The War Photographer

THE WAR PHOTOGRAPHER
Written by
Jesse Crall
4438 Ethel Avenue

Studio City, CA 91604
818 497 4645
jessecrall@gmail.com
EXT. GAZA CITY - DAY
A shell of a once-dense city. War-torn, bombed out...the grey

buildings looking like skeletons.
The chuh-chuh-chuh sound of a helicopter. Unseen but not far

away.
No cars.
An expansive site of sustained tragedies.
EXT. AL-SHATI REFUGEE CAMP - DAY
Young CHILDREN mill around a blacktop surrounded by low,

makeshift buildings for classes, the more imposing, hollowed-
out structures rising above and around them.
GROUPS OF UNIFORMED IDF SOLDIERS patrol the area.
LARISA CHERNOV, 30, with a Nikon and a pale-blue UNICEF

lanyard around her neck, approaches DARYAM, 7, with DR.
ESRAA, early 30s.
Larisa smiles and Dr. Esraa says something inaudible to the

girl in Arabic.
Shy, she struggles to look at Larisa.
DR. ESRAA
Daryam was separated from her
family last month. We haven’t been
able to locate anyone.
Larisa crouches down, sets up...
Through her lens, we see Daryam’s fear and alienation.
A faint explosion, far off.
LARISA
(Arabic)
You’re very beautiful, Daryam.
Another explosion.
Daryam looks at the camera.
A LOUDER explosion as helicopter blades resound.

2.
DR. ESRAA
(Arabic)
She’s right. You are very
beautiful.
Daryam smiles.
A LOUDER explosion.
Daryam laughs as the noise reaches its apex.
Snap.
EXT. RIMAL - DAY
A cluster of residences in Gaza’s Rimal neighborhood.
A member of UNICEF’S mobile team, 30s, approaches a TEENAGE

GIRL, 14, and hands her a study packet.
Dr. Esraa, medical bag in hand, speaks to the girl, joined by

her BROTHER, 8, wearing thick glasses and an oversized t-
shirt.
Larisa SNAPS.
EXT. GAZA - LATER
Esraa crouches down to check the lymph nodes of a YOUNG GIRL,

4, while her MOTHER, 20s, fully-covered, watches in the
doorway behind.
DR. ESRAA
(Arabic)
She’s progressing well.
Solemn nods from her mother.
SNAP.
INT. APARTMENT - LATER
Dr. Esraa hands electronic vouchers to a MAN, 40s, his wife

nearby in the kitchen preparing tea.
Two shots from outside.
DR. ESRAA
(Arabic)
And these can also be used for
cleaning products, not just food...
3.
Larisa crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out, prompting
laughter from TWIN TODDLERS, 3, on the floor of the living
room.
Another SHOT.
SNAP.
Another SHOT.
INT/EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY
A Toyota SUV with blue UN insignia carries Dr. Esraa and

Larisa south on the Ahmed Oraby highway by the sea.
DR. ESRAA
The Americans aren’t happy with me.
I didn’t exercise the proper
caution in documenting how their
policies affect children here.
LARISA
Which policies?
DR. ESRAA
All of them.
They laugh a little.
DR. ESRAA (CONT’D)

You don’t flinch.
LARISA
I wouldn’t be much of a
photographer if I did.
Two F-15E Strike Eagle jets fly low above the Jeep, prompting
Larisa to look out the window and follow their path.
Inhale.
Exhale.
DR. ESRAA
I suppose we both have jobs that
necessitate steady hands.
A ring.
Dr. Esraa pulls a phone from her bag and holds it to her ear.
4.

I’m sorry, I don’t recognize this
number. (...) Yes. (...) I see.
Thank you.
She ends her call and turns to Larisa.

There’s an apartment in Jabalia
they want us to visit. Can you
catch a later flight?
Larisa nods.
EXT. GAZA CITY - DAY
More helicopters above, the blades chop chop chopping through

the air.
Dr. Esraa approaches a small apartment, walking with purpose.
Larisa follows close behind.
A pair of IDF GUARDS, armed, stop them.
DR. ESRAA
(Hebrew)
I’m a doctor.
They don’t speak or budge.
Larisa raises the Nikon to her face but Dr. Esraa holds out
her hand.
Larisa lowers it.
A SCREAM from behind them.
One of the IDF guards his bolt action rifle...slowly.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.

(Hebrew)
I’m. A. Doctor.
But the guard looks more concerned about Larisa’s camera.

5.

(to Larisa)
Stay out here.
Larisa nods.
Larisa waits a moment, then follows Dr. Esraa, who passes

through the guards, into the apartment and disappears.
Larisa pauses outside, across the street, watching the

apartment.
She lifts the Nikon to her eyes and ZOOMS in.
The lens sees Dr. Esraa pass into a window where she speaks
to someone.
Larisa’s camera tracks over a different window where a MAN IN

COMBAT GEAR raises an M9.
Larisa begins to SCREAM...
LARISA
ESR-
...as the POP from the M9 resounds and a bullet tears through
Dr. Esraa’s skull.
Her body falls out of sight.
Larisa freezes.
Then watches as the man in combat gear exits the apartment

followed by TWO OTHERS in identical tactical uniforms.
Larisa pulls her camera to her face.
One of the soldiers stops.
And points inside.
SNAP.
And shouts in a clear American accent that resonates above

the clamor.
AMERICAN SOLDIER
WE’RE CLEAR!
ZOOM.
SNAP.
SNAP.
6.
Larisa hears something.
Turns.
Sees the IDF guards sprinting away from the building.
She spins around.
...and finds the Americans running away as well.
Larisa turns toward the building when:
EXPLOSION.
Larisa gets blown off her feet as bombs from within the
apartment go off.
EXT. JABALIA APARTMENT - LATER
Larisa sits up after a brief blackout.
Silence besides the sickening crunch of falling debris

hitting the ground.
Larisa gazes at the bombed-out apartment, smoke still thick

in the air.
She turns to see the three American soldiers approaching.
Approaching her.
She grabs for her camera, still intact.
Steady.
Zoom.
SNAP.
AMERICAN SOLDIER
STOP.
SNAP.
He raises an M4 Carbine.
Aims it.
Larisa staggers back, still too dazed to make much of a move.
SNAP.
A second soldier aims as well.

7.
With two guns trained on her and closing in, Larisa sets her
camera down.
Resigned to her fate.
Inhale.
Ex-
ANOTHER EXPLOSION.
An undetonated bomb explodes from within the rubble, blowing

all three Americans backward as flames engulf their bodies.
Larisa gets blown off her feet.
But she rises while all three Americans remain on the ground.
Her arm hangs funny.
She moves her shoulder.
SCREAMS.
Dislocated.
She sees a soldier’s boot move.
She watches it.
For just a moment.
And then begins her anguished run away from the scene, camera
slamming into her chest as her good arm tries to hold the
injured one in place with every step.
EXT. JABALIA - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa reaches the UN car to find the driver slumped in his

seat, dead, a bullet wound straight through his forehead.
Larisa crouches.
Waits.
Sees no one.
Raises her camera with one arm.
SNAP.
SNAP.
8.
With her uninjured arm, she pulls the driver’s body from his
seat and down to the street.
She winces as her second arm instinctively reaches out to

prevent his head from slamming onto the ground.
Larisa tries laying him down gently.
Another look around.
She steps into the UN car.
Keys the engine.
Drives off.
EXT. UNRWA - LATER
At the United Nations Relief and Works Agency in Rimal.
Larisa parks her car as an EXPLOSION resounds a short

distance away.
She rushes toward the entrance, UN-blue gate open.
The parking lot before the building sits almost entirely

empty, with only two burned out cars remaining.
Larisa rushes past, trying to keep her arm still.
INT. UNRWA - LATER
Larisa inside the UNRWA.
LARISA
Jamila?
(shouting)
JAMILA? FADI?
No one inside. A functioning aid office with no workers. No

running power.
INT. UNRWA OFFICE - LATER
Larisa rushes into a smaller office.
Lifts a blanket to reveal:
3 different safety deposit boxes.
She leans down, runs a combination on the locker.

9.
It opens.
She grabs her camera.
Pulls out the SD memory card.
Slips it into the safe.
Locks it.
Slides it back under the blanket.
Sweat floods her neck as her breathing becomes labored.
She grabs her dislocated shoulder.
Winces.
Shouts.
Staggers out of the room.
EXT. UNRWA - LATER
Larisa weaves past the open gates outside the UNRWA and
toward the UN car.
THREE PALESTINIAN CHILDREN, 12-13, wander around the van.
They notice Larisa, who can now barely walk.
They stare a moment.
LARISA
(Arabic)
No workers?
She nods back at the UNRWA.
One Palestinian boy shakes his head.
PALESTINIAN BOY
They cut funding.
Larisa offers a rueful nod back.
PALESTINIAN BOY (CONT’D)

Food?
Larisa shakes her head.
Inhale.
10.
Exhale.
And collapses by the car.
INT. TEL AVIV SOURASKY MEDICAL CENTER - NIGHT
Larisa lies on a gurney in a hospital hallway, alone.
TWO NURSES pass, followed by a doctor.
Larisa sits up a bit, wincing from the pain in her arm.
LARISA
Can someone relocate my arm?
(Hebrew)
Anyone? Arm relocation.
She sits back with a small gasp.
Waiting.
Silence.
HEBREW on a loudspeaker.
More silence.
DAVID POWERS
Larisa Chernov.
Larisa looks up to find DAVID POWERS, 40, suit with no tie,

standing over her gurney.
She nods.
DAVID POWERS (CONT’D)

I’m David Powers. I’m with USAID at
the Embassy. I just came up from
Jerusalem.
He holds up Larisa’s Nikon.

I wanted to give you back your
camera. And to applaud your
bravery.
Pause.
LARISA
Thank you.
11.
DAVID POWERS
I didn’t see any images.
LARISA
I guess the memory card got lost in
the attack.
DAVID POWERS
I’m sorry to hear that.
(pause)
We were horrified to learn that
American mercenaries worked with
Hamas on the attack.
Silence.

What happened to Dr. Esraa Alyan
was a tragedy. It’s very difficult
to be a woman in the Muslim world.
(beat)
As I’m sure you’re aware.
LARISA
Okay.
He smiles.
DAVID POWERS
I was told that you speak English,
Arabic and Hebrew?
Larisa nods.

I like to call that the diplomatic
Triple Crown.
LARISA
Dr. Alyan spoke English, Arabic and
Hebrew better than I did.
David nods.
DAVID POWERS
She was an inspirational figure.
(beat)
Don’t hesitate to reach out to us
for something more permanent. We do
a lot of very important
humanitarian work in this part of
the world.
Larisa nods.
12.

I’ll find a doctor to get your arm
looked at immediately.
He smiles.

And I’m sorry again for what you
had to witness. We’re doing
everything we can to counter this
evil.
Larisa grabs her Nikon as David saunters away.
INT. CNN STUDIO - DAY
An ISRAELI PRODUCTION ASSISTANT, late 20s, checks a

microphone on Larisa’s chest in a small news studio.
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT
Could you speak to check the mic?
Thanks.
LARISA
Okay...uh...Now batting for the
Mets, Number 9, Center Field-
-That’s fine.
Larisa shrugs. Her arm rests in a sling and there’s some

bruising around her jaw, cuts under the eye. Nothing too
gruesome.
LARISA
Should I have makeup for the cuts?
I was told we wanted the savagery
upfront.
LARISA
What?
Levels are good.
The Production Assistant shuffles away, leaving Larisa alone

in the small space.
Through her earpiece, a PRODUCER’S voice, brusque, cuts in.

13.
CNN PRODUCER (O.S.)

Larisa Chernov?
Pause.
LARISA
Yes?
CNN PRODUCER (O.S.)

Hi, Larisa, I’m Rachel Lasseter,
I’m producing the segment. Just a
quick rundown before we take you
live.
LARISA
Sure.
CNN PRODUCER (O.S.)

We’ll introduce you, ‘We welcome
Larisa Chernov, a UNICEF
photographer who...’ And we’ll go
from there.
LARISA
Right.
CNN PRODUCER (O.S.)

And you witnessed the Hamas attack
on Dr. Esraa Alyan.
Beat.
LARISA
It wasn’t Hamas.
Silence.
CNN PRODUCER (O.S.)

Excuse me?
LARISA
It wasn’t Hamas. The soldier who
shot Dr. Esraa was an American.
CNN PRODUCER (O.S.)

Yes, an American mercenary working
with Hamas.
LARISA
Israeli soldiers patrolled the
area. They let her into the
apartment that got bombed. There
weren’t any Arabs.
14.
More silence.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Hello?
Silence.
Silence.
CNN PRODUCER (O.S.)

