “You’ll
make your own way.”

Benjamin rushes to the door, smearing his over-sized tie with

blood as he grabs it to turn the door handle.

FADE OUT.