GASPIPE

Written by

R.S. Hindle

Based on GASPIPE - CONFESSIONS OF A MAFIA BOSS

By Philip Carlo

9 Inglethorpe Street
London
SW6 6NS

+447548 520843
FADE IN:

EXT. BERGEN BEACH, BROOKLYN, 1986. DAY.

Waterfront properties. Hot sun. Families trickle down the

sidewalk towards the beach.

WE STOP at a six-bedroom house a stone’s throw from the

water. It comes complete with a two-car garage, and there’s
a young man, VITO, wiping down a white CADILLAC on the curb.

CUT TO:

INT. CASSO HOME - OFFICE - DAY.

WE SEE a stack of Dior shoeboxes in one corner, still

wrapped with packing plastic - a paper grocery bag filled
with diamonds in an open desk drawer - an old, engraved
SPRINGFIELD RIFLE above the fireplace - a rail carrying a
dozen fine suits, sharkskin, pinstripe - a full library, a
ten rows high, every book covered in a perfect sheet of
untouched dust.

A desk phone rings. We see only the back of ANTHONY CASSO,

40, an outline in a velour tracksuit, below a thick crest of
combed black hair. There is a STRAP over his LEFT ARM -
something unusual about it. He slams his hand down on the
receiver.

CUT TO:

CLOSE UP - RIGHT HAND

On his pinkie, there’s a gold ring holding a diamond the

size of a macadamia nut.

He pulls the receiver up to his mouth and WE SEE him smoke.

ANTHONY
Yeah?

We don’t hear the other side. He puts the phone down a

moment later, leans back, smokes.

CUT TO:

INT. CASSO HOME - DOWNSTAIRS - DAY.

CASSO comes down the stairs. For the first time, WE SEE
what’s wrong with his LEFT ARM - it’s in a SLING.
 2.

His daughter, JOLENE, 15, blindsides him with a hug around

the waist. He looks over to see his son, ANTHONY JR, 12,
sitting in front of a huge 80s television set.

CASSO leans down and kisses JOLENE on the forehead, slipping

out of her hug, never quite stopping.

JOLENE
Daddy, can you take me down to the
shore?

ANTHONY
Talk to your mother.

JOLENE
She’s cooking!

ANTHONY
Sweetie, I don’t got time to argue.

He taps a broad gold watch.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
I love you. Tell your mother I’ll
be home late. She’ll understand.

JOLENE protests but he’s already through the door.

ANTHONY snaps his fingers at VITO, who’s still wiping the

CADILLAC.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
Let’s get outta here.

VITO
You got it, Mr. Casso.
He gets into the back seat and pulls a 9MM BERETTA from his
waistband, pulling the slide back against his leg. We see a
round in the chamber.

ANTHONY
Mill Basin, come on, let’s go!

The car pulls away, and the noise from the Caddy engine
turns beachgoers’ heads on either side of the road.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
My grandfather came to America
almost 150 years ago. Like
thousands of other Italians, he was
promised life, liberty, and a piece
of the action if he worked hard or
smart enough.
(MORE)
 3.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

He came in at the start of
something. On the ground floor. Me?
I count myself lucky that I got to
see the end.

MAIN TITLE: “GASPIPE”

FADE TO:

EXT. SOUTH BROOKLYN DOCKS, 1952 - DAY.

A HAWK lands on the gutter of an apartment building. It

flaps its wings once, twice, looks to take flight--
GUNSHOT.

The HAWK topples into an alley below. A few buildings over

is ANTHONY CASSO, 10, holding a .22 varmint rifle a little
too big for him.

He lines up another shot, breathes, pulls the trigger.

It jams.

CUT TO:

INT. HARBORMASTER’S OFFICE - DAY.

ANTHONY walks in with four hawks strung along a rope. The

HARBORMASTER smiles and slaps down a four one-dollar bills
on his desk - one for each. He points at the dead birds.

HARBORMASTER
Trash can out front.
ANTHONY
Thanks, Mr Scarpa.

ANTHONY makes for the door.

HARBORMASTER
Oh, Anthony?

He stops.

HARBORMASTER (cont'd)
Say hi to your pop for me.
 4.

EXT. PARK SLOPE - DAY.

ANTHONY walks back through his neighbourhood. It’s about as

Italian as you can get - WE SEE giant wheels of provolone
hanging in shop windows, a little cafe called ANGELO’S where
wiseguys sit and drink ristretto, espresso, guys sitting on
restaurant stoops drinking cups of homemade wine from a
gallon bottle.

Unlike the waterfront BERGEN BEACH suburbs, however, this is

not an affluent place - red-brick tenement buildings and
people crammed together on stoops, baking in the dying sun.

ANTHONY spends a few cents picking up an ice cream near the

cafe, and a guy selling crab out of buckets of ice collars
him as he walks past.

CRAB SELLER
Ho, Anthony! Your mother want some
crab? I caught ‘em fresh today. My
treat, of course.

ANTHONY smiles back and keeps walking.

ANTHONY
No thanks, Jimmy. I think we got
macaroni for dinner.

CUT TO:

INT. CASSO FAMILY HOME - NIGHT.

MARGARET CASSO, a homely, cheerful woman, 33, pulls a baked

tray of pasta out of the oven and slides another one in.
ANTHONY (V.O.)
People knew my ma was a cook.
Whenever someone died or got
married, she took a dish over. She
made all her pasta by hand, and
everyone in the neighbourhood knew
about her tomato sauce.

She takes it through to a room full of guys drinking out of

small cups. The room’s full of smoke, and guys are perching
anywhere they can - almost on top of each other - ten, maybe
fifteen.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

On Columbus Day, or Thanksgiving,
she used to cook for everyone - the
whole family. Dozens of us.
(MORE)
 5.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

Then my dad, and all the other
dads, the uncles, the older
cousins, they’d stay up all night
drinking espresso and homemade
anisette, playing cards while ma
brought them pastries.

INT. CASSO FAMILY HOME, KITCHEN - NIGHT.

ANTHONY sits at the dinner table opposite his father,

MICHAEL, 40. His father is a bull of a man - huge and broad-
shouldered. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt and slacks,
tuning the radio to try and find out the football scores.
ANTHONY (V.O.)
My pop was a union longshoreman,
which meant he worked on the docks.
That wasn’t news, really. In our
neighbourhood, guys only went into
two lines of work, and one of them
was working on the docks.

ANTHONY’s brother, MICHAEL JR, 16, and his sister, LUCILLE,

13, sit on either side of him. MARGARET is draining pasta
over the stove.

MICHAEL finds the right channel and tears a clump out of a

wide focaccia loaf on a table. He comes around the back of
MARGARET, embraces her, and dunks the bread into her
unfinished sauce. She slaps his hand.

