A classic 24-hour diner that's seen better times. Red vinyl
booths cracked with age line floor-to-ceiling windows that
always need cleaning. A black-and-white checkered linoleum
floor worn smooth by countless customers surround chrome
fixtures polished to a dull shine.
The coffee is strong, the pie is homemade, and the atmosphere
is warm despite the harsh fluorescent lighting.
DOLORES MARTINEZ (52, a woman whose tough exterior hides a
kind heart, and the bags under her eyes speak to the need for
sleep) moves behind the counter with practiced efficiency.
Only a few late-night customers remain: a TAXI DRIVER reading
yesterday's sports section, an ELDERLY MAN working on a
crossword puzzle, and a COLLEGE STUDENT with textbooks spread
across an entire table.
The bell above the door CHIMES as FRANK MORRISON (Black, 60s,
homeless but maintaining his dignity despite worn, patched
clothing) enters.
Frank wears gloves with finger holes, and several layers of
shirts are crumpled underneath a worn Army jacket that looks
like it came from a thrift store.
He pauses in the doorway and looks around nervously before
making his way to a booth near the back.
Dolores notices him and approaches with a menu and a cup of
coffee.
DOLORES
Evening, Frank. How you holding up
tonight?
Frank settles into the booth with a weary smile.
FRANK
Can't complain too much. Still got
my health.
Frank looks at the menu as his stomach GROWLS audibly. He
clears his throat to cover the noise.
DOLORES
What can I get for you, honey? And
speed it up.
(MORE)
DOLORES (CONT’D)
I know it don’t look like I got
many customers, but they’re needy.
Frank looks up at her with eyes that hold both hope and
shame. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
FRANK
I hate to ask this, but I sure
could use something to eat. I can
pay you next week when my
disability check comes in.
(a beat)
Maybe just some soup and coffee. I
haven't eaten since yesterday
morning.
Dolores' expression softens, but she shakes her head with
genuine regret.
DOLORES
Honey, you said that last week and
the week before that. I want to
help you, I really do, but Mel's
been asking questions about the
register coming up short. I could
lose my job if this keeps up.
FRANK
(quickly, embarrassed)
I understand. I do. You got your
own bills to pay. I shouldn't ask.
DOLORES
It's not that I don't want to —
MEL BRAXTON (50s, bald, grumpy on the outside, but with a
good heart) comes out from the back. He slaps a ten-dollar
bill on the counter and stares at Frank.
MEL
There’s ten bucks, Frank. And
that’s all you’re gettin’, so
choose what you order carefully.
Frank gets up and grabs the ten, then sits back down and
studies the menu.
FRANK
Give me a minute, Dolores.
From the next booth, at the back of the diner, MAYA CHEN (28,
tired but determined, wearing a thrift store sweater and
jeans that have seen too many late nights) looks up from her
laptop. She holds up an empty coffee cup and calls out.
MAYA
Dolores, when you get a chance.
Her booth is a make-shift workstation, complete with an out-
of-date laptop, a notepad filled with story ideas, coffee-
stained papers scattered across the table, and an empty
coffee cup with lipstick marks on the rim.
MAYA (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Hey, Dolores. Tell Frank he doesn’t
have to study too hard. I'll take
care of his meal tonight.
Dolores turns to Maya, her expression skeptical and
concerned.
DOLORES
Maya, honey, you can barely afford
your coffee. You still owe me
thirteen dollars from last week.
Maya closes her laptop and stands up, pulling a crumpled
twenty-dollar bill from her jacket pocket.
MAYA
This should cover Frank's dinner
and put something toward my tab.
DOLORES
Maya, sweetie, that might be all
the money you have in the world.
MAYA
It's okay. My article about the
city council budget meeting should
pay fifty dollars when the Weekly
runs it tomorrow.
Dolores takes soup and coffee to Frank.
DOLORES
(pointing to Maya)
She paid for it. Save Mel’s ten for
when you’re really hungry.
Dolores wags her finger at him.
DOLORES (CONT’D)
And don’t go spending it on no
drugs.
Frank gets up and walks to Maya’s booth. Tears fill his eyes.
FRANK
I can't let you do this. You're
struggling just like me.
MAYA
Frank, when I was eight years old,
my dad lost his job at the
electronics factory. The whole
plant shut down and moved
everything to Mexico. We lived on
peanut butter for six months.
She pauses, lost in the memory.
MAYA (CONT’D)
Mrs. Patterson lived next door.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, she'd
invite me over for dinner: pot
roast, mashed potatoes, green beans
— real food. She used to tell me
she made too much.
(a beat)
I knew she didn’t make too much
food, but I was too hungry not to
take it. I never forgot her
kindness though.
FRANK
Bless you, girl.
Dolores listens to the conversation, then shakes her head,
and pulls out her order pad.
DOLORES
What'll it be, Frank? The usual?
Meatloaf special with mashed
potatoes and green beans?
Frank shakes his head.
FRANK
No, I think I’m gonna wait like you
said.
DOLORES
You don’t have to. I’ll cover
tonight. Can’t let Maya and Mel be
the only nice ones here.
Frank’s smile spreads ear-to-ear.
FRANK
In that case, yes, ma'am. And thank
you. Thank you both. I won't forget
this.
DOLORES
You better not forget. That girl's
gonna put herself in the poorhouse
helping everybody else. It’ll be a
race to see which of us gets there
first.
Frank looks at Maya.
FRANK
What's that story about — the one
you’re workin’ on?
MAYA
City politics. Budget allocations
and zoning permits. How the council
decides where to spend taxpayer
money.
Frank moves his plate and coffee to Maya’s booth.
FRANK
(leaning forward)
Maybe you're looking at the wrong
stories.
MAYA
What do you mean?
FRANK
I've been on these streets for ten
years now. I see things most people
don’t notice. People want to know
about politics and such, but that’s
not what they want to read about.
FLASH IMAGE:
Maya recalls Mel slipping Dolores a
ten so she’d have money to feed her
kids. And him paying for Frank’s
meal. And Dolores making sure Frank
had food to eat.
Maya stares at her laptop screen: "CITY COUNCIL APPROVES
RIVERFRONT DEVELOPMENT PROJECT"
She shakes her head, then deletes everything, and stares at
the cursor blinking on the blank page.
MAYA
(talking to herself)
Come on, Maya. Write something
people actually want to read.
Dolores comes by to refill Maya’s water glass.
DOLORES
Either of you seen Frida? She
hasn't been in tonight.
FRANK
Ain't seen her since last night.
(a beat)
Got me worried cause she works down
on Bixby and takes the Riggs Alley
shortcut to get home.
MAYA
I’ve told her a dozen times not to
take that alley. I hope nothing
happened to her.
Maya shakes her head.
MAYA (CONT’D)
But she’s a stubborn sort. Won’t
listen to a damn thing.
Dolores wipes a table off and cleans the seats.
DOLORES
I’ve warned her about it too.
Nothin’ down Riggs but drug dealers
and junkies.
Maya opens a new document and types away.
Dolores looks over her shoulder, then heads toward the
kitchen.
DOLORES (CONT’D)
Looks like somebody’s gonna need
more coffee.
Dolores returns and fills her cup.
DOLORES (CONT’D)
What are you working on?
MAYA
(blushing)
I thought I’d try a little fiction
piece and submit it as a short
story.
Dolores sits opposite Maya and lights a cigarette. Lights one
for Maya too.
DOLORES
There’s just me and Frank here.
Tell us about it.
MAYA
You gave me an idea when you asked
about Frida, so I’m writing a
fiction piece as if something
happened to her.
(a beat)
Like Frank said, a story people
want to read.
Maya turns the laptop around so the screen faces Dolores.
Dolores puts her glasses on, leans close, and reads: MISSING
LATINA WOMAN. LAST SEEN NEAR MASON STREET AND RIGGS ALLEY.
She continues reading:
The investigation is currently at a standstill with no leads.
The victim’s identity remains unknown, as no identification
was recovered from the scene, and fingerprint analysis
yielded no matches in the database.
Preliminary findings indicate the cause of death may be blunt
force trauma, likely sustained from a fall onto the
cobblestone sidewalk. A substantial blood pool, located
approximately fifty yards from the body, suggests that the
fatal injury occurred at that site.
Detective David Hartwell, a veteran investigator with
extensive experience, was present at the scene. His only
quote gives one pause to think.
HARTWELL
If she died fifty yards away, who
moved her to the dumpster, and why
didn’t they report it?
DOLORES
Damn, girl. That sounds good.