My apologies, Larisa, we’re having
technical difficulties. We’ll have
to postpone.
Pause.
LARISA
Okay. When should...uh...
She looks around the empty studio.
LARISA (CONT’D)
I’m flying back to New York, I...
The Production Assistant sweeps back in to unhook Larisa’s

mic.
EXT. KENNEDY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - NIGHT
The lit exterior of JFK.
A commercial plane shoots upward above it.
INT. KENNEDY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa wheels her way across an interior skybridge, one arm

still in a sling, the bruising a little more faded.
She packed light.
INT. BAGGAGE CLAIM - LATER
Hanging televisions running CNN flash a photo of Dr. Esraa

above a headline reading:
STATE DEPT: HAMAS RESPONSIBLE FOR LAST WEEK’S TERROR ATTACK

IN GAZA
Larisa makes her way toward the exit as FOUR DIFFERENT CAB
DRIVERS approach.
15.
CABBIE 1
Manhattan?
CABBIE 2
I take you to Manhattan.
A third reaches toward her bag, which she pulls away.
Larisa doesn’t break stride as she moves toward the exit and
the cab drivers split off to hassle someone else.
I/E. AIRTRAIN - LATER
Larisa stays on her feet as the JFK Red Airtrain moves along
over the Van Wyck Expressway.
INT. JAMAICA STATION - LATER
Larisa rolls her way through Jamaica station.
INT. FAR ROCKAWAY LINE - LATER
Larisa wraps her free arm around the pole as the Far Rockaway
line rumbles over Atlantic Avenue and past St. Andrew’s
Playground.
INT. BARCLAY’S CENTER STATION - LATER
Larisa rolls through the thicker crowds before making her

awkward way down a flight of steps, wincing as someone bumps
into her injured shoulder.
INT. Q LINE - LATER
Larisa moves toward the exit as the Q Line stops at Ocean

Parkway.
EXT. OCEAN PARKWAY - LATER
Larisa, jaywalking, pauses for a silver Bentley to cruise

past before hustling across the final lane.
EXT. OCEAN PARKWAY SERVICE ROAD - LATER
Larisa rearranges her tenuous grip on her suitcase before

entering a narrow passageway beneath scaffolding.
16.
Her camera bag threatens to slide off her shoulder before a

quick move saves it.
EXT. SHORECREST TOWERS - LATER
Imposing apartment projects rising into the sky, lights

coming on through the little windows.
Larisa’s small frame disappears through the entrance.
INT. NINA’S APARTMENT - LATER
The sound of a THUD, a clatter, a jangle. Keys in the door.
Larisa forces herself through, leaving her suitcase on the

linoleum floor and setting her camera bag atop a small
kitchen table.
INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A small glow in the living room comes from a television

watched by:
NINA, 60s, Larisa’s mother. Almost unseen. Just a shape on a

couch covered from the neck down in a blanket.
NINA
Turn the light on and I break your
jaw.
Nina speaks with a Russian accent but her English is

effortless.
CNN plays while Nina lowers the volume.
LARISA
You’d have to get up.
NINA
Fair point.
Larisa moves toward a lamp and flicks it on.
First, the bright light. Then, another flick to something

dimmer.
Nina turns her head a little, away from the new illumination.
NINA (CONT’D)
How was Israel? Peace, love and
rainbows?
17.
Larisa heads back to the kitchen, opening the fridge and

grabbing a Brita filter.
An opened cabinet, a glass grabbed.
We hear the soft clicks of Nina’s keyboard.
NINA (CONT’D)
There was an assassination in Gaza.
LARISA
I know.
Water hits glass and half fills it.
Larisa’s photographs cover the walls. Cheap frames, thin and

black, the kind you pop into place.
LARISA (CONT’D)
I was there.
Nina sits up.
The fridge door pops open, the Brita returned.
NINA
At the site?
Larisa enters the living room.
LARISA
At the site.
Nina nods at Larisa’s arm sling.
NINA
You look like you belong on the
Mets’ pitching staff.
LARISA
It would’ve been too easy to root
for the Yankees.
NINA
The Yankees haven’t won anything in
15 years.
LARISA
And Putin’s biggest opposition is
the Communist Party.
NINA
We all have our bedtime stories.
18.
Pause.
LARISA
I’ll be fine in a few more days.
Most of the shots can’t be detailed in the dim light.
Except:
A photograph above Larisa’s chair showcasing a young girl no

older than five wandering through rubble, a teddy bear held
in her arm.
Nina nods at the television.
NINA
I’m only watching this crap because
your sister’s on.
Larisa turns to see CLAIRE CHERNOV, mid-30s, polished,

speaking on one side, the news anchor on the other.
A chyron below reads:
GAZA TERROR ATTACK KILLED UN DOCTOR, DRIVER
NINA (CONT’D)
She called earlier to say she’d be
a guest.
LARISA
She wants you to be proud of her.
NINA
She wants to torture me. Claire is
a mouthpiece for the Pentagon.
Larisa settles into a ragged chair with claw marks at the arm
and a tattered blanket draped across the back.
NINA (CONT’D)
They’re blaming Hamas. Bullshit?
LARISA
Bullshit. Americans and the IDF.
NINA
Did you capture anything? On
camera?
Larisa nods.
19.
NINA (CONT’D)
I’ll bet some cocksucker diplomat
swiped all your good footage.
LARISA
That was his intention.
Pause.
NINA
What?
LARISA
I locked my memory card inside a UN
office before they could take it.
Nina starts laughing...
...which degenerates into a hacking cough.
Larisa pushes herself off the chair and toward her mother’s
couch.
She reaches out to Nina’s chin and gives it a soft turn into
the light.
Nina’s eyes look bloodshot, runny.
Nina turns her head back.
NINA
You and I don’t take care of
ourselves.
Larisa turns away.
NINA (CONT’D)
You have better excuses than I do,
I’ll admit.
LARISA
Hmm.
Larisa rounds a corner out of sight.
NINA
She’s asleep.
INT. LARISA’S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa hovers over, EMILY, almost a year old, resting in a

crib that looks like it was pulled off the side of the road.
Chipped wood, a missing post...
20.
Illuminated stars skate slowly around the ceiling.
LARISA
I had a dream last night, Emily.
Behind Larisa: her bed, just a mattress and a box spring.
More photographs splash across the walls.
LARISA (CONT’D)
We were in Gaza...This busy space,
a bustling crowd, you in your
stroller, me at your back. Night
time. And then the sky lights up
and I see hundreds of American-made
missiles bearing down on us.
Crashing to earth. So I move in
front of you, thinking I can stop a
warhead...but then, as they hurtle
toward us, the missiles become
paper airplanes...and they glide
harmlessly past, skimming the
ground. And we laugh and we
smile...
Larisa bends down to get close, her voice softening to a

whisper.
LARISA (CONT’D)
That’s what mamas do for you. We
turn the missiles into paper
airplanes.
And she bends down further to kiss her sleeping daughter’s

cheek.
INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER
Larisa’s frame backlit by the hallway light, looking into the

living room.
Nina asleep, muted television glow still on her face.
Larisa steps with deliberate care toward the couch.
No movement from Nina.
Larisa reaches her arm under one of the couch cushions, doing
her best not to disturb her mother’s body.
Nothing.
Nothing.
21.
Something.
Larisa pulls a bottle out from under and moves to...
INT. KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER
She stands over the sink, pint of gin in her hand. There’s
only a couple of sips left at the bottom.
Larisa unscrews, prepares to pour...stops.
She re-screws the bottle.
INT. LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa slides the bottle back under the cushion.
She turns off the television and the glow on her mother’s
face fades to darkness.
INT. DINING ROOM - DAY
Nina hovers over Larisa’s shoulder as she opens up a JPEG on

her laptop.
NINA
I’m working early tomorrow. You
good with the little one?
Larisa nods.
NINA (CONT’D)
You’re not sleeping. I hear you
wandering.
LARISA
That means you aren’t sleeping,
either.
NINA
Sleep is restorative. I’m already
burned out.
(beat)
I need a few hours tomorrow
afternoon. By myself.
Beat.
LARISA
Jesus, mama, you can’t go to his
place?
22.
NINA
I think he’s married. Or maybe he
just lives in a shithole.
LARISA
Fine. Have fun.
NINA
Fun is a relative concept.
INT. BUS - DAY
Larisa sits at the back of a bus, Emily’s stroller in

front...rolling down FDR Drive, the piers by the East River
at the right.
EXT. MIDTOWN - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily across 44th Street in the shadow of the

United Nations building.
EXT. UNICEF - LATER
Outside UNICEF’s headquarters...
Larisa leans down to give Emily her bottle.
LARISA
Okay, there you go, Emmy...
Behind them, photos of children, laughing, playing...text

reading:
“For every child, education”
“For every child, hope”
...in bold white letters.
INT. UNICEF HEADQUARTERS - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily slowly past a display repeating the “for

every child” theme.
Images from 70 years of UNICEF’s work spread across the

walls.
Larisa stops at one image, a young, smiling group of FOUR

CHILDREN. Palestinian.
23.
Larisa pulls Emily up from the crib and holds her close to
the image.
LARISA
Your mama took that.
She stares for a moment.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Gaza City. That’s where I met your
father. He was with The United
Nations Relief and Works Agency
(beat)
And that’s where your father was
killed. I loved him almost as much
as he would have loved you.
INT. UNICEF HEADQUARTERS - MOMENTS LATER
Clack Clack Clack Clack
The approaching heels of JOSEPHINE, 40s, well-dressed.
Her English is perfect, laced with a noticeable Somalian

accent.
JOSEPHINE
Enjoying your handiwork?
Larisa smiles as Josephine looks into the crib.
JOSEPHINE (CONT’D)
Who’s this?
LARISA
That’s Emily.
Josephine looks back up, face turning serious.
INT. JOSEPHINE’S OFFICE - LATER
Larisa sits across from Josephine’s desk, Emily in her

stroller beside.
LARISA
When do I go back?
Silence.
JOSEPHINE
We were reluctant to send you again
after Rashad died.
24.
LARISA
After Rashad was killed.
Josephine pauses a moment before she nods.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Do you think Dr. Alyan was killed
by Hamas?
JOSEPHINE
Larisa.
LARISA
I’m not a reporter, Josephine.
You’re answer won’t be published in
the New York Times.
Pause.
JOSEPHINE
...I find it...unlikely that Hamas
intentionally targeted Dr. Alyan
because they didn’t want a woman
operating in Gaza.
Larisa sets her Nikon on Josephine’s desk.
LARISA
I documented the entire
assassination. The bombing. Of Dr.
Alyan and Tarek.
JOSEPHINE
It’s on here?
LARISA
I hid my memory card at our offices
in Rimal.
As Larisa speaks, a series of photographs flash.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Dr. Alyan got a phone call from a
number she didn’t recognize.
A photo of Dr. Alyan flanked by three smiling Palestinian

children, age 6.
LARISA (O.C.) (CONT’D)

We were driven toward an apartment
building in Jabalia.
25.
A photo of the soon-to-be-bombed apartment, still intact.

IDF forces patrolled the area.
A photo of Dr. Alyan speaking to two IDF soldiers.

Dr. Alyan told me to wait with our
driver while she went inside.
A photo taken with a zoom lens showing Dr. Alyan inside the
apartment.

She was shot by an American
soldier.
Another zoom shot taken of the American, aiming an M-9.

The bombing was a cover; she was
dead before the first explosive
went off.
A wider shot featuring both the American soldier and Dr.

Alyan, her body already twisting toward the ground, only half
in frame through the window.

And it was Americans who tried to
kill me.
A shot taken from the ground of three approaching American

Special Forces.

Hamas wasn’t in the area.
Josephine’s eyes water as she looks up at Larisa.
LARISA (CONT’D)
I need to get back into Gaza so I
can get those photos out.
Josephine covers her mouth.
LARISA (CONT’D)
And I need international backing.
Americans think anything that comes
from Palestinians is a lie.
26.
JOSEPHINE
We had to stop operations. The
State Department froze our aid.
(beat)
They think we’re funding terror.
I’m so sorry, Larisa. I am.
Silence.
LARISA
Please call me the minute something
changes.
Josephine pauses.
JOSEPHINE
I will but...
LARISA
I know.
EXT. NETCOST MARKET - DAY
A market specializing in Russian & Eastern European foods,

just off the L-train.
INT. NETCOST MARKET - MOMENTS LATER
Nina working the checkout, ringing up an ELDERLY WOMAN, 80s.
Off behind her, there’s a whole section devoted to jewelry

(”We buy gold & silver!” written in English and Cyrillic.)
NINA
(in Russian)
Your pin.
She points at the credit card machine.
The elderly woman waves her hands, card clasped in one of

them.
ELDERLY WOMAN
(in Russian)
Too many buttons.
Nina looks over at the BAG BOY, 20s, his eyes glazed over.
NINA
It’s this young lady’s first time
at the grocery store.
27.
EXT. NETCOST - LATER
Nina outside the market, smoking a Marlboro Red.
LEONID, 30s, in a cheap black suit and polished shoes,

emerges from the entrance and locks on Nina.
LEONID
Nina?
Nina doesn’t move.
LEONID (CONT’D)
(in Russian)
Nina? Do you speak Polish?
She takes a drag.
LEONID (CONT’D)
(in Russian)
This chick from Krakow wants a
Patek but I can’t understand a
fucking thing.
Exhale.
NINA
I’m on a break.
LEONID
Fuck your break! I’m on commission.
NINA
Give me half.
LEONID
(in Russian)
Bullshit.
Leonid starts back inside when he pauses.
LEONID (CONT’D)
Hey!
NINA
(annoyed)
What?
LEONID
I’m still missing that whole stock
of Poljots. It’s my ass if they
don’t turn up.
Nina twists toward him with a shrug.

28.
LEONID (CONT’D)
FUCK.
He offers Nina a dismissing wave and heads inside.
NINA
That counted as work. I’m taking an
extra minute.
She lights a new Marlboro with the old one.
A train THUNDERS by and Nina winces at the sound.
EXT. 6TH STREET - DUSK
Nina saunters toward home beneath the tracks as another train

rattles above her.
She pulls an unopened pint of Popov from her jacket pocket,

struggles with the cap, drinks.
Nina takes a last drink before dropping the bottle into one
of the mailboxes outside her apartment before heading toward
the door.
She grabs at a pack of spearmint gum and starts to pull out a

stick.
INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - LATER
Nina staggers in, trying to stay upright and poised and

mostly succeeding.
She drops her bag on the kitchen table and finds:
Her daughter Claire striding toward her from the living room
where Larisa sits with Emily.
CLAIRE
Look who finally showed up!
Claire kisses each of her mother’s cheeks.
She looks CNN-ready, with a cream jacket, black cigarette

pants and YSL platform sandals giving her six inches on Nina.
NINA
Surprise surprise.
29.
CLAIRE
Larisa called, said she had
important news she needed to
discuss...
NINA
Important news.
CLAIRE
And I’m taking you both out to
dinner.
EXT. TATIANA RESTAURANT - NIGHT
A Russian restaurant on the boardwalk, tables set up outside

beneath the green facade.
Emily sits in her crib beside Larisa.
A YOUNG COUPLE smokes and chats nearby.
At the table with Larisa: Nina and Claire.
NINA
You look like a mannequin.
Claire sips white wine. She’s heard this line before.
CLAIRE
Studio fresh.
Larisa pokes at her salo.
NINA
This one’s too polite. Loyal to
you.
CLAIRE
Oh?
The glass by Nina is filled with clear liquid. It’s not

water.
NINA
(to Larisa)
Why did you tell her?
Pause.
CLAIRE
(to Nina)
You need to give up this Soviet
horseshit, Nina.
(MORE)
30.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
It’s a tired schtick.
(to Larisa)
She thinks I’ll call my handlers at
the CIA and have them whack you.
NINA
Please refrain from exaggerating my
sentiments in order to suit a
caricature.
She pulls out a Marlboro and a lighter.
CLAIRE
(to Larisa)
The Americans you photographed were
just thugs who washed out of
Special Forces and play mercenary
to the highest bidder. Hamas sits
on billions, they use Americans.
NINA
Mmm.
CLAIRE
No one is shocked that a woman
doctor was murdered working in Gaza
City. I’d recommend leaving the
photos-
NINA
-Mmm-
CLAIRE
-Because Gaza is a war zone and
it’s best avoided. Especially for
young mothers.
LARISA
Plenty of young mothers are trapped
in Gaza right now.
CLAIRE
And they’d give anything short of
their children to trade places with
you.
NINA
Your sister documented the
assassination of a doctor who
criticized U.S. and Israeli policy
on the floor of the United Nations.
31.
CLAIRE
My sister documented the
assassination of a woman doctor
working in a country run by an
Islamist terror cell.
LARISA
I know that isn’t true.
CLAIRE
You’ve been through multiple
traumatic events and it’s altered
your percep-
NINA
-Don’t condescend to your sister,
she’s tougher than you are.
Silence.
LARISA
I thought...you have connections to
mainstream news outlets. And a good
reputation. If you-
CLAIRE
-Kitten, I wouldn’t have a good
reputation if I ran with the latest
hair up Nina’s ass.
LARISA
Why do you keep calling her “Nina”?
NINA
A symbolic act of matricide. I also
wrote her out of my will when she
joined the RAND Corporation.
CLAIRE
Yes, I’m torn up about not getting
to inherit half of your gin bottles
and boxed hair dye.
NINA
Those cocksucking state
stenographers you run with-
CLAIRE
-Is this just jealousy?
Nina leans back, grinning, taking in her daughter.