MARGARET
Would you wait?

MICHAEL
Smells too good, honey.

MICHAEL JR
Can we get a dog?

MICHAEL
No.

MICHAEL JR
Why not?

MICHAEL
Ask your mother.

MICHAEL JR
Mom?
 6.

MARGARET
(pointing at Michael)
There are enough animals in this
house already.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
My pop wasn’t exactly connected,
but he wasn’t no civilian, either.

They sit down to eat - MARGARET brings the food over.

ANTHONY looks up to his pop.

ANTHONY
Oh, pop, Mr Scarpa says hello.
MICHAEL
Yeah? What’s he giving you these
days, a buck a bird?

ANTHONY
Yeah.

MARGARET smiles and MICHAEL JR chokes back a laugh.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
What?

MICHAEL
I think you gotta negotiate a
better rate.

ANTHONY
What’s negotiate mean?

MICHAEL
You know, cut a better deal.
The doorbell rings.

MICHAEL (cont'd)
Lucille, get the door.

She obliges. The corridor between the kitchen and the front
door is narrow; we follow LUCILLE down it and watch her open
the door to meet:

LITTLE SALLY
Hello, my dear. Is your pop home?

LITTLE SALLY, 61, leans down to kiss his “niece” on the

cheek. He’s dressed sharp, in a grey pinstripe suit and a
tan raincoat. “Little” is right, too - Sally is pushing five
foot six, pencil mustache and all. There’s a rectangular box
under his arm.
 7.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. CASSO FAMILY HOME, KITCHEN - NIGHT.

ANTHONY looks back over his shoulder towards LITTLE SALLY.

LUCILLE comes running back in.

LUCILLE
Daddy, it’s for you!

MICHAEL walks past her and claps ANTHONY on the shoulder.

ANTHONY watches.

ANTHONY’S POV
MICHAEL and LITTLE SALLY kiss on both cheeks. MICHAEL looks
at the floor and laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

LITTLE SALLY reaches into his pocket.

CUT TO:

CLOSE UP - SALLY’S HAND

LITTLE SALLY is wearing a diamond pinkie ring.

He tucks a thick fold of twenty-dollar bills into MICHAEL’s

shirt pocket, then claps him on the cheek and smiles.

BACK TO:

MICHAEL brings LITTLE SALLY through into the kitchen.

ANTHONY snaps his head forward and pulls a fork through his
dinner, pretending he hadn’t been watching.
LITTLE SALLY takes his hat off and bobs his head to
MARGARET.

MARGARET
You want a plate, Sal? We’re just
sitting down.

LITTLE SALLY
No, thank you, dear, I can’t stay.
Just brought something for my
godson.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
When I graduated elementary school,
Little Sally Callinbrano gave me
fifty bucks.
 8.

He places a hand around ANTHONY’s shoulder and slides the

BOX onto his lap.

LITTLE SALLY
Sorry it’s late, son. But your dad
told me yours broke.

ANTHONY unwraps the BOX.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
After my confirmation, he took me
to dinner and bought me a diamond
ring.

Inside is an engraved .22 SPRINGFIELD, shortened to fit a

teenager, with a beautiful wood carving of a hawk in the
stock.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

It never struck me as unusual.
Hell, where we grew up, it wasn’t.

ANTHONY looks up at the gift, but before he can thank LITTLE

SALLY, MICHAEL points at the gun.

MICHAEL
Sal!

LITTLE SALLY smiles back, then puts a hand on ANTHONY’s

head.

ANTHONY
Thank you, Sally!

LITTLE SALLY
Maybe you, your pop and I, we’ll
take a drive some day, do a little
hunting?

ANTHONY
That sounds great!

MICHAEL stares at LITTLE SALLY and makes a questioning hand

movement. MARGARET smiles at the both of them, without
making eye contact.

EXT. BROOKLYN, 1955. DAY.

ANTHONY, 13, is walking home from the store with a paper bag
full of GROCERIES. It’s a busy day - WE SEE cars rolling
down the street, people buying papers and newsstands.
 9.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
I was 13 when I saw them kill
Frankie Shoes.

ANTHONY draws up COSTELLO’S BAR, thinking nothing of it.

He’s fifteen, maybe twenty yards away when TWO GUNMEN walk
ahead of him towards the bar, pulling down facemasks.

They stand on the sidewalk and fire three rounds each into
the SHOP WINDOW.

The GROCERIES drop out of ANTHONY’s hands. People sprint

past him, facing away, trying to get as far as they can away
from a murder in broad daylight, but ANTHONY is frozen to
the spot.

FRANKIE SHOES spills out of the front door of the bar,

soaked in blood, coughing, barely walking.

FRANKIE SHOES
N-no-- come on--

The first GUNMAN takes another two shots at FRANKIE, hitting

him in the chest and the stomach.

FRANKIE topples to the floor, spluttering.

The second GUNMAN walks up, lowers the gun at FRANKIE’s

head.

CUT TO:

CLOSE UP - GROCERIES

Lettuce, fresh tomatoes, tins rolling down the sidewalk--

GUNSHOT.

The whine from the killshot gets louder, blocks out all
other noise.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
You know, people don’t seem to
understand, even after a hundred
years of our thing. Where we grew
up, where we came from, back then,
it was just part of life. We all
accepted it.

CUT TO:

The GUNMEN rush past ANTHONY, dropping their revolvers...

 10.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

Most of the time, it was just
survival. If you saw someone else
coming for you, a day, a week, a
month down the line, you hit
first - and you made sure they
wouldn’t be able to hit back.

CUT TO:

A car squeals up. The DRIVER, masked, frantically beckons

the two GUNMEN in, inaudible. We start to hear ANTHONY’s
breathing.

CUT TO:
CLOSE UP - ANTHONY’S FACE

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

Doesn’t matter how tough or how
smart the other guy is. A bullet
wins every argument, every bar
fight, every power struggle, every
time.

CUT TO:

INT. CASSO FAMILY HOME, ANTHONY’S ROOM - DAY

We stay on the close-up of ANTHONY’S FACE.

MICHAEL (O.S)
Anthony? Anthony?

MICHAEL puts a hand on his shoulder.

ANTHONY snaps out of it and looks at his pop.

MICHAEL
What happened, Anthony?

ANTHONY looks at his shoes. He starts to shake.

MICHAEL (cont'd)
Okay, alright, it’s alright-

MICHAEL pulls his son’s head in, presses it into his

shoulder. He sniffs, then pushes ANTHONY back out, and holds
his cheeks with his hands.

MICHAEL (cont'd)
Look, son. Listen to me. You didn’t
do anything wrong.
(MORE)
 11.

