SUPER: DALLAS FT. WORTH INTL. AIRPORT - 2:15 P.M. CDT
The midday rays bake a mile-wide prism of mirrored glass and
aluminum. A fleet of airliners, jetways attached like feeding
tubes, prepare to depart the nest.
A light-grey passenger jet thunders past, arching skyward.
INT. SILVER PICKUP TRUCK - DAY
COLE HARRISON (64) shifts his F-150 into park, kills the
engine. A worn gold wedding band glints in the sunlight.
Silver hair cropped short, slight salt and pepper stubble,
tight lines around steel-blue eyes. Crisp white shirt,
platinum striped epaulets, command wings and a Montblanc pen
complete the look.
He studies his leathered palms, gently twists the ring.
A burner phone chirps. Cole scrambles to answer. Connects to
SCOTT STEVENS (42).
COLE
Scott? You green?
SCOTT (V.O.)
Yep. You post the QR codes on your
socials? That's the trigger.
COLE
Before I left the apartment.
SCOTT (V.O.)
Cole... you sure about this?
COLE
Just make sure my son gets that
envelope. No tracking number. And
tell him... I love him.
Cole terminates the call, studies the phone, jaw tight.
Tosses it in the glovebox like it’s radioactive.
He squints through the windshield, lost in thought. A bead
of sweat tracks down his temple.
Retrieves his black iPhone from the center tray. The screen
lights up in his palm.
INSERT – PHONE SCREEN
“RYAN HARRISON – MOBILE”
A green CALL button glows, beckoning.
BACK TO SCENE
Cole’s thumb hovers. He exhales, frustrated.
Shoves the phone back in the tray. Wipes his now soaked
forehead with the back of his hand.
Pulls the sun visor down, gently cradles a falling photo. The
ache returns before the tears do.
COLE
Today’s for you, babe. Be my
guardian angel.
Secures the photo in his shirt pocket.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
A Heavy Heart at Gate 23
INT. GATE 23 - DFW AIRPORT - DAY
Afternoon sunshine diffuses through floor to ceiling glass,
warming the bustling concourse. A monitor on the wall glows:
“Atlanta 3:45 P.M.”
Cole marches to the gate counter.
Midnight blue blazer, four pewter stripes at each cuff
radiating command authority. Matching officer’s cap, silver
leaf embroidery gleaming at the brim.
The GATE AGENT (28), bubble bright in her Trident Airways
grey and crimson uniform, beams like it’s prom night.
GATE AGENT
Captain Harrison. Nice to see you
back.
COLE
Thanks. Feels... strange.
GATE AGENT
You’ve got an easy one today,
only one-fifty booked.
COLE
No cockpit jump seater riders. If
anyone asks, seat them in the
back. No exceptions.
Her smile fades, caught off guard by his tone.
GATE AGENT
Sure thing... no one is listed
anyway. Are you okay?
Cole measures his response. The stress already showing?
COLE
Sorry, got a lot on my mind. Just
want to get this over with.
She escorts him to the jetway, opens the door.
He hustles down the metal tunnel, halts at the aircraft entry
door. Calloused fingers trace the aircraft's skin like a
final benediction.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - FLASHBACK
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP. The heart monitor's rhythm of life
bounces green across a black screen, ceiling lights dimmed in
the sterile room.
EMILY HARRISON (57), mid-length chestnut hair, lies pale
against ivory sheets, brown eyes dulled by morphine and
acceptance. Tubes snake from her arm.
She struggles to hold back small tears, weakly whispers.
EMILY
Please don’t blame yourself, Cole.
I’ll love you always.
Her atrophied hand, tethered to her IV lifeline, glides
gently, searching for its soulmate. It clasps with Cole’s.
The beat dies. Monitor flatlines.
INT. AIRCRAFT ENTRY DOOR - DAY
Cole releases his death grip on the door frame, shakes his
head, steps aboard.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Navigating Turbulence
INT. TRIDENT AIRWAYS OPERATIONS CENTER - DAY
SUPER: 2:45 P.M. CDT
Workstations stretch in military rows under walls of large
monitors, a digital rotunda pulsing with data. Jet routes
lattice the screens; storms churn in bruised reds and sickly
yellows.
BRAD WILKINS (41) sits ramrod straight, commanding his
dispatch console. Sporting a crewcut and wire rimmed glasses,
fingers fly across his keyboard. He mother hens twenty five
airborne jets, while preparing five more for release.
The beep of an incoming call interrupts his flow.
BRAD
Dispatch desk seven, Brad Wilkins.
COLE (V.O.)
Brad, Captain Harrison. Seven
Twenty One. With the weather in
Atlanta, how about you just fill me
up today?
Brad types, peers at his screen. Ponders the unusual request.
BRAD
Captain, that’s about ninety more
minutes of holding fuel than you
need. Are you sure?
COLE (V.O.)
Just put Captain’s authority on the
dispatch log.
Brad squints, visibly troubled, but powerless.
BRAD
Your call, Captain. Nashville and
Charlotte for weather alternates.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - DAY
A tight, high tech sanctuary. Five glowing monitors divide
an array of buttons that stretch across the grey instrument
panel. Twin control yokes curve forward. Overhead, a maze
of switches and lights.
Cole finishes the call from the Captain’s seat, bright
afternoon sun reflecting off silver aviator sunglasses.
COLE
Perfect. Thanks Brad.
BRAD (V.O.)
Safe flight, sir.
Cole smirks, disconnects the call.
COLE (V.O.)
You’ve been a bigger help than you
know, Brad.
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD ENTRY DOOR - DAY
Flight Attendant JILL PARKER (52) strides aboard, radiating
warmth and confidence in her crimson uniform accented in
silver. Light auburn hair swept into a professional chignon,
aisle wide smile, she’s pure airline promotional gold.
COCKPIT
Jill’s hazel eyes sparkle as she steps into Cole’s office.
JILL
Afternoon, Cole. Great to fly with
you again.
Cole turns to his longtime friend.
COLE
Likewise, Jill. Might be weather
enroute. Could get interesting.
I’ll brief you shortly.
JILL
No worries, we are in excellent
hands.
She retreats to the galley, just as First Officer ERIC
TEMPLETON (35) arrives, tall and lanky frame filling the
doorway. Checklist clutched like scripture, uniform razor
sharp, his by the book precision screams 'new guy'.
ERIC
Hey, Captain, ready to chase storms
into Atlanta?
COLE
Can’t wait. Eric, right?
Cole firmly shakes Eric's hand.
ERIC
Yes, sir. I'll grab the walk-
around. Back in five.
Eric whisks away with checklist and safety vest.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FIRST CLASS
The huge, empty vessel awaits its human payload.
Jill leans in to hear Cole's briefing, joined by CAITLYN
YOUNG (22), probationary newbie. Nervous energy and a
rebellious streak of lavender threading through her brown
hair. She fidgets with her name tag, rookie nerves.
COLE
Routine flight. No security issues.
Some weather near Atlanta, so
expect an early seatbelt sign.
And... take care of the passengers.
Whatever happens, they’re counting
on us.
Jill’s eyebrows tick upward. Something in his tone.
COLE (CONT’D)
Boarding has started. I’ll stay out
of your way. Let me know if you
need anything.
COCKPIT
Eric returns, slides into his seat. Both pilots begin
preflight setup. Cole gets the small talk rolling.
COLE
How long have you been with
Trident, Eric?
ERIC
Just a few months. Still getting
used to the big iron.
COLE
Living the dream. Local?
ERIC
Frisco. Two little girls. They hate
that I’m gone so much.
Cole glimpses Eric's iPad: two young girls in tiaras beam
back at him. Eric catches him looking, grins proudly.
ERIC (CONT’D)
How long have you been flying,
boss?
COLE
Over forty years. Air Force, then
this. Ten months from retirement.
ERIC
Nice. That’s the goal, right? Make
it to the finish line?
Cole looks away. Vulnerability flickers.
COLE
Sometimes the finish line... isn’t
where you think it is.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD ENTRY
Passenger boarding is nearly complete.
ANNA PETROV (32), short strawberry-blonde hair framing an
easy, inquisitive smile, is next to last in line. Sporting a
well-loved leather jacket, she approaches Jill, speaks with a
slight European accent.
ANNA
Excuse me. I’m in Four A. Will
Wi-Fi be reliable? I’ve got a
deadline.
JILL
Once we’re airborne, yes.
TYLER GRAHAM (8), clutches a small game tablet with white-
knuckled grip, Texas Rangers ballcap tilted at an uncertain
angle over wide, curious eyes. His brave smile can't quite
hide the slight tremor in his small shoulders.
The gate agent hands unaccompanied minor papers to Jill.
GATE AGENT
Tyler Graham. Dad’s meeting him in
Atlanta.
Anna turns, smiles warmly at Tyler.
ANNA
Flying solo? That’s brave.
TYLER
My dad says Atlanta's not that far.
But it feels far.
Tyler tugs at Jill’s arm.
TYLER (CONT’D)
Ma’am? Can I see the cockpit?
JILL
Sure. Let me ask the Captain.
COCKPIT
Jill knocks.
JILL
Captain? Got time for a visitor?
COLE
Of course! Come on in, big guy!
Tyler cautiously enters the cockpit, wide-eyed.
COLE (CONT’D)
What’s your name, son?
TYLER
Tyler. Are you the Captain?
COLE
That’s me. This is Eric, my co-
pilot. I like your ballcap.
TYLER
Thanks! Are you a Rangers fan?
COLE
Actually, I grew up a Yankees fan,
but I rooted for the Rangers in the
World Series. Flying solo today?
TYLER
My parents got divorced. Dad says
if I'm brave enough to fly alone,
maybe I'm brave enough for them
to...
The boy’s voice trails off. He looks down.
TYLER (CONT’D)
Maybe I can fix things.
Cole peeks up at Jill, her face melting for the young boy.
COLE
How often do you see your dad?
TYLER
This is my first trip. Mom cried
when she dropped me off. I don't
want to make anyone sad anymore.
COLE
Sometimes being brave means making
hard choices. Even when people cry.
Your dad’s lucky to have a son like
you.
Cole digs in his flight bag, pulls out plastic wings.
COLE (CONT’D)
Here. Now you’re part of my crew. I
only give these to the brave
visitors to my cockpit.
Cole carefully pins the wings on the new junior aviator.
COLE (CONT’D)
Take care of these. They’re...
they’re important.
A grin, two teeth missing, spreads across Tyler’s face.
TYLER
Thanks, Captain! I will help you
fly from row twelve!
JILL
Alright, Tyler. Let’s get you
seated so we can get out on time.
TYLER
Thanks, Captain Cole!
COLE
My pleasure. Enjoy the flight.
Jill mouths “thank you” to Cole as she leaves with Tyler.
ERIC
That’s rough. Nice kid.
COLE
Cherish your family, Eric. It all
can disappear in an instant.
Eric looks at Cole with curiosity piqued, but let’s it go.
Genres:
["Drama","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Haunted Takeoff
EXT. TAXIWAY - DFW AIRPORT - DAY
The cool grey Boeing 737-800, scarlet Trident of Poseidon
emblazoned on the tail, rumbles through the light afternoon
haze, rolls to a stop on runway 35L.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - DAY
Cole surveys the two and a half miles of macadam dead ahead,
radiating mirages in the early October heat.
ERIC
Trident Seven Twenty One, cleared
for takeoff, three-five Left.
Cole sits unresponsive.
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY - FLASHBACK
Late afternoon sun streaks shadows across countless
gravestones. An isolated figure stands still in the distance.
Freshly mowed grass frames the polished white headstone of
EMILY HARRISON.
BORN: JUNE 6, 1964. DIED: OCTOBER 19, 2021
Cole bends down, carefully places his Captain’s wings at the
base of the marker.
COLE (V.O.)
Someday, the world will know the
truth, Em. I swear to you.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - DAY
Eric elevates his voice.
ERIC
Captain?
Cole blinks hard, rubs his face, forces an awkward smile.
COLE
Roger. Cleared for takeoff.
He shoves the throttles forward. Twin engines roar to life.
The jet rips down the runway with a vengeance.
AIRCRAFT AUTOMATED VOICE (O.C.)
V-One.
ERIC
Rotate.
Cole pulls the yoke back smoothly.
ERIC (CONT’D)
Positive rate.
COLE
Gear up.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Clouds of Grief
EXT. RUNWAY 35L - DFW AIRPORT - DAY
SUPER: 3:51 P.M. CDT
Trident Airways Flight 721 soars into the aqua sky, carrying
150 souls toward an uncertain fate.
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - DAY
Passengers settle in. Faces reflect the light of screens.
Others attempt to sleep, or nosh on snacks.
Tyler strains to watch Dallas fade out of sight.
Jill and Caitlyn prep the galley carts to serve first class.
CAITLYN
I haven't flown with this Captain
before. He seems slightly...
JILL
Intense? Yea, he took a few years
off, personal reasons. He’s only
been back a few weeks.
CAITLYN
Oh, wow.
JILL
He used to tell jokes, buy drinks
for the crew. Now he barely speaks.
Something inside him broke. I don’t
think time has fixed it.
She shoots a concerned glance at the cockpit door.
COCKPIT
Trident 721 cuts through cotton-white clouds at 35,000 feet,
its shadow racing across the solid overcast below.
Cole examines charts on his iPad. Eric gazes out the window.
The ACARS PRINTER comes alive. Cole tears off a paper strip.
COLE
Weather update from Brad. Possible
holding inbound to Atlanta.
ERIC
Saw that coming.
COLE
Well, the easy hour is behind us.
Now we earn our pay.
A chime sounds. Cole picks up a handset on the center
console.
JILL (V.O.)
Got your meals, Captain.
Cole grabs two trays at the door, passes one to Eric, then
settles in with his own.
COLE
I hated being off for almost three
years... but not eating this crap
probably extended my life by ten.
ERIC
Three years off?
The creased snapshot emerges from Cole’s breast pocket. Emily
Harrison’s smile transcends the Kodachrome. He sets it on the
pedestal.
COLE
My wife. She’s gone.
Bitter eyes dart to the horizon.
COLE (CONT’D)
A lifelong oncology nurse. Spent
her career fighting cancer. When it
came for her...
An extended, awkward silence.
ERIC
I’m sorry, Captain. After
everything, why did you come back?
Cole picks up Emily’s picture, gently stows in his pocket.
COLE
To settle accounts. I just hope the
ledger balances.
Eric reflects, then turns to Cole.
ERIC
For what it’s worth, I think she’d
be proud of you.
COLE
I hope so.
AIRCRAFT CABIN
Caitlyn shuffles down the aisle collecting trash.
Tyler surrenders a juice cup, staring in fascination at the
clouds outside.
CAITLYN
That one look like a dragon, or a
spaceship.
TYLER
Spaceship. But it’s crashing.
She smiles softly, moves on.
COCKPIT
SUPER: 6:00 P.M. EDT
Gunpowder grey clouds engulf the arrival corridor ahead.
COLE
Ten minutes until we start down,
Eric. I’m gonna send these trays
back and get us a quick lav break.
ERIC
I’m fine, Cole. You go ahead.
Cole’s face bristles at Eric’s shortsightedness.
COLE
If we hold or divert, you’ll wish
you went now.
ERIC
Fair point. Better safe than soggy.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD GALLEY
The intercom chimes. Jill grabs the handset above her jump
seat.
COLE (V.O.)
Starting descent in ten. Need to do
trays and lav.
JILL
Roger that. Cart’s out. Caitlyn’s
standing by.
COCKPIT
COLE
Your ship.
ERIC
Roger, Captain, I’ve got it.
Cole leaves the cockpit. Jill slips in. She rests on a
spartan seat behind the Captain’s seat.
JILL
Geez, Eric, you’re practically a
baby. How long with Trident?
ERIC
Just a few months.
JILL
Welcome to the show. You’re flying
with a legend today.
ERIC
Yeah... he told me about his wife.
JILL
Emily. It wrecked him. I didn’t
think he’d fly again.
Eric measures his response, unsure about speaking up. Looks
at Jill with genuine concern.
ERIC
I don’t know Jill. Seems like he’s
still fighting demons. Maybe he
shouldn’t have come back.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD LAVATORY
Cole splashes cold water on his face, breath ragged. He locks
eyes with his reflection, haunted, hollow.
COLE (V.O.)
It’s go time, Em. Tyler thinks I’m
a hero. Jill believes I’m healing.
Eric opened his heart...
Another splash. Shakes his wet face.
COLE (V.O.) (CONT’D)
Everyone is going to hate me. But
Em... someone has to answer. I
promised you.
Looks at bottom of the dank metal sink for guidance.
COLE (V.O.)
Forgive me, baby.
Swipes a coarse paper towel across his face, shaky. Strides
into the galley, resolve hardening.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD GALLEY
Cole snatches the handset above the jump seat.
ERIC (V.O.)
This is Eric.
COLE
This is Cole. Ready.
Jill exits the cockpit. Cole steps back in with urgency.
COCKPIT
Cole thumps into his command chair.
COLE
My airplane. Your turn.
ERIC
Back in a minute. Save my seat.
Eric leaves. Jill enters and eases back onto the jump seat,
directly behind Cole.
JILL
You okay, Cole? You seem... off.
COLE
Just ghosts. Didn’t mean to be a
jerk. Still struggling, ya know?
JILL
Nobody replaces Emily. But you’ve
still got people who’d bleed for
you.
He turns right, halfway out of his seat, faces Jill.
COLE
How’d you survive losing him, Jill?
JILL
Well, ah, I just learned to carry
it. He’d want me to keep flying.