32.
NINA
That’s right. I long to mince for
the cameras spewing-
CLAIRE
-Yes, if only CNN would platform
the conspiracy theories of old
alcoholics, maybe then we could
solve world peace.
Exhale.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Until then...
She raises her glass in a rueful toast.
Nina does the same, beaming.
EXT. BOARDWALK - LATER
Claire and Larisa stroll down the boardwalk, feeling the

night air begin to hit.
Well behind them, Nina remains at the table, watching over

Emily.
CLAIRE
You gotta be careful, Kitten.
LARISA
Why, are people after me becau-
CLAIRE
-No! You need to be careful so you
don’t end up like mama. You’re a
talented woman.
LARISA
She’s a talented-
CLAIRE
-She was. That’s my point. She
wrote the Soviet’s foremost
biography of Bukharin when she was
26 and then translated it into
English herself.
CLAIRE (CONT’D) LARISA

And she met with Gorbachev... ...met with Gorbachev...
33.
LARISA (CONT’D)
...at the May Day Parade in Red
Square and she now calls him a
sackless pizza salesman. I know. I
know the whole story.
CLAIRE
And today, she rings up exiles at
the Russian market.
LARISA
Mama says her labor is-
CLAIRE
-Mama says a lot of shit to excuse
having a job that lets her show up
hungover.
Claire winces and looks down at her feet.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Fucking platforms...
She rolls her ankle around and turns back toward the
restaurant.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
So much for our evening
constitutional. What are you doing
for work right now?
Larisa shrugs.
LARISA
UNICEF can’t afford to get me back
into Gaza. Maybe I can shoot Bat
Mitzvahs again.
CLAIRE
I know someone I can put you in
touch with.
Larisa starts to say something but Claire interrupts.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
-Nothing *sinister*.
LARISA
Good. I still want to inherit
mama’s boxed hair dye.
Claire laughs, reaches her hands out and Larisa grabs them
with her own.
34.
CLAIRE
The Cold War’s over, Kitten. Nina
lost.
Nina remains back toward the apartment entrance while Claire

and Larisa hug.
As they break apart and Claire starts to slide into the back
of a cab, she looks back at Larisa.
CLAIRE
Promise me you’ll call my friend.
LARISA
Fine.
CLAIRE
You can do good work outside of war
zones.
Larisa smiles.
Waves with one hand.
Claire looks back at Nina, now tossing a Marlboro to the

sidewalk and avoiding her gaze as the cab pulls off the curb.
INT. NINA’S APARTMENT - LATER
Nina stumbles through the front door, Larisa pushing Emily

behind her.
Nina grabs a liter bottle of Sprite from the fridge as she

watches Larisa move Emily into the bedroom and her crib.
Nina unscrews.
Drinks straight from the bottle.
Caps.
And moves toward Larisa as she returns to the living room

alone.
Nina grabs Larisa and PUSHES her against the wall.
NINA
Why did you tell her?
Nina’s not yelling. She can spit venom quietly.

35.
LARISA
Claire?
NINA
You asked a python to wrap itself
around you for warmth.
Larisa’s eyes widen.
LARISA
She’s your daughter.
NINA
All the world’s monsters are
somebody’s child.
Larisa pushes Nina off.
Nina staggers back a little, gathers her breath.
LARISA
You’re paranoid. And you’re bitter.
NINA
Tell me I’m wrong.
Silence.
NINA (CONT’D)
Tell me I’m wrong.
Larisa walks over to the kitchen.
Grabs the Sprite bottle.
Takes a sip.
Spits it out.
Pours the rest of it down down down the sink.
And walks past Nina into the bedroom.
INT. NINA’S LIVING ROOM - MORNING
Nina sleeps on the couch, her comforter kicked off and mostly
spread on the floor.
Larisa enters, Emily wailing unseen in the bedroom.
LARISA
Mama.
36.
Nina doesn’t move but a voice emerges from her pillow.
NINA
Don’t bother speaking softly. Your
rugrat woke me up two hours ago.
LARISA
What are these?
She holds up five Poljot watches.
LARISA (CONT’D)
I found them buried under my socks.
NINA
Poljots. I brought them over from
Moscow. They were your grandmot-
LARISA
-Bullshit. You took them from work.
Nina shifts her body to look up at Larisa.
NINA
They steal my labor, I get it back.
(beat)
Are you going to turn me in?
She holds up two hands as if ready to be cuffed.
LARISA
Make sure you pawn them reasonably
far away.
Larisa heads back into the bedroom and we hear her mutter at
Emily...

C’mere, baby. It’s alright, it’s
alright.
...while Nina smiles.
INT. ROBIN HOOD FOUNDATION - DAY
A modern Manhattan office 9 stories up near Union Square.
A DOZEN EMPLOYEES in business casual sit at long desks with a

large sign behind them reading:
BUILDING
FINANCIAL SECURITY AND

37.
IMPROVING
FINANCIAL MOBILITY
Larisa sits across from WILLOW, 30s, blazer and a nose ring.
WILLOW
...I’m so glad Claire put us in
touch. Your portfolio is wonderful.
LARISA
Thank you.
WILLOW
Perfect timing, too. Our benefit’s
next week at the Javits Center and
we’d love in-house marketing.
LARISA
Okay.
WILLOW
And you know our mission?
LARISA
I visited your site, yes.
WILLOW
Yeah, so our mission is to
democratize finance for all and use
the tools of wealth building to end
poverty.
Larisa nods.
ROBERTO, 40s, checkered shirt and fade haircut, calls out

from behind his laptop.
ROBERTO
Are you telling her about our
mission?
WILLOW
I am!
ROBERTO
Excellent!
WILLOW
(to Larisa)
Our board includes hedge fund
executives who are generous with
both their money and their
expertise.
38.
LARISA
Oh. I’m...certainly glad we can get
more input from hedge fund
executives on ending poverty.
WILLOW
I know, right!
INT. ROBIN HOOD FOUNDATION - LATER
Larisa holds open the elevator for a ROBIN HOOD INTERN, 20s.
ROBIN HOOD INTERN

Thanks...
He hustles in.
ROBIN HOOD INTERN (CONT’D)

Are you joining the team?
LARISA
We’ll see.
She offers a polite smile as the intern hits a vape pen.
Exhales.
ROBIN HOOD INTERN

They told you about our mission,
right?
EXT. EAST VILLAGE - LATER
Larisa strides down 14th street toward Union Square.
INT. UNION SQUARE - LATER
She works her way through the crowds toward the turnstiles as
Claire’s voice resounds from a voicemail.
CLAIRE (V.O.)
Kitten! Willow from the Robin Hood
Foundation just called and thanked
me for recommending you.
INT. Q PLATFORM - LATER
Larisa waits for the Q train.

39.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
I’m the one who held her hand
through Princeton and now she’s
more impressed with you than she is
with me.
INT. Q TRAIN - LATER
Larisa stands on the crowded train, one arm wrapped around

the pole.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
But hey, you can do something good
close to home instead of worrying
yourself over conspiracies on
foreign soil.
INT. Q TRAIN - LATER
Larisa now sits on the train as it hurtles closer to home,

the car mostly empty, her head tilting backwards with
exhaustion.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
Anyways, please call me back so you
can tell me all about it. You’ll do
great.
INT. NETCOST - NIGHT
Larisa wears a crimson NetCost uniform as lugs a wheeled

platform truck carrying cases of sparking water.
Late, near closing. Only a handful of customers mill around

the store as Larisa cuts through extra plastic.
And stacks water in the shelves, straining from the weight.
Larisa looks at another NetCost worker, MIKE, 40s, ponytail

and cargo shorts, engaging in the same process as Larisa with
stacks of Diet Coke.
LARISA
Hey, Mike! You see that Rodon got
torched tonight?
But Mike wears headphones and doesn’t turn to Larisa.
He just grabs another case of Diet Coke.
Larisa pauses.
40.
Inhales.
And does the same with a heavy stack of bottled Perrier.
EXT. SHORE PARKWAY - LATER
The dead of night. Traffic light as the few cars and cabs zip
along.
Larisa pulls a thick vintage Mets jacket a little tighter

around her torso as she slinks down Shore Parkway past low-
rise apartment projects.
INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - LATER
Larisa places her keys on the kitchen table and looks over to
Nina, seemingly asleep on the couch.
LARISA
How’s Emily?
Nina’s voice emerges through the darkness.
NINA
Two thugs came and kidnapped her at
gunpoint. I didn’t want to trouble
you at work.
Nina sits up as Larisa turns on the kitchen light.
NINA (CONT’D)
What’s bleaker, Gaza or an 8-hour
shift at NetCost?
Larisa makes a “hmm” noise that doesn’t quite qualify as a

laugh.
LARISA
It’s only temporary.
NINA
That’s what I told myself.
She goes “oooh” and wiggles her fingers in a faux-spooky

gesture.
LARISA
Very funny.
(beat)
I have to leave by 6:00 tomorrow.
Promise you’ll be home in time.
41.
Nina salutes Larisa.
NINA
I’ll keep my daily allotment of
fresh air to a minimum.
LARISA
That’s all I ask.
EXT. NETCOST - LATE AFTERNOON
Nina saunters out of the NetCost, Marlboro already in her

mouth and her hand rummaging through her jacket for a
lighter.
Leonid follows her out.
LEONID
Hey, Nina?!
Nina keeps walking.
LEONID (CONT’D)
(Russian)
If I run cam footage, am I gonna
see you taking those watches?
Nina doesn’t bother turning around, only muttering under her

breath while she expels a ribbon of smoke.
NINA
(Russian)
You go mute when I clock out, baby
boy.
EXT. ART WALLS - DUSK
The Art Walls of Coney Island, a public display of large,

vivid, lurid works emerging from the blacktop.
Nina wanders past one depicting a grotesque parody of Ronald

McDonald.
Nina stops for a moment at two clown heads sharing a neck,

eyes bulging...
Sun setting behind her, colors streaking the sky, gulls high,
area mostly deserted.
Chilly. Nina’s heavy fringe coat pulled tight.
A NOISE. Nothing much, feet slipping on concrete. Maybe.

42.
A spin around from Nina.
She sees nothing.
A pass by another Art Wall, this time showing a couple

sharing a milkshake, she a wholesome blonde in 50’s styling,
he a man with a suit and trim haircut but the sickly green
skin of a zombie.
Nina hears footsteps again.
And spins around.
Nothing.
A look back to the walls.
An ELDERLY COUPLE, 80s, huddled together, limp on by.
Nina offers a nod, which they return.
Nina moves on past a simpler display, with the words “RIOT”

panted in different colors, repeating each other over and
over against a black backdrop.
Nina disappears around the corner and we hear:
NINA (O.C.)
OH!
And a groan.
And a collapse.
And the footsteps beat against pavement, growing softer and

softer as they move away.
A small pool of blood collects at the bottom corner of the

“RIOT” Art Wall.
We hear a RING from an unseen phone.
RING.
RING.
INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Larisa sits on the couch, phone held to her face.
LARISA
They’ll fire me, mama. I hope
whatever you’re doing is worth it.
43.
She starts to say something else, shakes her head...
Ends the call.
INT. LARISA'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Larisa lowers Emily into her crib as a RING from the other
room cuts through.
Larisa moves out of the room and we hold on Emily.
LARISA (O.S.)
Yes? (...) I am.
(beat)
What?
INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
A single light on in the kitchen, Larisa holding Emily tight

at the kitchen table, her baby sucking on a bottle.
INT. NINA’S LIVING ROOM - MORNING
Larisa sits up in her couch, laptop open, Emily’s CRIES

resounding from the bedroom.
Larisa types:
Infant Daycare Brighton Beach
...into a Google search.
INT. LARISA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Larisa sits cross-legged on the floor, a tattered cardboard

box at her side.
A small stack of hardback books rests outside the box.
She holds one up, reading:
The Path Not Taken
Revolution & Bukharin
Antonina Chernov
More copies reveal the same cover but with titles in Cyrillic
instead of English.
44.
INT. LARISA’S BEDROOM - LATER
Larisa stands above Emily’s crib, her nightlight playing the

star patterns on the wall.
She reads from the English language introduction of her

mother’s book.
LARISA
“Alternative paths emerge from
every historical event. The early
years of the Soviet Union provide
us with imagined courses as
tantalizing to consider as they are
impossible to fully grasp...
EXT. BEDROOM - DAWN
Larisa sits up in her bed, laptop open.
A Google Maps page shows a 46-minute route featuring 3

different subways to a Brooklyn location called “Tutor Time.”
EXT. OCEAN PARKWAY - MORNING
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller under scaffolding still aiding

the maintenance of the Shorecrest projects towering above.
EXT. OCEAN PARKWAY STATION - LATER
Larisa maneuvers Emily’s stroller up the set of stairs toward

the elevated station while the morning commuter crowd floods
the area, moving up and down.
EXT. TUTOR TIME OF BROOKLYN - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily into Tutor Time, a childcare center in

Bay Ridge located right beside a smoke shop.
INT. TUTOR TIME OF BROOKLYN - LATER
A group of 8 TODDLERS play and mill behind while Larisa

speaks to AMY, 30s, a childcare worker.
AMY
...and there are programs for
financial relief we can recommend.
45.
LARISA
What’s the time frame on approval?
Pause.
AMY
Ummm....it can vary.
LARISA
So...not by tomorrow.
AMY
I’m...sorry, that would be.
Unusual.
INT. N TRAIN - LATER
Larisa remains standing, Emily’s stroller at her side on a

crowded N train that passes southbound through the Coney
Island MTA yards toward the Belt Parkway.
INT. NETCOST - DAY
Larisa, in jeans, speaks to a MANAGER at NetCost, Emily’s

stroller at her side.
LARISA
I can take those shifts if you help
subsidize-
MANAGER
(Russian accent)
-It comes out of your pay.
LARISA
Then...I can’t take those shifts.
The manager shrugs at Larisa.
EXT. NETCOST - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller out of the store and onto

Brighton Beach Avenue.
Leonid follows her out.
LEONID
You find those Poljots, you hand
them over!
Larisa keeps walking.