MICHAEL (cont'd)
Okay? What happened with that man
was very sad. But Anthony, you need
to listen to me, alright? You have
to make sure that you don’t go
talking about it. If you do,
somebody else could get hurt, or
get in trouble. You understand,
don’t you? How sometimes it’s
important to keep your mouth shut?

ANTHONY sniffs and nods.

MICHAEL (cont'd)
Attaboy.
MICHAEL ruffles his hair and stands up. He pulls his son in
close to his chest and then slaps him on the back.

MICHAEL (cont'd)
Now, look, let’s go downstairs. I
think your ma made macaroni.

MICHAEL and ANTHONY leave the room.

WE PAN to a shelf in ANTHONY’S room, where he has fashioned

a mount for the beautiful RIFLE that LITTLE SALLY gave him.

Underneath the RIFLE, there’s the handle of a BASEBALL BAT.

Time passes, and soon it’s 1958. A teenage hand reaches out
to grab the BAT.

WE TURN to follow ANTHONY CASSO, 16, broad-shouldered like

his dad and on the far side of puberty.

INT. CASSO FAMILY HOME, DOWNSTAIRS - DAY.

ANTHONY
Ma, I’m goin’ out to play ball!

ANTHONY takes a straight shot down the stairs, past his

sister and his mom, and heads right out the door without
stopping.

MARGARET
Don’t get in trouble!

The door slams shut before she can finish her sentence.
 12.

EXT. SUNSET PARK - DAY.

ANTHONY swings and hits a baseball off into the treeline. He

turns, tucks the bat under his arm and kneels to an open
pack of cigarettes and two half-finished six-packs of beer.

When he crouches, we see his friends JIMMY and AL, smoking.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
We thought we were hot shit.

JIMMY
No way. No fuckin’ way.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
More than anything, I guess we just
wanted to be a part of something.
It was all around us - and after
Frankie Shoes, and a million other
guys like him getting popped in
bars and barber shops, we just
wanted to know that somebody else
had our back.

AL
I’m tellin’ you, man. It was one
guy.

ANTHONY
Fuck you two talking about?

JIMMY points his beer can at AL.

JIMMY
This guy thinks one guy did Albert
Anastasia.
ANTHONY sits down on a bench and lights a cigarette. He
makes too big a deal out of smoking it, and holds his beer
can up to crack it.

ANTHONY
You forget how to read, Al? Papers
said at least two.

AL
Yeah, but, think about it, Anthony.
A hit like that, broad daylight,
you really wanna be carrying around
a loose end after? Plus-

He steps closer, leans in, taps the side of his head.

 13.

AL (cont'd)
-place like that's full of windows
and mirrors, ain’t it?

ANTHONY
Brilliant.

JIMMY shakes his head.

JIMMY
You’re a fuckin’ idiot.

ANTHONY
You sure your last name ain’t
Einstein?
AL flips him off.

JIMMY looks over to the treeline, near where ANTHONY hit the
ball.

AL
You see this?

A broad, tall, ginger Irish lad, 19, is making for the three
of them, walking slow, with the baseball ANTHONY hit in his
palm. He’s wearing a FLATCAP.

At ten yards, he rolls it back along the floor towards them.

FLATCAP
How we doing, boys?

AL
What’s it to you, Paddy?
FLATCAP stares at AL for a second too long, then carries on.

FLATCAP
I’ll assume you haven’t heard.

JIMMY
Heard what?

FLATCAP
Well, see, gentlemen, I grew up,
just over there.

FLATCAP points to apartment buildings on the other side of

the park fence.

FLATCAP (cont'd)
In that nice little Irish
neighbourhood.
(MORE)
 14.

FLATCAP (cont'd)
Me brothers, me sisters, me cousins
did, too. You know what that means?

AL
Someone’s growin’ potatoes nearby?

FLATCAP stares at AL, laughs, then elbows him in the nose in

a quick, vicious move. It’s broken. AL staggers back, blood
running through his fingers.

JIMMY and ANTHONY lunge forward, but FLATCAP pulls the

handle of a knife out from his pocket and springs the blade
free. He wags his finger at ANTHONY - who’s closest.

FLATCAP
Means nobody walks, talks, drinks,
smokes, breathes or plays fuckin’
baseball in this park without
paying me. Especially not Italians.

JIMMY
Fuck you!

FLATCAP
I was hoping to avoid any
unpleasantness, gentlemen, but
since that seems unlikely-

He gestures to AL.

FLATCAP (cont'd)
I think I’m gonna have to ask you
to leave.

Nobody moves.
FLATCAP (cont'd)
(screaming)
NOW!

ANTHONY stares FLATCAP down and circles around him, staying

a perfect distance away, like a shark.

FLATCAP (cont'd)
(pointing Anthony)
See, now, if you’d kept your mouths
shut like your polite little friend
here, maybe we wouldn’t have had
such a problem.

JIMMY leans down to pick up the beer and the cigarettes.

FLATCAP clicks through his teeth at him.
 15.

FLATCAP (cont'd)
Leave it, wop.

ANTHONY
You know, that’s not a very nice
word.

FLATCAP
My apologies. I’ll be sure to go
home and study the polite language
to use when it comes to dago
greaseball motherfuckers.

ANTHONY all but snarls at him. JIMMY and AL catch up, and
they turn away and leave.
ANTHONY (V.O.)
Seventh Avenue Micks, they called
themselves. Flatcap there was the
closest thing they had to a boss.

EXT. SUNSET PARK - NIGHT.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Word got out about what happened
within minutes, and soon enough we
had every kid from the
neighbourhood on board. Sunset
Park, 9pm. No knives, no guns. Make
those Irish bastards sorry.

A throng of maybe a dozen ITALIAN TEENAGERS stand along the

edge of the park fence.

WE CUT between them - one fills a sock with stones - one

tries to prize a bar loose from the fence - JIMMY and AL,
with a bandage around his nose - and then we come to
ANTHONY, picking grass off his trusty BASEBALL BAT.

A younger kid runs out from in front of them, waving madly.

KID
They’re comin’, they’re comin’!

The MICKS appear from around the corner, a few less than the
ITALIANS. FLATCAP stands at the front.

AL
That all you got?

JIMMY
You run outta cousins or something,
you bog-trotting cocksuckers?
 16.

FLATCAP extends a length of pipe and points over ANTHONY’s

shoulder-

-and WE PAN to the other end of the street, where another

dozen MICKS appear, older, tougher than the ITALIANS.

They converge in a flurry of fists and feet and implements

meeting ribs and backs and heads - WE CUT between shots of
savage tribal teen violence, and then to ANTHONY.

ANTHONY floors a MICK and hits him in the stomach.