Doesn’t mean it stopped hurting.
She lays a hand on his epaulets, steady, understanding.
COLE
What haunts me most... the system
killed her, and I couldn’t stop it.
JILL
You’re going to make it through
this, Cole Harrison. You have to.
Chime. Cole grabs the handset.
ERIC (V.O.)
Eric. Ready.
Cole’s troubled face examines Jill’s. He returns the handset.
COLE
This sounds crazy, but... I need a
hug. The autopilot is on.
Jill’s smiles. They stand and embrace in the confined space.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT - FLASHBACK
Emily lies lifeless beneath a wash of dim fluorescent
light. Skin pale, lips slightly parted, eyes forever
closed.
A nurse removes the IV. No one speaks.
Just the finality of silence.
DOCTOR (V.O.)
I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrison. If we
had just caught it early...
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - DAY
Cole's eyes snap open.
JILL
See you when we land, okay?
She lingers a hand on his shoulder, gentle, grounding.
Jill turns, the door eases open, cabin light piercing the
dim cockpit. Cole’s hands tremble.
COLE (V.O.)
Forgive me, Jill. God forgive me.
Cole's face hardens. His hands thrust forward, shoving Jill
into the galley. He quickly pulls the door shut with the slam
of a prison cell. Click. The deadbolt slides home.
His breath heaves uncontrollably. Eyes wide.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD ENTRY/GALLEY
Jill braces against the counter. Eric and Caitlyn freeze in
shock.
JILL
He shoved me out!
Jill's fists pound against Kevlar and steel, but the barrier
might as well be a mountain.
JILL (CONT’D)
Cole Harrison! What are you doing?
Open this door! Please!
FIRST CLASS
Anna Petrov pulls out her phone, watching the galley
commotion escalate. Types: "Cole Harrison Facebook."
A pinned post appears:
QR CODE with the words: "Some truths are too important to
ignore."
She taps the square with her finger.
ON SCREEN: ACCESSING ARCHIVE...
File names cascade down her screen:
"Healthcare_Screening_Suspensions.pdf"
"Protocol_7_Alpha.pdf"
Her eyes widen. She mumbles.
ANNA
Mein Gott.
Casts a nervous glance around the cabin, opens her email
client.
ON SCREEN:
Email: Subject - Look at this!
“I’m on Trident Flight 721. Our pilot has files we’ve spent
three years trying to find. Go to this FB page.”
Anna nervously finishes typing, sends.
COCKPIT
Cole shivers, the magnitude of what he has set in motion
crashing over him.
JILL (O.S.)
Cole, please! Whatever's hurting
you, we can fix it!
He squeezes his eyes tight. Finds his center. Springs awake
into well-rehearsed action.
Reaches up to the overhead panel, lifts a red safety guard,
kills the in-flight Wi-Fi.
Pulls a hand-sized device from his bag. Label says “8 band
jammer”. Flicks it on. LED lights glow like predator eyes.
COLE (V.O.)
Sorry folks... there is going to be
a short blackout.
Changes into all black athletic wear in record time. Stows
his uniform in his backpack.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD ENTRY/GALLEY
Jill and Eric exchange desperate glances. Caitlyn trembles in
fear nearby.
CAITLYN
Should I... tell the passengers?
JILL
No. Not yet. We keep this contained
until we know what he’s doing.
Jill rips the interphone handset from its cradle.
COCKPIT
The quickly fading sunlight casts deeper shadows into the
cockpit, blending with the dark figure in the left seat.
Chime. Cole takes a deep breath, picks up the handset.
JILL (V.O.)
Cole, talk to me. What is this?
COLE
Three years of planning, Jill.
Every night, staring at the
ceiling.
JILL (V.O.)
Planning what, Cole?
COLE
To make Emily's death impossible to
ignore. They silenced her. Tonight,
they listen.
JILL (V.O.)
Cole, you're terrifying everyone.
What the hell are you doing?
COLE
Trust me. Everyone walks off this
airplane alive. I swear it.
JILL (V.O.)
Then why won't you open the goddamn
door? Please!
COLE
Because I'm the only one with
nothing left to lose.
The handset thunders down before she can respond.
AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL crackles over the radio.
AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL (V.O.)
Trident Seven Twenty One, descend
at pilot's discretion to flight
level two four zero.
COLE
Roger, Trident Seven Twenty One.
Discretion to two four zero.
Cole pushes a button to start the descent, throttles roll
back to idle.
The damn chime sounds again.
COLE (CONT’D)
Dammit, I’ve got shit to do!
Plucks the handset again, exasperated.
COLE (CONT’D)
What?
ERIC (V.O.)
Cole, what the hell is happening?
Open this door!
COLE
Eric. Jesus, I can't do that.
ERIC (V.O.)
Can't or won't?
COLE
Eric, everyone's going home
tonight. I promise you that.
ERIC (V.O.)
Including you?
Cole takes a deep breath with closed eyes, measuring his
response.
COLE
The big thing is you'll see your
girls tomorrow.
ERIC (V.O.)
That's not an answer, Cole!
COLE
It's the only answer that matters.
Eric... I'm sorry.
Cole slams the handset down.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD ENTRY/GALLEY
Eric hangs up, runs a hand through his hair, shaken.
JILL
What did he say?
ERIC
I think... I think he said everyone
gets off this plane but him.
JILL
Oh my god, what does THAT mean?
ERIC
I don't know, Jill. But something
in his voice... sounded like he was
saying goodbye.
They are interrupted by the Passenger Address system.
COLE (V.O.)
Ladies and gentlemen, this is
Captain Harrison speaking. We're
starting down into Atlanta...
COCKPIT
Cole struggles to maintain his composure.
COLE
Weather's not great down there, but
we'll get you there safe.
He looks outside, searching for the right words.
COLE (CONT’D)
Also, my jump seater has moved back
to the cabin. He's... not feeling
well. Nothing to worry about.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD GALLEY
Eric fumes at the revelation that he is a “sick jump seater.”
ERIC
What the hell, Jill? What am I
supposed to do?
Jill looks pensively down the aisle at 150 souls under her
watch. She steps back into the galley.
JILL
We really don’t have a choice.
There is no way in. I may not like
what he is doing, but I trust him
when he says we will be safe.
ERIC
God, this is so fucked up!
She puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
JILL
Let’s just keep a lid on this. Sit
in Three F and play along.
Eric seethes, slumps into the seat.
MARKUS OWENS (61), a rumpled accountant clutching two empty
gin mini’s, leans across the aisle.
MARKUS
Hey, buddy, you don’t look sick.
What’s going on?
Eric waves him off, glowers out the window.
One row back, ANNA taps her laptop in frustration. Pulls out
her phone. No signal.
ANNA (V.O.)
Why are we in the dark now?
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Tension in the Skies
INT. SCOTT STEVENS' HOME OFFICE - DALLAS SUBURBS - DAY
A tech cave. Cluttered, humming, windowless.
SCOTT STEVENS (42), hoodie clad and wired on Red Bull,
toggles between six glowing monitors. A world map pulses
with download pings across North America, Europe, Asia.
A progress bar hits 100%. A “MIRROR SERVER DEPLOYED” alert
pings.
He exhales, leans back in his leather chair.
SCOTT
There you go, Captain. It's out.
No going back now.
Another monitor populates with IP addresses — Bulgaria, São
Paulo, Brussels. Files spreading like wildfire.
SCOTT (CONT’D)
God, I love the internet.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
The cockpit lights are on full bright. Night has effectively
enveloped Trident 721.
Cole types a message to dispatch on his comm panel.
COLE (ACARS TEXT)
TELL ATLANTA APPROACH I WANT A
DISCRETE FREQUENCY.
He pauses, then presses the SEND button.
COLE (V.O.)
That’s gonna stir up some shit.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
The two flight attendants hustle down the aisle, doing
their best to look calm.
ANNA
Excuse me, is the Wi-Fi off for the
rest of the flight?
JILL
I don’t know. Probably. But you
have to put the laptop away for
landing.
Caitlyn stops by Tyler's seat.
CAITLYN
Tray table up, mister. Five stars
for the seatbelt, though.
TYLER
Can I ask you something?
CAITLYN
Shoot.
TYLER
What’s a jump seater?
The rookie’s brown eyes pop wide open.
CAITLYN
Umm... well, it’s an extra pilot
who rides in the cockpit when the
flight’s full.
TYLER
That’s weird. I was the last one
on, and when I was in the cockpit
there was no jump seater.
Caitlyn's face erupts in pure panic. Several passengers turn
to listen. She stammers.
CAITLYN
Uh, well, Tyler, the jump seater
always boards last. You must have
missed him.
TYLER
Okay.
Caitlyn bolts to the front, corners Jill in the galley.
CAITLYN
Jill. We’ve got a problem. Tyler’s
asking questions.
JILL
What? Math homework? Need help?
Jill sighs in recognition, softens.
JILL (CONT’D)
Sorry. I’m losing my mind. What’s
he asking?
CAITLYN
He asked what a jump seater is.
Said there wasn’t one when he
visited the cockpit. Other
passengers heard.
JILL
Shit. Ignore it for now. That’s
gonna be the least of our problems.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Turbulence Ahead
INT. TRIDENT AIRWAYS OPERATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
A black lunchbox perched at his workstation’s edge signals
Brad’s shift is about done.
The message from Trident 721 flashes across Brad's screen.
BRAD
What the hell? Darlene, take a look
at this!
DARLENE STRICKLAND (52), steel eyed Operations Director,
clipboard and walkie-talkie in hand, power strides to Brad’s
console.
DARLENE
Discrete frequency? Did he declare
an emergency?
BRAD
Negative. He just dropped it.
DARLENE
Shit. Call approach and see what
they know.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Cole digs deep into his flight bag, whips out a satellite
phone, powers it on.
The ACARS PRINTER spits out a new message from Brad.
ACARS MESSAGE
CONTACT ATL APPROACH ON 124.7
DO YOU NEED ANY ASSISTANCE,
CAPTAIN?
Cole dials in the new radio frequency.
Flips the Wi-Fi back on, kills the cellphone jammer.
Punches the flight attendant chime.
JILL (V.O.)
What now, Cole?
COLE
Wi-Fi's back. I need you to text
dispatch, desk seven. Tell them I'm
alone up here.
JILL (V.O.)
Why would I do that?
COLE
Because we’re gonna have some
company up here shortly.
JILL (V.O.)
Who?
COLE
Who do you think, Jill?
Cole hangs up, shakes his head.
AIRCRAFT CABIN - FORWARD GALLEY
Jill frantically rips open her tote, powers up her company
tablet.
CAITLYN
What are you doing? What was that?
JILL
Keep your voice down. He wants me
to text dispatch and confirm he’s
flying alone.
CAITLYN
Why?
Jill falters. Voice low. Eyes wide.
JILL
I’m just doing what he says. Much
as I hate it, he’s still in
command.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Code Red: Descent into Crisis
INT. ATLANTA APPROACH CONTROL (TRACON) - NIGHT
SUPER: 6:25 P.M. EDT
Rows of radar scopes pulse with green light. Controllers
guide thousands of lives around storms with precise chatter.
TOM EDWARDS (45), veteran, fast talking data controller,
handles arrivals from the Northwest.
COLE (V.O.)
Atlanta approach, Trident Seven
Twenty One, level one two thousand.
TOM
Trident Seven Twenty One, descend
and maintain eight thousand. At
BROOX, cleared approach runway two-
six Right. Say reason for discrete.
COLE (V.O.)
Yeah, I know this isn’t standard,
but we’re going into holding ten
miles north of the airport for
about ninety minutes. Surface to
four thousand. Then we’ll land.
TOM
Negative, Trident Seven Twenty One.
Continue as cleared.
COLE (V.O.)
Yeah... I guess I wasn’t clear.
This is not a request.
Tom frantically waves to JANET COLLINS (48), shift
supervisor. Headset cocked, commanding without raising her
voice, she races over to Tom’s console.
TOM
Trident Seven Twenty One is
breaking out and headed over
downtown. Look at that descent
rate!
JANET
Christ. Stay with him. Keep him
talking. We need to know who’s
actually flying that jet.
Janet slams a switch. An ALARM BLARES through the facility,
along with Janet’s panicked voice.
JANET (CONT’D)
Code Red! Main radar room, now!
She wheels back to Tom’s console.
JANET (CONT’D)
Patch Trident Dispatch. See if they
are in touch with the cockpit.
Tom dials, headset cord wrapped tight around his wrist.
JANET (CONT’D)
Anita. Tell Hartsfield Tower to
stop all departures. Nathan, notify
FAA Command Center. Aaron, Metro
Police.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Urgent Response: Unresponsive Flight Over Atlanta
INT. WHITE HOUSE - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
SUPER: 6:30 P.M. EDT
The nerve center of American national security. Banks of
secure phones line massive tables. Multiple high-definition
monitors display world maps and news feeds.
CHIEF OF STAFF KAREN WELLS (52), razor-sharp in a tailored
navy suit, coordinates the evening briefing with senior
staff. She commands the room, all eyes on her.
KAREN
Overnight intel. Two minutes per
brief. Go.
A phone labelled "NORAD" buzzes and flashes. Karen's
expression hardens instantly.
KAREN (CONT’D)
Kill the briefing. Get ROURKE and
POTUS now!
COLONEL TIM MCALLISTER (46), flight suit with patches from
three wars, blond crew cut, appears on a large monitor. Jaw
clenched, tension radiating through the screen.
KAREN (CONT’D)
Colonel, POTUS is on the way.
COLONEL MCALLISTER
Roger Ma’am.
EDWARD ROURKE (56), flinty and flabby National Security
Advisor, bounces through the door, sweat already beading
despite the arctic air conditioning.
ROURKE
I skipped dinner for this. Please
tell me this is turbulence and not
terrorism.
Everyone turns. Blank stares.
ROURKE (CONT’D)
Yeah. Didn’t think so.
PRESIDENT SAMUEL MITCHELL (67) follows right behind him,
jacket slung over one arm.
A former Governor with silver at his temples and steel in
his eyes, he radiates the quiet authority of a man who's
made weighty decisions. His presence immediately shifts the
room's energy.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Colonel, what do we have?
COLONEL MCALLISTER
Sir, commercial flight deviated
from approach, holding low over
downtown Atlanta. Pilot's not
responding to ATC. Trident Seven
Twenty One.
The President furrows his brow, consequences sinking in.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Assets?
COLONEL MCALLISTER
Two F-Sixteens on a training
mission. Thirty minutes out.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Visual intercept only. No weapons
hot. I want to know who's flying
it and what the hell he wants.
Brad stares in disbelief. His "USAF Retired" coffee mug slips
from his hand, shatters.
BRAD
Oh God...
The TRACON hotline buzzes.
TOM (V.O.)
Brad, what's happening with Seven
Twenty One? He broke off approach.
BRAD
(barely a whisper)
It’s our Captain. He's solo.
INT. ATLANTA TRACON - NIGHT
Janet addresses a dozen controllers. Tom relays Brad’s intel
through the interphone. Janet acknowledges with a nod.
JANET
Listen up. We’ve got a rogue
aircraft. Trident Seven Twenty One.
Captain Cole Harrison at the
controls solo. Holding low level
over metro Atlanta.
Murmurs ripple through the stunned room.
JANET (CONT’D)
No one goes home. Not until this is
over. Get all airborne aircraft out
of the way. We have no idea what
he’s going to do.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Storm clouds rage outside, battering the aircraft with
turbulence. The ACARS PRINTER churns out a new message.
ACARS MESSAGE
CONFIRM WHO IS FLYING THE AIRCRAFT
Cole replies, typing on his flight management screen.
ACARS MESSAGE -(RESPONSE)
JUST ME, BRAD. CAPT HARRISON,
EMPLOYEE 716342. JUST GONNA HOLD
FOR A WHILE AND THEN LAND THE
AIRPLANE. RETURN LEG WILL BE A
LITTLE LATE.
The radio crackles to life.
TOM (V.O.)
Trident Seven Twenty One. Dispatch
is demanding you land immediately.
COLE
Hey, what’s your name, my friend?
TOM (V.O.)
Um...Tom.
COLE
Here’s the deal, Tom. I’m going to
have a chat with GNN. When that’s
done, I’m landing this plane and
these folks walk off. I have a list
of phone numbers, but it’d be super
helpful if you hotline them.
TOM (V.O.)
You can’t be serious!
COLE
Brother, do you really think I’m
joking?
TOM (V.O.)
Okay, uh, standby.
COLE
You know where to find me.
INT. ATLANTA TRACON - NIGHT
Tom delivers the escalation up the chain of command.
TOM
He wants the number for GNN.
JANET
I’m not sure that’s smart. We don’t
need to be helping him.
TOM
Think hard about getting in his
way... you probably should make the
call.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Turbulence and Tension
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - FIRST CLASS - NIGHT
Anna's phone buzzes. An anonymous text message:
INSERT - PHONE SCREEN
"STOP BROADCASTING. DELETE EVERYTHING. NOW."
Anna gasps, confusion and alarm wash over her.
Punches her phone off.
The PA system comes alive, Cole's voice measured and
professional.
COLE (V.O.)
Ladies and gentlemen, from the
flight deck. I need your complete
attention, please.
A hush falls over the cabin. Every eye shifts to the
speakers above.
COLE (V.O.)
I apologize for our upcoming delay.
We’ve been granted holding north of
the airport.
(MORE)
COLE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I intend to stay airborne for the
next sixty to seventy-five minutes.