46.
LEONID (CONT’D)
I know Nina stole them!
EXT. CALVERT VAUX PARK - DAY
A series of photographs featuring Little League baseball

teams, kids about 10-11 years old, posing.
The Tigers.
The Cubs.
The Dodgers.
The Mets.
Larisa stands behind her camera set up on a tripod.
A line of LITTLE LEAGUERS in their Mets uniforms, bat in each

kid’s hands.
Emily’s stroller rests nearby under a tree, the little league

field a short distance behind.
LARISA
Great, thanks.
One kid shuffles over to his PARENTS.
LITTLE LEAGUER 1
Where’s my Pepsi?
Another kid moves to a marked spot in the grass.
LARISA
Okay, give me a batter’s stance.
The kid raises the bat in both hands.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Who’s your favorite Met?
LITTLE LEAGUER 2
The Mets suck dick. I wanna be
Aaron Judge.
He still speaks with a noticeable lisp and the high voice of

a puberty still to come.
Larisa frowns a little.
LARISA
O-kay.
47.
She takes the shot.
EXT. CALVERT VAUX PARK - LATER
Larisa changes Emily on a picnic table.
A COACH wearing a sweatshirt and Yankees hat calls out to

Larisa, a TEAM of 9-year-olds in Yankee uniforms waiting
behind.
YANKEES COACH
Hey! We take the field in 20
minutes!
Larisa spins around, holds up one finger, then goes back to

Emily’s diaper.
INT. NINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Larisa prints out images on glossy photo paper.
INT. KITCHEN - LATER
A stack of organized envelopes sit on the kitchen table.
Larisa places a photo of a kid in a Marlins uniform holding a

bat into a manilla folder.
CNN plays on the background behind her.
CLAIRE
...and the State Department remains
committed to providing the
requisite aid for Palestinian
civilians.
A chyron below her face reads
Claire Chernov - RAND Corporation, CNN Contributor
A KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK at the door.
Larisa answers to find:
DMITRI, 60s, cheap jacket, pants a size too large and a

bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of Belvedere in the
other.
DMITRI
I am looking for...Antonina.
48.
Silence for a moment.
LARISA
I...
DMITRI
She didn’t call. Maybe I make her
upset.
LARISA
I’m sorry...My mother was...she
died. Three weeks ago.
Dmitri nods slowly and looks past Larisa into the dark
apartment.
He hands her the roses...
LARISA (CONT’D)
(Russian)
Thank you.
...and walks down the empty hallway, Belvedere still in his

hand.
INT. KITCHEN - LATER
Television off.
Larisa stares at the photos she took of Dr. Alyan, the Little
League photos all organized and stacked away under the table.
A meek cry sounds from the bedroom.
INT. LARISA'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa moves to Emily’s crib...
Emily moans.
Her breathing looks, sounds labored.
LARISA
Emily?
Larisa picks her up, her own breathing quickening.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Emily...it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.
49.
INT. SOUTH BROOKLYN HEALTH
The pediatrics unit.
Larisa watches through glass at Emily, alone in an infant

care, hooked to a breathing tube.
INT. SOUTH BROOKLYN HEALTH - LATER
Larisa speaks in the hallway to a DOCTOR, 50s.
DOCTOR
We can’t pinpoint the direct cause
of infant botulism but...
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT
Larisa holds Emily in her arms.
EXT. CALVERT VAUX PARK - DAY
A line of ELEVEN SOCCER PLAYERS, age 5-6, wearing red

uniforms.
One KID hugs a soccer ball as he trudges across the grass,

hits his mark and waves at someone.
Larisa turns to see his MOTHER, 30s. The mother smiles and
then points to the camera.
SOCCER MOM
Look at the camera, Caden!
Larisa looks into the lens and notices:
Her right hand, trembling.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The trembling stops.
SNAP.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT
Larisa sleeps in a chair under a blanket next to Emily, still

on a ventilator.
50.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY
Larisa remains in the chair, laptop propped open as she sorts

through jpegs of youth soccer players.
EXT. SOUTH BROOKLYN HEALTH - DUSK
Larisa wheels Emily’s stroller out of the hospital.
She pauses for a police van to make its way past and crosses
toward Ocean Parkway.
INT. NINA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Larisa sits up on the couch, holding Emily, sleeping and

silent.
INT. LARISA'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Larisa lies in bed, awake.
She hears a RATTLE.
Slides out of bed.
INT. KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER
The doorknob’s moving.
Larisa opens a drawer.
Feels around for a steak knife.
Waits.
Waits.
The rattling stops.
Larisa sneaks toward the front door, knife out.
INT. HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa thrusts the front door open.
Stares down one end of the hallway.
Swings her head in the other direction.

51.
No one.
EXT. CROSS BAY BOULEVARD
Larisa holds Emily in the back of a taxi cab moving north on

Cross Bay Boulevard.
Claire sits beside her, wearing a long, elegant wool coat.

Larisa wears her Mets jacket.
CLAIRE
Taxes I can deal with next spring.
God only knows what that’ll entail.
Everything else is covered with
Nina. Mortuary, death certificates.
Larisa nods.
LARISA
Thank you.
(beat)
It’s what she wouldn’t have wanted.
Claire starts to laugh.
EXT. SEAVER WAY - LATER
The cab slows into traffic just outside Citi Field.
CLAIRE
Right here’s fine, thanks.
Claire slides her card through as Larisa exits with Emily and
heads toward the cab’s trunk.
EXT. SEAVER WAY - MOMENTS LATER
Claire carries a heavier bag in addition to her purse while

Larisa pushes a stroller past some body shops.
FANS, many in Mets gear, jostle past on their way to the park
as a plane from nearby LaGuardia flies low above them.
EXT. CITI FIELD - LATER
Larisa and Claire stand in a thin strip of glass with planted

trees flanking a parking lot.
LARISA
They’ll never let us bring it in.
52.
Claire looks around her.
Nods.
Claire pulls a wooden urn from her larger bag.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Keep your eyes peeled, you’re
supposed to have permits for this
shit.
Claire hands the urn to Larisa, who unwraps...
And begins pouring ashes into the dust.
INT. CITI FIELD - LATER
A night game, lights on.
Claire and Larisa sit with Emily high in the bleachers way up
the third base line in a sparsely attended section.
CLAIRE
I should have brought a book.
A *crack* from the field followed by a light roar.
LARISA
I want to go back to Gaza for those
photos.
Larisa holds Emily tighter, looks down.
LARISA (CONT’D)
You could help me get them
out...publish them.
Claire grabs one of Emily’s tiny hands.
CLAIRE
I don’t want you developing a self-
destructive streak like your
mother.
Pause.
LARISA
Our mother.
CLAIRE
Hmm.
Silence.
53.
LARISA
They didn’t take her wallet.
CLAIRE
What?
LARISA
Whoever stabbed her. They took the
watch off her wrist but...she kept
her wallet and her phone in her
jacket.
CLAIRE
She was killed in a public space,
they probably rushed.
Claire looks around for anyone listening in as light boos

rain down on the field as if the home plate umpire missed a
call.
LARISA
That’s what the detective told me.
ANNOUNCER
Now batting, shortstop, Francisco
Lindor.
Light applause at Citi Field.
CLAIRE
I want to stay with you a few
weeks. I can work from home and
look after Emily while you...
LARISA
While I what?
CLAIRE
Willow still wants you at Robin
Hood. Or maybe you should move to
Washington. God knows I’m
connected.
LARISA
Mama’s apartment is rent
controlled.
CLAIRE
Jesus, Kitten, I can get you jobs
at two dozen different places that
would have you never worrying about
rent control again.
54.
Larisa holds Emily up a bit so she can look down on the

field.
LARISA
Would you watch Emily if I went
back to Gaza?
CLAIRE
No, Larisa. I wouldn’t.
Silence.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
My friend David met you in Tel
Aviv. He was impressed.
LARISA
David?
CLAIRE
With USAID.
LARISA
I wasn’t aware you knew each other.
CLAIRE
The foreign policy landscape’s a
pretty small world. You’ll be
shocked to know there isn’t exactly
a cavalcade of people pining to
dedicate their lives to Middle East
policy.
LARISA
He checked my camera.
CLAIRE
Probably for your own good. He’s a
great guy, really sweet.
LARISA
You should marry him.
CLAIRE
Don’t be a brat.
LARISA
I’m being serious.
CLAIRE
I’m checked in until Friday. I can
move my stuff over that afternoon.
Deal?
55.
Long pause.
LARISA
Sure.
CLAIRE
This’ll be good. You need the help.
You need the sleep.
LARISA
Mama said I had a blind spot with
you.
CLAIRE
Oh?
LARISA
Because I thought you understood
me. Understood what I wanted from
the world.
CLAIRE
You and I want the same things, I
just recognize how to go about them
in a practical fashion.
EXT. SHORECREST TOWERS - NIGHT
Claire stands at the curb with Larisa and Emily.
CLAIRE
David’s in town next week. I’ll
have him over, okay?
Larisa nods.
Claire smiles at Emily.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
And I’ll see you real soon.
She kisses Emily’s hand.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
So they still don’t know what
caused the botulism?
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Terrifying. But you dodged a
bullet, huh?
56.
Claire turns back toward the street.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Alright, I still gotta cab it to
Manhattan so...
She hugs Larisa, who stands limp.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Everything will get better. I
promise.
EXT. ART WALLS - MORNING
Larisa pushes Emily past the Ronald McDonald Art Wall.
She rounds a corner and passes the RIOT Art Wall, pushing her
way toward...
A dried color on the pavement, a darker shade...
Nina’s blood.
Larisa pulls Emily from the crib, keeping her swaddled in

blankets to protect from the cold.
She lowers herself to bring Emily closer to the blood.
LARISA
That’s what they did to grandma.
INT. SUBWAY - DAY
Larisa rides the 6 Train with Emily north through the Bronx.
SUBWAY ANNOUNCER
Westchester Square East. Tremont
Avenue.
EXT. BRONX - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller down Tremont Avenue toward

Westchester Square Pawnbrokers.
INT. PAWNBROKER - LATER
A pawnbroker holds up one of the Poljot watches as four more

lie on the table
57.
EXT. BRONX - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller through the pawnbroker’s exit.
She holds a cell phone to her ear and we hear Claire’s voice.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
Larisa, I haven’t heard from you.
I’m still planning on coming over
tomorrow by 2. Call me. Please.
Larisa holds the phone to her side for a moment. Then:
She sees a bus approaching and drops her phone on the street.
The passing bus crushes it.
EXT. SHORE PARKWAY - DAY
Sun high above the MTA maintenance yards.
Larisa holds a handle on Emily’s stroller talking to THOMAS,

20s, black and leaning against a parked 2002 Jeep.
THOMAS
No cap, the window’s fucked up but
I got it taped real good and it
runs clean.
LARISA
Eighteen hundred?
Thomas holds prayer hands over his chest.
THOMAS
Bless.
EXT. I-280 - DUSK
Larisa drives through the industrial landscape outside

Kearny, New Jersey.
Emily sits in a very used carseat in back.
EXT. GAS STATION - DAWN
A rest stop off the 1-90 in Ohio. The sort of roadside oasis
with a Starbucks and Burger King plus a food mart selling
shirts with American flags printed on the front.
58.
Larisa pushes Emily stroller’s across the parking lot toward

the interior entrance.
INT. BURGER KING - LATER
Larisa bottle feeds Emily, a plastic cup of Burger King

coffee on the table.
INT. BATHROOM - LATER
Larisa shoots a dust of baby powder at Emily, lying on a

changing room table.
INT. BURGER KING - LATER
STARBUCKS EMPLOYEE
You can’t sleep in here!
Larisa jerks up from the table...
Gasps.
Sees Emily sleeping in her stroller.
Looks across the food court at a YOUNG STARBUCKS EMPLOYEE,

20s, staring at her from behind a cash register.
Larisa stares at her for a moment.
Nods.
And rises from the table, pushing Emily along as she makes
for the exit.
EXT. REST STOP - LATER
Darkness over the lit rest stop as traffic remains spare in

and around the gas station.
Larisa sleeps in her front seat, shivering slightly as wind

hisses through the Jeep’s busted window.
She JERKS awake.
Looks back at Emily, sleeping beneath a blanket inside a

portable crib set up in the Jeep’s backseat.
Her eyes remain open.