FRANK
I’d keep reading.
Genres:
["Drama","Slice of Life"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
A Glimmer of Hope
INT. MEL'S DINER - ONE NIGHT LATER
Maya enters and heads straight to her booth. She opens her
laptop and arranges her notepad and writing tools. She seems
more energetic than usual.
Dolores spots her and approaches with a pot of coffee.
DOLORES
The usual spot, the usual drink.
You're nothing if not consistent.
MAYA
(slumping into the booth)
Consistency is about all I've got
left. Everything else is falling
apart.
Dolores pours a full cup of hot, black coffee.
DOLORES
That bad tonight?
MAYA
Rent's due in three days. I've got
seventeen dollars to my name, and I
haven't sold an article in weeks.
My only hope is the fiction piece.
DOLORES
What about that budget story?
MAYA
(laughing bitterly)
Killed. Editor said it wasn’t right
for their readers.
DOLORES
Something will turn up.
MAYA
I hope you're right, Dolores.
Maya stares at the blank document, then starts typing.
When the bell above the door chimes, Maya looks at the time
and shakes her head.
MAYA (CONT’D)
Almost 4:00 AM. Where the hell did
the night go?
Frank walks in, almost stumbling, an odd look on his face.
Dolores notices and walks up to him, concerned.
DOLORES
You okay? You look like shit.
FRANK
I need coffee, Dolores, and a lot
of it. I got lots of cans to sell,
so I’ll be able to pay you.
He walks back to the booth where Maya is, and sits across
from her.
FRANK (CONT’D)
I might have something for you to
write about.
Maya smiles, but stops what she’s doing, and focuses on
Frank.
MAYA
What have you got, Frank?
FLASHBACK: HOURS EARLIER
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Midnight Discovery
EXT. RIGGS ALLEY - MIDNIGHT
A narrow, grimy alley between two run-down apartment
buildings. Trash cans overflow with garbage, and graffiti
covers the brick walls. Steam rises from manholes in the cold
morning air.
Frank pushes a battered shopping cart filled with bottles and
aluminum cans down the alley.
He turns the corner and spots several copper pipes lying in
the rubble of a torn-down building. He looks around, then
puts the pipes in his cart and continues walking.
FRANK
(to himself)
Gonna get $30 bucks for that.
Half a block later, he stops at a large green dumpster and
peers inside, searching for anything of value.
FRANK (CONT’D)
(to himself)
Come on now. Rich folks in these
buildings always throwing away
perfectly good stuff.
Frank reaches deeper into the dumpster, moving aside bags of
garbage and fast food containers. His movements are careful,
methodical — he's done this thousands of times before.
He touches something soft, then climbs on a crate to take a
closer look. He GASPS and pulls back so quickly, he stumbles
and nearly falls over.
FRANK (CONT’D)
(voice breaking with
shock)
Jesus Christ. There's a goddamn
body in here. That’s a dead woman.
Frank trips over his shopping cart, sending bottles and cans
crashing across the pavement. The SOUND of glass breaking and
pipes clattering on the old brick pavement echo down the
alley. He scrambles to his feet, his hands shaking.
He loads his cart, then runs toward Mason Street.
FRANK (CONT’D)
Somebody call the police. There's a
dead woman in the dumpster.
His voice echoes off the brick walls as he reaches Mason
Street where he flags down a car, and points to the dumpster.
FRANK (CONT’D)
Mister, call the cops. There’s a
dead woman in that dumpster.
Frank then rushes to Mel’s and goes inside.
BACK TO PRESENT
Maya furiously types notes as Frank tells his story.
MAYA
And the cops just got there?
FRANK
I don’t know. I told some guy in a
car to call it in.
MAYA
(excited)
All right, Frank. I’m gonna check
this out.
The bell above the door CHIMES again, drawing Maya’s
attention. A YOUNG WOMAN enters, carrying books.
DOLORES
If you’re here for coffee or
breakfast, I can help. But we’re
closed for dinner.
The young woman smiles and sits at the counter.
YOUNG WOMAN
Coffee will do — cream, no sugar.
Dolores gets the coffee, then sits in the booth with Maya and
Frank.
Maya feels charged. Her mind becomes clearer, sharper. Ideas
begin to form.
MAYA
(inspired, typing)
"Frida Sanchez walked home from her
night-shift cleaning job at 2:07
AM, earbuds in, listening to the
same salsa music her grandmother
used to play ..."
The words flow easily now.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing with new energy)
"She didn't notice the black sedan
following her six car-lengths
behind, didn't see the driver slow
down as he approached her."
Maya pauses, caught up in creating this character.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"Frida was thinking about her
daughter Sofia's fifteenth birthday
next week, about the quinceañera
dress they'd been saving for, about
the scholarship application she'd
helped Sofia fill out for college."
Maya stops to give thought to what she’s writing.
MAYA (CONT’D)
Why Frida? What about Frida would
make someone kill her? What do we
know about her?
She turns to Frank and Dolores.
MAYA (CONT’D)
What do you know? Where she worked?
Who didn’t like her? Anything?
Frank slugs the rest of his coffee.
FRANK
She cleaned offices. Most of ‘em
down on Bixby, and she lived on
Banning, that’s why she took the
alley shortcut.
DOLORES
I know she had a daughter. She was
obsessed with keeping her in
college.
Maya nods.
MAYA
Okay, that’s a start.
(a beat)
"Hours earlier, Frida witnessed
something she shouldn't have.”
Maya stops typing, leans back, and sips on her coffee, then
her lips purse tightly, and her cheeks tighten.
MAYA (CONT’D)
God, that coffee’s cold, Dolores.
Do you think —?
Dolores gets up and moves quickly behind the counter.
DOLORES
Comin’ right up, honey. Piping hot.
Maya takes a sip of the fresh coffee and smiles.
MAYA
More like it. Thanks.
FRANK
What happens now?
Maya lights a cigarette gives thought to Frank’s question.
MAYA
I don’t know yet, Frank. I think
I’ll have to check in with my
detective.
DOLORES
You’re detective?
Maya smiles.
MAYA
Yeah, Detective David Hartwell and
maybe ... his irrepressible
companion, G.
FRANK
They some cops you know?
MAYA
Not that I know of, Frank. Just
some names I pulled up.
Maya crushes her butt in the ashtray, then goes back to
typing.
MAYA (CONT’D)
“Detective Hartwell, with his
weathered face, expensive suit and
trench coat, fashionable silk tie,
and Italian leather shoes, is the
first detective on the scene, and
he begins the investigation as soon
as he arrives.”
MAYA (CONT’D)
“Hartwell continues, making note of
the body’s position and any objects
found nearby. When the sirens draw
close, he tells Officer Billings to
make sure the techs bag everything
for processing, then leaves.”
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Dawn Investigation
EXT. MASON STREET - DAWN
DETECTIVE DAVID HARTWELL (45, exactly as Maya described him —
weathered face, intense eyes, expensive suit and trench coat)
crouches beside the green dumpster, examining the scene with
practiced eyes.
He turns to G (30s, lithe, quiet) as the sound of SIRENS
grows louder.
HARTWELL
(to G)
Check the alley and surrounding
area.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
(turns to Billings)
Tell the techs to bag everything
for processing. I’ll check back
with you later.
MAYA (CONT’D)
“He sticks to the shadows so he
can’t be seen. About halfway down,
he spots two drug dealers, and
ducks into an alcove, but he’s not
here to bust drug dealers. He wants
Frida’s murderer.
(a beat)
When the dealers leave, G moves
further into the darkness. He keeps
moving, careful not to make noise,
and stays close to the side walls.
(a beat)
Soon, the lights from the corporate
offices on Bixby Street brighten
the darkness and G moves more
quickly. He scours the area, but
it’s empty. No one out at this
time. Frustrated, he goes back to
find Hartwell.”
Genres:
["Mystery","Crime","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Chasing Shadows
EXT. MASON STREET - DAWN
G walks up to OFFICER BILLINGS (30, Black, enthusiastic).
G
You seen Hartwell?
BILLINGS
He left, but he didn’t say where he
was going.
G
All right. Thanks.
G walks off down Mason Street.
Maya sits back and lights another cigarette.
DOLORES
You know you’re smoking too many of
those damn things.
Maya nods.
MAYA
I know. But I’ve got to figure this
out. If I can make a human interest
story out of this, right when a
real murder is going on ...
FRANK
That’ll sell, Maya. That’s the kind
of stuff I was talkin’ about.