He gets up to go for FLATCAP, who’s turned away from him,

beating on someone else, when another MICK tackles him to
the floor.
SIRENS start in the distance, quiet, but the fighting
continues.

ANTHONY takes a hit or two in the face, but eventually flips

the MICK onto his back, gets to his feet, and kicks him in
the side.

FLATCAP still can’t see him coming.

The SIRENS are getting louder.

ANTHONY closes on FLATCAP, winds up a swing, and it hits him

in the back of the knee.

FLATCAP screams and twists, lashing out for ANTHONY with a

KNIFE - despite the rules. It cuts a shallow gash along his
forearm, and blood starts to soak through into his shirt
sleeve.

TYRES squeal on asphalt nearby. The SIRENS are right around

the corner.

JIMMY (cont'd)
Cops, cops!

WE PAN to an overhead view of the fight dispersing, save for

a handful of incapacitated teens rolling around on the
floor.

WE CUT back to ANTHONY, who has been looking over his

shoulder - he turns back around to see FLATCAP vaulting the
fence into the park.

ANTHONY turns his head, looks at a clear road, a COP-FREE

EXIT - and then back to FLATCAP, escaping into the park.

He follows, leaving the BAT behind.

 17.

ANTHONY checks the wound on his arm, then looks up to

FLATCAP.

He’s limping. ANTHONY is gaining ground with every step, and

a smile starts to appear on his face.

FLATCAP just scrabbles a fence maybe five yards in front of

him. ANTHONY follows, vaulting it clearly and then-

CLICK.

From the side, a BEAT COP sticks a REVOLVER into his cheek.

COP
Take one more step, kid. Gimme a
reason.

ANTHONY looks up. FLATCAP is getting away.

COP (cont'd)
On your fuckin’ knees.

ANTHONY scowls up at the COP.

COP (cont'd)
ON YOUR KNEES!

The COP pulls the hammer back on the REVOLVER. ANTHONY

grimaces and gets down on his knees. He looks up at the
treeline, the same treeline he’d launched a ball into a few
hours earlier.

FLATCAP is gone.

CUT TO:

INT. PRECINCT JAIL - NIGHT.

MUSIC CUE: THAT’S LIFE by FRANK SINATRA

ANTHONY is sitting on a chair. His shirt is soaked with

blood, his eyes are ringed with bruises, his sleeve is
pulled up and the wound on his arm has been roughly
bandaged.

WE PULL BACK to see bars in front of his face - he’s in a

police holding cell.

A sharp noise cuts the music short - the DUTY SERGEANT

rapping his nightstick against the cell bars.

DUTY SERGEANT
Hey, kid.
 18.

CUT TO:

The DUTY SERGEANT unlocks the cell.

DUTY SERGEANT (cont'd)

You got a visitor.

CUT TO:

INT. POLICE INTERVIEW ROOM - NIGHT.

MICHAEL is sat opposite ANTHONY, running his hands through

his hair. There’s an ashtray in front of him, and it’s
already starting to fill up with butts. WE CLOSE on the
ashtray as MICHAEL stubs another cigarette and lights one
more.

MICHAEL
What are you doing? Come on, huh?

ANTHONY
What do you mean, pop? It was just
a fight. I’ll be out.

MICHAEL
Didn’t I warn you? Tell you?

ANTHONY
Tell me what?

MICHAEL
You can’t do this, you can’t go
getting caught, getting in trouble
with the police. It’s no good. When
are you gonna learn?
ANTHONY
Alright, so, next time, I won’t get
pinched!

MICHAEL sighs and stands up, shoots his cuffs.

MICHAEL
Yeah, well, you’re gonna learn not
to.

He reaches down and grabs his car keys, then makes for the
door.

ANTHONY
What do you mean? Pop?
 19.

ANTHONY stands up and calls after him - hands still cuffed

behind his back.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
POP?

CUT TO:

EXT. PRECINCT - NIGHT.

ANTHONY walks out of the precinct doors - it’s dark, maybe

two or three in the morning.

He looks from side to side and jumps from a walk into a jog,
heading down steps in front of the police station towards
the curb. He can’t help but smile, and pick up speed,
until...

ANTHONY (V.O.)
It took a little longer than I was
expecting, but they booked me and
let me go.

WE PAN around the back of ANTHONY as he stops, and look over

his shoulder towards the curb.

ANTHONY’S POV

There’s a 1950s black PLYMOUTH on the curb. He can’t see

through the windows, but this is not his father’s car.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

Only it wasn’t my pop that sprung
me.
CUT TO:

INT. LITTLE SALLY’S PLYMOUTH - NIGHT.

ANTHONY gets into the front, slow. WE SEE him sit down in
the passenger seat from behind, and turn to see LITTLE SALLY
behind the wheel.

LITTLE SALLY
Hey, son.

The PLYMOUTH rolls away.

ANTHONY
(a little surprised)
Hey, Sally. Was it you, got me out?
 20.

LITTLE SALLY
Yeah, yeah.

ANTHONY
Thanks-

LITTLE SALLY
(cutting him off)
Look, don’t worry about it. But,
Anthony, your father, he’s... he’s
a little upset.

The PLYMOUTH takes a right at the next intersection.

ANTHONY’s eyes look away from LITTLE SALLY towards the
road - they’re not going home.
LITTLE SALLY (cont'd)
You’re going to come and stay with
me and Marie, just for a while.
Okay?

ANTHONY nods, but doesn’t say anything. LITTLE SALLY turns

the radio up, and the PLYMOUTH disappears into the city as
the music takes over.

INT. LITTLE SALLY’S HOUSE - DAY.

ANTHONY is sat at the kitchen table, eating alone. It’s

early morning - we hear the sound of a frying pan off-
screen.

WE LOOK around a spacious room and look from paintings to

gold-painted antiques to a portrait of LITTLE SALLY hanging
over the mantlepiece.
There’s a giant plate of scrambled eggs in front of him -
easily enough for two people. ANTHONY is turning his fork
through them, not really eating.

MARIE (O.S.)
How’s your eggs, Anthony?

ANTHONY
Great, thanks, Mrs Callinbrano!

MARIE, 57, walks in, wearing an apron, holding a pot of

coffee and a decanter full of fresh OJ. There’s a broad
smile on her face. ANTHONY starts hurriedly shovelling eggs
into his mouth as soon as he hears her turn the corner.

MARIE
Don’t be silly, call me Marie! You
want some more coffee, Anthony?
 21.

ANTHONY
(through mouthful of egg)
I’m good, thank you.

MARIE
Anthony, can I tell you a secret?

ANTHONY looks up at her and stops eating.

MARIE makes a show of looking over each shoulder and leans

in.