59.
Morning now.
Larisa’s head remains in the same position, awake. Fried.
Larisa stands with the trunk open, Emily laid out in back,
baby powder at her side.
Larisa drops a diaper into a plastic Burger King bag, shuts

the trunk and hustles over to a garbage can.
INT/EXT. JEEP
Emily’s back in the car seat.
Larisa holds a burner cell phone to her ear as an operator’s

voice kicks in.
OPERATOR (O.S.)
The mailbox for the number you have
dialed is full.
Larisa clicks the screen off and drops the phone on the
passenger seat.
She keys the ignition.
Chu-chu-chuh.
Chu-chu-chuh.
Pause.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The engine kicks up.
INT/EXT. JEEP - NIGHT
Larisa drives past factories emitting an eerie red glow

outside Joliet, Illinois.
60.
EXT. MCDONALD’S - LATER
A McDonald’s attached to a Shell station mini-mart in

LeClaire, Iowa.
The parking lot overlooks a small slope above the Mississippi

River, broad and stately below.
INT. MCDONALD'S - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa sits at a booth with an empty mini-mart fruit cup and

a cup of coffee.
She pours milk from a 20-ounce container into a bottle,

careful not to spill.
Emily WAILS but the McDonalds is empty of any other customer.
She pulls Emily from her stroller, sits her on her lap.
Bounces her.
Bottle in mouth.
The crying stops.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
A smile from Larisa.
And a voice from behind.
MCDONALD’S EMPLOYEE
We have a 30-minute limit, ma’am!
Larisa turns around to find the EMPLOYEE, 19, calling out to

her, a lone figure behind a cashier in a newly-automated fast
food joint.
Larisa looks around at the empty McDonald’s, at the dearth of

people who could possibly want her table.
MCDONALD’S EMPLOYEE (CONT’D)

Ma’am!
EXT. MCDONALD'S - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller out of the McDonald’s and

stops to look down at the Mississippi.
61.
INT. HOLIDAY INN EXPRESS - LATER
Larisa at the front desk while a CONCIERGE outlines costs.
CONCIERGE
...and with tax it would be 126 for
the night.
Pause.
LARISA
Do you have duct tape by any
chance?
INT. JEEP - LATER
The parking lot of the Holiday Inn Express.
Larisa runs another strip of duct tape along the Jeep’s

window.
She looks at Emily, asleep beneath a blanket double wrapped

around her body.
EXT. MISSISSIPPI RIVER - MORNING
Larisa, bundled in her Mets jacket and wool hat, pulls Emily
from her stroller and steadies her beside a willow tree on
the banks of the Mississippi.
A small marina sits to their side and the Holiday Inn Express
rises at their back.
LARISA
That’s the Mississippi. When you’re
older, I’ll read you Huckleberry
Finn.
Larisa makes sure the blanket around Emily remains wrapped.
LARISA (CONT’D)
This is my first time seeing it,
too.
She kisses Emily’s forehead.
INT/EXT. JEEP - LATER
Larisa leans up against the Jeep, burner at her ear.

62.
OPERATOR (O.S.)
The mailbox for the number you have
dialed is full.
She drops her arm from her ear, wincing a little and rolling
her shoulder around.
Larisa slides into the Jeep and looks back at Emily in her
carseat.
LARISA
I guess we’re gonna be a surprise.
INT. JEEP - LATER
Larisa drives southwest on Highway 72, passing signs for the

Hannibal City Limits and a Welcome to Missouri.
EXT. BECKY THATCHER’S DINER - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller through the entrance of a tiny

diner with a 1950s affect on a street nearly empty of
pedestrians or cars.
INT. BECKY THATCHER’S DINER - LATER
Larisa bottle feeds Emily behind a plate with half a BLT on

it.
She smiles.
LARISA
Mark Twain became an anti-
imperialist. Took him a while but
he got there. That’s what your mama
is.
She speaks slowly, sounding out each syllable.
LARISA (CONT’D)
An-ti-im-pe-ri-a-list. It’s a
lonely road, Emily.
INT/EXT. JEEP - LATER
Highway 44 westbound.
Larisa looks at the Jeep’s temperature gauge.
Hot. Very hot.

63.
EXT. HIGHWAY 44 - LATER
The Jeep sits at the side of the highway, smoke still wafting
from under the hood.
Larisa stands back by the trunk, waving at the few passing

cars, trying to flag one down.
INT/EXT. TOW TRUCK - LATER
An H&H Wrecker painted purple tows the Jeep.
Larisa sits in the passenger seat, holding Emily as the tow

pulls off 44 and into a repair shop located next to a Kum &
Go station.
EXT. GARAGE - LATER
Larisa talks to an AUTO REPAIR MAN, 40s, the Jeep parked

behind them.
AUTO REPAIR MAN

The cracked hose did a lot of
damage.
LARISA
How much damage?
AUTO REPAIR MAN

You said you bought it last week?
Larisa nods.
AUTO REPAIR MAN (CONT’D)

For how much?
LARISA
Eighteen hundred.
AUTO REPAIR MAN

Not gonna bullshit ya, it’ll cost
more than that to fix it.
LARISA
What about scrapping it?
The repairman smiles, looks back at the Jeep...
AUTO REPAIR MAN

Tires and rims looked alright.
He shrugs.
64.
LARISA
Is there a...a Walmart or a
supermarket nearby?
EXT. SARCOXIE - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller with one hand and drags a

shopping cart holding her bags, diapers and portable crib
with another.
We hear laughter and band music as she rounds a corner

heading into Sarcoxie’s small, depressed downtown.
A PARADE is in progress.
A small-town festival running through Sarcoxie, Missouri. A

bandstand, carnival games, craft booths, etc.
We follow a WHITE COUPLE IN THEIR 70s, both wearing Native

American headdresses atop otherwise-bland outfits. They pass
by the various booths, occasionally stopping to glance at
necklaces or kettle corn, moving at a gentle pace until they
pass:
Larisa, alone in a patch of grass just off the main drag.
She’s made a sign reading:
FAMILY PORTRAITS
$5
INSTANT!
...and taped it up to a tree.
She crouches with her Nikon, trained on a HUSBAND, WIFE and

TWO CHILDREN, ages 3 and 5.
Larisa connects her Nikon to the husband’s iPhone and he

stares down at the screen.
HUSBAND
Oh, these are fantastic.
(to his wife)
Look at this one.
65.
Dusk.
Larisa leads Emily down the road where a small pen with five
ponies promises:
Pony Rides!
$7
Larisa looks down at Emily.
LARISA
Okay, fine.
Larisa walks beside one of the ponies making its slow way
around a circle, holding Emily up in the small saddle.
EXT. SARCOXIE - NIGHT
Nighttime as the festival winds down.
Larisa pulls her jacket from the shopping cart and throws it
on.
She checks on Emily in her stroller, already wrapped under a

blanket.
Larisa stares at her a moment.
Grabs her camera.
Crouches.
SNAP.
A shift of her feet.
SNAP.
LARISA
Five dollars.
Larisa holds her hand out as Emily just stares at her.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Deadbeat.
66.
INT. INFORMATION CENTER - CONTINUOUS
Larisa approaches a FESTIVAL GUIDE in her 60s seated behind a

long folding table.
FESTIVAL GUIDE
Welcome to the Chief Sarcoxie Days
Festival! How may I help you?
She does her best to retain cheer despite Larisa looking

absolutely fried.
LARISA
Hello...I was wondering if there
were any buses out of town. Heading
west. A Greyhound?
FESTIVAL GUIDE
Oh...I’m sorry, no. You’d have to
go to Joplin. Or maybe it’s in
Duenweg now.
LARISA
Duenweg?...How far is Duenweg?
FESTIVAL GUIDE
Mmmm, 20, 25 miles. It’s west of
here.
LARISA
Do you have...cabs, or...?
FESTIVAL GUIDE
This late? Maybe from Carthage. But
they’d charge for the whole trip.
LARISA
I see...
(beat)
How cold is it supposed to be
tonight?
FESTIVAL GUIDE
Shouldn’t get much colder than
this.
Larisa nods...
FESTIVAL GUIDE (CONT’D)

(kidding)
You’re not walking to Duenweg?
67.
LARISA
Not if you...offered me a ride by
any chance.
Larisa gives an apologetic, almost wincing smile but the

festival guide’s face hardens.
FESTIVAL GUIDE
Honey, you wouldn’t be in this
position if you replaced
methamphetamine with God.
EXT. BLACKBERRY ROAD - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller and drags the shopping cart

along Blackberry Road, a two-lane street flanked on both
sides by tall grasses and shrubbery with farmland just
beyond.
A car approaches from behind and Larisa turns.
LARISA
(to Emily)
What’s more dangerous, walking 25
miles at night alone with an infant
or hitchhiking?
She sticks her thumb up but the car drives on by without

slowing.
EXT. BLACKBERRY ROAD
Larisa approaches a small house set back from the road,

reached by a narrow gravel driveway. The lights in the living
room shine through.
Larisa walks over to the window, crouches down, pulls out her
map and looks it over in the limited light.
Behind the window, a MIDDLE-AGED MAN lies alone on the couch

staring at a television.
EXT. APPLE ROAD INTERSECTION - LATER
Larisa at the crossroads of Route 59 and Apple Road.
She wanders a moment in the darkness looking for a street

sign.
She checks the map, sees nothing in the darkness and makes a
right down the road.
68.
EXT. APPLE ROAD LATER
Larisa leaves the cart and stroller by the roadside and steps
down a slight slope.
She drops her jeans and underwear and crouches down to pee.
A pickup truck approaches from the east, high beams blaring.
LARISA
Oh, Jesus.
The high beams hit Larisa and the truck slows just enough for
the driver to get a look before speeding back up as it passes
her.
Larisa finishes.
Pulls up her underwear.
And jeans.
Hustles back up to the roadside.
Jokingly sticks her thumb out with the truck now well past.
EXT. 7TH STREET - DAWN
Larisa walks through the outskirts of Joplin, passing

decrepit storefronts and agricultural supply warehouses with
empty lots.
A feral cat hunches at the street corner.
Larisa approaches and it YOWLS at her as it takes a few steps

back.
LARISA
Be nice. Our night was longer than
yours.
Larisa leans close to Emily.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Kitty cat. Remember? Kitty cat?
EMILY
Kitty.
Larisa gasps a little, holds a hand to her mouth.
LARISA
Kitty!
69.
EMILY
(barely audible)
Kitty.
Larisa takes a deep breath and returns to full height.
As she pushes Emily and the shopping cart forward again, she
does so with more energy.
EXT. GREYHOUND STATION - LATER
The Greyhound Station sits behind a Phillips 66 gas station.
Larisa pushes and pulls past the pumps and toward the
entrance.
INT. GREYHOUND STATION - LATER
The Greyhound Station shares space with a mini mart.
Larisa sits on a plastic chair, stroller nearby.
She looks over at a LONE WOMAN, early 20s, working the ticket
counter.
LARISA
Excuse me?
The woman looks up.
LARISA (CONT’D)
What’s today’s date?
The woman stares down at something on her desk for a second.
GREYHOUND CLERK
Uh...September 9th.
Larisa laughs a little.
LARISA
Thank you.
Larisa crouches down across from Emily beside a large

cardboard can in the shape and coloring of a Monster energy
drink.
She sticks an unlit candle in a little cup of applesauce.

70.
Looks at Emily in her stroller.
LARISA
Happy birthday to you...happy
birthday to you. Happy birthday
dear Emilyyyy. Happy birthday to
you.
She sets the candle down, grabs a plastic spoon wrapped in

some paper napkins and does an airplane route of applesauce
toward Emily.
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller toward a waiting bus, one

heavy bag over her shoulder, camera bag around her neck and
the portable crib folded under her arm.
She walks close beside a DAY LABORER, 30s, his wife beside
them.
The day laborer carries a duffel bag of Larisa’s and sets it

near the bus’ luggage storage.
LARISA
Thank you so much, truly.
The laborer tips his sweat-stained hat, his wife smiles and
they make their way toward the bus.
Larisa lifts Emily from the stroller and breaks it down with
one hand, a technique well-practiced in her year of
motherhood.
She gathers the duffel bag and moves toward the bus beside
THREE COLLEGE AGE GIRLS, one tanned and dressed in boho chic,
another heavier and wearing an ASU hoodie and a third in
leggings with a Disney World sweatshirt.
ASU GIRL 1
...I’m looking after you! When you
gain weight, it’s a bitch to lose
and then you get saggy ski-
ASU GIRL 2
-Fuck off!
ASU GIRL 1
-Imagine calling your dad for,
like, 12 grand so some surgeon can
lop off this flabby tent hanging
above your pussy.
71.
ASU GIRL 2
Fuck off!
ASU GIRL 3
Daze, don’t be cunty just because
you wrecked the car.
ASU GIRL 1
I didn’t know brakes needed fluid!
The three disappear together into the bus, their discord

becoming inaudible.
LARISA
(to Emily)
If you’re gonna end up like that,
let me know now so I can stop
trying to evade death.
INT. GREYHOUND BUS - NIGHT
A full bus of PASSENGERS, most sleeping.
Or trying to sleep.
Larisa sits wide awake with Emily in her lap, eyes out the
window staring out at the black expanse.
Quiet.
Until...
A PASSENGER SCREAMS.
Larisa’s eyes dart forward as a commotion emerges at the

front of the bus and FLAMES emerge.
EXT. 1-40 - LATER
The bus at the side of Interstate 40, east of Amarillo.
Flames still lick the bus and provide a semblance of light to

the late night.
Passengers wait by the roadside, all a safe distance from the

flames.
Larisa has a camera bag around her shoulder and the portable
crib leaning against Emily’s stroller. No other bag at her
feet.
72.
A SCRAGGLY MAN, 40, shirt and jeans ripped, approaches Larisa

from well-off the turnpike.
SCRAGGLY MAN
Hey! They say when the next one’s
coming? I was taking a leak.
LARISA
4 more hours.
SCRAGGLY MAN
Jesus Christ.
A WOMAN, 50s, sobs to a friend beside her.
SOBBING PASSENGER
Everything burned up! Everything!
Larisa pushes Emily further down the interstate.
LARISA
I don’t know if awful things keep
happening to us because I’m a
target or because we’re just poor.
INT. GREYHOUND STATION, PHOENIX - DAY
The three ASU students walk toward a FOURTH ASU student,

waiting in a tank top and cut offs.
ASU GIRL 2
The first bus caught fire!
ASU GIRL 1
And the car is still in Missouri!
ASU GIRL 4
Oh my goddddd.
They hug and all stagger out toward the entrance while Larisa
emerges, pushing Emily, lugging her camera bag and crib while
a DOZEN other passengers brush past her with hurried steps.
INT. GREYHOUND STATION, PHOENIX - LATER
Larisa bottle feeds Emily in her seat.
LARISA
Well, Emily, we need to go 4.8 more
miles and it’s 102 degrees outside.
Emily pulls the bottle from Emily’s lips.