Maya puts out her cigarette again, even though she was only
halfway through.
MAYA
I’ve just got to fill in some of
the gaps.
MAYA (CONT’D)
"Detective David Hartwell, a man
known throughout the city police
department for being relentless.
Some call him ruthless."
DOLORES
(brings another pot of
coffee)
You look like you're on fire
tonight, Maya. I haven't seen you
type that fast since, well, ever.
MAYA
(looking up, dazed)
I think I finally found a story
worth telling.
Maya leans forward, typing faster now, continuing with the
investigation.
MAYA (CONT’D)
“Detective Hartwell gets the report
from G, then he walks up and down
Bixby Street. He heads back to the
scene and reviews notes with
Jenkins, and afterward, he heads to
a nearby apartment building and
climbs the stairs. On the second
floor, he knocks on the reporter’s
door. She answers in her bathrobe.”
Dolores taps Maya on the shoulder.
DOLORES
All right, hot shot. Time to go
home. You’ve been here all night.
Maya looks at the clock on her computer and gasps.
MAYA
Good God! It’s past breakfast. I’ll
see you tonight, Dolores. You too,
Frank. I’ll even buy you dinner.
FRANK
In that case, I’ll be here.
Genres:
["Mystery","Crime","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
A Morning Discovery
EXT. MEL’S DINER - EARLY MORNING
Maya leaves the diner and heads toward home. Half a block
away, she sees flashing lights and a small gathering of cops
and EM techs.
MAYA
Officer, what’s going on?
OFFICER
Sorry, ma’am. We’re not —
Maya pulls out a badge attached to a lanyard around her neck.
MAYA
News reporter. Baltimore Sun.
OFFICER
Sorry about that. Still, I don’t
have much to give you. Got a young
Latina woman found in the dumpster.
No ID as of yet.
Maya nods.
MAYA
I’ll check back later. Thanks.
Maya walks to her apartment, a few blocks away. She climbs
the stairs and enters.
Genres:
["Mystery","Crime","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Dawn of Hope
INT. MAYA'S APARTMENT — DAWN
Maya’s apartment is small, and cluttered, and messy. A
kitchenette sits against one wall and a fold-out bed against
the other. A table covered with unpaid bills, rejection
letters, and half-finished stories sits in the center of the
room, serving as a desk when necessary.
Maya enters, exhausted but satisfied. She places her laptop
on the table, takes her clothes off, and falls into bed.
MAYA
(to herself)
Later on, I'll make this perfect.
Polish every sentence. Maybe this
is finally the story that changes
everything.
She closes her eyes and falls asleep immediately.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Unraveling Shadows
EXT. MASON STREET — LATE MORNING
Police cars line Mason Street and Riggs Alley. Red and blue
lights flash silently, and crime scene tape flutters in the
light breeze.
OFFICER JENKINS (30s, White, eager but inexperienced)
approaches with a notepad.
OFFICER JENKINS
What do we know so far, Detective?
Hartwell surveys the scene.
HARTWELL
Victim is Frida Sanchez, thirty-
five years old, night-shift cleaner
working for Reliable Cleaning
Services. Body discovered around 5
AM by Frank Morrison.
Hartwell moves around the dumpster, methodically examining
every detail.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
Preliminary examination suggests
time of death between 2 and 4 AM.
No obvious signs of sexual assault.
Ligature marks on the wrists
suggest she was restrained before
death.
OFFICER JENKINS
Cause of death?
HARTWELL
Won't know for certain until the
autopsy, but there's trauma to the
back of the head. Coroner will tell
us more.
OFFICER JENKINS
Any witnesses besides Frank
Morrison?
HARTWELL
None yet, and Frank’s shaken up but
coherent. I talked to him a little
while ago. He said he thinks he
heard what might have been some
kind of altercation around 3 AM,
but he couldn’t swear to it.
(a beat)
Besides, Frank’s not the most
reliable witness.
Hartwell kneels down, using a magnifying glass to examine
scuff marks.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
In this part of town, you’d suspect
a drug hit. But this doesn't feel
like a drug hit.
OFFICER JENKINS
Why's that?
HARTWELL
We’ve got nothing pointing to a
drug problem with the victim. No
marks on her arm, or anywhere else,
her employer said she never misses
work, and she pays her bills on
time. Not a normal junkie.
OFFICER JENKINS
What’s your guess?
HARTWELL
Someone wanted this to look like a
street crime but didn’t pull it off
convincingly.
His phone rings.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
(into phone)
Hartwell. Yeah, I'm at the scene.
(a beat)
She was planning to report
something? I'll be right there.
He hangs up and turns to Jenkins.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
Victim's supervisor says Frida
called yesterday afternoon. Said
she'd witnessed something that
scared her. Wanted to talk to
security.
OFFICER JENKINS
What kind of something?
HARTWELL
That's what we're going to find
out. First, I’ve got to see a
reporter.
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Reality Unraveled
INT. MAYA'S APARTMENT — LATE MORNING
Maya's alarm RINGS, and she jolts awake, but disoriented.
Sunlight streams through her window. She gets out of bed,
stretches, then rubs her eyes to help bring them into focus.
MAYA
Damn. Overslept again.
She puts on a bathrobe, then staggers to the kitchenette, and
starts a pot of coffee. While it brews, she sits at her
laptop and opens her story.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(reading the title aloud)
"THE MURDER OF FRIDA SANCHEZ: A
STORY OF JUSTICE DELAYED BUT NOT
DENIED."
She smiles, remembering the night's work. Then she opens a
browser to check the news.
The local news homepage loads slowly. Maya raises her coffee
cup, then freezes as the headline appears: "WOMAN FOUND DEAD
IN MASON STREET DUMPSTER IDENTIFIED AS FRIDA SANCHEZ — POLICE
INVESTIGATING AS HOMICIDE"
MAYA (CONT’D)
(whispered)
What the hell?
She clicks on the article with trembling fingers. A crime
scene photo loads — police cars, yellow tape, the exact alley
she described — and it was Frida!
Maya reads what she wrote, her hands shaking and voice
cracking.
MAYA (CONT’D)
"Frida Sanchez, 35, was found dead
early this morning in Riggs Alley
behind Mason Street. Police are
investigating the death as a
homicide."
Maya's hands shake more.
MAYA (CONT’D)
"The investigation is being led by
Detective David Hartwell of the
city Homicide Division."
The coffee pot HISSES behind her, but Maya barely notices.
She stares at her screen in disbelief.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
This has to be a coincidence.
People get murdered every day.
There must be dozens of women named
Frida Sanchez.
(a beat)
But how many detectives named David
Hartwell?
She compares her article to the news article. Everything
matches exactly.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(reading from her story)
"Frida Sanchez, a night-shift
cleaner was found dead in a
dumpster. Detective David Hartwell
is investigating."
The coffee pot's hissing becomes more insistent. Maya gets up
to turn it off, her mind reeling. A KNOCK at the door
startles her. The sound is firm, authoritative. Maya freezes.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(calling out)
Just a minute.
She pulls her bathrobe tighter and ties the sash.
MAYA (CONT’D)
Who is it?
HARTWELL (O.S.)
Detective Hartwell, ma'am. City
police. I'd like to ask you a few
questions.
Maya's legs nearly give out. She grabs hold of the wall and
stumbles backward, falling against the counter. The coffee
pot slips from her fingers and clatters to the floor.
MAYA
(barely audible)
This can’t be happening.
She looks through the peephole. Standing in the hallway is
the man from her story — tall, weathered face, intense eyes,
wearing the same expensive trench coat she described.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
It's impossible! He can't be real.
(a beat)
But he is.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(through the door, voice
cracking)
What do you want?
HARTWELL (O.S.)
We're investigating a homicide that
occurred just a few blocks away.
I'm canvassing the neighborhood,
wondering if you might have seen or
heard anything unusual.
Maya's mind reels.
MAYA
(to herself)
He can’t exist. I created him. At
least, I think I did.
She takes a deep breath to compose herself.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(through the door)
I was out late last night. Working.
I didn't see anything.
HARTWELL (O.S.)
Could you open the door, ma'am? I'd
like to ask you a few more
questions face to face. It'll just
take a few minutes.
Maya takes another deep breath and opens the door.
Detective Hartwell stands in the hallway, badge held up for
her to see. He looks exactly like the character in her story.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
Sorry to bother you, ma'am. I'm
Detective David Hartwell with the
city police department.
MAYA
(staring at him in shock)
What did you say your name was?
HARTWELL
Detective David Hartwell. Most
people call me Mack.