Anna’s eyes widen, trying to piece it all together.
COLE (V.O.)
After that, we’ll land safely.
Everyone will walk off this plane
tonight. I promise you that.
Sudden turbulence rocks the aircraft. A few gasps.
Jill summons thirty-five years of experience, calmly moving
down the aisle, bracing herself against the rough ride.
ANNA
Anna Petrov. Trident Airways Flight
Seven Twenty One. The captain just
addressed the cabin with what
sounds like a rehearsed,
coordinated statement.
She surveys the growing unrest around her.
ANNA (CONT’D)
Moments ago, I received information
tied to his Facebook profile. I
don’t know how deep this goes, but
if I disappear, someone has to
finish what has just started.
COCKPIT
Cole takes a quick sip of water, gets back on the PA.
COLE
In just a few minutes, each of you
becomes a witness. Not by choice,
and I apologize for that.
His steady, professional voice gives way to raw torment.
COLE (CONT’D)
My wife died because looking away
was easier. Tonight... that ends.
In a few minutes, we will be part
of history, as I engage GNN.
He lowers the microphone, a single tear escaping, the initial
crack in his armor.
AIRCRAFT CABIN
The word "wife" sends a ripple through the cabin.
COLE (V.O.)
The Wi-Fi is back online. If you
want to understand why we're
holding, check my Facebook page.
Cole Harrison. Or search hashtag
Capt Cole seven two one on X.
Passengers scramble to connect their devices. Fingers fly.
Screens buffer. Apps hang. Anna whispers to her recorder.
ANNA
Passengers are now accessing the
captain's social media. The mood is
shifting from anger to... something
else. Curiosity. Maybe sympathy.
COLE (V.O.)
Also... please contact your loved
ones. Let them know you're okay.
And someone help my little buddy
Tyler call his dad, who's probably
worried sick.
Anna moves to the seat next to Tyler.
ANNA
Tyler, I need a junior assistant
photographer.
TYLER
But... I don't have a camera.
ANNA
Your eyes are the best camera. What
do you see?
Tyler strains to see other passengers.
TYLER
Scared people.
ANNA
What else?
TYLER
That man's praying. A lady's
texting really fast. People are...
busy on their phones.
ANNA
You've got the eye. Now let's call
your dad.
RING... then a dead line.
TYLER
Why doesn’t he answer? Is something
wrong?
ANNA
He's fine, sweetheart. Signal gets
weird at altitude. We'll keep
trying.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Turbulence Ahead
INT. HARTSFIELD-JACKSON INTL. AIRPORT (ATL) - NIGHT
MICHAEL GRAHAM (40), in grass-stained work boots, streaks of
worry crease his brow, paces the arrivals concourse,
clutching his phone like a worry stone.
ON THE ARRIVALS BOARD:
TRIDENT 721 — DELAYED
INSERT - PHONE SCREEN
"Tyler's flight delayed. No clue what's happening. Call if
you hear anything."
Michael hits send, anxiety etched across his face.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
SUPER: 6:40 P.M. EDT
Cole checks his watch, impatience growing.
COLE
Hey Tom, how's that GNN number
coming?
TOM (V.O.)
Nothing yet, Captain. Maybe you
should just land at Hartsfield.
COLE
Have you people even tried?
TOM (V.O.)
Uh, yeah. Supervisor called them.
They need to think about it.
COLE
THINK about it?
TOM (V.O.)
That's what they said.
COLE
Well then, let's give them
something to think about!
TOM (V.O.)
Captain, what are you...
Cole hits the PA switch, his voice burning underneath.
AIRCRAFT CABIN
COLE (V.O.)
Folks, GNN's stalling. Sit tight
and buckle up.
A ripple of unease moves through the cabin, murmurs,
nervous glances, tension building.
Anna tightens her seatbelt, then double-checks Tyler’s.
COCKPIT
Cole clicks off the autopilot, eases the nose forward.
COLE (V.O.)
The HELL you’re gonna think about
it...
TOM (V.O.)
Trident seven twenty-one, return to
four thousand! Do you copy?
Cole ignores the directive.
Slams on the landing lights. Millions of bright raindrops
whiz past the cockpit, tracers in a midnight firefight.
COLE
Hey Tom, tell GNN to check the view
outside their Atlanta office!
An ALARM BLARES in the cockpit. A screen displays a white
diamond with "-05", 0.3 miles ahead.
AIRCRAFT AUTOMATED VOICE (O.S.)
Traffic! Traffic!
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Stormy Skies: A Close Call
INT. WSB-TV NEWS HELICOPTER - OVER DOWNTOWN ATLANTA - NIGHT
JAKE MARSHALL (52), chopper pilot with a Deadliest Catch
beard, banks slowly over the rain-slicked sprawl of I-85.
JAKE
Traffic's at a standstill downtown,
folks. This rain's turning the
evening commute into a nightmare.
RICH BLAKE (35), thrill-junkie cameraman, zooms in on the
gridlocked lanes below, lens longer than his arm.
Suddenly...
An ALARM BLARES inside the cockpit.
AIRCRAFT AUTOMATED VOICE (O.C.)
Traffic! Traffic!
JAKE (OFF-AIR)
What the hell is that?
RICH
Whatever it is... it ain't a
helicopter!
EXT. ABOVE DOWNTOWN ATLANTA - NIGHT
Rain-slicked brake lights snake through twelve lanes of
soaked asphalt below.
The WSB-TV chopper hovers. Unaware of what’s coming.
The clouds above it begin to glow. Then tear open.
TRIDENT 721 EXPLODES from the cloud layer. A seventy-five-
ton aluminum missile, lights blazing.
Its engines SCREAM at full power, windows rattle twelve
stories below.
Cole’s silhouette flashes past the cockpit window. Calm,
locked in.
INT. WSB-TV TRAFFIC HELICOPTER - NIGHT
The chopper shudders under the 737’s wake.
JAKE
Christ! Where did he come from?
Please tell me you got that!
RICH
Hell yeah, we got it!
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
Passengers press against the windows in awe. The city
streaks by, impossibly close.
KARA MILES (22), energetic and fidgety Gen Z, livestreams
to a jittery audience:
KARA
Oh my god, you guys! We’re
literally flying through downtown
Atlanta. This is absolutely insane!
Tyler gawks.
TYLER
Are we landing?
ANNA
No, sweetheart. We absolutely are
not.
EXT. ABOVE DOWNTOWN ATLANTA - NIGHT
Trident 721 speeds past the Westin Peachtree Plaza, its
mirrored tower winking in the night. Landing gear extends,
talons ready to snatch prey.
COLE (V.O.)
Hey Tom... tell GNN I brought
receipts.
TOM (V.O.)
Dammit, Seven Twenty One, buildings
ahead at eleven o'clock! Pull up!
The aircraft banks right, skirts past the Bank of America
Plaza, screams over Mercedes-Benz Stadium, then vanishes into
the storm above.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Breaking News: Urgency in the GNN Newsroom
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NEW YORK - NIGHT
SUPER: 6:55 P.M. EDT
The Global News Network’s flagship set looms like a digital
cathedral. Sapphire LED walls, suspended screens, and a
glowing crescent anchor desk. Opposite, tiers of producer
pods and tech-stacked consoles.
The fifty person team freezes. Silent. All eyes on their
monitors.
Trident 721 blazes across several screens, left to right. A
flash of audacious power.
Gasps. Then chaos.
Executive Producer JESSICA REYNOLDS (43), all edge and
command in tailored gunmetal silk, headset perched atop long
chestnut hair, grips her control console, stunned.
JESSICA
CAL, do we have legal and standards
on conference yet?
Associate Director CAL HARTMAN (46), nicknamed “the
Metronome,” glances at the clock, hands already flying.
CAL
Legal is on. Waiting on standards
and top floor. Jess, we’re five
minutes to open.
JESSICA
Shit.
She slams her comm switch.
JESSICA (CONT’D)
All right people, reset. We still
have a show. Roll as planned.
Break to Trident the second we’re
greenlit. Copy?
A chorus of “Copy!” snaps the floor back to life.
JESSICA (CONT’D)
Ashley, call Trident dispatch.
Give them my desk line, a guest
code, tell them to relay ASAP.
CAL
Jess, you can’t put him on...
JESSICA
I know. I want him vetted and
ready. Let me know the second we
have all three.
Social Media Intern MADISON "MADDIE" FOSTER (29), sardonic
newsroom rookie, pink nails and earbuds, spins from her desk.
MADDIE
Jess, X is exploding. Hashtag Come
On GNN is already trending.
Two F-16s descend through the mist, sliding up alongside
Trident 721’s left wing, close enough for Cole to see the
pilots’ helmets.
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
Several passengers spot the interlopers through the left
windows. One PASSENGER (30s) shouts:
PASSENGER
Oh damn, yo, check this shit out.
We got fighter jets outside now!
A commotion ensues. Kara swings her phone to capture the
lethal escort.
KARA
Oh my god! We've got fighters
outside! This is unreal!
Tyler presses to the glass, excited.
TYLER
Are those the good guys or the bad
guys?
Anna fastens his belt, calm but alert.
ANNA
They're here to keep us safe,
Tyler. But it's... complicated.
TYLER
Why?
Anna considers her answer.
ANNA
Sometimes grown-ups have secrets
they don't want other people to
know. When someone tries to tell
those secrets... other people get
very upset.
TYLER
Like when I told mom about dad's
new girlfriend?
Anna chuckles softly.
ANNA
Exactly like that.
COCKPIT
Cole eyes the F-16s sliding into formation. The radio
crackles.
The lead F-16, RAPTOR 1 (40), voice drawling smooth as the
skin of his jet, crackles over the radio.
RAPTOR 1 (V.O.)
Trident Seven Twenty One, Raptor
One, we are off your left wing,
sir. Acknowledge.
COLE
Hey guys. Oops... Hope that doesn’t
offend anyone. Been expecting you.
Too bad you missed the flyby.
RAPTOR 1 (V.O.)
Captain, NORAD advises immediate
landing at Hartsfield.
Cole squints at their markings.
COLE
Swamp Foxes, right? Out of
McEntire?
RAPTOR 1 (V.O.)
Affirmative.
COLE
No drop tanks. Training run?
RAPTOR 1 (V.O.)
Captain, this is not a discussion.
You are directed to land. Now.
COLE
Global audience, boys. Nobody’s
getting hurt. Just smile for the
kid in row twelve.
He scribbles on a notepad. Checks his chrono.
COLE (V.O.)
No tanks. Thirty minutes, max. Then
they’re bingo fuel.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Tensions in the Skies
INT. F-16 #2 COCKPIT - NIGHT
RAPTOR 2 (31), shows his rookie nerves. A lightning flash
reflects off the Falcon pilot’s visor.
RAPTOR 2
Major... we’re not really gonna
shoot down an airliner, are we?
INT. F-16 #1 COCKPIT - NIGHT
The Major maintains perfect position on the 737.
RAPTOR 1
God, I hope not. But if that's the
order...
INT. TRIDENT AIRWAYS OPERATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Pandemonium consumes the operations center. Monitors show
replays of their airplane thundering through downtown
Atlanta. Every phone rings.
Darlene's radio spews C-Suite panic. She takes it out on an
easy target.
DARLENE
What the hell was that? Wilkins!
How does Harrison have enough
fuel to do that Blue Angels shit?
BRAD
Standard weather contingency. He
asked for Captain's authority...
DARLENE
And he just turned our jet into a
goddamn missile!
A phone BUZZES. Brad answers, grabbing a notepad.
BRAD
Wilkins... Shit, you're kidding,
right? Tell me you’re kidding.
He scribbles fast. The color drains from his face.
Darlene paces, raging into her walkie.
DARLENE (O.C.)
Corporate? We have a major fucking
problem.
Brad stares at his notepad: "GNN 678-555-3232."
Looks back at Darlene's meltdown, then his ACARS console.
BRAD
God help me.
He types quickly, hits SEND, drops his head in his hands.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Innocence Amidst Crisis
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
Tyler waves excitedly out the window.
TYLER
They can see me waving!
Anna films on her phone, narrating softly.
ANNA
A young boy waves at the fighter
jets sent to intercept his flight.
(MORE)
ANNA (CONT’D)
The innocence of childhood meets
the machinery of state power.
TYLER
Are you making a movie about this?
ANNA
Something like that. A story people
need to hear.
TYLER
Will I be in it?
She smiles, proud and protective.
ANNA
You already are, brave boy. You
already are.
TYLER
Will it help other people not get
hurt?
Anna lowers her phone, touched.
She looks at him, quiet, sincere.
ANNA
I sure hope so, Tyler. I really
hope so.
COCKPIT
The ACARS printer springs to life, spitting out Brad’s
frantic message.
ACARS MESSAGE
FROM ATL TRACON... CALL GNN 678-555-
3232 GUEST CODE 6772. OR YOU COULD
JUST LAND NOW, RIGHT...
Cole reads it, smirks. Brad still has some fight in him.
He flips on the PA.
COLE
Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just
been cleared to contact GNN. We’ll
be on the air shortly. Please watch
on your devices.
He reaches across the cockpit, grabs Eric's iPad.
Brings up the in-flight entertainment menu, scrolls, taps:
GNN. A live broadcast flickers on. Anchors mid-sentence,
unaware.
Cole props the iPad on the main console, takes a sip of
water. Then dials the GNN number on the satellite phone,
steady hands.
INT. SCOTT STEVENS' HOME OFFICE - NIGHT
Scott types furiously, surrounded by blinking data feeds
and heatmaps. GNN plays on a corner monitor.
Suddenly, red ALERT windows cascade across his screens.
SCOTT
What the hell? The feds already
crawling the server? He hasn’t even
gone on the air yet.
He jumps to another screen. Runs a search. Eyes narrow.
SCOTT (CONT’D)
N.C.I. Retention Map?
Another burst of keystrokes. Then, his face goes pale.
SCOTT (CONT’D)
Jesus, Doc... you buried CLASSIFIED
in the public stack?
More alerts flash.
SCOTT (CONT’D)
They’re pissed. Cole has no idea
what’s coming.
He grabs an encrypted satellite phone, dials.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
A faint glow from Cole’s flight bag. The encrypted phone
vibrates. Unanswered.
INT. SCOTT STEVEN'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT
Scott slams the phone down.
SCOTT
Dammit, Cole. You're about to walk
into a buzz saw.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Live Tension and Light Banter
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NIGHT
Jessica paces the production pod, the primetime broadcast
in full swing.
A console buzzes, startling her. A blue light flashes.
JESSICA
Cal...it’s him! Do we have
everyone?
CAL
Still waiting on Top Floor.
JESSICA
Let me know when he gets on. I’m
gonna prep the pilot.
Jessica takes a deep breath, reflexively flips her hair.
JESSICA (CONT’D)
This is Jessica Reynolds, executive
producer at GNN.
INTERCUT PHONE CONVERSATION - COLE / JESSICA
COLE
Hey darlin'. Took you guys long
enough. Captain Cole Harrison. I
think I'm supposed to give you a
code. Six seven seven two.
Jessica flashes a signal to Cal: He’s on.
JESSICA
Captain Harrison? Sorry for the
delay. Waiting on legal.
COLE
No problem. Gives me a chance to
catch my breath.
JESSICA
I can only imagine the pressure
you’re under. Live television.
Millions watching.
COLE
Well, I’ve had plenty of time to
think. We’ve been flying loops over
Atlanta... fighters off our wing...
turbulence and rain knocking us
around pretty good. But honestly,
something else is bugging me more
right now.
Jessica pauses, intrigued.
JESSICA
What's that, Captain?
COLE
I'm hoping someone gave my first
officer a sandwich back there. Poor
guy only ate a salad on this leg.
Jessica smirks despite herself.
JESSICA
I’ll make sure to pass it along if
possible. How exactly did you
manage to get him into the cabin?
COLE
Ha. I thought you were a producer,
not an investigative reporter.
JESSICA
Can't blame a girl for trying,
Captain.
COLE
Well, Jessica... wherever they lock
me up, come visit. I’ll give you
the exclusive.
JESSICA
I... I’ll remember that.
MADDIE (O.S.)
He seems nice. Too bad he’s facing
twenty-five to life. He’s your
type, Jess. He’s broken, brilliant,
and doomed. Your trifecta.
A burst of laughter from the production staff listening in.
JESSICA
Maddie, mute your mic!
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Crisis Control
INT. WHITE HOUSE - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
SUPER: 7:05 P.M. EDT
Multiple monitors flicker with GNN’s live feed, radar
tracks, social media bursts. Tension chokes the air.
Rourke scans a tablet, sweat forming on his brow. He leans
close to Karen, voice low.
ROURKE
This was buried under national
security protocols in 2020. We were
never supposed to see this again.
He hesitates, then mutters more to himself than anyone.
ROURKE (CONT’D)
Jesus. We locked this down.
President Mitchell watches from the head of the table,
unease tightening in his jaw.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Status update. Everything.
ROURKE
Sir, this isn't just a hijacking
anymore. Cybersecurity just flagged
a massive data dump originating
from that aircraft. It’s spreading
across every platform... fast.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
What kind of data?
ROURKE
FOIA dumps. Whistleblower leaks.
And... one classified file.
Mitchell’s coffee mug halts mid-air.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
How classified?
ROURKE
Top Secret. File tag reads
“N.C.I. Retention Map dot bin.”
The color drains from Mitchell's face. His hand trembles
slightly, sets down his mug. The room falls silent.
KAREN
Sir? What's in that file?
The President rises, stone faced.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
The mortality projections. Twenty-
twenty. Shutting down routine
care.