73.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Feel like walking?
Emily begins to cry, hands reaching for the bottle.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Me neither.
INT/EXT. CAB - LATER
Larisa sits with Emily in the back of a cab slogging

westbound on Peoria Avenue past a sprawl of low-rise office
parks.
Larisa dials a number on her burner, holds it to her ear.
Waits.
OPERATOR
We’re sorry, the number you have
dia-
Larisa hangs up.
EXT. PHOENIX - LATER
Larisa pushes Emily’s stroller toward a small tract house

brushing up against the scrubby Saddle Rock Hills north of
Phoenix.
The cab rounds the cul-de-sac and heads back.
Larisa sets her bags down by the stroller and wanders close
to the residence, squinting at the street number on the
house.
EXT. HUSTON’S HOUSE - LATER
Larisa maneuvers the stroller down the driveway and toward

the front door.
She bends down toward Emily.
LARISA
Don’t go anywhere.
And sprints back to the curb.
To her camera bag and portable crib.
Which she then lugs.

74.
Back.
To the house.
She looks at a sign taped to the front door.
Notice
To
Vacate
Larisa lifts her head back, rolls her neck around.
She knocks.
She knocks again.
She tries looking through the window but the blinds are
drawn.
Another knock.
Larisa settles on the ground, under the shade beside Emily in

her stroller.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Ready for one more walk?
Emily stares back at her.
LARISA (CONT’D)
You know, I’m doing most of the
work here.
She sighs.
Pushes herself off the ground.
Steps into the sun.
Looks down at Emily once again.
Sits.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Let’s give it another hour.
EXT. PHOENIX - DUSK
Sun low over the hills.

75.
Larisa pushes Emily down 19th Avenue toward a strip mall

featuring a Circle K.
EXT. HUSTON’S HOUSE - NIGHT
A single porch light from the house shines on Larisa, Emily

in her arms as she bottle feeds her, a Circle K bag trapped
under a carton of milk behind her.
EXT. HUSTON’S HOUSE - LATER
Another knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Larisa looks back at Emily.
LARISA
What the hell.
She grabs the door knob and twists.
Nothing.
LARISA (CONT’D)
That would have been too easy.
EXT. HUSTON’S HOUSE - DAWN
Larisa lies back, head on one of her bags placed against the
outside wall of the house.
She glances at Emily, sleeping in her stroller.
Then:
The door opens and HUSTON KING, 60s, emerges with a trash
bag. He looks awful.
HUSTON
What?
Larisa jolts up.
He notices the baby and looks back at Larisa.

76.
LARISA
Dad.
Silence.
HUSTON
Nina dead?
Another beat.
LARISA
How did you know?
He tosses the bag down.
HUSTON
Figure if you came looking for me,
it’s because you got no one else.
Sorry, I...it’s better to ignore
knocking. Usually.
He points at the stroller.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
That your, uh...
Larisa nods.
LARISA
Emily.
Huston gives Emily a small salute.
INT. HUSTON’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
An almost entirely spartan interior.
Two lawn chairs, a decade-old television on the floor.
No other furniture. No pictures on the wall. You could pack

up everything and leave in five minutes.
Huston sits in one of the chairs, leaving Larisa standing

over him, waiting.
Silence for a moment.
LARISA
May I have a glass of water?
Huston points at a cabinet over in the kitchen.

77.
HUSTON
Yeah, just grab a cup in there. Use
the uh, the tap. I gotta hit the
store.
Larisa moves to the cabinet holding a messy collection of

plastic plates, spoons, knives, forks, red cups, napkins
swiped from dispensers in fast food restaurants...
She lets the kitchen faucet run, the water changing color
from brown to clear.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Hey, go easy. We got a drought.
Larisa places her cup under the faucet and fills it to the
top.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Your mother couldn’t figure out
that I wasn’t some revolutionary. I
just wanted new experiences and
cheap drugs.
LARISA
She said you were a good
journalist. Admitted it, under
duress.
HUSTON
I did more cheap drugs than good
journalism.
(beat)
You need money?
Larisa returns.
LARISA
What?
HUSTON
I’m putting together this land deal
for some Russians. You’re a
photographer, right?
Larisa nods.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Yeah, I don’t have my camera any
more and the phone...
(beat)
I can pay you two hundred bucks to
go down there and get me some
decent shots.
78.
LARISA
Where is it?
HUSTON
Far enough out that I don’t want to
do it.
LARISA
I want to...I don’t want to leave
Emi-
HUSTON
-She’d be the third kid I looked
after.
Pause.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
How far back do your memories go?
LARISA
Far enough.
Long silence.
HUSTON
I’m not...I’ve been sober 11 years.
LARISA
Congratulations.
HUSTON
We supposed to hug or something?
LARISA
We don’t have to.
Pause.
HUSTON
Okay.
EXT. HUSTON’S GARAGE - LATER
Garage open, a 1997 Corvette inside. Silver, discolored.

Dented in the rear.
Larisa unlocks it while Huston follows.
HUSTON
Hey, uh...you got any cash?
Larisa nods.
79.
LARISA
Some.
HUSTON
How much? You gotta throw some gas
in there.
LARISA
I have 160 dollars left.
Huston thinks a moment.
HUSTON
Yeah, you’ll be alright.
Larisa slides into the low seat and stares over the dash.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Don’t uh...I lost the title for
this thing a while back, so...don’t
speed or anything.
Larisa looks up at her father and starts to say something.
Stops.
Keys the ignition.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Oh and...
She looks up at him once again.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
If you’re spending the night...
(beat)
Pick up a sleeping bag. Or an air
mattress or whatever. I don’t...
Larisa lets the engine kick into gear a moment.
LARISA
Okay.
She begins to back out and Huston follows, calling:
HUSTON
Grab some water on the road! It
gets hotter’n hell out there!
80.
INT/EXT. HUSTON’S CAR - LATER
Larisa drives southbound on the 10 through the Gila River

Indian Reservation.
She glances at the dashboard.
Check Engine.
Inhale.
Exhale.
A check on the outside temperature gauge.
101 degrees.
EXT. WILLCOX PLAYA DRY LAKE BED - LATER
An expansive dry lake bed flanked by low-rising hills.
The Corvette sits parked off a dusty trail.
Larisa pulls her camera bag out of the trunk.
She sets up her camera on a tripod in the center of a flat

plain, a handful of shrubs scattered in her view.
SNAP.
SNAP.
Larisa holds the camera free, crouches down for a different

angle.
SNAP.
Larisa’s elevated now, up one of the peaks of the Dos Cabezas

range.
She looks down at the dry lake bed.
SNAP.
Larisa drives up Highway 186 through the peaks, back toward

the lake bed.
81.
Larisa parks at some fencing with a NO TRESPASSING sign.
She sets her tripod back in the trunk.
Grabs a gallon bottle of water half outside a Circle K bag.
Guzzles.
Slams the trunk.
Hops the fence, careful to keep her camera bag secure.
Dusk now, the sun lower, color streaking the sky.
Larisa walks to a central spot beyond a shrub.
Stares a moment.
It does look beautifully austere.
Pulls the camera to her face.
SNAP.
SNAP.
Waits.
A sound from the skies.
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Getting closer.
Getting louder.
CHOP.
CHOP.
CHOP.
Larisa turns around and looks up.
A UH-72B Lakota helicopter approaches.

82.
Larisa sprints back toward her car.
The Lakota makes an unwieldy turn to change directions and

follow.
Larisa propels herself up and over the fence.
She dives under the Corvette.
Tries to still her body.
Runs hands to ears.
SCREAMS as the chopper blades cut through air and drown out
any sound she can make.
Chop.
CHOP.
CHOP.
Dust kicked and swirling all around the Corvette.
Larisa closes her eyes as the clamor only grows.
Almost night, the last sliver of sun just above the highest
surrounding peaks.
Larisa waits outside her Corvette, flanked by THREE U.S. ARMY

MEMBERS, uniformed.
An Infantry Squad Vehicle sits parked behind them.
SOLDIER 1
We just needed to make sure you
weren’t a Chinese spy.
SOLDIER 2
Or a Russian.
Some laughter from the others.
SOLDIER 1
Fuckin Russians, always tryin to
spy on our precious dry lake beds.
More laughter.
83.
SOLDIER 3
Wait, what was that name on her
license?
Soldier 1 hands him Larisa’s license.
SOLDIER 3 (CONT’D)
Larisa Chernov.
SOLDIER 2
Uh-oh, sounds suspicious.
SOLDIER 1
Might have to postpone getting
fucked up tonight so we can bring
her in.
Pause.
They all break out laughing again.
What a stupid fuckin job.
He takes the ID from the third soldier and hands it back to

Larisa.
Yeah, so rule of thumb for the
future. When there’s a No
Trespassing sign...
He gestures back at the fence and speaks to Larisa mockingly

as if to a six-year-old.
That means you’re not supposed to
trespass.
Larisa nods.
LARISA
So...
SOLDIER 1
Yeah?
LARISA
...who owns this, this land?
Pause. Smile.
SOLDIER 1
The United States Army, sweetheart.
84.
INT/EXT. HUSTON’S CAR - NIGHT
Larisa drives back toward Phoenix on Interstate 10.
A look ahead at darkness.
Then down at the Check Engine light.
INT. HUSTON’S HOUSE - LATER
Larisa walks into Huston’s house, tripod under one arm,

camera bag around her neck.
INT. HUSTON’S BEDROOM - LATER
Huston sleeps on a mattress on the floor.
Emily’s portable crib rests nearby.
Larisa walks over.
Checks in.
Kisses her finger and then gently touches Emily’s cheek.
INT. HUSTON’S BATHROOM - LATER
Larisa shuts off the shower and looks down to see her feet in
five inches of grimy water.
INT. HUSTON’S BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa wraps a red towel covered in bleach stains around

herself.
She grabs a tube of toothpaste on the sink counter, sees the

single toothbrush next to it and squeezes some toothpaste
onto her finger.
INT. GUEST BEDROOM - LATER
Larisa, dressed, hair still damp, flicks a light switch in

the bedroom.
Nothing.
She holds up her burner phone for some weak light.
No bed.
85.
No mattress on the floor.
Larisa drives southbound down 19th Avenue.
EXT. WALMART SUPERCENTER - LATER
A Walmart in a massive shopping complex, surrounded by a

mostly-empty parking lot the size of some central European
countries.
Larisa hustles from her Corvette to the Walmart entrance.
She moves toward the doors but they don’t open.
No one inside.
A glance at the hours posted on the door.
6am to 10pm every day.
EXT. TARGET - LATER
Larisa jogs toward the entrance of a Target in the same

complex.
The doors don’t open.
A glance at the hours posted on the door.
8am to 10pm every day.
Larisa stares for a moment.
Turns around.
Starts walking back toward her car.
Larisa curls her Mets jacket on the floor.
Lies down.
Sets her head amidst the jacket’s folded up arms.
Open.
86.
Closed.
INT. GUEST BEDROOM - NEXT MORNING
Chop.
Chop.
CHOP CHOP CHOP.
The sound of blades getting closer.
Louder.
A GASP.
...as Larisa thrusts her body upward off the Mets jacket,
breathing heavy and quick.
A quick glance around the room, spartan besides her camera

bag.
Chop chop chop.
A look up.
A ceiling fan that hasn’t been dusted in years whirls around.

Chop chop chop.
INT. HUSTON’S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Huston drags a floor fan into the living room and props it up
on a cheap folding table.
Larisa stares down at printed photos taken at the dry lake

bed.
HUSTON
I bought a piece of shit bit of
land a while back.
He turns the fan on and holds his hand out for a moment.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Something that has a name on it.
But I sell this.
He points at the lake bed.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
All these fuckin Russians I knew,
they want to develop in the US.
(MORE)
87.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Safe place to park their money,
avoid sanctions...
He holds up a photo.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
So we send these out asking for a
deposit that’s cheaper than what it
would cost for them to fly out and
look at it.
He hits the side of the fan, blades refusing to move.
LARISA
And when they do look at it?
Huston smiles.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a series of IDs, all
bearing photos of himself but different states.
Different names.
HUSTON
They start asking for someone who
doesn’t exist. And we’re out of
here.
Larisa takes one of the licenses.
Ohio.
Thomas Levy.
LARISA
It sounds awfully half-assed. Have
you done this before?
Pause.
HUSTON
No. Not at this le-...look, the
bottom fell out of the work I was
doing. And once I moved back to the
Ol US of A and stopped trying to
lay pipe to reds, my priorities
shifted.
He takes the Ohio license out of Larisa’s hand.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
I can get you one of these. A few.
You said you’re hiding out.
(MORE)
88.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Why not just become...Jennifer
Weiss or whatever?
LARISA
In terms of personal safety,
scamming Russian developers feels
like a lateral move.
HUSTON
Hey. No one’s paying me to write
about the false promises of NATO
any more. Do you have any idea how
women treat guys my age when we
don’t have any money?
Larisa shakes her head a little.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
You’re looking at me like your
mother used to.
He smacks the side of the fan again, harder.
No movement.
Huston grabs the fan and heaves it against the wall, leaving
a crack and sending the fan crashing to the ground.
Plastic parts fly off but it mostly remains intact.
Larisa watches him, frozen, frightened.
Emily begins to wail from another room while Huston staggers

away.
Larisa unspools a sleeping bag with two pillows on the

bedroom floor.
Huston appears in the doorway.
She stops to look up at him.
HUSTON
Nice thing about living in a
shithole is you can crack your wall
and it doesn’t look any worse.
He tries smiling.
89.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Let’s go out. I owe you...Have a
good...you know. Get out of here.
Get out of the heat. I’ll find you
something to wear.
LARISA
What about Emily?
HUSTON
Bring her! They got daycare.
LARISA
What’s got daycare?
INT. TALKING STICK RESORT & CASINO - LATER
A blackjack table with a $10 minimum.
Larisa wears an oversized sweatshirt, once black, now faded

with a noticeable bleach stain near the collar.
HUSTON
That’s a push, alright.
The torso of a COCKTAIL WAITRESS, 50s, nears Larisa’s head.
LARISA
No, thank you.
HUSTON
Sure, we’ll be here a while, right?
He sets a bet down.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
Seagrams 7. Straight.
Larisa looks over at Huston as he avoids her eyes.
The cocktail waitress moves over to someone else at the table

and we hear the CLICK of a lighter followed by smoke drifting
into Larisa’s face.
COCKTAIL WAITRESS (O.C.)