Maya grips the doorframe to keep from collapsing.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
You okay, ma'am? You look pale.
Maybe you should sit down.
MAYA
I'm fine. What's this about?
HARTWELL
Like I mentioned, we're
investigating a homicide. A woman
named Frida Sanchez was found in an
alley off Mason Street, just a few
blocks from here.
MAYA
(weakly)
That's terrible.
HARTWELL
You said you were out late last
night. What time did you get home?
MAYA
Not until late morning.
(a beat)
Come to think of it, I did see the
police near Mason Street and Riggs
Alley.
HARTWELL
That's pretty late to be out. Where
were you?
MAYA
Mel's Diner on Fifth Street. I go
there to write. They're open all
night.
HARTWELL
Anyone who can verify that?
MAYA
Dolores Martinez, the night
waitress. And Frank Morrison — he's
a regular customer.
HARTWELL
Morrison is the one who found the
body. I find it odd he didn’t say
anything.
Maya lowers her head and mumbles as she kneels to clean up
the coffee spill.
MAYA
He might have. But people don’t pay
much attention to Frank.
Hartwell makes notes in a small, battered notebook.
HARTWELL
Did you notice anything unusual on
your way home? Anyone following
you? Strange vehicles? People who
seemed out of place?
MAYA
No. Nothing like that.
HARTWELL
You're sure? Sometimes people
remember things later, after the
shock wears off.
Maya realizes he's not going to leave a business card — just
like in her story.
MAYA
I'm sure. I didn't see anything.
HARTWELL
Well, if you think of anything —
anything at all — give the station
a call. Ask for Detective Hartwell.
MAYA
Detective Hartwell.
HARTWELL
That's right. And ma'am? Be careful
walking alone at night until we
catch whoever did this.
Maya watches him go, then closes the door, presses her back
against it, and slides to the floor, trembling.
MAYA
(whispers)
This is impossible.
She gets up and rushes to her laptop and pulls up her story
again. She reads every word, comparing it to what just
happened.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(reading aloud)
"Detective David Hartwell, everyone
calls him Mack."
The description matches perfectly. The mannerisms, the speech
patterns, even the questions he asked.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
I'm losing my mind. That's the only
explanation.
But she knows it's not true. She felt completely lucid
talking to Hartwell. He was real flesh and blood.
Maya grabs her phone and dials 411.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(into phone)
I need the number for the city
police department.
The phone rings twice.
POLICE RECEPTIONIST (V.O.)
City police, how can I help you?
MAYA
I need to speak with Detective
Hartwell. David Hartwell from
homicide.
POLICE RECEPTIONIST (V.O.)
One moment, please.
Maya waits, heart pounding.
POLICE RECEPTIONIST (V.O.)
I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s not
here. He only has a temporary
office. I think he came to solve a
homicide, that’s all.
MAYA
You’re sure?
POLICE RECEPTIONIST
Yes, ma’am. Positive.
MAYA
Okay, thanks.
Maya hangs up and stares at her phone. Hartwell is real, but
how did she know about him. And he’s really investigating
Frida Sanchez's murder, just like in her story.
MAYA (CONT’D)
What the hell is going on?
Maya goes to the window and looks outside. Down the street
are several police cars and a dumpster surrounded by yellow
crime-scene tape.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
If this is real — and it looks like
it is — then I need to understand
what this means.
She grabs her jacket and laptop bag.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
I need to go back to Mel's.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
A Narrow Escape
EXT. MASON STREET — DAY
She approaches the alley. It looks exactly as she described —
narrow, grimy, with the green dumpster. She pulls out her
phone, then steps into the alley.
The dumpster sits against the brick wall. The space is tight -
she can nearly touch both walls with outstretched arms.
She holds her breath as she passes by the dumpster. Yellow
police tape dangles from a fire escape overhead, moving in
the breeze.
Officer Billings approaches.
OFFICER BILLINGS
Ma'am, this is an active crime
scene. You'll need to move along.
MAYA
I'm a journalist. Working on a
story about the murder.
OFFICER BILLINGS
Press credentials?
Maya shows him the lanyard around her neck. He doesn’t bother
to check the dates.
MAYA
I'm freelance, but I've covered
crime stories before; in fact, I
spoke with another officer this
morning.
OFFICER BILLINGS
You'll need to talk to Detective
Hartwell for information. But he's
not here right now.
MAYA
(to herself)
They’re mentioning Hartwell again?
(a beat)
Officer, can I ask you something?
The detective working this case —
Hartwell. What's his track record?
OFFICER BILLINGS
(surprised by the
question)
He's good. Real thorough. Never
gives up on a case.
MAYA
What's his clearance rate?
OFFICER BILLINGS
(even more surprised)
Something like ninety-five percent.
Why?
Maya's heart skips a beat.
MAYA
Thanks. Just background for my
article.
OFFICER BILLINGS
Look, I need you to move along.
This is an active investigation.
MAYA
Of course. Thank you.
Maya walks away, her mind spinning.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
Every detail continues to match
perfectly.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
The Weight of Words
INT. MEL'S DINER — AFTERNOON
Maya enters, looking around frantically. The lunch rush is in
full swing, and Dolores is busy moving between tables with
practiced efficiency. Frank is nowhere around.
DOLORES
What are you doing back so soon?
You just left a few hours ago.
MAYA
I need to talk to Frank. Has he
been back since I left?
DOLORES
He said he’d be here tonight.
Remember, you promised him dinner.
Maya feels as if her legs will collapse.
MAYA
I forgot. But if I promised him
dinner, I’m sure he’ll be here.
DOLORES
(lowers her voice)
Maya, are you feeling okay?
MAYA
(desperate)
Not enough damn sleep.
DOLORES
(sits across from Maya)
Maya, honey, it’s no wonder you
can’t sleep. I refilled your coffee
a dozen times last night. You were
writing like a woman possessed.
Maya places her hands on her head as if squeezing it.
MAYA
You sure you didn’t slip me some
magic mushrooms?
DOLORES
(leans forward)
What's going on? You look like
you've seen a ghost.
MAYA
You're going to think I’m nuts.
DOLORES
Try me. I've heard everything.
MAYA
Last night, I wrote that story
about Frida, and at the time, I
didn’t know it was Frida.
DOLORES
Okay.
MAYA
This morning, I woke up and there
was a news story about a real
murder. Same name, same
circumstances, everything exactly
like what I wrote.
DOLORES
That's quite a coincidence.
MAYA
Then the detective I wrote about —
Detective Hartwell — he showed up
at my door this morning. Exactly
like I described him.
DOLORES
(leaning back)
Maya, are you sure you didn't see
something about this case before
you wrote your story? Sometimes our
subconscious picks up things we
don't remember.
MAYA
I thought of that. But Dolores, I
didn’t start writing until after
Frank told us he found the body,
and I never left here after that.
(MORE)
MAYA (CONT’D)
I described details that weren't in
any news report. Things that hadn't
happened yet.
Frank enters the diner and, seeing Maya's distressed
expression, approaches their table.
FRANK
Everything alright?
MAYA
Frank, last night when I was
writing, did we know it was Frida?
FRANK
No way. I didn’t find out for sure
till I left here this morning.
Maya stares at her report, at what she wrote. Her hands are
trembling, and she puts them around her head, squeezing.
DOLORES
Maya, dear. Something wrong?
MAYA
Yeah, it’s ... Never mind. It’s too
crazy to even say it.
DOLORES
Spit it out, girl. Ain’t like we
haven’t heard some loony things.
Maya looks up at them.
MAYA
It’s as if what I write becomes
real.
Frank laughs.
FRANK
I've lived on the streets long
enough to see strange things.
Things that don't fit what most
people think is possible.
(a beat)
What you’re tellin’ me don’t mean
you’re crazy ... but it might.
MAYA
(sarcastically)
Thanks, I needed that.
FRANK
For real, girl. It don’t mean
you’re crazy. I seen plenty of odd
things, and I’m not crazy. At
least, I don’t think I am.
DOLORES
Even if what you're saying is true,
what are you going to do about it?
MAYA
Test it, I guess. See if it happens
again.
DOLORES
And if it does?
MAYA
Then I have to figure out why this
is happening, and what I'm supposed
to do with it.
Maya opens her laptop and stares at the blank screen.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
I can't ignore this.
She types slowly, deliberately.
MAYA (CONT’D)
"Detective Hartwell returned to the
crime scene that evening, looking
for evidence that the first
investigation might have missed."