MARIE (cont'd)
Ever since our kids moved out, I
don’t get to host much. Most of the
time, Sal and I, we just go out to
eat. So it’s a treat for me to do
all this. I love it! Makes me feel
like a young woman again. I hope
you can stay for lunch.

ANTHONY swallows his eggs. He doesn’t really know what to

make of it. MARIE fills him up for both coffee and orange
juice, smiles wide and walks away.

As she does, WE SEE LITTLE SALLY coming down the stairs,

sharp as ever, doing his tie in the mirror.

He calls to ANTHONY while faced away from him.

LITTLE SALLY
Finish your eggs, son. We got a
meeting.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE 19TH HOLE - DAY.

WE SEE the front of THE 19TH HOLE, a long, wide bar/social

club with little Italian flags hanging from the awning.

Outside, a broad-shouldered man is sitting right next to the

door. He looks over the street, then chomps on the end of a
cigar and flattens his newspaper.

CUT TO:

INT. THE 19TH HOLE - DAY.

THE 19TH HOLE is all wood panels and wiseguys. There are two
pool tables in the back and a dartboard. There’s also a
booth right next to an old jukebox.
 22.

It’s early, so the place is empty - the bartender, RAYMOND,

is cleaning glasses. Three people sit at one table near the
back - ANTHONY, LITTLE SALLY and “CHRISTIE TICK” FURNARI.

ANTHONY’S POV

WE SEE an old wooden GOLF CLUB hanging over the bar, then
ANTHONY looks down to see CHRISTIE, 36. He’s wearing a blue
bowling shirt. There’s a pile of loose dollar bills on the
table in front of him - he’s licking his thumbs and counting
through them.

CHRISTIE is thin, short, shorter than ANTHONY, with a long,

hooked nose. His mouth is small and he speaks in a soft,
quiet voice. He opens his mouth, and:
FREEZE. MUSIC PLAYS.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Christie Furnari ran The 19th Hole,
out near the Dyker Heights golf
course.

CUT TO:

EXT. ALLEYWAY, 1939. DAY.

A young CHRISTIE, 15, pokes a fully-grown man, TOMMY, in the

chest. He’s joined by his two older, taller COUSINS on
either side. One of them is carrying a baseball bat.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Christie was born to this shit,
like all of us were, but he was a
natural. Before his 16th birthday,
he had a shy ring running in
downtown Brooklyn with his cousins.

The two HOODS pin the man to the wall. CHRISTIE doesn’t
move. The MUSIC QUIETENS for us to hear...

YOUNG CHRISTIE
Tommy, I said Friday.

TOMMY
I know, I-I know-

YOUNG CHRISTIE
It’s Monday, and you still haven’t
got nothing?

TOMMY
Kid, I’m sorry-
 23.

The HOODS push him harder into the brick and one of them
backhands him across the face.

YOUNG CHRISTIE
Kid? Come on, Tommy, what did I do
for you to disrespect me like that?

CHRISTIE nods at the HOODS. They drop him.

YOUNG CHRISTIE (cont'd)

You know what, Tommy? I’m a kind
guy. I’d like to think that.

TOMMY
S-sure, sure-
YOUNG CHRISTIE
I’m gonna give you until this
Friday. But next time, I’m not
going to come collect. Only my
cousins here will.

CHRISTIE kneels down, smiles at TOMMY.

YOUNG CHRISTIE (cont'd)

And between you and me, they’re not
as kind as I am.

The MUSIC GETS LOUDER.

CUT TO:

EXT. PIERRE HOTEL - NIGHT.

A BLACK VAN pulls up in front of the HOTEL and hits the

curb. The back doors open and six MASKED THIEVES holding
shotguns climb out, and storm up the front steps.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
But he ran scores, too. He loved
that. In 72, he put together the
crew for the Pierre Hotel robbery
in Manhattan. You know, that Bobby
Comfort thing. Biggest unrecovered
hotel robbery in history.

From down on the steps, we watch all six THIEVES filter in

through the hotel doors, one by one. The last goes in, the
door swings shut, and we hear a muffled gunshot.

WE SEE nothing of any significance - just flashes and shapes

moving behind glass doors in the HOTEL LOBBY.
 24.

THIEF (O.S.)
(muffled by door)
DOWN ON THE FUCKIN’ GROUND!

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Three million dollars. They took a
hotel hostage for two and a half
hours.

CUT TO:

INT. THE 19TH HOLE - DAY.

We’re where we left off - ANTHONY’S POV, looking at

CHRISTIE, who’s just about to talk.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
But even back then, in the old
neighbourhood, Christie had a
reputation. He was respected, he
was fair, he ran his own crew. To
people like me and Jimmy and Al, he
was a big-shot, a wiseguy, a local
celebrity. He was part of a family.
And here I was, over the table from
him, some punk, just booked for
beating on Irish kids from down
near the park.

MUSIC STOPS. UNFREEZE.

CHRISTIE
So, gentlemen, what can I do for
you?
Under the table, LITTLE SALLY flashes a hand at ANTHONY -
“shut up and let me talk”.

LITTLE SALLY
Christie, this is my godson,
Anthony.

CHRISTIE is still counting money, he doesn’t look up.

CHRISTIE
Yeah?

LITTLE SALLY
From Park Slope, the one with the
Irish gentlemen from Seventh
Avenue?
 25.

CHRISTIE stops counting. He looks at LITTLE SALLY, then at

ANTHONY, then smiles.

CHRISTIE
Oh, that Anthony! Sorry, of course,
we spoke about this.

He tucks his chair in and looks back at RAYMOND, the

bartender, over his shoulder. He’s out of earshot.

CHRISTIE (cont'd)
Listen, Anthony, I was wondering if
you could do me a favour?

ANTHONY nods without asking questions, shrugs. CHRISTIE

claps his hands and laughs.

CHRISTIE (cont'd)
I like your godson, Sal. He doesn’t
say much, doesn’t ask too many
questions. Now, Anthony...

WE PAN UP and away from the table as they discuss the

details, and...

CUT TO:

EXT. SUNSET PARK - NIGHT.

AL and ANTHONY sit on a park bench, watching people go by.

AL’s nose is still bandaged.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
It turned out that our friend in
the flatcap had taken a loan from
Christie, and hadn’t been too
punctual with the repayments.

A few people walk past, and then, finally, a figure in some

kind of hat - but ANTHONY spots him limping. FLATCAP.

He taps AL on the shoulder, and the two of them approach him

from behind.

AL sucker punches him, ANTHONY grabs him around the neck,

and they drag him into the treeline, into the dark. We lose
sight of them, but can still hear it - FLATCAP thrown to the
ground, taking punches and kicks from the two of them...

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

This time, there weren’t no cops.
 26.