Drink order?
GAMBLER (O.C.)
Heineken, thanks.
(beat)
But she bought at a bad time, the
market was already inflated.
90.
A DEALER’S raspy voice cuts in.
DEALER (O.C.)
No bet?
Larisa looks over at the dealer.
Shakes her head.
Another gambler’s VOICE sounds.
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
So is it underwater?
Cards hit the table.
HUSTON
She’s flashing a five so I’ll
double down.
GAMBLER (O.C.)
Maybe, she won’t say.
(beat)
Ouch.
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
You’re getting a lot of low cards.
Larisa’s eyes move to the dealer’s hand.
GAMBLER (O.C.)
I can get away with it. My house
isn’t underwater.
One of the dealer’s cards produces an audible wince from

Huston and a dead-eyed stare from Larisa.
HUSTON (O.C.)
You can’t, I mean, she pulled a
five...Hey, we get screwed like
that, it means we’re due.
He jostles Larisa’s shoulder.
She starts chewing a lock of hair.
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
The market’s strange, though. Very
little goes up but every sale is an
absolute killing.
HUSTON (O.C.)
Okay, now I gotta...I gotta split.
91.
GAMBLER (O.C.)
That’s what the book says.
HUSTON (O.C.)
I don’t need a fucking book.
(beat)
Here, blow on these.
Two ten dollar chips appear in front of Larisa’s lips.
She blows out the thinnest wisp of air before they clink on
the table.
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
I mean, the low property taxes
help, too.
GAMBLER 1 (O.C.)
My brother’s moving back here. Says
San Francisco’s a shit hole.
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
Well, they cater to drug addicts.
For a moment, we just hear the ambient noise of slots and

gamblers.
Then.
HUSTON
Ouch.
Larisa rises off her seat.
LARISA
I need to use the bathroom.
HUSTON
Fine.
GAMBLER (O.C.)
I think you’re bad luck, honey.
Huston laughs.
HUSTON
Yeah, take your time, Claire.
LARISA
It’s Lari-
She stops. Walks away.

92.
EXT. TALKING STICK RESORT & CASINO - LATER
Dusk.
Larisa walks a lap around the Talking Stick Resort, empty of

people, landscape shrubby and austere on the edge of the
Arizona desert.
She rolls her neck around.
INT. BATHROOM - LATER
Larisa scrubs water into her face above the sink, pushing her
hands up and through her hair.
A BLAST of noise causes her to take a sharp breath inward as

looks over to see:
A WOMAN, 40s, using an automatic hand dryer.
Exhale.
Larisa exits the bathroom and moves back toward the casino
floor.
She reaches into her bag for a wallet.
Pulls it out.
Opens it.
No cash.
She dives back into her bag, rooting quickly through the
limited items.
A sunglasses case. A burner phone. Chapstick.
Still no cash.
Larisa sits beside her father.
The cocktail waitress sets another glass of Seagram’s in

front of him.
HUSTON
Thanks.
93.
Larisa leans over to speak into her father’s ear.
LARISA
I’m missing 70 dollars. It’s all I
had left.
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
No, she had fillers.
HUSTON
Yeah, I needed it.
GAMBLER 1 (O.C.)
Were you thinking of getting them?
LARISA GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)

What about the two hundred You know that billboard I’m
you promised me? For the on?
photos?
GAMBLER 1 (O.C.)
What, by the, uh...
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
Yeah. I got those shots taken in
2016.
HUSTON GAMBLER 1 (O.C.)

I’m trying to...I can’t pay Jesus.
you. Okay?
GAMBLER 2 (O.C.)
Do people want to buy a house from
some geriatric?
LARISA
Okay.
GAMBLER 1
I don’t know...
GAMBLER 2
No, you’re supposed to say, “Linda,
you’re not a geriatric.”
HUSTON
SHIT.
GAMBLER 1 (O.C.)
Sorry, I’ve had a few. I’m not as
quick.
94.
HUSTON
(to the Dealer)
Can we stay until I get another
drink?
(beat)
Thanks.
EXT. TALKING STICK RESORT & CASINO - LATER
Night.
Larisa pushes Emily a few steps ahead of Huston as they

trudge along a pathway leading to various parking lot
entrances.
HUSTON
Walk doesn’t cost anything.
Silence.
LARISA
You told me you were sober.
HUSTON
Yeah, and then you showed up.
Figure it out.
Larisa stops.
Huston walks past her, turns around.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
What?
LARISA
We can’t take the car.
HUSTON
Why not?
LARISA
Because I have to drive.
Huston shrugs.
HUSTON
I’ll hold the kid.
LARISA
No.
HUSTON
I can hold the k-
95.
Larisa erupts.
LARISA
I DON’T WANT YOUR FUCKING HANDS ON
HER.
Silence.
Lobby.
Huston sleeps in a chair. Larisa sits upright and awake next

to him, holding Emily as chattering TOURISTS with wheeled
luggage make their way toward the exit.
Huston drives westbound on Lincoln Drive through Paradise

Valley.
Larisa holds Emily on her lap.
Silence.
Silence.
HUSTON
I’m sorry.
Silence.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
I--
Silence.
HUSTON (CONT’D)
I just didn’t need the reminder.
Larisa keeps staring forward as her father drives.
Emily in her portable crib.
Larisa cross-legged on the floor.
Burner in hand.
Staring.
96.
Dialing.
Waiting.
LARISA
(into the phone)
Hi.(...)Yes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
LARISA (CONT’D)
I need you to come get me.
Inhale.
EXT. HUSTON’S HOUSE - DUSK
Larisa waits at the end of Huston’s driveway, camera bag at

her feet, Emily in her stroller at her side.
A white Tesla SUV pulls up, stills.
Claire emerges, finally dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans.
She hugs Larisa.
INT. CLAIRE’S CAR - MOMENTS LATER
Car loaded, Emily in a brand new car seat.
Claire prepares to pull off the curb and back onto the road.
LARISA
Do you want to...say anything to
dad?
CLAIRE
No.
And she drives.
EXT. IN-N-OUT - NIGHT
A lit up In-N-Out in Cabazon, California. Just off the 10

Freeway, Morongo Casino towering nearby.
A long drive-thru line.

97.
Claire and Larisa sit at one of the tables outside, flanked

in light from the neon sign.
CLAIRE
I was hurt.
Larisa keeps her head down.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
You acted like I was trying to have
you killed.
LARISA
You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.
CLAIRE
Well, I considered that. It’s why I
rushed out to the Arizona boonies
to pick you up despite being made
to feel like a Deep State Assassin
by my own baby sister.
LARISA
I’m sorry.
CLAIRE
I think you just need a break,
kitten. And some sleep.
Larisa smiles. Tries to smile.
Claire bites down on a french fry.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Why do their fries still suck?
INT. CLAIRE’S APARTMENT - LATER
Claire stands behind Larisa in her guest bedroom.
Larisa stares down at a made bed, pillow, comforter, fur

blanket.
She falls into the bed face first.
INT. CLAIRE’S KITCHEN - NEXT MORNING
Claire, dressed in a blazer and heels, finishes a bottle of

Pomegranate juice.
Larisa eats cereal at the kitchen table, New York Times

spread out in front of her.
98.
CLAIRE
I want you to take the day off. I
signed Emily up for our daycare and
I’m bringing her to work with me.
LARISA
RAND has infant care?
CLAIRE
How do you think they entice bright
young women to dedicate their lives
to evil?
Claire smiles.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Borrow one of my suits. Go surfing.
We actually have waves out here.
She grabs her wallet and pulls out four twenties.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Have fun. I know, novel concept.
INT. POSEIDON PADDLE & SURF - LATER
A surf shop in Santa Monica.
An EMPLOYEE, 30s, brings over a surfboard.
SURF EMPLOYEE
Just bring it back by six.
LARISA
Thanks...
EXT. SANTA MONICA - LATER
Larisa carries a surfboard down Seaside Terrace toward the

beach.
EXT. SANTA MONICA BEACH - LATER
Larisa pulls off her jeans and her sister’s t-shirt,

surfboard on the sand beside her.
She slips into a wetsuit.
She carries the board toward the sea.
Steps into the water.

99.
Pushes her body onto the board.
Paddles out, sun high and the Santa Monica pier jutting out
nearby.
She catches a small wave, riding it...
Bails out.
Re-emerges from under the water.
Inhale. Exhale. Quick breaths.
A smile.
Another trip back up the board to wade out again.
INT. CLAIRE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Larisa works in the dining room, laptop open as Claire

emerges with Emily in her stroller.
CLAIRE
We decided to walk down Ocean
Avenue.
She sets her keys in a jar by the door.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
You’ve got a popular little girl,
here.
Larisa turns back and smiles.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
What are you working on?
LARISA
Trying to contact some friends in
Gaza about getting back in.
CLAIRE
I didn’t think you were still...
(beat)
Larisa, I think you need to let go
for a while.
LARISA
You speak as if I have a choice.
100.
CLAIRE
I--I think you lose the right to
live your life a certain way once
you have a child.
Larisa stands up and moves toward Emily.
LARISA
I agree with you.
She picks Emily from the stroller and holds her, walking out
of the room.
EXT. LOULOU - NIGHT
LouLou, a rooftop restaurant and lounge in Santa Monica.
Two YOUNG WOMEN, 30s, stylish, heels, pose in front of

LouLou’s sign while an EVENT PHOTOGRAPHER, 40s, snaps.
Claire holds court with IVY and JOSH, 30s.
CLAIRE
We did find a sitter. Not that
Larisa let go easy.
She looks around for a moment.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Wait...
(beat)
Larisa!
Larisa looks as Claire beckons her over.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Here’s my baby sister.
IVY
We are in love with Emily.
Larisa smiles.
JOSH
We make Claire march her around
before she drops her off at
daycare.
Claire’s eyes dart away.
CLAIRE
You made it!
101.
Waiting with hands outstretched a few yards away is...
David, the USAID worker who confiscated Larisa’s camera in

Tel Aviv.
Larisa turns to avoid them.
JOSH
So you work with UNICEF?
Larisa looks up at him.
LARISA
Sometimes...freelance contracts.
Larisa chews gum.
Sees Ivy follow Claire and Josh zero in on her.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Are you...with RAND?
JOSH
No...I think you and I are the rare
exceptions.
(beat)
I’m actually with a venture capital
group. Anthos. I’m heading their
cryptocurrency portfolio.
LARISA
Oh...
JOSH
Claire said you’re into the
whole...antiwar...space.
LARISA
Yes...the antiwar space. That’s me.
JOSH
That’s awesome. So awesome.
Crypto’s really interesting because
it has potential to disrupt the
dollar and really transform the
global landscape for entities
outside the G7 zone.
He looks over at Ivy.
JOSH (CONT’D)
Hey, Ivy!
Ivy turns around.

102.
JOSH (CONT’D)
Claire’s sister works with UNICEF!
IVY
Oh, right! The public sector!
Larisa starts to move away but Josh follows.
JOSH
You know, I’ve got a place in
Venice. We can walk.
He looks down.
JOSH (CONT’D)
I love that you wore sneakers. Low
maintenance.
LARISA
No, I-
He fumbles for a wallet in his jacket.
LARISA (CONT’D)
I’d rather be home with-
JOSH
-Here’s my card. And that first
number-
He points at the card.
JOSH (CONT’D)
...is my cell. Do you have a card?
I can call you.
A WOOOOO emerges from some of the party goers as a 10-year-

old pop song begins playing through the outdoor space.
LARISA
No, I’m sorry. Nice talking to you.
Larisa walks away and Josh opts not to follow, only calling
out:
JOSH
You should get some. It never hurts
to brand yourself on the fly!
Larisa throws him a thumbs up without looking back.