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Threads of Fate
INTERCUT — EXT. MASON STREET — EVENING
DETECTIVE SAMPSON (40s, professional) walks through the alley
with a flashlight, examining the area around the dumpster.
MAYA
(typing)
"In the fading light, something
caught his attention — a glint of
metal near the fire escape."
Sampson’s flashlight beam catches something reflective. He
moves closer.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"A small piece of expensive fabric,
caught on a sharp edge. The killer
had been careless."
The detective kneels down and extracts a piece of fabric from
a metal bracket.
SAMPSON
(to himself)
High-end material. Silk blend.
Definitely not something the victim
would have worn.
MAYA
(typing)
"The fabric would prove to be the
breakthrough the investigation
needed."
The detective bags the evidence and pulls out his phone.
SAMPSON
(into phone)
This is Detective Sampson. I found
additional evidence at the Sanchez
scene. Fabric evidence. Looks
promising.
BACK TO — MEL'S DINER
Maya stops typing and sits back.
MAYA
(to Dolores and Frank)
I just wrote about the detective
finding new evidence. Fabric
evidence.
DOLORES
And?
MAYA
If this is real, there should be
news about it soon. I have my phone
set to alert me of updates.
Dolores goes to get a glass of water, and when she returns,
Maya’s phone buzzes with a news alert.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(reading)
"BREAKING: Police discover
additional evidence in Mason Street
murder case."
Maya stares at her phone in shock.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to Frank and Dolores)
It's already happening. They found
the evidence.
DOLORES
Maya, maybe there's a logical
explanation —
Maya shakes her head furiously.
MAYA
There’s nothing logical about this.
Whatever's happening to me, it's
real. What the hell am I gonna do?
She shakes her head and starts typing again, this time with
confidence and purpose.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"But Hartwell knew that one piece
of evidence wasn’t enough to solve
Frida's murder. He needed to
understand why she was killed."
Maya pauses, then continues building the investigation.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"His most trusted investigator,
known only as G worked the case
from a different angle."
Genres:
["Mystery","Crime","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Rooftop Shadows
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING — NIGHT
G, dressed in black, and appearing as nothing more than a
shadowy figure moves across rooftops with almost impossible
stealth and agility.
He approaches an office building, brick exterior with coined
corners, and scales its exterior with unusual grace, though
he almost fell twice.
MAYA
(typing)
"G could access information normal
investigators couldn't obtain — at
least through legal channels."
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Silent Pursuit
INT. OFFICE BUILDING — CONTINUOUS
G checks several windows until he finds one unlocked. He
slips through and moves in and out of cubicles like smoke. He
locates a personnel filing cabinet and picks the lock in
seconds.
Once access is gained, he navigates to the “S” files and
quickly finds "SANCHEZ, FRIDA — RELIABLE CLEANING SERVICES."
MAYA
(typing)
"The file revealed that Frida had
worked for multiple high-security
clients, including Millicent
Pharmaceuticals."
G photographs the employment record showing Frida's
assignment to Millicent days before her death.
INT. MEL'S DINER — CONTINUOUS
Maya continues writing, completely absorbed in developing the
investigation.
MAYA
(typing)
"Meanwhile, Dr. Elena Merino, the
department's consulting forensic
psychologist, was developing a
psychological profile of Frida's
killer."
Genres:
["Mystery","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Tension in the Diner
INT. DR. MERINO’S OFFICE — DAY
DR. ELENA MERINO (40s, sharp, analytical) sits at her desk
examining crime scene photographs and police reports, with
scientific precision.
She finishes inspecting the photos with a magnifying glass,
then grabs her digital recorder.
DR. MERINO
(into recorder)
The positioning of the victim's
body suggests this was not a crime
of passion. The killer was
methodical, organized, intelligent.
She pauses, studying a particular photograph.
DR. MERINO (CONT’D)
The choice of location indicates
someone familiar with the area who
knew the body would be discovered,
but not immediately.
DR. MERINO (CONT’D)
This wasn't murder for personal
gain. This was the elimination of
what the killer perceived as a
threat to something they consider
vital.
Maya looks up when the bell above the door chimes. She sits
up straight, startled, when she sees Hartwell.
He moves straight to her booth and sits.
Dolores heads toward them, but Maya signals she’s fine.
HARTWELL
You live down here?
MAYA
I heard Dr. Merino has given a
report on Frida’s death.
Hartwell brushes his hand in the air.
HARTWELL
Don’t pay any attention to those
quacks. Every now and then they’re
right, but only every now and then.
(a beat)
Besides, I’ve got my man digging
into this. He’ll come up with
something soon.
MAYA
You talking about G?
HARTWELL
I don’t know how you know G, but
yeah, him. He’s the best.
MAYA
When do you —
HARTWELL
No more questions. I came to ask if
you knew anything; looks like you
know too much.
Hartwell throws a few bucks on the table and stands.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
I’ll let you know when I have
something.
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Midnight Investigation
EXT. RIGGS ALLEY - NIGHT
Hartwell walks down the alley, stopping twenty yards in to
light a cigarette.
G moves beside him without making a sound, startling Hartwell
with his presence.
HARTWELL
G, go to Frida’s apartment and see
what you can find.
(a beat)
I’m guessing something will show
why she was killed.
Hartwell hands G a slip of paper.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
Here’s the address.
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Midnight Investigation
EXT. BIXBY STREET - NIGHT
G heads off without another word, down the alley, right on
Bixby, then after a few blocks, right on Banning. He glances
at the address, checks the number on the building, then
climbs a tree to get access to a third-floor window.
Halfway up the tree, a branch breaks causing him to fall.
After a moment, he tries again, and this time, makes it into
her apartment through a balcony door.
INT. FRIDA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Once inside, he confirms he’s alone. The apartment’s living
room is small, with a coffee table loaded with college text
books, and a small kitchen table sitting to the side. A
handful of files are spread across the table.
G examines a few of the files marked “Millicent
Pharmaceuticals,” then sets them carefully back how he found
them. When he lifts the computer to search underneath, he
sees what looks like a password written on a slip of paper.
He puts it in his pocket.
G
(to himself)
Time to do more digging.
G straightens up anything he touched, then exits the
apartment, locking the door behind him. He makes his way back
to Bixby Street, and to the headquarters he visited earlier —
Millicent Pharmaceuticals.
Genres:
["Crime","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Infiltration at Millicent Pharmaceuticals
EXT. MILLICENT PHARMACEUTICALS - NIGHT
He walks across the street, taking note of access points,
then, when no one is near, he makes his way to the rear of
the building and uses the coined corners to get up to the
second floor.
INT. MILLICENT PHARMACEUTICALS - NIGHT
Within moments, he’s on the top floor and opening the private
office of DR. SARAH WILLIAMS (40, White, rigid, stoic
expression), vice president of clinical affairs.
G takes photographs of files containing sensitive
information, then he moves through other offices like a
specter, photographing confidential documents and copying
computer files.
He discovers emails discussing "problem participants" in
clinical trials, budget allocations for "participant
management," and "permanent solutions." There is even a
database showing a history of Dr. Williams' own injections.
The sound of a guard’s footsteps in the hall, forces him to
hide, and he waits for the guard to pass, then packs things
up and makes a quick exit, reporting back to Hartwell.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Uncovering the Truth
INT. MEL'S DINER — CONTINUOUS
Maya has been writing steadily for two hours. Her booth is
covered with notes and printed pages she produced with the
diner’s printer.
DOLORES
(approaches with coffee)
You've been at this for hours.
(MORE)
DOLORES (CONT’D)
When's the last time you ate
something?
MAYA
I'm not hungry. I'm onto something
important.
DOLORES
What kind of important?
The front door opens, and Hartwell walks in. He heads
straight to Maya’s booth, looks around, and when he sees no
one nearby, he begins talking.
HARTWELL
I just heard from G. Frida had
photos uploaded to her cloud drive.
Photos of documents that showed
corruption, bribery, and
falsification of clinical trials.
Maya listens intently, typing as Hartwell talks.
MAYA
(typing)
"What G found would change
everything — evidence that Frida
hadn't just witnessed a single
crime, but had stumbled onto
systematic cover-ups involving
falsified research data and the
murder of trial participants."
Hartwell passes a folder to Maya.
HARTWELL
These pics should put at least one
nail in the coffin.
Maya flips through them, nodding, then she goes back to
typing.
MAYA
“Frida wasn’t a random victim. I
think she witnessed something
involving pharmaceutical research —
illegal drug trials, corporate
cover-ups. Something worth killing
for.”