EXT. CONEY ISLAND - NIGHT.

WE SEE the island from overhead - a FERRIS WHEEL, COCONUT

SHIES, SHOOTING GALLERIES - it’s busy, a Friday night.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Little Sally and Christie
straightened me out from there.
Between the two of them, they set
me up with a job down on the South
Brooklyn docks.

WE PAN DOWN and look at teenage couples walking past stands

and rides - it’s a tangle of gelled hair and leather
jackets, candy floss, laughter and hot dog stands - 16 and
17 and 18 year olds on dates.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

It was a good arrangement: I didn’t
show up for work, and I got paid
250 bucks a week. I wasn’t even
18 - they had to have some guy at
the county records office forge my
birth certificate so I could get my
union papers.

WE MOVE through crowds and stop at the back of ANTHONY, just

18, with his arm around LILLIAN, a few years younger. She’s
tall, thin, and confident - with big eyes, in a beautiful
yellow dress.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

I bought all the clothes and the
food that I wanted. After a few
weeks, I had enough for a car. All
I had to do to keep my paycheck was
keep my nose clean. So, with no
fighting on the cards, I had to
turn my attention elsewhere.

WE PAN around to see the two of them, holding onto each

other, laughing - ANTHONY tells a joke and LILLIAN pushes
him in the chest and shakes her head.

LILLIAN
Anthony Casso, I have never met a
boy who’s trouble like you.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Lil and I both grew up on Union
Street. She was number 673; we were
719. Our families knew each other.
 27.

ANTHONY
Hey, what are you talking about,
Lil? You know I’m an angel.

LILLIAN
Yeah, sure.

ANTHONY
What? I’m the kid in my family.
Everyone knows the youngest is
always the well-behaved one.

LILLIAN
Uh-huh. And that’ll be why I hear
all these rumours about you and
Rosemarie Billotti?

She catches him off-guard. He stumbles over his words and

she breaks away from him, jabs a finger towards him.

LILLIAN (cont'd)
I knew it!

ANTHONY
It was one date, one! Madonn’, you
can’t get away with anything these
days. You girls talk too much.

LILLIAN stares at him.

LILLIAN
Oh, like boys don’t talk.

ANTHONY
Not like that! Not about one date!
He looks around - then points a finger at a SHOOTING
GALLERY. The sign along the front reads “FIFTY CENTS FOR
FIVE SHOTS”.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
Let’s make a deal, alright?

LILLIAN
What have you got in mind, Casso?

ANTHONY
If I win the top prize on my first
try, you forget all about Rosemarie
Billotti.

LILLIAN
I'm not promising anything.
 28.

ANTHONY
Sure you're not. Come on.

The two of them walk over to the STAND. The STAND OPERATOR
looks ANTHONY up and down.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
What's your top prize?

The STAND OPERATOR says nothing, and points to a STUFFED

BEAR hanging from the railings at the top of the gallery.
It's unnecessarily large.

ANTHONY turns to LILLIAN.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
What do you think?

LILLIAN
I think it's a giant teddy bear.

ANTHONY rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket. He palms
a mess of uncounted coins into the STAND OPERATOR's hand and
gets thrown an AIR RIFLE.

ANTHONY'S POV

STAND OPERATOR
(obviously bored)
Twenty seconds when I pull the
lever. You've got five shots. Five
bullseyes for the top prize. Good
luck.

He pulls the lever. The TARGETS spring up.

ANTHONY hits one, pumps the AIR RIFLE, twists, hits the
second...

LILLIAN'S POV

ANTHONY is focused, looking down the sight of the AIR RIFLE.

He shoots two more, we hear the PING as he hits two more
bullseyes.

ANTHONY'S POV

He hits the last bullseye. The lever is still down. There

are easily ten seconds left. He plants the rifle down on the
counter.

The STAND OPERATOR sighs and fetches a STOOL to reach the

STUFFED BEAR.
 29.

ANTHONY flashes LILLIAN a grin.

ANTHONY
So, no more Rosemarie, huh?

LILLIAN
(quieter)
Where'd you learn to shoot like
that?

ANTHONY looks back towards the STAND.

ANTHONY
Hurry up with that bear, OK?
LILLIAN
Anthony?

His grin falters a little, but he keeps it up.

ANTHONY
Hunting, I used to go hunting. With
my old man. Deer and bird, that
kinda thing. My uncle, he's got a
farm upstate.

LILLIAN doesn't say anything, but musters a smile. ANTHONY

hands her the bear and slips his arm around her.

The two of them walk away, and WE SEE them from the back.

WE FOLLOW and after a few steps, see an inch of two of

exposed metal tucked into ANTHONY'S waistband - a revolver.

He reaches around and pulls the bottom of his jacket down to

cover it.

EXT. BROOKLYN STREET, 1961. DAY.

It's spring - the birds are out, chirping in force.

ANTHONY, 19, is driving alone down a road. The radio's on

and there's a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

He turns a corner and heads down past a bus stop on his

left. He scans the street and the sidewalk on both sides,
before finally catching sight of the bus stop.

Through the window of the car, we see a tall, thin man in a

beige rain mac and a pork pie hat - BOBBY BEBOP, 28 -
standing next to a YOUNG MOTHER, 24. She's holding a baby.
 30.

BOBBY steps towards the MOTHER, and places an arm on her

shoulder. She recoils and steps away from him. He lunges
forward to follow. They're talking, but we can't hear it.

ANTHONY
What the fuck...

The car squeals to a stop, dead in the middle of the road.

ANTHONY steps out, and as he does we see him fix a REVOLVER
into his waistband, pulling his jacket over to cover it.

He starts walking towards BOBBY.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
(calling to Bobby)
Hey! Hey, asshole!

BOBBY is still harassing the mother.

ANTHONY (cont'd)
What the fuck are you doing, huh?
Leave her alone.

BOBBY turns towards ANTHONY - we see for the first time that
his eyes are yellow and bloodshot, his skin's pale,
pockmarked - he looks ill.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
To this day, I couldn't tell you
why I stopped the car. Sure,
somebody needed to set the guy
straight, but why him, why then?
There were thousands of other
junkies in New York alone fucking
with women and kids.
BOBBY BEBOP
Oh, what's it to you, kid? Why you
gettin' involved?

The MOTHER backs away from the two of them. Her BABY is
crying.

WE CUT BETWEEN a few nearby witnesses - WISEGUYS watching

from a cafe on the other side of the street - a DRIVER who
pulls up behind ANTHONY's car and honks - two TEENAGERS in
tank tops hanging over the rail on their front porch,
smoking.

ANTHONY flicks his cigarette onto the floor.

 31.