ROURKE
Sir, the seventy-eight thousand—
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Don’t say that number out loud. Not
here. Not anywhere.
A YOUNG STAFFER (25) approaches nervously, tablet in hand.
YOUNG STAFFER
Ma’am... passengers are live
tweeting. They say the Captain’s
about to go live on GNN.
Karen snatches the tablet. Her eyes widen.
KAREN
Jesus, they're calling him a
hero.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
We don’t know what else he has or
what he might say.
Turns to Rourke.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL (CONT’D)
Call GNN. Tell them this is a
matter of national security. Shut
it down.
KAREN
Sir, we can't order networks-
He cuts her off, defiant. Rules don’t matter now.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
That file is out of context. We
need ironclad narrative control.
ROURKE
And if they refuse?
Mitchell glares. His next words are deadly calm.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Then call Space Command. Prep the
satellite jamming array.
The room goes ice cold. Even Karen looks stunned.
KAREN
Mr. President...
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
National security is at stake.
Understood?
Rourke picks up the phone, hand reluctant, gaze distant.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Broadcasting Danger: The Hijacker's Interview
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NIGHT
Jessica has Cole in her own holding pattern.
COLE (V.O.)
Hey Jess, nice image of a seven-
forty-seven on the screen there.
This is a seven-thirty-seven.
Cal spins in his chair, stunned.
CAL
Holy shit. He’s watching us! Live
feed in the cockpit?
JESSICA
Cole, are you watching the
broadcast in real time?
CAL
Jesus, Jess! First names with
hijackers now?
COLE (V.O.)
Sure am. I’d guess most folks
onboard are watching too.
CAL
Jess, Top Floor is on. The gang
is all here. Decision time.
Jessica nods grimly. This call could end her career.
JESSICA
Captain Harrison, I need to put
you on a brief hold for legal
clearance.
She taps her console, switches comm channels.
JESSICA (CONT’D)
Control, Legal, Standards. You’re
live. He’s holding ISO-seven. Forty
million people have seen him buzz
Atlanta. What’s our play?
SAMIRA (STANDARDS) (V.O.)
Triggers: threats, classified,
profanity. He crosses any line,
dump it.
JESSICA
He’s calm. No rage, no demands.
Just wants to talk.
SAMIRA (STANDARDS) (V.O.)
What's his angle?
JESSICA
Personal. Wife died. Possibly
COVID linked. Passengers are
mostly supportive. He says he’ll
land after airtime.
MICHAEL DANE (NEWS PRES) (V.O.)
That’s our story. Global stakes,
human core. Marcel, liability?
MARCEL (LEGAL) (V.O.)
Manageable with delay.
Journalistic shield applies if we
hold editorial control.
MICHAEL DANE (NEWS PRES) (V.O.)
Samira?
SAMIRA (STANDARDS) (V.O.)
Public interest outweighs risk.
Label him “Alleged Hijacker.”
Keep David in charge..
MICHAEL DANE (NEWS PRES) (V.O.)
Jessica, can you guarantee anchor
control?
JESSICA
I’ll ride EP channel. David has
kill phrases. Cal’s on the dump.
We’re tight.
MICHAEL DANE (NEWS PRES) (V.O.)
Thirty years in this business...
I’ve never greenlit an interview
with an active hijacker.
Jessica's stomach knots. Her career, hanging by a thread.
JESSICA
Then we make history, sir.
Tension is palpable. Silence engulfs the line.
MICHAEL DANE (NEWS PRES) (V.O.)
Greenlight. Seven second delay.
You own this, Jessica. It goes
sideways, you dump to weather and
pray.
JESSICA
Crystal clear.
MARCEL (LEGAL) (V.O.)
God help us. We're monitoring.
Call ends. Jessica toggles back to studio intercom.
JESSICA
Top Floor’s greenlit. Cal, ISO-
seven to delay buffer. Anchor toss
in ninety. All stations... battle
ready.
Cal mumbles at his desk, tapping keys.
CAL
Ninety seconds to either Emmy
gold or unemployment checks.
Jessica reconnects to Cole, her voice steady.
JESSICA
Captain Harrison, we’re live in
ninety. You’ll speak with David
Stone. Seven second delay active.
No threats, no classified intel.
Let’s keep everyone safe.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Countdown to Chaos
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
COLE
Thank you, Jessica, for taking
this risk.
JESSICA (V.O.)
Captain... I'm betting my career
on you being the man your
passengers seem to think you are.
Cole absorbs that. Passenger faith, stronger than he
realized.
COLE
I won't let you down. Or them.
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NIGHT
At the back of the room, chaos reigns. Ten phone operators
juggle lines like a telethon gone off the rails.
Maddie jumps in, headset crooked, sarcasm intact.
MADDIE
GNN, where bad news never sleeps
and neither do I...
ROURKE (V.O.)
Ed Rourke. White House.
MADDIE
Uh-huh. And I’m Beyoncé. We’re a
little busy, sir.
ROURKE (V.O.)
Don’t put that pilot on the air.
MADDIE
Too late. Greenlit. Bye.
She hangs up. Another line instantly lights. Then another.
At the front, Jessica steadies herself, eyes on the
countdown clock.
JESSICA
Thirty seconds, people. Let’s
nail this one!
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Tension in the Newsroom: Flight 721 Update
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - ANCHOR DESK - NIGHT
SUPER: 7:10 P.M. EDT
Cobalt blue LEDs halo the sleek glass desk. The GNN logo
glows beneath DAVID STONE (59), granite steady, silver at his
temples, eyes sharp as a scalpel.
His voice, vintage bourbon aged in oak, carries a tremor: he
knows this is the moment that might define his career.
DAVID
Don’t lean on me for kill, Jessica.
JESSICA (O.S.)
We’re all on a hair trigger, David.
You’ve got this. Cal, ISO-seven
patched?
David straightens, composing himself.
CAL (O.S.)
Affirm.
JESSICA (O.S.)
Okay, team... let’s do this!
CAL (O.S.)
David in five, four, three, two,
one...
David leans forward, calm authority incarnate.
DAVID
Good evening. I’m David Stone with
GNN. We’re live with Captain Cole
Harrison, currently in command of
Trident Airways Flight Seven Twenty
One, holding above Atlanta with one
hundred and fifty passengers.
Captain Harrison... the world is
watching.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Cole sits forward, headset secure, hands steady on the yoke.
COLE
David... thank you for allowing me
on. Everyone onboard is safe. In
fact, they’re watching you right
now.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Tensions in the Situation Room
INT. WHITE HOUSE - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
Most screens show Cole’s live interview with David Stone,
one shows Trident 721’s radar track.
Rourke slams a dead phone down, blinking.
ROURKE
Baghdad, I got ghosted by
warlords. Now I get ghosted by
journalists.
He exhales.
DAVID (ON SCREEN)
Captain Harrison, the entire
world is watching.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
What the hell, Rourke?
ROURKE
GNN hung up.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Hung up? On the White House?
COLE (ON SCREEN, FILTERED)
Everyone is safe. And they’re
already hearing my story. Cole
Harrison on Facebook, hashtag
CaptCole721 on X.
Mitchell slams the table. Advisors flinch.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
He’s pointing them right at the
files! Cut it! Jam the feed!
KAREN
Sir, we can’t...
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
GNN chose ratings over national
security! Do it now, Ed, or
you’re on a bus out of D.C. By
ten. Get it right this time!
Rourke reluctantly reaches for the blue phone. Mitchell
storms out.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
A Grieving Husband's Confrontation
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - ANCHOR DESK - NIGHT
INTERCUT – DAVID / COLE
DAVID
Some would say you’ve taken them
hostage...
COLE
No, David. I’ve made it
impossible to look away.
DAVID
From what?
COLE
From what happened to my wife,
Emily. From the thousands who
died waiting for care that never
came.
DAVID
That’s a serious accusation... and
I need you to back it up.
COLE
Emily watched your show every
night. Counted pharma ads during
her chemo. Twenty-three an hour.
David stiffens.
DAVID
Captain...
COLE
She trusted you. Until you
stopped asking hard questions.
DAVID
That’s not fair...
COLE
Fair? You tallied body bags on
air. She just needed twenty
minutes for a scan.
DAVID
Then help me understand your point,
Captain.
COLE
She had an appointment, David.
March nineteenth, twenty-twenty.
Routine mammogram. Cancelled.
Cole’s voice cracks a bit.
COLE (CONT’D)
"Non-essential," they called it.
For twelve months.
DAVID
Captain, that was...
COLE
A death sentence, David.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Silenced Truths
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
Passengers riveted to screens. Jill wipes tears, Eric
shakes his head, Anna and Tyler watch in fascination.
The cabin is silent.
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - ANCHOR DESK - NIGHT
INTERCUT: DAVID / COLE
DAVID
We relied on the people we thought
had the answers.
COLE
Media silenced dissent. People died
because of it.
The feed crackles.
DAVID
We're losing signal...
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
Tyler frowns at his pixelated screen.
TYLER
Why’s it breaking? Did Captain
Cole mess up?
ANNA
No, sweetheart. Someone doesn’t
want us to hear him.
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NIGHT
Cal hammers at his keyboard, screens flickering to static.
CAL
Sure as hell looks like it!
AT THE ANCHOR DESK
David stiffens. Turns back to camera, furious.
DAVID
Ladies and gentlemen... in thirty
years on the air, I’ve never been
silenced by my own government.
COLE (V.O.)
Now you know how Emily felt,
David. Invisible. Expendable.
Monitors across the newsroom collapse into blank blue
screens.
A powerless pall spreads over the stunned staff.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Communication Breakdown
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Cole seethes watching Eric’s tablet dissolve into static.
COLE
You guys still there?
JESSICA (V.O.)
Captain, our satellite feed is
being jammed. We’re working the
backup uplink. Please stay on the
line.
Cole keys his radio, sharp.
COLE
Raptor One, what’s happening?
RAPTOR ONE (V.O.)
Stand by, seven-two-one.
COLE
Stand by? I don’t have all damn
day!
AIRCRAFT CABIN
Screens go black. A wave of confusion.
KARA
What’s happening? My screen just
died.
ANNA
Something isn’t right...
The PA crackles. Cole’s voice, measured.
COLE (V.O.)
Folks, someone shut down GNN. But
you’ve still got phones and Wi-
Fi. Use them.
Phones ignite across the cabin, a storm of light.
Anna raises her recorder.
ANNA
They can silence TV. Not us.
TYLER
Why would they stop people from
listening?
ANNA
Sometimes grown-ups don’t want
the truth out.
TYLER
But Captain Cole’s telling them
anyway?
She smiles, shaken but proud.
ANNA
Yeah. He is.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
The Weight of Truth
INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT
SUPER: 7:15 P.M. EDT
The room radiates both fortress and sanctuary. Overhead
sconces burn low, throwing honeyed pools across cream white
walls.
President Mitchell leans on the Resolute Desk, oak darkened
by centuries of state secrets, pondering his consequences.
He studies a silver framed photo of HELEN MITCHELL (61),
radiant at a cancer charity gala.
His hand trembles as he traces her face.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
You’d tell me I’m protecting the
lie that killed you.
Karen enters quietly.
KAREN
Sir? Space Command confirms the
jamming’s active.
Mitchell doesn’t look up.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Helen waited for a screening that
never came. Just like that
pilot’s wife. We knew people
would die. And now I’m silencing
him for saying it.
He sets the photo facedown.
Rourke hurries in with a tablet.
ROURKE
Sir, it’s already backfired.
Social’s on fire. B.B.C. calls it
“The Death of American Press
Freedom.”
Mitchell exhales, heavy with clarity.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
She always said the coverup is
worse than the crime.
He lifts the photo again, steadier.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL (CONT’D)
I chose politics over people. Not
this time. Call Space Command.
End it.
Rourke nods, scrambling.
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - ANCHOR DESK - NIGHT
The monitors crackle with static. Then David’s face fades
in, back in business.
DAVID
Captain Harrison, can you repeat
that? We lost part of your
answer.
INTERCUT – DAVID / COLE
COLE
I said your government proved my
point. They’d rather silence you
than let people hear the truth.
DAVID
I’ve never seen anything like
this.
Cole furrows his brow, voice low, controlled fury.
COLE
Emily never got to either, and
she wasn’t alone. Tens of
thousands of doctors tried to
speak up. Silenced, ignored...
gone.
David lowers his gaze, shaken.
Jessica, presses her lips tight, the truth hitting closer
than she wants to admit.
DAVID
So you believe your wife was
silenced?
COLE
Not just her. Thousands. Her
hospital threatened her for
speaking up.
Genres:
["Drama","Political","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Confronting the Truth
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN – NIGHT
A hush blankets the cabin. Jill fights tears as Tyler grips
Anna’s hand, wide eyed.
BACK TO INTERCUT – DAVID / COLE
DAVID
Captain... you know this could
cost you your freedom.
Cole grips the sat phone tighter, voice unshaken.
COLE
Many already paid far worse,
David.
DAVID
Then what is this really about?
Cole snatches up a notepad, jabs it with his pen, fury
barely contained.
COLE
Proof that those who were censored
were right. Things the media would
rather we not see.
David shifts uncomfortably, his pen tapping the desk.
IN THE EXECUTIVE PRODUCTION POD
Jessica pauses mid cue.
Her hand hovers over the comm switch, eyes locked on David.
For the first time all night, the words stop her cold.
BACK TO INTERCUT – DAVID / COLE
DAVID
Are you saying we chose not to
see it?
Cole exhales hard, steadies himself, his tone now
prosecutorial.
COLE
Tonight I forced it into
daylight. Public records.
Whistleblower reports. Medical
data the media decided to move
past.
Cole takes a quick sip of water.
COLE (CONT’D)
You can’t unsee it now, David.
That’s why I’m here. To make damn
sure the truth isn’t forgotten.
A long silence. Even the control room holds its breath.
DAVID
Maybe we should have asked harder
questions.
Jessica murmurs, unheard by the room.
JESSICA
We all should have.
COLE
People already paid with their
careers. Or worse... their lives.
Emily paid.
I can handle the consequences.
David exhales, sobered, less anchor, more man.
DAVID
Anything else?
COLE
Trust your doctor, David. Not the
suits on camera.
A long beat. David nods, almost humbled.
DAVID
Thank you, Captain. You’ve given
us all a lot to consider.
COLE
Emily would’ve liked you for
that.
END INTERCUT
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Moral Ambiguity and Political Fallout
INT. TRIDENT 721 – COCKPIT – NIGHT
Cole disconnects the satellite phone, sets it down with
care.
Wipes his eyes, reaches over the throttles, hits SEND on
his route request to dispatch.
COLE (V.O.)
Jesus. What the hell just happened?
AIRCRAFT CABIN
Scattered APPLAUSE breaks out. Some passengers nod, others
just stare.
Tyler leans toward Anna.
TYLER
Is Captain Cole good or bad?
ANNA
I don’t know, Tyler. I really
don’t know.
Tyler considers this, solemn.
TYLER
Can’t he be both?
The nearby passengers fall silent, the child’s wisdom slicing
through the noise.
INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT
SUPER: 7:30 P.M. EDT
President Mitchell stands at a tall window, the Washington
Monument glowing against the night. His reflection in the
glass looks older than it did an hour ago.
ROURKE
Sir, no additional classified is
out. Everything’s public domain.
He was just shining a light on-
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
On our bullshit. Face it. We told
them to bury a lot of it.
He turns from the window, a weight settling in.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL (CONT’D)
Three years’ worth... and I tried
to jam it out of existence.
Karen and Rourke exchange a look.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL (CONT’D)
I guess he was never a terrorist.
He’s a whistleblower. Made sure I
heard him loud and clear. Quite a
way to do it, huh?
KAREN
Sir?
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
I really screwed this one up.
He moves toward the door, shoulders heavy.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL (CONT’D)
Draft a statement. Focus on
national security. I need to be
on the air within ten minutes.
KAREN
On it, sir.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Rourke, keep me advised on the
hijacking. Don’t screw THAT up.
Genres:
["Drama","Political Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Diverted Flight: Tensions Rise
INT. GNN NEWSROOM – NIGHT
A commercial flickers overhead, washing the control room in
cold advertising light.
The buzz of earlier chaos has settled into a tense,
watchful quiet.
Jessica ends a call with a crisp button push, rises.
JESSICA
Good news... Top Floor’s happy.
David gets kudos. Legal’s digging
into the jam, but we’re clear.
CAL
White House press room in ten.
JESSICA
Copy. Fill with correspondent
reaction until POTUS. Keep it
tight. Get a crew to Hartsfield
for the arrival.
CAL
We’re back live in three.
Jessica sinks into her chair, headset sliding to her neck.
Her gaze fixes on one of her monitors. The radar track of
Trident 721 still circling over Atlanta.
Her reflection glints faintly in the glass, superimposed
over the pulsing blip.
JESSICA (V.O.)
Get them on the ground, Cole...
INT. TRIDENT AIRWAYS OPERATIONS CENTER - NIGHT
Brad freezes at the latest ACARS message.
BRAD
He’s diverting to Nassau... look.
Darlene rushes over.
DARLENE
The Bahamas? Is he serious?
Brad checks fuel numbers. The answer’s bad.
BRAD
He can make it... if he leaves
now.
DARLENE
What are you saying?
Brad’s horrified face meets her gaze.
BRAD
International waters. No
extradition. That fuel load...
I helped him escape.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Cole checks his watch and smiles as the F-16s peel away,
banking toward home.
COLE (V.O.)
Right on schedule.