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"G's investigation of Millicent
Pharmaceuticals revealed evidence
of a conspiracy that reached far
beyond a single murder."
Maya stops typing and sits back, emotionally drained by what
she's uncovered.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to Hartwell)
So Frida discovered that Millicent
was conducting illegal human
experiments and killing people who
tried to report it.
HARTWELL
It looks that way.
Maya continues building the case through her writing.
MAYA
(typing)
"The evidence pointed to Dr. Sarah
Williams, the one in charge of
clinical trials for Millicent. But
Dr. Williams wasn't just covering
up adverse reactions — she had been
secretly testing the experimental
drug on herself."
Hartwell looks at her screen when she pauses.
HARTWELL
The timing fits too. The photos
were uploaded about one week ago,
so if we assume Williams suspected
her, or caught her, shortly before
that, her murder’s on schedule.
FLASHBACK: TWO WEEKS EARLIER
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Driven by Loss
INT. MILLICENT PHARMACEUTICALS — LAB — NIGHT
Dr. Sarah Williams sits alone in her private laboratory. On
her desk are vials of experimental medication and a detailed
journal. She speaks into a mic as she prepares an injection.
DR. WILLIAMS
Day forty-three of self-
administration.
(MORE)
DR. WILLIAMS (CONT’D)
Dosage increased to 400 milligrams
daily. Enhanced cognitive function
continues. Side effects are
manageable.
She injects herself with the drug, then makes notes in her
journal.
DR. WILLIAMS (CONT’D)
(writing)
Subjects who report adverse
reactions lack the vision to
understand the revolutionary nature
of this treatment. Their complaints
threaten years of research.
(a beat)
I’m so close to finding a cure for
what caused Cindy so much
suffering, and what took her life.
I won’t let anyone else go that
way. There’s no need to.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Caught in the Crossfire
INT. MILLICENT PHARMACEUTICALS — CONFERENCE ROOM — ONE WEEK
LATER - NIGHT
Frida enters the conference room late at night, carrying
cleaning supplies. She notices documents scattered across the
table and computer screens displaying sensitive information.
FRIDA
(reading from a document)
"Subject 23 — Attempted suicide
following dosage increase.
Recommend continued participation
without disclosure."
She pulls out her phone and photographs the documents.
FRIDA
I'm sorry, Dr. Williams. Just
cleaning like always.
DR. WILLIAMS
Don’t lie. I saw you photographing
confidential documents.
FRIDA
(panicking)
Some of these files show people
getting really sick from the
medication.
DR. WILLIAMS
(moves closer)
Your job is to clean, not to read
medical records.
FRIDA
But people are being hurt.
DR. WILLIAMS
Delete all the photos and never
discuss this. You could go to
prison for stealing confidential
information.
Frida lowers her head, and shows Dr. Williams she is deleting
the photos. Frida apologizes again, then exits the building.
Dr. Williams calls a couple of men she uses for intimidation.
DR. WILLIAMS (CONT’D)
She’s just leaving. Make sure
you’re not noticed when you follow
her. And check that she has no
photos on her phone.
RENNY and HERC (mid 30s, wearing suits) follow Frida to her
apartment building, then up to her apartment. Frida stands at
the table examining her cloud account to make sure the photos
were uploaded.
She hears a noise in the hall, closes her app and quickly
slips a piece of paper under the computer. She then shuts it
down. Moments later, the door bursts open, and in walk the
two men.
RENNIE
You left in a hurry, Frida.
HERC
You need to hand over your phone.
Don’t worry. I’ll give it back. I
just need to make sure you don’t
have proprietary information on it.
Frida makes a run for the bedroom, but Rennie grabs her.
RENNIE
Now, I think you’ll have to come
with us.
BACK TO PRESENT
Maya studies the photos, then looks at Hartwell.
MAYA
These photos are why they killed
her?
HARTWELL
I can’t imagine what else.
Maya bites her nails and thinks. Then she lights a smoke.
MAYA
How are you going to use this
information? It was obtained
illegally.
Hartwell stands, and smiles.
HARTWELL
I’ll have to consult with G. Maybe
he knows a way for the police to
get an anonymous tip.
MAYA
So you admit you’re using G?
HARTWELL
I only partially denied it. The
question is — how did you know?
Maya puts her head in her hands again.
MAYA
That’s a good question, Detective.
but for now I suggest we get G to
figure out how to get that
information to the police —
legally.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Cover-Up Under Pressure
INT. MILLICENT PHARMACEUTICALS — LAB — NIGHT
Dr. Williams sits behind a sprawling mahogany desk,
immaculately clean. She finishes reading the news on her
laptop, then slams the lid shut, leans forward, and presses
the intercom button.
DR. WILLIAMS
My office, now!
Rennie and Herc push through the door moments later.
RENNIE
You needed us?
DR. WILLIAMS
Did you verify that all photos were
gone from her phone? And that
nothing was left in her apartment?
RENNIE
Yes, ma’am. We even took the phone
with us, just in case the techs
could retrieve any of the photos.
It’s in the harbor now.
HERC
And we left no traces at the
dumpster, or anywhere around it.
Dr. Williams taps her pen on the desk and stares.
DR. WILLIAMS
Then tell me how the cops are
making so much headway so quickly.
She continues tapping the pen.
DR. WILLIAMS (CONT’D)
They must have help.
Rennie steps closer and speaks softly.
RENNIE
It might be that reporter.
DR. WILLIAMS
What reporter?
RENNIE
The one who frequents the diner
near Mason Street.
(MORE)
RENNIE (CONT’D)
I’m sure she didn’t see us, but
maybe someone else did. Or maybe
she heard something.
DR. WILLIAMS
I think you need to pay her a
visit.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
A Dangerous Call
INT. MEL'S DINER — NIGHT
Maya's phone suddenly rings, startling her. She almost drops
her coffee cup. When she looks, caller ID shows "UNKNOWN
NUMBER."
MAYA
(answers hesitantly)
Hello?
DR. WILLIAMS (V.O.)
(voice distorted)
You've been writing about things
you don't understand. Research I
worked on almost my whole life.
MAYA
Who is this?
(a beat)
I don't know what you're talking
about.
DR. WILLIAMS (V.O.)
Then perhaps you should come see
me. Write our side of the story.
MAYA
Whose side? Millicent’s?
(a beat)
Is this Dr. Williams?
DR. WILLIAMS
There are two sides to every story.
MAYA
Dr. Williams, what you're doing is
wrong. Conducting illegal human
experiments —
DR. WILLIAMS (V.O.)
There you go assuming only one side
of the story tells the tale.
(MORE)
DR. WILLIAMS (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I'm trying to revolutionize
treatment for depression and
anxiety, and cure a disease that
afflicts so many. A disease that
killed my sister. And all over a
few minor side effects.
(a beat)
You know, it’s not unusual for a
few people to die when testing a
new drug. Especially one that could
save so many lives.
MAYA
The effects I heard about aren’t
minor: psychotic episodes, suicide
attempts, and even deaths.
DR. WILLIAMS (V.O.)
(frantic)
That information is classified.
MAYA
I researched your clinical trials.
DR. WILLIAMS (V.O.)
Impossible. There's no way you
could have accessed that
information. Someone gave you
classified data. I want it back.
MAYA
Are you threatening me?
DR. WILLIAMS (V.O.)
I'm giving you one chance to walk
away from this story. Stop writing
about things you don't understand.
The line goes dead. Maya stares at her phone, trembling.
DOLORES
(approaching)
Maya, what's wrong? You look
terrified.
MAYA
I think I'm in serious trouble. The
woman I wrote about — the killer —
she just called me.
DOLORES
That's impossible.
MAYA
Is it? Everything else I wrote was
true. Why not this?
Maya types frantically.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing urgently)
"Detective Hartwell received an
anonymous tip that journalist Maya
Chen was in immediate danger from
Dr. Williams."
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Urgent Warning
INT. POLICE STATION — NIGHT
Detective Hartwell sits at his desk reviewing case files when
his phone rings.
HARTWELL
Hartwell.
ANONYMOUS VOICE (V.O.)
(electronically
distorted)
Maya Chen is in immediate danger.
Dr. Sarah Williams from Millicent
Pharmaceuticals knows she's been
investigating the Sanchez murder.
HARTWELL
Who is this? How did you get this
number?
ANONYMOUS VOICE (V.O.)
Someone who wants justice. Get to
Mel's Diner on Fifth Street.
The line goes dead. Hartwell stares at his phone, then grabs
his coat.