103.
EXT. LOULOU - LATER
Larisa stands at the rooftop’s edge, staring out toward the

Pacific Ocean, all the music and laughter at her back.
Way off in the distance, a helicopter streaks through the sky

and Larisa’s eyes track it across the horizon.
Inhale.
Exhale.
INT/EXT. CLAIRE’S CAR - LATER
David drives, Claire sits in the front passenger seat, Larisa

sits in back.
Claire turns around at Larisa.
CLAIRE
My crusading Marxist sister is at
loose ends.
A few drinks force Claire to labor through the expression

“Marxist sister” and she looks back at David.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Can you find her something?
DAVID POWERS
I don’t know...I don’t think she’ll
work for USAID.
CLAIRE
What would it take for you to stop
photographing war zones?
LARISA
For there to be no more war zones.
Claire nods as David slows up at a light on Santa Monica

Boulevard.
CLAIRE
That might be awhile, Kitten.
She turns back to David.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
So.
(serious voice)
David Powers.
(MORE)
104.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Will you leave government and join
us here at the RAND Corporation?
David smiles.
DAVID POWERS
I dunno, Santa Monica rents are
pretty steep on one income.
CLAIRE
Maybe we can figure something out.
EXT. RAND CORPORATION - DUSK
Claire emerges from the RAND Corporation, housed in an

elliptically-shaped structure on Main Street.
She looks across the street to find Larisa, hands on Emily’s

stroller, staring up at “Chain Reaction,” a sculpture of
metal chains linked upward to resemble the mushroom cloud of
a nuclear blast.
Claire waits for a blue bus to pass before she trots across
the street toward Larisa.
CLAIRE
I changed out of my shoes so we can
walk home.
Larisa keeps staring as Claire reaches her side.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
I never noticed this.
(beat)
I have news you might like.
LARISA
Is RAND insolvent?
CLAIRE
Set your hopes on possibilities
that might actually happen.
(beat)
David’s going to get you back into
Gaza.
LARISA
What?
CLAIRE
The State Department’s taking a new
task with Israel.
(MORE)
105.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
He says he can give you a full
military escort inside.
LARISA
You’ll publish my shots? The
assassination?
CLAIRE
I might want to avoid the
appearance of conflict on national
television but...somebody will.
(beat)
You might win a Pulitzer, Kitten.
That’ll be good for the ol’ CV.
LARISA
Will the U.S. stop sending weapons?
CLAIRE
As a result of some photographs?
Probably not. But...the tide may be
turning.
(beat)
I wasn’t going to help you go back
there but David said you’ll have
all the protection he gets.
Claire stares down Main Street.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
C’mon, I already ordered Thai and
David’s on his way. He’ll tell you
all about it.
She starts toward home as Larisa nods, then gives one last
look at the inscription at the sculpture’s base:
This is a statement of peace. May it never become an epitaph.
INT. CLAIRE’S APARTMENT - LATER
Larisa emerges from the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt,

hair still damp from a shower.
She hears light giggling and moves toward the edge of:
INT. CLAIRE’S LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
...to find Claire’s lips at David’s neck.
Larisa watches a moment before walking back toward the guest

bedroom.
106.
Larisa leans into Emily’s crib.
LARISA
Your dad noticed me because I was
wearing a Mets hat. In his spare
time, he coached a women’s baseball
team in Gaza.
EXT. SOCCER FIELD - DAY
As Larisa continues to talk, we cut to images of a baseball

practice in Gaza.
LARISA (V.O.)
They played with tennis balls on
soccer fields.
PALESTINIAN WOMEN wearing baseball hats over their head

scarfs.
LARISA (V.O.)
They’d been at it for three months,
playing games against each other,
figuring out the rules.
One woman tosses the tennis ball underhanded while another

offers a short chop of the bat to send the ball back toward
the pitcher and two women flanking her.
LARISA (V.O.)
He’d never been to a professional
baseball game, he just watched
videos. He knew all the American
logos.
One woman tries to leg out a grounder, her hat flying off
while she runs through first base.
She shouts, laughs, grabs her head with two hands and goes
running back off to find it.
LARISA (V.O.)
So I told him about David Wright.
And Jacob DeGrom. And Thor. That
was in...2017. When we first met.
TWO PALESTINIAN GIRLS, 6, toss a tennis ball to each other,

back and forth, back and forth.
107.
LARISA (V.O.)
The last time I saw him...the last
time...he told me he was going to
coach a men’s team playing in the
West Asia Baseball Cup.
A PALESTINIAN WOMAN choking up on her bat swings at a lobbed

tennis ball and sends it into a gap between left and center
field.
LARISA (V.O.)
He’d been a great athlete. Baseball
and soccer. And then an Israeli
soldier shot him through a border
fence.
A rocket sails over the soccer field.
A Palestinian woman about to pitch the tennis ball stops to

look up.
LARISA (V.O.)
He’d never held a gun in his life.
He was an Education Officer for the
United Nations Relief & Works
Agency.
An explosion resounds just outside the field.
LARISA
And he coached a women’s baseball
team.
INT. GUEST BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
LARISA
After they shot him, he couldn’t
take a step without pain. Then
Israel killed him last year. A
month before you were born.
Larisa bends down to kiss Emily on the forehead.
LARISA (CONT’D)
And I don’t want you to ever wonder
why I didn’t do more to stop the
violence.
EXT. CLAIRE’S APARTMENT - NEXT MORNING
Larisa waits with David and Claire outside her apartment on

Montana Avenue.
108.
Luggage surrounds them.
Larisa holds Emily, stroller nearby.
DAVID POWERS
It’ll be a coordinated leak. That
means I’m working under the
directive of the National Security
Council.
David looks down the road and sees an approaching black

Lincoln Continental.

I’ve spoken with the primary author
of the Washington Post’s
Afghanistan Papers piece. Did you
read that?
Larisa nods.

If you can still access your
photos, the Post will publish them
along with interviews featuring
you, myself, members of State, the
embassy in Jerusalem...
LARISA
Will I be anonymous?
DAVID POWERS
You can choose to remain-
LARISA
-I don’t want to be.
David nods as the Continental slows to the curb.
CLAIRE
Did I come through or what?
Larisa smiles.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
What did Churchill say, “The United
States can always be relied upon to
do the right thing — having first
exhausted all possible
alternatives”?
Claire notices Larisa make a face.

109.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Sorry, Kitten, I don’t know any
quotes from Tito.
A LIVERY DRIVER emerges from the Continental, opens the

trunk.
DAVID POWERS
I’ve wanted a change in U.S. policy
with Israel, believe me. We just
needed public sentiment to shift.
The driver begins loading luggage into the trunk.
David turns back to Claire.

I’ll call when we arrive.
Claire grabs his hand and he pulls her body close to his
while Larisa kisses Emily’s forehead.
LARISA
I love you.
Larisa looks over to Claire.
LARISA (CONT’D)
Be good for your auntie.
She hands Emily to Claire...
CLAIRE
She’s ALWAYS good, aren’t you?
She bounces Emily a little in her arms and turns to Larisa.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
This will be so fantastic for your
career, Larisa.
Claire takes Emily’s little hand at waves it.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Wave bye to mama! Bye bye!
Larisa lifts a single hand back as David leads her toward the
Continental.
INT. EL AL FLIGHT - NIGHT
Larisa sits beside David Powers in business class on a Boeing

787 carrying the EL AL airline through the night.
110.
He works on a laptop.
Larisa reads her mother’s book, camera bag at her lap.
DAVID POWERS
The United States is much more
democratic than you might believe.
LARISA
Excuse me?
DAVID POWERS
Activists...you assume that because
our government acts in ways you
oppose, the U.S. isn’t democratic.
That’s just narcissism. We’ve
supported Israel with weapons and
rhetoric because most American
voters supported Israel. Or they
were indifferent.
LARISA
And now?
DAVID POWERS
I’m a servant of the American
public. And I’m taking you into
Gaza because of what that public
wants.
INT. BEN GURION AIRPORT - LATER
David approaches another USAID STAFFER, suit and tie, shaking

his hand.
He introduces Larisa, walking a few steps behind. She shakes

his hand as well.
EXT. HILTON TEL AVIV - LATER
David, the USAID Staffer and Larisa pass into the lobby of
the Hilton Tel Aviv, a 5-star colossus on the beach.
INT. LARISA’S HOTEL ROOM - LATER
Larisa stares out the window of her hotel, down at the sands
and waters.
David waits in the doorway.

111.
DAVID POWERS
You should go down. Great surf.
Larisa turns back to him.

Looks just like Santa Monica.
LARISA
Maybe.
Pause.
DAVID POWERS
I’ll come by at 9 tomorrow. We
won’t be in Gaza for long.
LARISA
I’ll be ready.
DAVID POWERS
UNICEF ever put you up in a place
like this?
SCREAMS...of joy erupt from below, a party going on with loud

music flanked by beach umbrellas with rainbow patterns.
Larisa looks back at David.
LARISA
No.
EXT. ISRAEL - LATER
Three armored Cadillacs travel in tight formation down

Highway 4 southbound from Tel Aviv.
INT. CADILLAC - MOMENTS LATER
Larisa sits in the backseat beside David, camera bag still on

her lap.
DAVID POWERS
We’re going to be accompanied by an
IDF unit. They think you’re here to
collect footage of Hamas operating
within the UNRWA offices.
LARISA
Did they ask why I’d leave it in
Gaza?
112.
DAVID POWERS
I just said something about how you
were afraid of being raped by
Hamas.
LARISA
That’s it?
David shrugs.
DAVID POWERS
That’s all they needed to hear.
EXT. EREZ CROSSING - LATER
The Cadillacs slow at the Erez Crossing, a border checkpoint

into Gaza managed by the Israeli Defense Forces.
EXT. SALAH AL-DIN ROAD - LATER
Six Israeli Plasan liaison vehicles now flank the three

Cadillacs as they move south on Salah al-Din Road inside
Gaza, three in front, three in the rear.
EXT. RIMAL - LATER
Dusk.
The convoy slows in the Gaza neighborhood of Rimal before the

UNRWA offices.
The streets look deserted. No people, no cars.
The buildings still standing look empty and plenty feature

the severe structural damage of continued bombings.
Only the UNRWA offices look reasonably sound.
INT. CADILLAC - MOMENTS LATER
David turns to Larisa.
DAVID POWERS
The offices were closed because of
aid freezes.
He opens the door and begins to step out.

113.

I’ve been working with the UNRWA
through Jordan and we helped them
re-open here yesterday.
Larisa follows him outside.
David keeps his voice down as he speaks to Larisa.

We’re going to use your images of
Dr. Alyan’s murder in a PR blitz to
pressure Israel into a ceasefire.
LARISA
Permanent?
DAVID POWERS
We’ll see.
(beat)
But your work will be backed up by
the U.S. State Department. In
Washington. In Jerusalem. And on
the floor of the U.N.
LARISA
Thank you.
David smiles.
DAVID POWERS
I need to make a call.
He calls out to two IDF guards, armed and posted outside one
of the Plasans.

(Hebrew)
All good?
One nods.
David gestures toward UNRWA offices.

I’ll meet you in there. Ask for
Dalia Nazzal. She’s expecting both
of us.
Larisa nods, gives David a small wave as he puts a phone to

his ear.
Larisa approaches the UNRWA entrance, eyes moving around at

the record of destruction around her.
114.
A door SLAMS.
Larisa turns around to see the the convoy speed away, Israeli
Plasans and Cadillacs all leaving.
No David.
Larisa runs back to see taillights pulling away from her.
She remain in the open space a moment, alone.
INT. UNRWA - LATER
Larisa enters the UNRWA.
Empty.
LARISA
Hello?
(Arabic)
Hello?
Inhale.
Exhale.
A phone at the desk.
Larisa picks up the receiver.
Nothing.
She dials.
Nothing.
INT. UNRWA OFFICE - LATER
Larisa finds her safety deposit box.
She runs the combination.
Opens.
Pulls out her memory card.
Slides it into her Nikon.
Runs through the images:
A photo of Dr. Alyan flanked by three smiling Palestinian

children, age 6.
115.
A photo of the soon-to-be-bombed apartment Dr. Alyan visited,

still intact.
A photo of Dr. Alyan speaking to two IDF soldiers.
A photo taken with a zoom lens showing Dr. Alyan inside the
apartment.
Another zoom shot taken of the American, aiming an M-9.
A wider shot featuring both the American soldier and Dr.

Alyan, her body already twisting toward the ground, only half
in frame through the window.
Larisa keeps scrolling...
Pauses at something.
Stares.
An EXPLOSION from outside.
The walls rattle.
Larisa crouches a moment until the walls still.
Silence.
Inhale.
Exhale.
INT. UNRWA - LATER
Larisa presses the power button on a printer.
It whirs on.
She pulls a USB cable from her camera bag.
Attaches it to the camera and printer.
The image prints. Slowly.
In color.
Larisa holds it up.
Nina holding Emily at the Coney Island Art Walls.
Larisa folds the photo.
Slides it into her jacket.

116.
Sprints from the room, camera in hand.
EXT. UNRWA - LATER
Larisa runs into the open air.
She runs down Gamal Abdel Nasser Street. Alone.
She stops at the sight of a missile soaring over her and

CRASHING into the UNRWA.
A stare up into the twilight sky.
More missiles beginning their descent onto Larisa along with

streaks of white phosphorous raining down.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Larisa raises Nikon to eye.
Hands steady.
SNAP.
SNAP.
SNAP.
FADE TO BLACK.

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The War Photographer

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THE WAR PHOTOGRAPHER

4438 Ethel Avenue

A shell of a once-dense city. War-torn, bombed out...the grey

The chuh-chuh-chuh sound of a helicopter. Unseen but not far

An expansive site of sustained tragedies.

EXT. AL-SHATI REFUGEE CAMP - DAY

Young CHILDREN mill around a blacktop surrounded by low,

GROUPS OF UNIFORMED IDF SOLDIERS patrol the area.

LARISA CHERNOV, 30, with a Nikon and a pale-blue UNICEF

Larisa smiles and Dr. Esraa says something inaudible to the

Shy, she struggles to look at Larisa.

Larisa crouches down, sets up...

Through her lens, we see Daryam’s fear and alienation.

A faint explosion, far off.

Daryam looks at the camera.

A LOUDER explosion as helicopter blades resound.

Daryam laughs as the noise reaches its apex.

EXT. RIMAL - DAY

A cluster of residences in Gaza’s Rimal neighborhood.

A member of UNICEF’S mobile team, 30s, approaches a TEENAGE

Dr. Esraa, medical bag in hand, speaks to the girl, joined by

EXT. GAZA - LATER

Esraa crouches down to check the lymph nodes of a YOUNG GIRL,

Solemn nods from her mother.

INT. APARTMENT - LATER

Dr. Esraa hands electronic vouchers to a MAN, 40s, his wife

Two shots from outside.

INT/EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY

A Toyota SUV with blue UN insignia carries Dr. Esraa and

They laugh a little.

DR. ESRAA (CONT’D)

DR. ESRAA (CONT’D)

She ends her call and turns to Larisa.

DR. ESRAA (CONT’D)

EXT. GAZA CITY - DAY

More helicopters above, the blades chop chop chopping through

Dr. Esraa approaches a small apartment, walking with purpose.

Larisa follows close behind.

A pair of IDF GUARDS, armed, stop them.

They don’t speak or budge.

Larisa lowers it.

A SCREAM from behind them.

One of the IDF guards his bolt action rifle...slowly.

DR. ESRAA (CONT’D)

But the guard looks more concerned about Larisa’s camera.

DR. ESRAA (CONT’D)

Larisa waits a moment, then follows Dr. Esraa, who passes

Larisa pauses outside, across the street, watching the

She lifts the Nikon to her eyes and ZOOMS in.

Larisa’s camera tracks over a different window where a MAN IN

Larisa begins to SCREAM...

Her body falls out of sight.

Then watches as the man in combat gear exits the apartment

Larisa pulls her camera to her face.

One of the soldiers stops.

And points inside.

And shouts in a clear American accent that resonates above

Larisa hears something.

Sees the IDF guards sprinting away from the building.

She spins around.

...and finds the Americans running away as well.

Larisa turns toward the building when:

EXT. JABALIA APARTMENT - LATER

Larisa sits up after a brief blackout.