He keys the radio.
COLE
Adios, boys. Trident’s hiring.
Maybe I’ll see you soon.
RAPTOR 1 (V.O.)
Get them down safe, Captain.
You’ve made your point.
Cole reaches overhead, flips off the broadband Wi-Fi.
Seatback entertainment and internet go dark.
Flicks the switch for the cellphone jammer.
AIRCRAFT CABIN
Screens freeze. Social feeds die. Murmurs ripple through
the cabin.
KARA
Shit! Fifteen-thousand followers…
and now nothing. Are WE getting
jammed?
Tyler looks around at the unsettled passengers.
TYLER
Why did the Wi-Fi stop working?
ANNA
I think Captain Cole needs us
quiet for a while. The important
part? That’s done.
TYLER
What happens now?
ANNA
I don’t know, Tyler. But I’ll stay
with you.
COCKPIT
Cole scans the fuel gauges, nods. Keys the mic.
COLE
Atlanta, Trident Seven Twenty
One. You get my routing request
from dispatch?
TOM (V.O.)
Negative, Seven Twenty One. No
routing here. Show’s over...
vectors to two-six Right at
Hartsfield.
COLE
I sent it to dispatch. We’ll be
leaving your airspace. Direct
IRQ, requesting flight level
three-five-zero.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Turbulence Ahead
INT. ATLANTA TRACON - NIGHT
Janet overhears, eyes widening.
JANET
Advise NORAD. He’s breaking east!
TOM
Dispatch just sent his routing.
Coast, then Nassau. The Bahamas.
JANET
Clear everything east. Now.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Cole presses “EXE” on the FMC. The aircraft banks hard
left, climbing out of the hold.
COLE
Atlanta, Seven Twenty One,
departing hold, direct IRQ,
climbing one zero thousand,
higher on request.
TOM (V.O.)
Seven Twenty One, Atlanta. No
clearance for that. Return to
holding.
COLE
Unable. Proceeding as filed.
AIRCRAFT CABIN
The sharp bank presses passengers into their seats. Coffee
sloshes.
CAITLYN
What’s he doing? He told us we’d
be landing!
Tyler grips Anna’s arm, wide eyed.
TYLER
Miss Anna, the map says we’re
going the wrong way.
ANNA
You’re right. We’re heading east.
Away from Atlanta.
TYLER
Is Captain Cole in trouble?
Anna holds his gaze, searching for the right answer.
ANNA
I don’t know, Tyler. But
whatever’s next... we’re in it
together.
Up front, Jill wipes her eyes, clutching the jumpseat
harness. Her gaze flicks toward the cockpit door.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Turbulence and Tension
INT. WHITE HOUSE - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
SUPER: 7:40 P.M. EDT
Rourke strides in, alone, face tight.
COLONEL MCALLISTER on the main screen
COLONEL MCALLISTER
Sir, the aircraft’s turning east.
TRACON confirms. He’s headed for
the coast, then south to Nassau.
Rourke stiffens. This isn’t his wheelhouse.
ROURKE
Options?
COLONEL MCALLISTER
F-Fifteens out of Jacksonville.
We can intercept before the
twelve mile limit.
McAllister’s tone shifts, from hawk to father.
COLONEL MCALLISTER (CONT’D)
But... my watch officer says kids
are livestreaming this. Half the
world’s watching.
Rourke glances at the closed door. The President prepping
his address down the hall.
COLONEL MCALLISTER (CONT’D)
Sir, we need a Command Decision.
Force him down, or let him reach
international waters?
A bead of sweat rolls down Rourke’s temple.
ROURKE
Intercept and observe only.
Visual contact, no engagement.
COLONEL MCALLISTER
Copy. Observe only.
Rourke eases into a chair, drained, mind racing.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Above the clouds, free of the turbulence that’s punished
the Boeing for over an hour.
Cole levels at 10,000 feet, accelerates to 320 knots.
Works his iPad, slots it into the side window mount.
Radios the next control center.
COLE
Atlanta Center, Trident Seven
Twenty One, how's my clearance
coming?
ATLANTA CENTER (V.O.)
Trident Seven Twenty One. No news
yet, sir. Suggest you turn right to
one eight zero degrees, vectors to
Hartsfield.
COLE
After Collier, I'm headed to
Savannah V-O-R. Request one seven
thousand.
ATLANTA CENTER (V.O.)
Trident Seven Twenty One, cleared
direct Savannah V-O-R. That's your
clearance limit. Climb and maintain
one seven thousand.
Cole presses ALT CHG button. Throttles roll forward, the
aircraft climbs.
Makes a surprise PA announcement.
COLE
Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for
an immediate landing!
AIRCRAFT CABIN
Jill and Caitlyn pop their harnesses, launching into a
hurried pre-landing check.
TYLER
Landing? But we’re going up, not
down.
ANNA
I know, Tyler. Trust Captain
Cole. Remember what he promised.
Jill hits the cockpit call button.
COLE (V.O.)
Ready for landing?
JILL
Not yet, but where are we, Cole?
COLE (V.O.)
You’ll see in a few minutes. Call
me cabin ready.
COCKPIT
Cole cinches his shoulder harness, clips a carabiner from
his backpack to the copilot’s armrest, a black cord linking
them.
The cabin chime.
COLE
Cabin ready for landing?
JILL (V.O.)
Yes, but—
Cole cuts the call, starts right into a PA.
COLE
One last announcement before we
land in eight to nine minutes.
Aggressive approach. Steep right
turn to start, speed brakes
coming out. Might get bumpy, but
we’ll be safely on the ground
shortly.
Cole switches to the guard frequency, 121.5, climbing
through 14,000 feet.
EXT. TWENTY-FIVE MILES SOUTHWEST OF AUGUSTA, GA - NIGHT
Moonlight reflects off 721’s grey paint, wingtip to wingtip,
casting a dull glow against the solid cloud deck just below.
The aircraft steadily banks into a steep right turn, nearly
seventy degrees.
Speed brakes deploy. The nose drops. The aircraft begins a
rapid descent.
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
Gasps and screams. Passengers grip armrests, each other.
Anna locks her arms around Tyler.
TYLER
This is like a roller coaster!
ANNA
The bravest boy I’ve ever met.
Jill hugs her harness, whispering.
JILL
Gracious, Cole. End this nightmare.
COCKPIT
The altimeter spins through 8,000 feet, bank easing to
thirty degrees.
Cole blips the transponder ON for two seconds, then OFF.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Vanishing Point
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NIGHT
The studio is quiet, save for President Mitchell lecturing
the nation on most of the monitors.
The room shows little interest in his damage control. David
Stone, collar open, pops a pill, takes a sip of water, while
makeup is applied to his face. One look confirms he needs the
address to go on for a while. He’s drained.
Jessica studies her radar feed. A green line tracking
Trident 721.. stops dead.
JESSICA
It’s gone!
David swivels in his chair.
DAVID
Gone? What do you mean, gone?
JESSICA
Fourteen thousand feet... then
nothing.
She hits her console.
JESSICA (INTO HEADSET) (CONT’D)
Brad, tell me you see this.
INTERCUT – TRIDENT AIRWAYS OPERATIONS CENTER
Brad stares at his own screen.
BRAD
No transponder. No ACARS. He’s
gone dark.
DARLENE (O.S.)
Where the hell is my jet?
INT. WHITE HOUSE - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
SUPER: 8:00 P.M. EDT
Colonel McAllister appears on the main screen.
COLONEL MCALLISTER
Sir, 721’s vanished from
secondary radar.
Rourke stiffens.
ROURKE
Intercept?
COLONEL MCALLISTER
F-Sixteens were returning to
base. F-Fifteens were just
launching from Jacksonville.
A COMMS STAFFER turns from her station.
COMMS STAFFER
GNN on line two.
Rourke takes the call. Jessica’s voice is tight, urgent.
JESSICA (V.O.)
Mr. Rourke, was there military
action? Did you shoot down a
civilian airliner?
Rourke glances at McAllister.
ROURKE
Negative. No shots fired, as far
as I know.
JESSICA (V.O.)
What does that mean?
COLONEL MCALLISTER
Until Atlanta gets primary radar
online... it means we don’t know.
Phones start ringing again. Rourke kills the line.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Crisis in the Newsroom
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NIGHT
The studio is silent, all eyes on Jessica.
JESSICA
White House hung up on me. They
have no idea, and told me we
shouldn’t have put him on to
begin with.
Maddie freezes, eyes darting.
She clicks the interphone.
MADDIE
Uh... Jess?
JESSICA
What, Maddie? I don’t need any
shit right now.
MADDIE
You’re probably not gonna like
this...
Jessica exhales hard.
JESSICA
Just spit it out.
MADDIE
X is blowing up. Multiple users
say they heard a MAYDAY on guard
frequency. Three times... then
“we’ve been”
JESSICA
We’ve been what?
MADDIE
Nobody’s sure. But there was a
siren in the background. Some are
speculating... weapons release.
JESSICA
No. Jesus, no!
She slumps in her chair. Cal moves fast.
CAL
David. Go with what we have. X
chatter, White House denial. Then
toss it back to POTUS.
Cal points to an exhausted David Stone.
CAL (CONT’D)
Ten seconds. Make it solid.
David straightens, the “Breaking News” chyron replacing the
President’s address. Camera One’s red light blinks.
DAVID
Folks, we have breaking news
concerning Trident 721. Sources say
the aircraft disappeared from radar
moments ago. The White House has no
official comment at this time.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Turbulence and Triumph
INT. ARRIVALS AREA - ATL AIRPORT - NIGHT
The terminal is packed, anxious faces pressed toward a wall-
mounted TV in a crowded restaurant. David Stone’s live
report cuts through the din.
DAVID (ON TV)
..the aircraft disappeared from
radar moments ago.
A stunned silence. Then panic erupts. Voices overlap, some
crying, some shouting.
MICHAEL GRAHAM pushes through to the front, eyes locked on
the screen.
DAVID (ON TV) (CONT’D)
The White House has no official
comment at this time.
Michael drops to his knees. The sound he makes silences the
crowd.
MICHAEL
Please... God... not my boy.
He folds in on himself, sobbing, while strangers stand
frozen, unsure how to help.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
The jet bucks in the rain, turbulence rattling every panel.
Cole drops the landing gear. The airframe moans under the
drag. Altimeter unwinds past 2,500 feet.
INT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT - CONTROL TOWER - NIGHT
A steel and glass island above an empty, rain slickened
airfield. MEGAN TALBOT (28), the only controller on duty,
scrolls her iPhone. No traffic. No chatter.
Her phone buzzes. She glances down.
INSERT – PHONE SCREEN
MEGAN: OMG, Claire. Didn’t know they left holding.
CLAIRE: Making a run for Nassau. X says shot down!
Megan’s eyes lock on the words. Her breath catches, a hand
flies to her mouth.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
Visibility: zero. Rain hammers the windscreen. Wipers
thrash in rhythm, barely keeping up.
Engines howl as wind and machine wrestle for control.
AIRCRAFT AUTOMATED VOICE (O.C.)
Five-hundred.
Through the downpour... a sudden break. The airport shimmers
into view. High intensity runway lights strobe like a
heartbeat in the dark.
INT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT - CONTROL TOWER - NIGHT
Megan stares at her phone, still reeling from the “shot down”
rumor.
INT. TRIDENT 721 COCKPIT - NIGHT
The wipers metronome, high speed but barely keeping up. Rain
smeared reds, greens, and blues stretch along the runway
ahead. Promise of an end to this nightmare.
AIRCRAFT AUTOMATED VOICE (O.C.)
One-hundred.
Cole blasts all landing and exterior lights to full bright.
EXT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT - RUNWAY 35 - NIGHT
SUPER: AUGUSTA, GEORGIA - 8:12 P.M. EDT
Out of the storm, Trident 721 drops onto the runway, a
blazing demon screaming for refuge.
Thrust reversers roar, geysers of spray exploding into the
night.
INT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT - CONTROL TOWER - NIGHT
Megan drops her phone, eyes wide.
MEGAN
Holy—
She snatches the Atlanta Center hotline, never breaking
gaze with the apparition charging down Runway 35.
It hits her. She’s the first to know the missing jet is
alive.
MEGAN (CONT’D)
Atlanta... Augusta Tower. Trident
Seven Twenty One just landed. No
warning. Out of nowhere!
ATLANTA CENTER (V.O.)
What? Are you sure?
COLE (V.O.)
Evening, Tower. The infamous
Trident Seven Twenty One on
rollout. Couldn’t make Nassau.
Calling it a night here.
MEGAN
Yeah, I’m sure. He just gave call
sign. Says he’s overnighting.
COLE (V.O.)
Tower, Seven Twenty One will clear
at Alpha Two and hold for company
parking.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
A Leap into the Unknown
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
Applause swells, scattered cheers breaking the tension. The
737 slows, engines rumbling into a calmer hum.
Tyler cranes to the window, seeing only rain streaked
darkness.
TYLER
Is this Atlanta?
ANNA
No. But we’re safe. On the ground
and safe.
She pulls out her phone, breath catching, thumbs already
moving.
ANNA (CONT’D)
We just landed at a tiny airport.
Captain Harrison pulled off the
most daring piece of aviation
I’ve ever seen.
Tyler studies her face, still unsure.
TYLER
Are we gonna be okay?
Anna smiles, squeezes his hand.
ANNA
We’re more than okay, Tyler. You
just lived history.
COCKPIT
Rain streaks the windshield as Cole taxis 721 toward a dark
corner of the taxiway. He grabs the PA.
COLE
Folks, as promised, a safe
landing. Welcome to Augusta,
Georgia.
His voice catches, raw.
COLE (CONT’D)
Sorry for tonight’s adventure.
Hug your families. Tell them you
love them. Don’t wait.
He sets the parking brake, kills the left engine. The
cockpit falls half quiet except for the whine of number
two. Cole speed cranks the side window, rain blowing in.
Harness off. Knit cap on. Backpack slung. In one fluid
motion, he heaves the pack through the window and follows
it, rappelling down the emergency rope into the storm.
EXT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT - TAXIWAY – NIGHT
Boots hit the slick pavement. He snatches up the pack and
runs, the live right engine howling behind him. Aircraft
lights blinding.
A dark wing looms off to the right, pointing toward the
perimeter fence, and freedom, one hundred fifty yards away.
CONTROL TOWER
Megan forces her voice steady into the radio.
MEGAN
All units, Augusta Tower. Trident
Seven Twenty One holding short
Alpha Two. Proceed with caution.
She raises binoculars, squints through the glare of the
aircraft’s lights.
Her breath catches. A rope dangles from the cockpit window,
swaying in the downpour.
She lowers the binoculars, then snaps them back up,
confirming.
MEGAN (CONT’D)
Uh... I’ve got a rope hanging out
the window.
A pause.
MEGAN (CONT’D)
Where the hell is he?
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Safe Landing: A Night of Relief
INT. GNN NEWSROOM - NIGHT
SUPER: 8:15 P.M. EDT
Commercial break is in progress, giving the staff a chance
to breathe.
A line buzzes on Jessica’s desk. She grabs the receiver,
tense.
JESSICA
GNN, Jessica Reynolds.
JANET (V.O.)
Janet at Atlanta TRACON. Trident
Seven Twenty One landed Augusta
Regional. Tower confirmed.
Everyone safe.
Jessica leans into her console, exhaling a long held
breath. Relief floods her face. She turns to the room.
JESSICA
They landed. Augusta.
Cheers ripple through the newsroom. Cal exhales hard.
She allows herself the briefest smile, then murmurs under
her breath, more to herself than anyone else:
JESSICA (CONT’D)
You kept your promise, Captain. Now
let’s see if they keep theirs.
EXT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT – PERIMETER FIELD – NIGHT
SUPER: 8:18 P.M. EDT
Rain sheets sideways across the field. Cole pushes through
knee high wet grass, boots sloshing. The wail of airport
rescue sirens swells, starting to drown out the engine
noise fading behind him.
COLE (V.O.)
Shit... they’re getting close.
Help me out here, Em.
He drops to his knees at the chain link fence, yanks small
bolt cutters from his backpack. SNIP. Another SNIP.
He shoves the opening wide, slips through, vanishing into the
damp, dark nothing beyond.
INT. ARRIVALS AREA - ATL AIRPORT - NIGHT
Michael Graham’s phone rings.
MICHAEL
Tyler?
TYLER (V.O.)
Hey, Dad. We landed, but not in
Atlanta. Captain Cole said
Augusta. Can you come get me?
MICHAEL
Oh my god... you’re okay?
Everyone’s okay?
A crowd nearby hushes, waiting for news.
TYLER (V.O.)
Yeah. My tablet’s dead. When can
you get here?
MICHAEL
Soon as I can, son. Weather’s
rough.
TYLER (V.O.)
Okay. Hurry. I’m starving.
MICHAEL
On my way. Love you.
TYLER (V.O.)
Love you too, Dad.
Michael lowers the phone, a mix of disbelief and gratitude.
He turns to the crowd.
MICHAEL
That was my son. They’ve landed
safely in Augusta.
Cheers erupt, strangers hugging strangers.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Turbulence and Reflection
EXT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT - NORTH PARKING - NIGHT
SUPER: 8:22 P.M. EDT
Cole moves fast, head on a swivel, rain dripping from his
cap. He reaches the long term lot, beelines to a black
Honda parked by the curb.
He produces a set of keys from his backpack, slips behind the
wheel, flings the pack onto the passenger seat.
The engine coughs, then rumbles to life.