HARTWELL
(to himself)
How does this person know about
Williams? We haven't even connected
her to the case yet.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Abduction at Mel's Diner
INT. MEL'S DINER — LATE NIGHT
Maya continues typing, desperately trying to stay ahead of
the danger she's created.
MAYA
(typing)
"But Rennie and Herc were already
on their way to eliminate the
journalist who had learned too
much."
Maya looks up from her laptop and notices a black sedan
pulling up outside the diner. Through the tinted windows, she
sees a figure watching her.
Maya quickly saves her work and closes her laptop.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing on her phone)
"Maya realized she needed to get to
safety before Dr. Williams’ men
could reach her."
As Maya stands to leave through the back exit, the diner's
front door opens and two strange men walk in. Bulges show in
their jackets - bulges that can only be guns.
Rennie calls to Maya, his deep voice carrying over the noise
of the diner.
RENNIE
Ms. Chen. The doctor would like to
speak to you. Would you mind coming
with us?
Dolores steps forward.
DOLORES
We're about to close. If you want
food —
Herc pushes Dolores aside while Rennie continues toward Maya.
HERC
(to Dolores)
This doesn't concern you. We have
business to discuss with Maya.
Maya tries to open the back door, but it’s locked. She turns
back and faces the men.
MAYA
There are witnesses here. Whatever
you're thinking —
Rennie continues advancing, but smiles as he does.
RENNIE
(chuckling)
I'm not thinking of anything. I
just asked if you’d talk to Dr.
Williams for a few moments.
MAYA
I'm trying to expose the truth
about people being harmed by
illegal drug trials.
RENNIE
That’s fine. Just talk to her, and
I’m sure you two can work things
out.
Dolores backs away, reaching for her phone.
DOLORES
I'm calling the police right now.
Rennie pulls out his gun.
RENNIE
Put the phone down.
Maya types frantically on her phone, but the man grabs it
from her.
RENNIE (CONT’D)
How about we see Dr. Williams?
The men lead Maya outside and into the black sedan. Then they
pull away from the curb and head toward Bixby Street. Once
they arrive, they lead her to Dr. Williams' office.
Dr. Williams dismisses Rennie and Herc.
DR. WILLIAMS
I’ll call for you when Maya is
ready to leave.
Maya walks cautiously toward Dr. Williams, and takes a seat
in a large cushioned chair in front of her desk. Maya looks
at the time.
MAYA
How long will this take? I have a
story that needs editing.
DR. WILLIAMS
Not long at all. No more than
twenty or thirty minutes. There has
been talk about unethical
activities at Millicent, and I just
want to set the record straight.
Maya manages to keep her wits. She sets her laptop on the
desk, and opens it.
MAYA
Do you mind if I take notes?
DR. WILLIAMS
Not at all.
MAYA
I haven't read anything specific,
but perhaps you'd like to comment
on the stories you've heard.
As Williams talks, Maya types furiously.
MAYA (CONT’D)
"At that exact moment, Detective
Hartwell gets news of Maya's
abduction. He calls G and hurries
to Millicent's building on Bixby
Street.”
DR. WILLIAMS
(pauses)
Are you getting all of this?
MAYA
I’m good. Keep going.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Tense Confrontation at the Millicent Building
INT. ENTRANCE TO MILLICENT BUILDING - NIGHT
Detective Hartwell bursts in with his service weapon drawn,
followed by G and two OTHER OFFICERS.
The two men are sitting in the lobby. They jump up when the
police enter and draw their own guns.
HARTWELL
Police. Drop the weapon and put
your hands on the wall behind you.
He instructs the other officers to stay with the men while he
and G go upstairs.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
Cuff ‘em, while we go up. Don’t let
anyone leave.
Moments later, Hartwell breaks into Williams’ office.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Confrontation in the Office
INT. DR. WILLIAMS’ OFFICE - TOP FLOOR - NIGHT
Hartwell and G push open the double doors and point their
weapons at Williams.
HARTWELL
Step away from the desk and place
your hands on the wall.
DR. WILLIAMS
How did you find us? How did you
know to come here?
(to Maya, accusingly)
This isn't over. Whatever you are,
whatever impossible power you have,
there are others who will want to
know about it.
MAYA
Dr. Williams, you need psychiatric
help. The experimental drug has
damaged your brain.
DR. WILLIAMS
(to Hartwell)
You don't understand what she is.
She knows things she shouldn't
know.
HARTWELL
Ma'am, we'll discuss that at the
station.
Dr. Williams puts her hands behind her back as Hartwell cuffs
her.
DR. WILLIAMS
She wrote about private
conversations, classified data,
personal journal entries. How do
you explain that?
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Tension in the Lobby
INT. MILLICENT PHARMACEUTICALS LOBBY - NIGHT
Hartwell and G step off the elevator with Maya and Williams.
The two officers are standing guard over Rennie and Herc, now
cuffed. Hartwell leads Williams by the arm.
HARTWELL
Cuff her, then take them all
downtown.
Williams shoots Maya a glare as she leaves.
DR. WILLIAMS
I won't be the last person to
wonder what you are.
Maya sits in a chair, clutching her laptop against her chest.
She is trembling, and sweat beads on her forehead.
HARTWELL
Ms. Chen, I need to ask you some
questions about what happened here.
MAYA
(barely audible)
She was going to kill me because of
what I wrote.
HARTWELL
You mean your journalism?
Maya looks up at him, realizing she needs to be very careful
about what she reveals.
MAYA
I've been investigating
pharmaceutical companies. Illegal
clinical trials. Dr. Williams
thought I had information that
could damage her research.
Hartwell studies Maya's face, and suspects there's more to
the story.
HARTWELL
Dr. Williams made some unusual
claims about you.
(MORE)
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
Said you knew things you shouldn't
know. Private conversations,
classified data.
MAYA
She's clearly mentally unstable.
Whatever experimental drug she's
been taking has affected her
judgment.
HARTWELL
How do you know she's been taking
experimental drugs?
Maya realizes she's revealed too much again.
MAYA
I ... I assumed. Based on her
behavior. The way she was talking.
HARTWELL
(sitting across from her)
But you also knew her name was Dr.
Williams and that she worked at
Millicent. People don't make
assumptions that specific. So, how
did you know?
Maya stares at him, this character she created who's now
interrogating her in real life.
MAYA
Detective Hartwell, what if I told
you something that sounded
completely impossible? Would you
believe me?
HARTWELL
Try me.
MAYA
What if someone could write stories
that somehow became real?
Characters that came to life,
events that actually happened?
HARTWELL
(leaning back)
I'd say that person needed
psychiatric evaluation.
MAYA
(standing up)
Then I don't think I should say
anything else without a lawyer.
HARTWELL
You're not under arrest. But a
woman was murdered, and you seem to
know details about the case that
you shouldn't know.
MAYA
(gathering her things)
I think I should go home now.
HARTWELL
I'll drive you. It's not safe for
you to be alone until we're sure
everyone involved has been caught.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Writing the Future
EXT. OUTSIDE MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Maya gets out of the car, but before she goes inside she
turns back to Hartwell.
MAYA
You want a cup of coffee?
Hartwell turns off the ignition and gets out.
HARTWELL
Lead the way.
INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
They step inside and Mays walks to the kitchen and prepares a
pot of water to boil.
MAYA
Detective, can I ask you something?
HARTWELL
Shoot.
MAYA
How long have you been working
homicide?
HARTWELL
Twelve years. Why?
MAYA
What's your clearance rate?
HARTWELL
(surprised by the
question)
Ninety-five percent. But I don't
see how that's relevant.
Maya stops talking, staring at him.
MAYA
And you prefer working alone?
HARTWELL
Usually. Why are you asking these
questions?
MAYA
How about G?
HARTWELL
(suspicious now)
I aske before about how you knew
him. How did you?
MAYA
I could say it was a lucky guess,
but what if I told you that
everything that happened tonight
was exactly what I wrote would
happen? Before it happened?
HARTWELL
I'd ask to see what you wrote.
Maya clutches her laptop bag tighter.
MAYA
And if I could prove it to you?
HARTWELL
Then I'd want to understand how.
Maya pours two cups of coffee, then sits at the table with
him.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
In twelve years of police work,
I've learned that the impossible
happens more often than people
think. But this ...
MAYA
What do you mean?
HARTWELL
Cases get solved through hunches
that turn out to be right. Evidence
appears exactly when you need it.
Witnesses come forward at the
perfect moment.
MAYA
Coincidence.