ANTHONY
What does it matter, you junkie
fuck? I told you to leave her
alone.

BOBBY shakes his head and laughs. He closes the distance

between the two of them and we see the difference in height.
BOBBY is eight or nine inches taller, but he's a rake
compared to ANTHONY, who's a tough, wide bulldog of a man,
even at 19 years old.

FREEZE.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Either way, it wasn't smart.
UNFREEZE.

BOBBY half-turns away, then spins around with a punch,

catching ANTHONY in the jaw.

The entire street seems to stop.

WE SEE the WISEGUYS - frozen stiff, silent, coffee cups

stopped halfway between table and mouth. The DRIVER has
stopped honking his horn. The TEENAGERS' mouths are slack,
cigarettes burning down through their fingers.

WE PULL BACK and see ANTHONY reach for the REVOLVER in his
waistband.

BOBBY makes for the curb, but it's too late. ANTHONY fires
the first shot. It misses him. The second hits him in the
cheek. The third catches his shoulder.

BOBBY goes down - he clatters into a pile of trash cans.

ANTHONY shoots into them three more times.

The street is totally silent. The WISEGUYS don't move. The

DRIVER doesn't honk. The TEENAGERS are watching from behind
the bars on their stoop.

ANTHONY runs back to his car. The engine is still running.

He pushes it into gear and drives away.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

Bobby Bebop, the guy was called. He
was an asshole, a junkie, a rapist.
Everyone knew he was a real piece
of work. That wasn't the problem.
His uncle was connected - more than
connected, he was a captain,
downtown. By extension, that made
Bobby untouchable.
 32.

ANTHONY looks back over his shoulder as he picks up speed.

He punches the dashboard.

ANTHONY
FUCK!

CUT TO:

INT. CASSO FAMILY HOME - NIGHT.

It's early evening. MARGARET is putting the finishing

touches to dinner. Three places are set on the table -
ANTHONY is nowhere to be seen.
MICHAEL pours himself a cup of homemade wine.

The doorbell rings. He stands up, walks through the kitchen,

and...

MICHAEL'S POV

MICHAEL opens the door to see ANTHONY looking back up at

him.

CUT TO:

EXT. GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE - NIGHT.

It's late. LITTLE SALLY'S PLYMOUTH clears the bridge with no

trouble.

INT. SALLY'S PLYMOUTH - NIGHT.

MICHAEL is in the front passenger seat. LITTLE SALLY is
driving. ANTHONY is sprawled across the back seat, looking
out the window.

The bridge's wires cut the moonlight into a thousand

different streaks, each of which washes over ANTHONY's face
in sequence.

His face is empty, drained, tired. He rubs his eyes and

looks back to MICHAEL and LITTLE SALLY.

ANTHONY
(quietly)
Are you two mad?

There's a long pause.

 33.

LITTLE SALLY
I'm not sure mad comes into it,
son. What's more important is that
you lay low.

MICHAEL nods.

MICHAEL
You gotta get the hell outta dodge
for a while, Anthony. Wait for this
to blow over.

ANTHONY
How long?
Neither of them answer.

EXT. ABANDONED NEW JERSEY SUMMER HOME - NIGHT.

LITTLE SALLY'S PLYMOUTH pulls up on the gravel. He gets out,

and opens the door for ANTHONY to follow.

MICHAEL stays in the car.

LITTLE SALLY and ANTHONY walk through the front of an

elaborate, beautiful, but somewhat overgrown summer home.
They get to the front door. LITTLE SALLY hands him the keys.

LITTLE SALLY
Someone'll come back for you once
it's safe, son. But we'll call
first. There's a store about a mile
down the trail. Make sure you walk,
though. Don't use any of the cars.
ANTHONY looks around. He turns around and peeks through the
window. This place is splendid, but it's silent.

LITTLE SALLY (cont'd)

If any car pulls up that you're not
expecting, turn all the lights off
and hide in the basement. (pause)
In fact, Anthony, it might be wise
if you keep the lights off
altogether.

ANTHONY doesn't say anything. He looks down towards the car.

ANTHONY'S POV

MICHAEL is sat in the passenger seat. WE SEE him looking

down into the footwell. He shakes his head.
 34.

ANTHONY looks back at LITTLE SALLY.

LITTLE SALLY (cont'd)

No need to worry about your pop,
Anthony. This will all be fine.

ANTHONY
Okay.

LITTLE SALLY clasps his shoulder, then turns to leave.

ANTHONY watches the PLYMOUTH pull away. WE CLOSE on MICHAEL,

who's still not saying anything.

Once the car's gone, ANTHONY turns and unlocks the door to
the house, steps in.

INT. ABANDONED NEW JERSEY SUMMER HOME - NIGHT.

The floorboards creak as soon as he steps in. ANTHONY runs a

finger along the wall and comes away with half an inch of
dust.

He coughs. This place has clearly seen better days.

CUT TO:

INT. ABANDONED NEW JERSEY SUMMER HOME - NIGHT.

ANTHONY is sitting on the floor, eating from a cold tin of

beans by the dim light of a gas lantern.

What could be HEADLIGHTS cut through the night overhead and

he stops eating.
He kneels down at first, and inches the top of his head up
over the windowsill, looking down towards the light.

WE SEE the main road LITTLE SALLY was talking about - a huge
delivery truck rolling along with its headlamps on full.

The light passes over his face and disappears.

EXT. CASSO FAMILY HOME - NIGHT.

There are two plainclothes NYPD detectives on the doorstep

of the Casso family home. DETECTIVE GALLO, 45, Italian-
American, the brains, and DETECTIVE SULLIVAN, 32, Irish, the
muscle. They ring the doorbell.
 35.

MICHAEL opens a few moments later in a white dressing gown,

feigning exhaustion as if he's just been woken up. There's
still gel in his hair, however - he's still wearing shoes.

MICHAEL
Help you, officers?

DETECTIVE GALLO
Are you Michael Casso, sir?

MICHAEL
That's me. What's going on?

DETECTIVE GALLO
(pointing at each of them)
Detectives Gallo and Sullivan. Is
your son around, Mr Casso?

MICHAEL
I... don't think so. Haven't seen
him since he left for work this
morning. What's this all about,
officers?

DETECTIVE GALLO
Your son shot someone four times
down on Carroll, Mr Casso. He seems
to think that Brooklyn is the Wild
West.

MICHAEL
What? Shot somebody?

MICHAEL rubs his eyes and plays on confusion.

MICHAEL (cont'd)
Anthony? There's gotta be a
mistake, he's-

DETECTIVE GALLO
There's no mistake, Mr Casso. The
victim is in a critical condition.
If he dies, your son is up there on
a murder charge.

MICHAEL
Well... God, like I said, I'm sure
there's been a mistake.