Without hesitation, he Monster trucks over a line of
decorative shrubs, exits the lot, and disappears onto the
slick main road, taillights fading into the dreary night.
EXT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT – TARMAC – NIGHT
Red and blue strobes cut through the storm. Fire trucks and
police vehicles form a tight semicircle around the jet. The
right engine still SCREAMS, spraying mist into the lights.
Firefighters fan out, scanning windows where passengers
wave and shout from inside.
The FIRE CHIEF (45) steps to the dangling escape rope,
grips it, peers up, then sweeps the field, squinting
against the blinding glare.
FIRE CHIEF
Tower, Rescue One. Pilot’s gone. No
visual. Running thermal on the
perimeter.
CONTROL TOWER
MEGAN
Copy, Rescue One... Damn!
She instinctively scans the rain soaked field, knowing it’s
already too late.
INT. WHITE HOUSE - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
Phones chirp and ring in rapid bursts. Nervous chatter
ripples.
STAFFER
Sir, FAA confirms... Trident on the
ground in Augusta.
Rourke, slumped in a chair, looks up, then exhales.
ROURKE
They’re safe?
STAFFER
Yes, sir. All souls accounted
for.
Rourke’s shoulders sag. The weight of the night crashes
down, cracking his composure. Quiet, shaking sobs escape.
Around him, the room bursts into applause. Relief mixed
with adrenaline.
President Mitchell enters in a fresh suit, fake smile
locked in. He stops cold at the sight of Rourke’s collapse.
PRESIDENT MITCHELL
Who kicked your puppy, Ed?
EXT. MIKE PADGETT HIGHWAY – SOUTH AUGUSTA, GA. – NIGHT
SUPER: 8:26 P.M. EDT
The black Honda slices through sheets of rain, headlights
carving the darkness.
INT. HONDA – MOVING – NIGHT
Cole grips the wheel, soaked black cap pulled low. Dash
light catches his rain and dirt speckled face.
He thumbs out a text on his black iPhone without looking
up. Sends it. Tosses the phone onto the passenger seat.
Wipers thump. His breathing steady,his eyes stay hard.
EXT. MIKE PADGETT HIGHWAY – SOUTH AUGUSTA, GA. – NIGHT
Strobing emergency lights emerge ahead. Four Georgia State
Patrol cruisers barreling toward him at NASCAR speed.
INT. HONDA – MOVING – NIGHT
Rain and glare blur the road ahead.
COLE (V.O.)
Just act cool, Cole. They still
think you’re at the airport.
His eyes widen. The cruisers blast past, rocking the Honda
like wake turbulence. He watches them continue into the
distance.
Cole exhales a short, sharp gasp of relief. His grip
loosens on the wheel.
For the first time all night, his hands tremble. He stares
at them, then his gaze falls to the gold band on his
finger.
He turns the wheel with one hand, thumb brushing the ring,
grounding himself, reminding himself why he did all of
this.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
A Night of Tension and Relief
INT. TRIDENT AIRWAYS OPERATIONS CENTER – NIGHT
Brad slumps in a chair beside Darlene’s desk, both of them
looking like they’ve aged ten years in the last three
hours.
Darlene ends a call, her voice softer than anyone here has
heard tonight.
DARLENE
They landed in Augusta. All souls
safe.
The ops center erupts in cheers and applause. Brad doesn’t
move. Tears streak down his cheeks.
BRAD
(barely audible)
I thought I killed them all.
Darlene drops her forehead into clasped hands, takes a
moment before looking at him.
DARLENE
I was a dispatcher at American
the morning of Nine Eleven. My
best friend handled Flight
Seventy-Seven.
She blinks hard, fighting it.
DARLENE (CONT’D)
He’s never been the same.
Tonight... felt like that day all
over again.
Brad reaches over, rests his hand on hers.
BRAD
I’m sorry, Darlene.
She meets his eyes, a faint nod.
DARLENE
Go home. Be with your family.
We’ll debrief Wednesday.
A pause. She leans in, her voice low.
DARLENE (CONT’D)
For what it’s worth... you made the
right call giving him GNN’s number.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
Flight into Chaos
INT. AIRCRAFT CABIN - NIGHT
The Captain’s extended silence creates a creeping dread of
“now what?” for many passengers. Some fiddle with the
emergency exits. Jill keys the PA.
JILL
Folks, please remain seated.
Captain Harrison may move the
aircraft at any moment.
Jill’s phone beeps. She checks the screen, shock spreading
across her face. She speaks to no one in particular.
JILL (CONT’D)
Well... guess he won’t be moving us
after all.
INSERT - PHONE SCREEN
FROM: Cole Harrison
"Jill, I'm sorry. Hope you understand. Maybe chat over a beer
someday. Cockpit door's unlocked. Eric's in charge now."
JILL (CONT’D)
Eric!
Eric hurries forward. Caitlyn intercepts Jill’s phone, reads,
jaw drops. Eric keys the cipher lock. Beep, one minute delay.
Jill chuckles.
JILL (CONT’D)
Look who’s a Captain now...
She thumbs a reply, curt.
INSERT — REPLY:
I have no words ????
She hits SEND.
ANNA is back in seat Four A. She makes a call, speaks in a
restrained whisper.
ANNA
VIKTOR? We just landed. Pilot said
Augusta.
VIKTOR (35), strong middle European accent, is relieved.
VIKTOR (V.O.)
Anna! Euronews said your flight was
shot down. You’re safe?
ANNA
Figures. What’s wrong with the
files?
VIKTOR (V.O.)
One was encrypted, classified. NSA
sniffed it in under a minute, then
an admin login yanked it.
ANNA
That explains the jamming.
Viktor, the gold is in the
stories from inside this flight.
VIKTOR (V.O.)
Call when you reach the hotel.
Line goes dead. She exhales, phone still in hand, eyes
lingering on the cockpit door.
COCKPIT
Eric steps into a surreal scene. Gusts and rain howl like
spirits through the open window, a wind tunnel created by the
open cockpit door. The whine of the number two engine is
overpowering.
Eric slips into the left seat, pants soaking. He pulls the
window mostly shut, the escape rope blocking the last inch.
Pulls his trusty checklist from his pocket.
APU: ON (already spooling).
Transfer: APU GENs → ON.
Engine #2: SHUTDOWN. The whine dies.
Beacon/Lights: EXT OFF.
He exhales, taking in the rope, the rain.
ERIC
(under his breath)
Holy... hell, Cole.
The VHF crackles.
MEGAN (V.O.)
Thanks, whoever turned out those
lights!
FIREMAN CHIEF (V.O.)
This is Rescue One. Say status.
ERIC
First Officer speaking. Captain has
exited the aircraft. Cabin secure,
no reported injuries. We’re on APU
power, parking brake set.
He gets out his iPhone, dials.
ERIC (CONT’D)
Hey baby, we’re safe. You aren’t
gonna believe this...
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Covert Operations Amidst Breaking News
INT. GNN NEWSROOM – NIGHT
Controlled chaos. Monitors rolling BREAKING NEWS.
CAL
Back in ten... five... three...
AT THE ANCHOR DESK
David squares to camera.
DAVID
Good news. The FAA confirms
Trident Seven Twenty One has
landed safely at Augusta
Regional. All passengers and crew
are safe.
A breath. He glances to his prompter, then back to lens.
DAVID (CONT’D)
Authorities say Captain Harrison
left the aircraft. A search is
underway.
JESSICA (O.S.)
Toss to affiliates. Augusta live,
then Atlanta.
David nods, pivots.
DAVID
We go now to our team on the
ground.
EXT. WAFFLE HOUSE PARKING LOT - NIGHT
SUPER: 8:35 P.M. EDT
Rain spits under buzzing halogens. The black Honda slips
into a dark corner.
INT. HONDA – NIGHT
Cole pulls on a disposable mask, slides his black iPhone
into a Ziplock.
Thumbs move fast: Location Services ON. Find My ON.
He opens a live stream to keep the phone pinging cell
towers. He glances at his wedding ring, then at the screen.
He kills the dome light, cracks the door, moves.
EXT. WAFFLE HOUSE / CIRCLE K – NIGHT
Cole power strides toward the adjacent Circle K store.
A red pickup sits out front, GEORGIA plates, NASCAR sticker.
He slides the bagged phone deep into the truck bed under a
rubber mat. Fast, clean, invisible. Keeps moving without
looking back.
INT. HONDA – NIGHT
Door closes softly. Engine barely above a purr. He signals,
merges out with traffic. No drama, no squeal. Just gone into
the rain.
EXT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT – TARMAC – NIGHT
SUPER: 8:40 P.M. EDT
Portable stairs lock to door L1. Red and blue strobes skate
across the wet fuselage.
Two FIREFIGHTERS in high-vis vests reach the top step. One
raps twice.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Emergency Landing: Tensions Rise
INT. CABIN – FORWARD ENTRY – NIGHT
Jill peers through the porthole, thumbs up, cracks the
door. The firemen pull it all the way open, latch it.
FIREMAN 1
Any medical?
JILL
Negative. People just want off.
FIREMAN 1
Buses to terminal are here.
Medics as well.
JILL
Take a sweep while I brief.
She lifts the handset.
JILL (PA) (CONT’D)
Folks, transport is here. We’ll
deplane in a few moments. If you
need medical, please remain
seated and raise a hand.
Down the aisle, the FIREFIGHTERS move methodically,
clocking faces, bags, posture.
COCKPIT
Eric in the wet left seat. Reaches up. Ding, SEAT BELT off.
ERIC
(under breath)
All right...
GALLEY
Jill glances up toward the cockpit, wry.
JILL
Thanks, Captain.
ERIC (O.S.)
You are now free to leave this
nightmare.
EXT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT - TARMAC - NIGHT
Passengers descend the stairs carefully, phones out, some
stealing a look at the escape rope dangling from the
cockpit window. Kara and some others take selfies.
Jill guides Tyler down each step, hand in hand, then toward
the shuttle.
She lingers, staring back at the aircraft. Now eerily
silent, rain hissing on metal.
FIREMAN 1
Ma’am?
She turns.
FIREMAN 1 (CONT’D)
FBI’s thirty out. They want crew
first.
A resigned nod. Jill boards the shuttle.
EXT. I-20 NORTHBOUND – NIGHT
SUPER: 9:55 P.M. EDT
A lone black Honda chews up wet pavement. The rain has
quit; the highway gleams.
A green sign flashes by: COLUMBIA SC 30 MI.
INT. HONDA – MOVING – NIGHT
Classic rock murmurs low. Mud streaks Cole’s face; his
wedding band taps the wheel, in rhythm with the music.
He checks a blue iPhone... MAP: solid route, “No Delays
Ahead.” He drops it on the seat.
A faint red LED blinks from his backpack. He fishes out an
encrypted sat phone, dials.
SCOTT (V.O.)
Jesus, Cole. I’ve been calling
since you were holding. Thought
you were dead.
COLE
What’s wrong?
SCOTT (V.O.)
Livingston slipped a classified
file. Feds went nuclear.
COLE
That explains the jamming.
Everything else holding?
SCOTT (V.O.)
Yeah. Bonus show: they tailed a
red pickup and arrested your
phone.
COLE
Rough night for that guy. What
else?
SCOTT (V.O.)
Quarter million dollar reward on
you. Feds hit your apartment.
Neighbors told TV you’re headed
to Florida.
COLE
That’s what my calendar said.
Make sure my son gets the
envelope.
SCOTT (V.O.)
Already handled. You need me, you
know where.
Cole ends the call. His ring taps the wheel once more, drives
on into the darkness.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
A Father's Search
INT. AUGUSTA REGIONAL AIRPORT – PASSENGER TERMINAL – NIGHT
SUPER: 10:15 P.M. EDT
News cameras cluster in front of an empty ticket counter.
SARAH JACKSON (29), petite, energetic, adjusts her mic.
Beside her, TRISH KINCAID (45), airport manager, in a
safety vest over a crisp tan shirt.
SARAH
Trish, what’s the latest on
Trident SEven Twenty One?
TRISH
Passengers and crew are secure.
Red Cross is providing food and
water. Once the FBI finishes
interviews, Trident will move
them to hotels.
A commotion near the TSA checkpoint. MICHAEL GRAHAM has
arrived, pushes forward, frantic.
MICHAEL
My son. Tyler Graham, eight years
old. I need to see him!
He flashes ID and a photo. A TSA OFFICER hesitates, until
Trish steps in.
Blankets. Boxed lunches. Red Cross coffee. Three FBI agents
interview passengers.
ERIC FaceTimes his family. TYLER sits between ANNA and
JILL, clutching his plastic wings.
TYLER
That’s my dad!
He bolts. They collide in a tearful embrace.
MICHAEL
Tyler!
He pulls back, scanning him like he can’t believe he’s
real.
TYLER
Captain Cole kept us safe. Just
like he promised.
Tyler shows him the wings.
TYLER (CONT’D)
Look what he gave me.
Michael’s throat tightens.
TYLER (CONT’D)
Miss Anna helped me not be
scared.
ANNA
He was very brave.
JILL
You’ve got quite the young man,
Mr. Graham.
She hands him the release form. He signs quickly.
MICHAEL
Thank you. I thought I’d lost
him.
An FBI AGENT approaches.
FBI AGENT
We’ll need to speak with Tyler,
but we can do it in Atlanta
tomorrow.
MICHAEL
That’s best. He’s had a long day.
TYLER
Bye, Miss Anna! Bye, Miss Jill!
ANNA
Take care of those wings.
Tyler nods, walking off with his dad. Anna watches,
thoughtful.
ANNA (CONT’D)
Tonight wasn’t just a flight.
There’s more to it, and I’d like
to hear your side.
She hands Jill a card.
JILL
Thanks. Give me a few days.
Anna exits. Jill sits, phone in hand. She hesitates, then
calls.
JILL (CONT’D)
Hi, Mom. Sorry it’s late... long
night.
Jill glances out the terminal window toward the distant
tarmac. The 737 bathed in flashing lights, the escape rope
swaying in the wind.
JILL (CONT’D)
Yeah... he kept his promise.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
Under Pressure
EXT. RURAL HIGHWAY – DAY
SUPER: 10 MILES WEST OF FAYETTEVILLE, N.C. - 6:45 P.M. EDT
NEXT DAY
The Honda glides along the cracked, sun bleached road, its
long shadow stretching toward a faint glimmer of skyline on
the horizon. A weathered tobacco barn leans in the
distance, windows black with age.
INT. HONDA – MOVING – DAY
Cole drums his fingers on the wheel. His silver hair is now
a convincing light brown, capped by a black U.S. Army
ballcap. Ten-dollar sunglasses mask his eyes, locked down
the highway.
A NEWS ANCHOR drones over the car speakers.
NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.) (CAR SPEAKERS)
Despite more than four thousand
tips, the hijacker remains at
large. One federal marshal called
the search "like chasing smoke."
Cole’s smile fades. A faint, high pitched squeal intrudes
over the engine’s hum. His gaze shifts to the dash. The
temperature gauge is pinned in the red.
COLE
Shit... you had to say smoke.
The squeal sharpens. He presses the accelerator, the Honda
shudders, resisting.
COLE (CONT’D)
Come on, girl... hang in there.
A thin curl of steam snakes from under the hood, catching
the sunlight like a distress flare.
In the rearview, just for a moment, that faint flash of
sunlight again. Then it’s gone.
EXT. RURAL GAS STATION – DAY
SUPER: 7:00 P.M. EDT
The aqua and white Travelers 48 gas station / bait shop
squats on a postage stamp lot, hemmed in by towering pines
that blot out the dying light. A lonely pump island stands
sentry.
The Honda limps in, hissing, squealing. A death rattle on
wheels. Steam plumes from under the hood as it rolls to a
halt beside the building. Silence, save for the hiss of
cooling metal.
Cole steps out. The black sweats are gone, replaced by a
tight blue U.S.A. T-shirt. Ballcap low. Sunglasses locked
in place. He scans the quiet lot, eyes settling on a hose
coiled beside the air pump.
He pops the hood, then heads for the door.
INT. GAS STATION – DAY
The CLERK (50s) is glued to a ballgame on the wall mounted
TV. Cole grabs three gallon jugs of water, a sandwich and a
Red Bull.
CLERK
Good for you, kid.
Cole turns toward the TV. His stomach drops.
TV ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
An amazing story tonight. Young
Tyler Graham throwing out the
first pitch. The Braves told us
he was on that awful Trident
flight...
The Clerk turns to Cole.
CLERK
I hope they hang that son of a
bitch. For two-fifty G’s, I’d
turn my own mother in.
Cole hides the flinch.
CLERK (CONT’D)
Thirsty, bro? Or filling a pool?
Cole lays on a passable good-ol’boy drawl.
COLE
Car overheated. Just need to
nurse her to Fort Bragg. Mind if
I use that hose out back?
CLERK
Yeah. Just don’t take a shower
out there. Happens more than
you’d think. Eighteen-fifty.
Cole tosses a twenty.
COLE
Keep the change.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Crossroads of Uncertainty
EXT. GAS STATION – DAY
Cole, using a wadded T-shirt for protection, eases off the
radiator cap. Steam hisses. He fits the hose, turns the
water on...
... when a Robeson County Sheriff’s cruiser noses into the
lot. Stops directly behind the Honda. Cole’s blocked in.
His chest tightens. Radio chatter crackles from the
cruiser.
The SHERIFF’S DEPUTY (40), pressed tan uniform, Smokey Bear
hat, and a .357 Magnum on his hip, eases out of the car.
Sunglasses off. Eyes locked on Cole. He ambles over.