HARTWELL
Maybe. Or maybe there are forces at
work that we don't understand.
Maya looks at him carefully.
MAYA
Forces?
HARTWELL
Call it intuition. Call it divine
intervention. Call it whatever you
want. But sometimes justice finds a
way, even when all the odds are
against it.
MAYA
What if it wasn't random? What if
someone could actually make justice
happen by writing it?
HARTWELL
Show me what you wrote.
Maya opens her laptop and shows him her story.
MAYA
I wrote this last night, before any
of it happened.
Hartwell reads silently, his expression changing from
skepticism to amazement.
HARTWELL
(reading aloud)
"Detective David Hartwell, everyone
calls him Mack. Ninety-five percent
clearance rate."
He looks up at her.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
You wrote about me before we met?
MAYA
I created you. At least, I thought
I did. Then I found out you were
real. But I didn’t know you.
HARTWELL
(continuing to read)
"The investigation would be handled
by Detective David Hartwell, a man
known throughout the city police
department for being relentless in
pursuit of justice."
He scrolls through more of the story.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
This describes details about the
crime scene that weren't released
to the public. Details about Dr.
Williams that we only discovered
tonight.
MAYA
I know. It sounds impossible.
HARTWELL
(closing the laptop)
Maya, I need you to think carefully
about what you're telling me. Are
you saying you can predict the
future?
MAYA
No. I think ... I don’t know. I’m
guessing I can write the future. At
least certain parts of it.
HARTWELL
Prove it.
Maya opens her laptop and types.
MAYA
"Detective Hartwell's phone would
ring in thirty to forty seconds
with news about the Frida Sanchez
case."
Hartwell sits, sips his coffee, and counts down the seconds.
HARTWELL
It’s been a minute and no call.
Maya, looking surprised, gets up to rinse her cup. She almost
looks relieved.
MAYA
I guess I was wrong, Detective.
Sorry.
Hartwell gulps the rest of his drink, then exits.
HARTWELL
We’re not done, Ms. Chen.
As Hartwell walks down the steps, Maya hears his phone ring.
A moment later, Hartwell knocks on the door, and Maya lets
him in.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
That was Jenkins calling. Dr.
Williams had files on seventeen
other victims. All test subjects
who tried to report adverse
reactions.
HARTWELL (CONT’D)
How many are still alive?
OFFICER JENKINS (V.O.)
Six. The rest are listed as
suicides or accidents.
Hartwell hangs up and stares at Maya.
HARTWELL
How did you know my phone would
ring?
MAYA
I wrote it. Just like I wrote
everything else.
HARTWELL
(after a long pause)
If this is real – if you can
actually write events into
existence ...
MAYA
I don’t know what I can do yet.
HARTWELL
You could help solve cases that
have been cold for years. Bring
justice to victims whose killers
were never caught.
MAYA
But I could also create problems
that don't exist. Write people into
danger.
HARTWELL
Then you need to be very careful
about what you write.
Maya nods, the weight of this power finally sinking in.
MAYA
Detective, in my story, you work
with a partner named G who accesses
information through unconventional
means.
HARTWELL
I told you, I work alone.
MAYA
Now who’s lying?
She starts typing again.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"Detective Hartwell would soon
discover that Maya wasn't the only
person in the city with unusual
abilities."
HARTWELL
Maya, what are you doing?
MAYA
(continuing to type)
"In the shadows of the city, others
worked to ensure that justice
prevailed – people with gifts that
defied explanation but served the
greater good."
HARTWELL
You're creating more people like
yourself?
MAYA
Not like me. Different abilities.
But people who want the same thing
we want – to make sure the truth
comes out and justice is served.
HARTWELL
That's dangerous. You don't know
what consequences that might have.
MAYA
(stopping typing)
You're right. I need to think about
this more carefully.
She saves her work and closes the laptop.
MAYA (CONT’D)
If I continue writing these
stories, will you help me make sure
I use this gift responsibly?
HARTWELL
If what you're telling me is true,
then yes. But I need proof that
this isn't an elaborate hoax.
(a beat)
That trick with the phone call was
slick, but it could have been
staged somehow. I don’t know how,
but ...
MAYA
What kind of proof do you need?
HARTWELL
Help me solve a case. A real case.
One that's been cold for months.
MAYA
Which case?
HARTWELL
Rebecca Martin. Eighteen years old,
college student, disappeared six
months ago. No leads, no suspects.
Family's desperate for answers.
MAYA
And if I can help solve it?
HARTWELL
Then we continue working together.
But we do it my way – carefully,
methodically, with respect for the
people involved.
MAYA
Deal.
HARTWELL
I’ll be right back.
MAYA
Where are you going?
HARTWELL
I keep her case file in my car. It
haunts me.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Fantasy"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Uncovering the Truth
INT. MAYA'S APARTMENT — NEXT NIGHT
Maya sits at her kitchen table with Rebecca Martin's case
file spread out before her. Photos, police reports, witness
statements.
MAYA
(to herself)
Rebecca Martin. Eighteen years old.
Last seen leaving the campus
library at 9:30 PM on October 15th.
No trace since then.
She opens her laptop and begins typing.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"Rebecca Martin wasn't the kind of
person who just disappeared. She
was responsible, careful, always
let her roommate know where she was
going."
Maya pauses, studying Rebecca's photo.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"But on the night she vanished,
Rebecca had discovered something
that put her in terrible danger.
She'd been working part-time as a
research assistant for Professor
James Crawford, and she'd uncovered
evidence of academic fraud."
Maya stops typing and looks at the case file again. Something
feels different this time – she's not creating fiction, she's
uncovering truth.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"Professor Crawford had been
falsifying research data for grant
money. When Rebecca threatened to
report him, he couldn't let her
destroy his career."
Maya's phone buzzes with a text from Hartwell: "Found
something. CRAWFORD (late 40s, glasses, plain looking)
disappeared weeks after Rebecca."
Maya stares at her phone, then at her laptop screen.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
It's not just that I can write the
future. I can write the truth.
She closes the laptop and leans back in her chair, finally
understanding the true nature of her gift.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to herself)
I'm not creating stories. I'm
uncovering what really happened.
(a beat)
A case this old might take some
time, but we’ll solve it.
HARTWELL
I’m ready to start.
Genres:
["Mystery","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Dawn at Mel's Diner
EXT. MEL'S DINER — ONE WEEK LATER — DAWN
Maya approaches the diner with her laptop bag, but this time
she's not alone. Detective Hartwell walks beside her.
HARTWELL
You sure about this? Working out of
a diner?
MAYA
This is where it started. Besides,
good coffee helps me think.
HARTWELL
And Dolores?
MAYA
She's part of the team now. Whether
she knows it or not.
They enter the diner together.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
New Beginnings at Mel's Diner
INT. MEL'S DINER — CONTINUOUS
Dolores looks up as they enter, surprised to see them
together.
DOLORES
Well, this is unexpected. The
writer and the detective.
MAYA
(sitting in her usual
booth)
Dolores, meet my new partner. We're
going to be working cases together.
DOLORES
What kind of cases?
HARTWELL
The kind where the truth needs to
come out.
DOLORES
(pouring coffee)
Sounds like important work.
Frank enters, looking healthier than Maya has ever seen him.
FRANK
Morning, Miss Maya. Detective.
MAYA
Frank, how are you feeling?
FRANK
Better. Much better. Got a job
interview this afternoon. Custodial
work at the community center.
MAYA
That's wonderful.
FRANK
(sitting across from
them)
I wanted to thank you for what you
did.
(MORE)
FRANK (CONT’D)
Writing that story about me and
Dolores helping each other – it
made me realize that accepting help
isn't giving up dignity.
Maya and Hartwell exchange glances.
MAYA
Frank, people helping each other is
just what people do.
FRANK
Maybe. But some people have a gift
for bringing out the best in
others.
Dolores approaches with a fresh pot of coffee.
DOLORES
So what's the plan? You two going
to solve all the city's crimes from
this booth?
MAYA
Just the ones that matter most. The
ones where justice needs a helping
hand.
Maya opens her laptop and stares at the blank screen.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(to Hartwell)
Let’s get started on this,
Detective. I’ve got a deadline to
meet.
Maya begins typing, and as she does, we see her words
appearing on screen.
MAYA (CONT’D)
(typing)
"The truth about Rebecca starts
with Professor James Crawford ..."
Maya pauses and looks up at Hartwell.
MAYA (CONT’D)
For the first time in a long while,
I’m excited to be writing.