DETECTIVE GALLO
Like I said, Mr Casso, we're sure
there's not.
 36.

There's a long, uncomfortable pause between MICHAEL and the

two DETECTIVES.

MICHAEL
Okay, well, if I see him, I'll get
him to come down to the precinct,
straighten this whole thing out.

DETECTIVE GALLO
We'd appreciate that, sir. Here's
my card.

DETECTIVE GALLO hands MICHAEL a business card, says goodbye,

and heads back down the porch.
CUT TO:

INT. THE 19TH HOLE - DAY.

THE 19TH HOLE is empty again - LITTLE SALLY and MICHAEL are
sitting around a table with CHRISTIE TICK.

Out the back, someone is unloading boxes and boxes of

cigarettes, whiskey. The rear door to the bar is open.

MICHAEL
(incredulous)
Fifty-thousand?

CHRISTIE
That's the word.

FREEZE.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
Back in those days, it wasn't
uncommon for New York's finest to
get a price to you to throw a case.
A detective's salary often didn't
cover all the outgoings, especially
if those included all the drinking
and ex-wives.

UNFREEZE.

MICHAEL
Madonn', we don't got that kind of
money.

LITTLE SALLY
It's an outrageous figure.
 37.

CHRISTIE
It's what this Gallo prick wants,
apparently. He knows it could well
be a murder beef, and he knows
Anthony has been working for me,
for Little Sally. He's gonna twist
your arm, Mike.

MICHAEL sits back in his chair and runs his hands through
his hair. He sighs and lights up a cigarette.

INT. ABANDONED NEW JERSEY SUMMER HOME - DAY.

WE PASS a mass of empty food tins - three, maybe four dozen.

In one area of the room, they have been stacked into a small
pyramid. They're neatly arranged into one tiny area of the
same, single room.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
A few months passed. I stayed in
Jersey and kept my head down, and
Bobby Bebop beat the odds - he got
better.

Next to the army of empty cans, ANTHONY is where he was in

the last scene in the house, cutting an apple with a pocket
knife. He's got a rough coat of stubble and his hair is
long, thick and matted.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

Once he woke up, he started
talking. Once he started talking,
Sally, Christie and my pop started
getting asked questions.
The phone rings. ANTHONY tosses knife and apple aside and
shuffles across the house, below the windows, to answer it.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

Then Bobby started wandering around
the neighbourhood, telling people
he was coming for me, that him and
his brother were gonna find me and
turn me into fish food. That meant
it had to be squashed. Quick.

ANTHONY
(answering phone)
Uh, hello?

LITTLE SALLY
Hey, son. Listen, I have to be
quick.
(MORE)
 38.

LITTLE SALLY (cont'd)

We need someone to get a leash on
this hophead before he does
something stupid. So Christie and
your Pop and I, we have a sit-down
later.

ANTHONY
So, I'm outta here?

LITTLE SALLY
Just hold your horses, son. Someone
will call with an answer tonight.

INT. THE 19TH HOLE - NIGHT.

THE 19TH HOLE is busy - full of wiseguys and cigarette
smoke. The bar is full and the radio is playing the old
crooners - Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby...

There's a round booth in the back near the jukebox - the two
nearest it are empty. CHRISTIE, MICHAEL and LITTLE SALLY are
sat on one side of the curve.

Around the other side of the booth is CARMINE BOVIE, 44,

BOBBY BEBOP's uncle. He's a thin guy in a sharp three-piece
suit with a dour look on his face. He's brought muscle,
too - a GENOVESE SOLDIER sat next to him.

RAYMOND drifts over with a tray of full whisky glasses.

CHRISTIE
Thanks, Ray. Leave the bottle.

RAYMOND obliges, says nothing, and heads back to man the

bar.
CARMINE
Look, Mike, I mean you no
disrespect, but this is fuckin'
ridiculous. Where does your son get
off? Who the fuck is he, John
Wayne? He shot my nephew four
times. Four times. The kid had to
have part of his goddamn spleen
removed. All over some broad? It
ain't right, Mike. You know it
ain't. He's within his rights, too,
if he wants to take care of this.

MICHAEL
Carmine, Anthony knew the girl's
mother. He saw it as an insult.
 39.

LITTLE SALLY
Plus, Carmine, we should not forget
that this nephew of yours, well,
he's no saint. You know as well as
I do that he has a reputation as a
troublemaker.

CARMINE leans back and rubs his temples. Silence hangs

between the table.

CHRISTIE
Carmine, look. We know there's a
price here. The detective wanted a
sum that was, frankly, outrageous.
So if you tell us what you think
would be reasonable, for your
nephew's pain and suffering, then
maybe we can come to a deal, avoid
any further difficulties.

More silence. CARMINE chomps on a cigarette.

CARMINE
Ten thousand.

CHRISTIE looks at LITTLE SALLY, who looks at MICHAEL, who

looks at CARMINE, and...

MICHAEL
Done.

They all raise their glasses and clink them together, with
the exception of the GENOVESE SOLDIER.

ALL
Salut.

INT. COURTROOM - DAY.

ANTHONY walks in, late, alongside a MOB LAWYER. BOBBY BEBOP

is sitting in the GALLERY - DETECTIVE GALLO is standing next
to the STATE PROSECUTOR.

ANTHONY (V.O.)
I paid Bobby, borrowed a little
from Christie and Little Sally, and
they brought me in, lined me up.
Bobby Bebop sat behind the glass,
told Mr 50,000 that he "couldn't be
sure" it was me. I shot him four
times from a yard away, and he
"couldn't be sure".
 40.

DETECTIVE GALLO stares at BOBBY BEBOP.

BOBBY BEBOP stares at ANTHONY.

ANTHONY smiles back, and then looks at DETECTIVE GALLO.

ANTHONY (V.O.) (cont'd)

I spent the night in a cell, I got
booked and printed, but that was
it. I was out. And I stayed out.
Three weeks and ten thousand
dollars later, we went to court,
and Bobby told the judge that he
still couldn't be sure.
The JUDGE comes out from behind the bench and strikes the
gavel.

JUDGE
Be seated.

Everyone sits.

JUDGE
(speaking to state
prosecutor)
I'll be honest, counsellor, I
reviewed this case this morning and
it took me no more than ten minutes
to come to a decision. You have one
piece of evidence, and it could
maybe be described as, at best,
inconclusive.

There's a sigh of relief from ANTHONY, who claps his LAWYER

around the back.
JUDGE
I see no other recourse than to
dismiss the case immediately, and
would personally recommend that the
next time you or the district
attorney bring something before
this court, you make sure that it's
actually worth a full hearing.

The JUDGE strikes the GAVEL again.