SHERIFF’S DEPUTY
Y’all havin’ some car trouble,
son?
COLE
No worries, officer. Just a small
leak.
SHERIFF’S DEPUTY
Where y’all headed?
COLE
Reunion this weekend up at Bragg.
This topoff should get me there.
The Deputy scribbles down the plate number. Time slows to a
crawl. He closes the gap, hand ghosting near his cuffs.
SHERIFF’S DEPUTY
Well, mister...
A beat. Then, he hands over a card.
SHERIFF’S DEPUTY (CONT’D)
My brother’s shop is three miles
from base. Military discount.
Cole’s hand shakes as he takes it.
COLE
Thank you, sir.
SHERIFF’S DEPUTY
Thank you for your service. Y’all
take care now.
The cruiser rolls off.
Cole exhales, shuts off the water, stows the hose. His
hands tremble as he seals the radiator cap, drops the hood.
INT. HONDA – DAY
Cole peels off the sunglasses and cap, wipes his brow.
Pulls out his blue iPhone.
COLE
Siri... directions to the closest
Greyhound Bus station.
SIRI (V.O.)
I found one on Franklin Street.
Seventeen miles.
Cole drops the phone into the cupholder, eyes flicking to the
rearview. Still clear. For now.
EXT. RURAL HIGHWAY – DAY
The Honda eases onto the blacktop, turns left.
The squeal of the water pump trails behind like a wounded
animal.
EXT. HIGHSMITH-RAINEY HOSPITAL – NIGHT
SUPER: 9:20 P.M. EDT
The Honda limps into the lot, steam hissing, belts
squealing, before dying in a final shudder.
Across the street, the bright white glow of the Greyhound
station. Four empty bays. Silent. Waiting.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
47 -
On the Run
EXT. GREYHOUND TERMINAL – NIGHT
Cole moves toward the entrance, clocking every detail.
ON DOOR – A “WANTED” POSTER.
COLE HARRISON: $250,000 REWARD
His airline photo stares back. Hotline number underneath.
BACK TO SCENE
COLE
Shit.
Through the glass, three travelers asleep in molded plastic
chairs.
Cole exhales, pulls his ballcap low. Slips on his sunglasses,
night be damned.
INT. GREYHOUND TERMINAL – NIGHT
Cole approaches the counter, clutching his backpack tight.
A scuffed placard reads:
ON DUTY: SHARLENE.
Behind it, SHARLENE (40s), heavy-set, cocoa-toned, with a
towering bun of braids, watches a TV off to the side.
She finally looks up, eyes popping.
SHARLENE
Well, lookie who’s here. In all
his glory!
Cole tenses, one foot angled toward the door.
SHARLENE (CONT’D)
Lord, if it ain’t Stevie Wonder.
Mercy!
A deep laugh at her own joke.
SHARLENE (CONT’D)
Ain’t no sunlight in here, sugar!
COLE
Just had eye surgery, ma’am.
Can’t drive for a week.
SHARLENE
Ok, sure. Where you headed
tonight, baby?
TERMINAL WAITING AREA
Cole sits in a black plastic chair. Ticket and cash in
hand. Backpack on the seat beside him.
Eyes scan the dingy, half lit terminal. Every door, every
shadow. Clocks the patrol cruiser parked across the street.
COLE (V.O.)
Well, Cole... welcome to your new
life.
INT. GREYHOUND BUS – NIGHT
Cole stares out the window from the back row. Passing
streetlights rhythmically strobe his face.
The Honda is gone.
Only the dark unknown ahead.
EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN – DAY
SUPER: NEXT DAY – 5:30 P.M. EDT
Gotham’s rush hour pulses. Honking cabs, steam hissing from
grates, sirens weaving through the din.
Cole slips across a busy street, head down. Approaches a
faded brick walk-up. He ducks through the unlocked front
door.
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING STAIRWELL – DAY
Dim, flickering fluorescents hum overhead. Peeling paint.
Cole climbs quietly, tries to avoid the loud spots in the
creaking stairs.
INT. FOURTH FLOOR HALLWAY – DAY
Cole steels himself, mask and glasses off. Raps twice on Unit
401.
The chain catches, door cracks. JEFF RANDALL (64), grizzled
FDNY retiree, veteran’s eyes sharp under a battered FDNY
cap.
JEFF
Holy shit...
He unchains, yanks Cole inside, slamming the door behind him.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Plans in the Shadows
INT. JEFF’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM – LATE AFTERNOON
Golden light slices through the blinds. Far below, a faint
whoop of sirens fades.
JEFF
Dammit, man. Feds were here two
hours ago.
COLE
Probably harassing all my
Facebook friends. Hope they
weren’t assholes.
JEFF
They were fine. Why here?
COLE
Remember the Yankees game? “If
you ever need anything.”
JEFF
I remember. Didn’t think you’d
cash it in like this.
They sink into well worn couches. Jeff’s eyes flick once
toward the window before locking back on Cole.
JEFF (CONT’D)
I saw it at the funeral. Right in
the middle of the eulogy, you
froze. Stared at her casket for
thirty seconds.
COLE
Lost my train of thought.
JEFF
No. You were already planning
this.
Jeff disappears into the kitchen, returns with two beers.
COLE
Heads up... they’ll be crawling
your phone and socials next.
JEFF
Yeah, thanks for that.
He leans forward, eyes locked on Cole.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Bolt cutters through security?
Cole unzips his backpack, tosses over a scuffed Trident
maintenance badge.
COLE
Maintenance crew. No questions
asked.
JEFF
And the getaway car?
COLE
Craigslist in Augusta a few eeks
ago. Eight hundred cash. Kid
needed tuition.
Jeff exhales, impressed and horrified.
COLE (CONT’D)
It died outside Fayetteville.
Water pump. Caught the bus.
JEFF
No one noticed?
COLE
Cash ticket. No ID. Didn’t need
the fake. Left just after
midnight, Chinatown by three.
JEFF
The “high-tech” network?
COLE
Vet buddy turned cyber-pro. Built
a mesh nobody can touch.
JEFF
Expensive.
COLE
Sold the house. Emily’s
insurance. I live like a monk.
Untraceable brokerage. Made a
killing shorting Trident and
Pharma Monday.
Jeff smirks, shakes his head, but his eyes keep drifting
toward the blinds.
COLE (CONT’D)
Fifty grand in gift cards here.
He lays them out on the table.
JEFF
That the famous sat phone?
Cole passes it over.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Smithsonian material.
Jeff stares out the window again, longer this time, before
turning back.
JEFF (CONT’D)
I gotta ask. What if the fighters
had stayed with you, and the world
was waiting for you at Augusta?
COLE
A risk I was willing to take.
Jeff walks back to the couch, sits.
JEFF
So... what’s your plan?
COLE
Sleep. Change the look. Keep
moving.
Jeff exhales, decides.
JEFF
My folks’ place in Sayville is
empty till spring. Airbnb off-
season. Go there. Regroup.
COLE
Jeff... you’re a great friend.
JEFF
I’ll grab a Ray’s Pizza for the
drive. You hit the shower. And do
something with that hair. You smell
like a dumpster.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
Consequences Unfold
INT. JEFF’S BOYHOOD HOME – SAYVILLE, N.Y. – DAY
SUPER: 5:00 P.M. EDT – NEXT AFTERNOON
A living room frozen in the 1950s. Lace curtains,
wallpaper.
Cole stands at the window, blinds half closed. A muted
cable news panel debates his name under a red BREAKING
banner. Jeff emerges from the kitchen with two beers.
JEFF
You’ve been pacing for an hour.
Sit.
Cole doesn’t move.
COLE
They’re talking about things I
didn’t even do.
Jeff hands him a beer anyway.
JEFF
That’s the game. They’ll fill in
the blanks you leave.
Cole’s satellite phone rests on the coffee table, buzzes.
He stares at it, reluctant. Jeff nods at it.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Better answer.
Cole picks up, flips it open.
COLE
Scott?
SCOTT (V.O.)
Just saw the wire reports.
Livingston’s in custody. They
picked him up an hour ago.
Cole blinks. The first crack in his guarded stance.
SCOTT (V.O.) (CONT’D)
It’s already ugly, Cole. Media’s
camped on his lawn. And... some
of the passengers? They’re
lawyered up.
Cole sinks onto the couch, hand to his forehead.
SCOTT (V.O.)
I’m not saying you were wrong.
But it’s a big blast radius.
Silence.
SCOTT (V.O.)
You wanted the truth out. It’s
out. Just... think hard about
what comes next.
Cole’s voice is low.
COLE
Yeah. I will.
He ends the call. Stares at nothing.
COLE (CONT’D)
The feds grabbed Emily’s mentor.
JEFF
For what?
COLE
Helped me compile the files I
dumped. He was a top dog at the
National Cancer Institute...
slipped one classified doc into
the batch.
Cole turns toward the window, watching the breeze stir the
leaves. His voice drops.
COLE (CONT’D)
This wasn’t part of the plan,
Jeff. That’s on me.
Heavy silence.
Cole’s eyes fall back to the satellite phone. After a beat,
he picks it up and dials.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
50 -
Collateral Consequences
INT. GNN NEWSROOM – NIGHT
Jessica Reynolds at her desk, newsroom low lit, preshow
prep in progress. Her phone blinks UNKNOWN CALLER. She
answers, instinctively lowering her voice.
JESSICA
Jessica Reynolds.
COLE (V.O.)
Hey Jess, it’s Cole.
She straightens, scanning the room for eavesdroppers.
Lowers her voice, eyes darting.
JESSICA
You know this call just became
Exhibit A.
COLE (V.O.)
This call’s a risk for both of us.
But you’re the only one I’d risk it
for.
She exhales slowly, leaning back.
JESSICA
You’re lucky I’m a sucker for a
good story...and even luckier I’m
human enough to care how it ends.
COLE (V.O.)
Doctor Livingston. Is it true?
JESSICA
Yeah. Picked up by the FBI
earlier today. Official charge is
“mishandling classified.”
She leans in, even quieter:
JESSICA (CONT’D)
And, Cole... you didn’t hear this
from me. It looks like the
Bureau’s been leaning on your
son. Jacked him up at work today.
INT. JEFF’S HOUSE - DAY
Cole’s grip tightens on the handset. Head drops in defeat.
COLE
Ryan... didn’t sign up for any of
this.
JESSICA (V.O.)
They’re playing the long game.
Squeeze the people around you
until you break.
Cole stares out the window, glassy eyed. Frozen.
JESSICA (V.O.)
Don’t let them break you, Cole.
He solemnly lowers the phone. Click. The line goes dead.
JEFF
Who was that?
COLE
The GNN producer. I wanted to hear
it from her.
JEFF
And...?
Cole sits down at the table.
COLE
It gets worse. Now they are all
over Ryan and his family.
Jeff studies his old friend.
JEFF
Be straight with me. Are you
built for running the rest of
your life?
COLE
I’m not gonna lie. It has been a
rough week. But...
JEFF
But what?
COLE
I didn’t factor in the collateral
damage. Doc. My son and his
family. My crew and pax. They’ve
been through hell because of me.
Cole sits, head in his hands.
Jeff leans forward, voice low.
JEFF
If you’re even thinking about
ending this, I might know someone
who can help. But buddy... you
need to act now.
Cole looks up, eyes misty.
COLE
I’m listening.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
51 -
Legal Consequences
INT. JEFF’S HOUSE – DAY
SUPER: 2:00 P.M. EDT – NEXT DAY
Jeff swings the door open to DONNA WHITAKER (53), former
Marine JAG, ex–Federal Prosecutor turned high-powered
defense attorney. Navy suit, crisp posture, silent judgment
in her eyes... but her smile for Jeff is warm.
They hug with familiarity. She steps inside with the
confidence of someone used to owning a room.
JEFF
You look the same. Maybe a little
more dangerous.
DONNA
You should talk. Still rescuing
strays?
They share a knowing glance.
DINING ROOM
Cole stands awkwardly at the dining table. Donna’s gaze
sweeps over him like an x-ray, measuring, before softening
into a genuine smile.
DONNA (CONT’D)
The most wanted man in America,
as I live and breathe.
Cole shakes her hand, managing a weak grin.
COLE
Yeah. Not as much fun as I
thought it’d be.
DONNA
When Jeff called, I was
surprised. His sister was my maid
of honor.
When was the last time, Jeff? Your retirement party?
JEFF
That’s the one. Time flies.
Coffee?
DONNA
Cream, two sugars.
She sets three thick legal folders on the table with crisp
precision. Jeff’s eyes flick to them, a shadow of concern
crossing his face.
DONNA (CONT’D)
So, Captain... quite the
spectacle you pulled off.
She lets the silence hang just long enough to make him
squirm.
DONNA (CONT’D)
Talk to me. What’s really going
on?
Cole studies her, cautious.
COLE
This is a no jeopardy
conversation, right?
Donna chuckles. Short, knowing.
DONNA
Of course. I’m on your side...
But I’m also on reality’s side.
You’re facing a government that
hates being embarrassed and a media
machine that won’t let you vanish
quietly.
Cole exhales, glancing at Jeff.
COLE
What’s going on is... running’s
the easy part. Watching everyone
else pay for it... that’s what’s
killing me.
Donna studies him. Leans in slightly.
DONNA
You’re carrying all of it, aren’t
you? The guilt, the fallout...
all of it.
Cole holds her gaze.
DONNA (CONT’D)
I can work with that. What I
can’t work with is a client who
thinks feeling bad is the same as
fixing it.
Her tone shifts: warmth receding, lawyer mode engaging.
DONNA (CONT’D)
This’ll take time. But, whether
you meant to or not, you’ve put
yourself in play with the
election three weeks away.
COLE
Leverage?
DONNA
A clock they can hear ticking.
They won’t want this mess in
headlines come November.
JEFF
I’d think Mitchell would love to
wrap this up ASAP.
DONNA
Perhaps. All I can do is work my
channels. This could take weeks.
A lot of players trying to save
face.
COLE
Understood.
DONNA
But if you do anything reckless,
anything that shifts the
spotlight back on you... they’ll
bury you.
Cole gives the smallest nod.
DONNA (CONT’D)
Lay low. No social media. No
surprise press calls. Ghost.
I can’t protect you if you can’t
protect yourself.
She taps the folders.
DONNA (CONT’D)
We’ll talk again once I have
something concrete.
COLE
I appreciate it, Donna.
DONNA
Cole... a lot of people
appreciate what you did. The
problem is, those in power
didn’t.
She looks at both of the men, tone of a closing argument.
DONNA (CONT’D)
No promises, but I’m your best
shot right now. Your ONLY shot.
Donna stands, shakes Cole’s hand firmly, then hugs Jeff.
Cole watches her go, the weight of her warning settling in.
Jeff lingers by the table, eyeing him.
JEFF
You heard the lady. No stunts.
Cole doesn’t answer. Just stares at the door long after it
closes.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
52 -
A Game of Choices
INT. JEFF’S HOUSE – NIGHT
SUPER: OCTOBER 19, 2024
The TV blares: Yankees vs. Cleveland, Game 5, ALCS.
SPORTSCASTER (V.O.)
Juan Soto settles under it... and
the Yankees are headed to the
World Series for the first time
in fifteen years!
Onscreen: chaos, champagne, dogpile. Jeff grins like a kid.
JEFF
Which game?
COLE
What?
JEFF
The Series. Pick one.
COLE
Are you out of your mind?
JEFF
We had a pact.
COLE
That was before I was being
hunted.
JEFF
Before you stopped living.
COLE
Donna said no stunts. This is the
dictionary definition of a stunt.
JEFF
She doesn’t have to know.
COLE
That’s not how she works... and
you know it.
JEFF
What I know is, you look like a
guy who sleeps in his clothes and
hasn’t smiled in months. You
think hiding’s living?
Cole keeps his eyes on the screen, jaw tight.
JEFF (CONT’D)
By the time Donna pulls a rabbit,
the Series could be history. We
miss this, we may never get
another shot.
COLE
Or we go, and some fan recognizes
me. I’m in prison by the seventh
inning.
Jeff takes a deep breath. Hesitates, but it has to be said.
JEFF
Aren’t you pretty much in prison
now?
Cole clocks the comment. It hurts, but it’s dead on.
JEFF (CONT’D)
We go, and for a few hours,
you’re not “the most wanted man
in America.” You’re just Cole. My
friend.
Cole finally glances over at him.
JEFF (CONT’D)
How much more of a sign do you
need?
Cole lowers his head.
COLE
Yeah. Three years. Today.
Jeff absorbs that, his smile fading into something quieter.
JEFF
She’d want you to go...
Cole doesn’t answer. The roar of the crowd swells, filling
the space between them.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
53 -
A Moment of Reflection at Yankee Stadium
EXT. YANKEE STADIUM – NIGHT
SUPER: OCTOBER 29, 2024 – WORLD SERIES GAME 4
The Bronx is electric. Lines snake around the stadium.
Vendors bark. Playoff fever everywhere.
INT. YANKEE STADIUM – NIGHT
SUPER: 3RD INNING
Cole and Jeff, full Yankees gear, lower level seats by the
aisle. Cole’s beard thicker, blue Yankees cap pulled low,
sunglasses. At night.
Anthony Volpe CRUSHES a grand slam. The place detonates.
Cole and Jeff leap up, high-fives all around.
JEFF
NOW are you glad you came?
Cole grins despite himself.
COLE
Yeah. Been waiting all our lives
to see that.
They join the chant: LET’S GO YANKEES.
SUPER: 7TH INNING STRETCH
The lights brighten. Teams assemble on their foul lines.
The crowd hushes.
COLE (CONT’D)
What’s going on?
JEFF
Check under your seat.
Cole pulls a card:
I STAND UP FOR: (blank)
StandUpToCancer.org
He looks around. A sea of fifty thousand cards. A soft
orchestral swell.
STADIUM ANNOUNCER (O.C.)
Tonight we deliver a powerful
message...
COLE
What the heck, Jeff?
JEFF
I didn’t know.
STADIUM ANNOUNCER (O.C.)
Major League Baseball and its
fans are united in the fight
against this disease...
Cole’s head scans the crowd, totally overwhelmed.
COLE (V.O.)
I took a stand for one person.
Maybe I missed the bigger
picture.
A familiar voice cuts through him.
EMILY HARRISON (V.O.)
Cole. Your mission isn’t over. Do
something amazing, my love.
Cole bums a Sharpie from a neighboring fan, writes:
EMILY HARRISON
He lifts it high, swallowed by a cathedral of names, of
emotions.
Cole’s eyes well. He pulls off his sunglasses, wipes his
face, still holding the sign.
Suddenly...
ON THE JUMBOTRON
Cole. His face. His card. EMILY HARRISON.
The crowd reacts with both cheers and boos.
COLE
Fuck.
JEFF
Hood up. Let’s go.
Jeff leads the sprint up the aisle. Faces turn, eyes
narrow, phones record.
A FAN stands and heads to intercept them.
FAN
It’s that pilot guy!
Jeff levels him with a shoulder, never breaking stride.
Genres:
["Drama","Sports"]
Ratings
Scene
54 -
The Great Escape
INT. YANKEE STADIUM – CONCOURSE
Through the concourse, scattered recognition grows. Whispers,
then shouts.
Both men bob and weave through the humanity. Cole bumps
another FAN, spilling his beer.
FAN 2
Asshole!
They round a corner. Blocked by SECURITY checking tickets
for re-entry.
SECURITY GUARD
Hey!
Cole’s hood slips. A WOMAN gasps.
WOMAN
Oh my god, it’s him!
Phones come up like drawn weapons.
Cole yanks the hood back up. Follows Jeff down a stairwell
and out onto River Avenue.
EXT. RIVER AVENUE – NIGHT
The massive crowd of ticketless revelers outside the
stadium gives the escapees cover. They weave their way
unnoticed through the mass of humanity to a parking garage.
INT. JEFF’S SUV – NIGHT
Jeff fires up the engine. Both men are breathing harder
than they should be.
They pull out of the garage, headlights sweeping over a
crush of fans. Someone slaps the fender, startles Cole.
INT. YANKEE STADIUM – NIGHT
Fans near Cole’s section stand, pointing to his empty seat.
FAN 3
That was him.
FAN 4
No way.
FAN 3
Check Twitter... it’s blowing up.
An usher stoops, picks up Cole’s discarded card. EMILY
HARRISON in bold Sharpie. He hesitates, staring at it.
Tucks it under his arm and moves off.
A TEENAGER snaps a photo of the empty seat and the card in
the usher’s hand, thumbs flying over his phone.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
55 -
Crossroads of Consequence
INT. JEFF’S SUV – NIGHT
Traffic crawls along River Avenue, crowded street is one
big party.
JEFF
Why’d you take your glasses off?
COLE
Couldn’t help it. Emily spoke to
me.
JEFF
What’d she say? “Get caught?”
It was reckless. Jesus, Cole.
Cole stares out the passenger window, tuning him out.
MONTAGE – FLASHES IN COLE’S HEAD
--Fifty thousand “Stand Up To Cancer” cards lifting in
unison.
--His hand writing EMILY HARRISON in thick black Sharpie.
--The Jumbotron erupting with his face.
--Cheers clashing with boos in a wall of sound.
--A fan snapping his picture.
--Jeff leveling a fan near the aisle.
BACK TO SUV
Jeff clicks on the radio.
COMMENTATOR 1 (V.O.)
Top of the 8th inning here in the
Bronx. We’re getting word there
may have been a high profile
visitor in the stands tonight...
Cole blinks, the words snapping him back to the present.
COMMENTATOR 2 (V.O.)
I think the last thing he wanted
was a high profile.
Cole reaches over and kills the radio.
COLE
We are so fucked.
JEFF
What do you mean “we”?
Cole lowers his head, shaking it slightly.
COLE
How’d you pay for those tickets?
Jeff’s face drops. The realization hits. He pounds the
steering wheel.
JEFF
Dammit! My credit card.
COLE
Plate readers will be scanning
for you any minute. We’ve got
nowhere to go. All my stuff’s at
your place. We’re totally fucked.
Jeff grips the wheel, staring ahead, heart racing.
Cole shakes his head.
COLE (CONT’D)
I dragged you into this.
Jeff’s phone lights up. DONNA CALLING.
Both men exchange a glance. This is gonna hurt.
Jeff puts her on speaker.
DONNA (V.O.)
Are you both out of your goddamn
minds?
JEFF
Donna...
DONNA (V.O.)
The World Series?! Are you TRYING
to get arrested on national
television? How did you even get
out of there?
COLE
Donna, it was my idea.
Jeff galances in disapproval at Cole.
DONNA (V.O.)
No one cares whose idea it was.
Your faces are everywhere.
There’s no recovering from this.
I was a day or two away from
getting a plea deal finalized. No
prison.
Cole is afraid to ask...
COLE
And... now?
DONNA (V.O.)
You mocked them. Look at us. A
giant middle finger. I’ve already
gotten calls. They want you in
prison for life now.
Cole processes, hand rubs his forehead.
DONNA (V.O.)
And Jeff. Jesus, Jeff. You’re
complicit now.
JEFF
Don’t talk to me like I’m some
idiot.
DONNA (V.O.)
Then stop acting like one!
You think they’ll care you were
just being a friend? They’ll make
an example out of you.
JEFF
I didn’t know it’d go this far.
DONNA (V.O.)
You didn’t think. That’s the
problem.
COLE
Leave him out of this, Donna. He
doesn’t deserve it.
DONNA (V.O.)
Neither did your crew. Or your
passengers. Or your son. Or the
doctor who got arrested.
Cole’s face is awash in anguish.
DONNA (V.O.)
You lit a match, and everyone
around you is burning. You need to
disappear. Tonight.
She pauses briefly.
DONNA (V.O.)
And if you care about Jeff at all,
you’ll do it alone.
COLE
I was already leaving.
JEFF
Wait. Don’t do this. Not like
this.
DONNA (V.O.)
Jeff, he’s toxic. You want to
save him? Let him go.
Cole looks at Jeff. Quietly gutted. A long beat passes.
COLE
You saved me. Gave me a couch, a
place to breathe. And I trashed
it. Like always.
JEFF
It’s not trashed. You just...
Goddamn it, Cole.
COLE
You still got people. A life.
Don’t lose it all for me. I hope
it’s not too late.
He opens the door. Wind rushes in.
JEFF
Where will you go?
COLE
Does it matter?
Jeff grabs his wrist before he can leave. A real moment.
JEFF
You’re still my brother. You hear
me?
Cole nods. Choked up, but composed.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Hang on... wait.
He yanks open the glovebox, rifling through papers and old
receipts, until his fingers land on...
A black KN95 mask. FDNY issue. Crumpled, but clean enough.
Jeff hands it to Cole.
Cole is touched by Jeff’s foresight.
COLE
Thanks, brother.
Cole dons the mask, steps into the night. Door closes.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
56 -
A Shadow in the City
EXT. RIVER AVENUE – NIGHT
Cole disappears into the flow of foot traffic toward the
subway stairs.
INT. 161ST STREET SUBWAY STATION – NIGHT
SUPER: 10:05 P.M. EDT
Fluorescent lights flicker. Cole shuffles up the stairs
pretending to be elderly. Hood up. Mask on. Shoulders
hunched.
He heads for the MetroCard kiosk. Checks his pockets. Only
the Yankees ticket.
He scans. No cops. A distant MTA worker. He jumps the
turnstile. Limp flares.
ON THE PLATFORM
He grabs a newspaper. Mumbles erratically.
People edge away.
The number 4 screeches in. Cole boards.
EXT. BOWLING GREEN STATION – NIGHT
SUPER: FINANCIAL DISTRICT - 10:40 P.M. EDT
Cole emerges from the station, mask up, steps heavy.
The Financial District is hollow after dark. Ghostly.
Clinical. Indifferent.
He walks. Shoulders hunched. Limp pronounced. Still wearing
the ballcap, his hoodie pulled tight, head down. No
destination. No plan.
– Wall Street’s bull, gleaming under floodlights.
– A digital billboard scrolls headlines. Cole turns away
before he sees himself.
– A hot dog cart, closed. His stomach growls.
Cole ducks into a narrow alley, stops beside a dumpster.
Slumps to the curb.
He looks up at the night sky, framed by stone and steel.
Alone. Hunted. Unarmed.
The most wanted man in America, and no one gives him a
second glance.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
57 -
Descent into Darkness
EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN – STREET CORNER – 4:05 A.M.
SUPER: LOWER MANHATTAN - 4:05 A.M. EDT
Cole is curled on the sidewalk outside a 24 hour bodega.
Mask filthy. Chin on his knees.
Inside, donuts spin under yellow heat lamps.
A WOMAN (50s, Latina) exits with food and coffee. She
stops.
COLE
I’m not begging.
She holds out a plain donut.
WOMAN
Take it. My son used to disappear
for days. Always came back
hungry.
Cole accepts. Trembling hands.
COLE
Thank you.
WOMAN
You got someone to call?
COLE
No.
She gives him a napkin. Walks off.
Cole eats. Slowly.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
A stack of NEW YORK POSTS lands beside him.
Cole rises, pulls the top copy.
INSERT – NEW YORK POST FRONT PAGE
A grainy photo of Cole and Jeff, mid-sprint up a stadium
aisle, faces half obscured but unmistakable.
HEADLINE:
“DUMB AND DUMBER”
SUBHEAD:
“Was America’s Most Wanted at the World Series?”
Sidebars: FEDS SCOUR CITY, YANKS WIN 11-4.
Cole has a blank stare.
COLE
(quiet, bitter)
This is how I’ll be remembered.
He returns the paper. Pulls his hood tight. Keeps walking.
EXT. BATTERY PARK ESPLANADE – NIGHT
SUPER: BATTERY PARK ESPLANADE - 4:50 A.M.
Cole sits alone on a weathered bench, moonlight outlines
him against the ripples of the Hudson River. Jersey City,
and the Statue of Liberty, beckon. A ferry horn groans.
He removes his mask, pulls back his hood, eyes glassy.
He slouches, broken, defeated.
Fidgets with his wedding ring, slowly, reverently.
Breath ragged. Tears welling. He’s at the end.
Suddenly...
A SILVER 9MM GLOCK jams against his left temple.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Give me the wallet and the ring.
Emily at the altar, eyes locked, slipping the ring onto his
trembling hand.
Emily in the hospital, cradling newborn Ryan, bathed in
sterile light and love.
Emily in scrubs, hair in a net, soul aglow.
Emily pinning his Captain’s wings to his chest.
Ryan’s graduation, Emily squeezing Cole’s hand, whispering:
“We did it.”
Emily in that hospital bed, fighting the fade, offering one
last smile.
And then...her headstone.
Stillness.
The colors soften. The tempo slows.
A final image rises, bathed in white light:
INT. LIMINAL SPACE – COLE’S VISION
Emily. Standing in clouds, backlit by brilliance. Timeless.
She extends her hand, fingers open.
Her lips move, but what comes out is layered, angelic:
EMILY
It’s time, Cole... it’s time.
Cole’s wedding ring floats away towards Emily, spinning end
over end. Emily reaches for it.
A GUNSHOT THUNDERS throughout Cole’s soul. A deafening crack
that rips through the dreamscape. A blinding white flash.
Then total darkness.
Silence... but for the high-pitched RINGING.
Time fractures.
END MONTAGE
INT. BATTERY PARK – NIGHT
Cole’s eyes shut, frozen. The ringing continues,
disorienting, unreal. The gun is gone.
A single drop of blood on his left cheek.
His eyes snap open. Disbelief. He’s alive.
Looks to his left. The mugger thrashes on the pavement,
blood geysering from a neck wound. Gurgling. Dying.
The Glock lies on the pavement at Cole’s feet.
Looks to his right. Three young men, rough, street thugs,
laugh at the chaos. The GANG LEADER holds a silver pistol.
He locks eyes with a wide eyed, disoriented Cole.
GANG LEADER
Ain’t no way that motherfucker’s
getting my two-fifty grand. That
pilot’s mine.
Cole blinks. Did he hear that right?
The gang members argue over bounty protocols.
GANG MEMBER 2
So, we take him in, or what?
GANG MEMBER 3
Shit. We don’t never go to the
police.
The argument swells. Loud, chaotic, overlapping.
Cole inches downward... eyes locked on the mugger’s Glock.
He picks up the gun, stands, levels it at the trio.
The gang leader turns, freezes. The crew goes still.
GANG LEADER
Put it down, old timer.
GANG MEMBER 2
Pop him! Now!
GANG LEADER
Shut up, fool. We only get the
money if he’s alive.
Cole stands rock solid. Unwavering. Fearless.
GANG LEADER (CONT’D)
Bro, you’re in the wind. You want
out? Gimme the gun. Nobody gets
hurt.
Cole’s eyes flick toward the flashing red and blue lights
beginning to paint the trees. SIRENS rise in the distance.
He turns the gun to his own temple.
GANG LEADER (CONT’D)
No, no, no, don’t do that, man!
The lights get closer. Sirens louder.
GANG MEMBER 2
Let’s bolt, dog! You killed that
dude.
The leader tries to reason with Cole one last time.
GANG LEADER
Shit. This ain’t the way, man.
Don’t go out like this.
Cole just stares. Eyes dark, lost.
The gang leader tosses his gun into the Hudson River. The
three hoodlums vanish into the shadows.
Cole pulls down the Glock, looks at it. Clocks the mugger
at his feet, dead in a pool of blood.
Cole faces the SIRENS, distant lights strobing off his
face.
COLE (V.O.)
No, not like this...
He turns, gazes out over the river. A small boat glides
silently across the dark bay.
He hurls the Glock into the river with everything he has.
Climbs over the rail. One last look behind him.
Dives into the dark waters. Starts swimming away.
Moonlight glints off his wedding ring with each stroke.
FADE TO
BLACK.
TITLE CARD:
ONE YEAR LATER.
There has been no confirmed sighting of Captain Cole
Harrison.
"Truth From Above," Anna Petrov’s award winning
documentary, featured exclusive footage and firsthand
accounts, including those of Tyler Graham. She now leads
global investigations for the BBC.
Tyler still carries the wings Captain Harrison gave him. A
quiet reminder that heroes don’t always wear uniforms.
Flight Attendant Jill Parker now directs cabin crew
training at Trident Airways, where she emphasizes crisis
communication and the quiet bonds that keep passengers
safe.
Jessica Reynolds and her GNN team received two Emmys and an
Edward R. Murrow Award for their handling of the hijacking
broadcast.
FADE IN:
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
59 -
Nostalgia in Two Worlds
INT. EMILY HARRISON FOUNDATION – RECEPTION LOBBY – DAY
Muted light pours into a bright, modern clinic. Nurses
smile. Patients chat quietly. Above the welcome desk:
EMILY HARRISON FOUNDATION - EST. 2025
"Where healing begins."
A framed PORTRAIT of EMILY hangs nearby. In her scrubs,
bright eyes, warm smile. A healer remembered.
Beneath it:
Founding Director: Dr. Stuart Livingston, M.D.
In the corner, a softly lit glass case displays:
– Cole’s gold wedding band
– A water-damaged half of a Yankees World Series ticket
– A bronze plaque:
“Anonymous Donor. October 2025.”
A nurse gently adjusts the display... then walks away.
INT. JEFF’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM – DAY
College football plays on the TV. Sunlight filters through
dusty blinds.
Jeff, in cargo shorts and a faded Notre Dame tee, settles
into his recliner. An ankle monitor clings to his leg. Not
flashy, but unmistakable.
He flips through the mail. Bills. Junk.
Then, a manila envelope. Thick paper. No return address.
Inside:
– The other half of the Yankees ticket, water-faded, barely
legible.
He stares. Silent. Then leans back, smiling through misting
eyes.
JEFF
You son of a bitch.
He places the ticket beside a faded photo of him and Cole
from high school.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
60 -
A Father's Legacy
INT. RYAN’S KITCHEN – LAS VEGAS – LATE AFTERNOON
A quiet, modest home. RYAN HARRISON (38), rugged, sits at
the kitchen table. His son CONNOR (11) watches a baseball
game in the other room.
Ryan opens a padded envelope.
Inside:
– A handwritten letter
– A cashier’s check for $250,000
– A note, clipped to the top:
“Ryan —
I’m sorry it had to end this way.
You’ve made Mom and me so proud.
Use this for Connor’s education.
Tell him his Papa loved him.”
Ryan blinks. Stunned. His hands shake slightly.
RYAN
(quietly)
Thanks, Dad.
He glances toward Connor, blissfully unaware.
EXT. BATTERY PARK – DUSK
Still. Quiet. Water laps against the rocks. Sun starting to
set behind the New Jersey skyline.
FADE TO
BLACK.
TITLE CARD:
“The finish line... isn’t always where you think it is.”
In the year since his last known sighting at Yankee
Stadium, more than 10,000 tips have poured into the FBI and
Interpol.