Fear in a Desert City
EXT. BUS - TUCSON, AZ - DAY
FADE IN on a bus coasting through the city. Just another Friday afternoon in
downtown Tucson. Kids play on a gazebo in a park. A sidewalk vendor sells
tacos and tamales.
CUT TO:
EXT. REAR OF THE BUS TERMINAL - DAY
The bus, a huge Greyhound with multiple license plates, pulls up outside the
terminal and brakes to a halt. The door opens and the passengers disembark.
We see them from the waist down: a stocky man; an Air Force officer; a couple
of women with shapely legs wearing high heels; and a man carrying a large
suitcase.
The man with the suitcase is DR. RICHARD KIMBLE, a handsome, black-haired man
in his mid-thirties. He scans the area watchfully. The deep, biting voice
of an omniscient NARRATOR sets the scene as Kimble and the other passengers
leave the bus and enter the terminal building.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Now six months a fugitive, this is Richard
Kimble with a new identity, and for as long as
it is safe, a new name: James Lincoln. He
thinks of the day when he might find the man
with one arm, but now is now. And this is how
it is with him. ...
Kimble enters the terminal through a door marked TUCSON.
CUT TO:
INT. BUS TERMINAL - DAY
A tense Kimble walks stiffly through the crowded terminal, trying to maintain
his composure. He's still learning the ropes of how to be a fugitive and we
see it all through his understandably paranoid eyes. KIMBLE'S POV: a couple
of Air Force officers walk past, one of whom seems to glance at him; a lanky
man in a cowboy hat who seems to make eye contact and then looks down; a
couple of uniformed Air Force policemen; The Narrator seems to echo Kimble's
thoughts.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Another journey, another place. Walk neither
too fast, nor too slow. Beware the eyes of
strangers. Keep moving.
Kimble keeps moving toward the exit.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. HOTEL - DAY
Minutes later. A neon sign reads HOTEL ENTRANCE. We PAN DOWN from it to
find Kimble, suitcase still in hand, approaching. He sees the sign and
enters the hotel lobby, pausing ever so slightly at the door.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
The right one? Or will it be a mistake? Is
this the trap where it will end?
Through the hotel's front window, we see Kimble walk through the lobby. He
approaches the front desk, asks for a room, buys a couple of newspapers, and
signs the registry.
CUT TO:
INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY
A moment later. Kimble enters his room, (number 26), shuts the door behind
him and locks it. A wave of relief washes over his face as he looks at his
cheap, tiny quarters.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Safe. For now.
Kimble tosses his keys on a mirrored dresser and puts his suitcase on the bed.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Another room.
Kimble sees the window shade is up. He crosses to it.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Windows look out -- and look in.
Kimble stares out the window for a moment before pulling down the shade.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Get busy.
After turning on a bedside lamp, Kimble strips off his jacket, digs his
toilet kit out of the suitcase, and heads for the bathroom. He SNAPS on the
light, approaches the sink, and starts to unzip his toilet kit when he stops
to regard himself in the tiny mirror on the door of the medicine cabinet. He
puts a hand to his temple, examining his hair.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Look closely. Be sure of this: they'll never
stop looking. He'll never stop. Not
Lieutenant Gerard....
Kimble takes a bottle of BLACK HAIR DYE and a dye-stained toothbrush from his
toilet kit and places them on the sink. He turns on the hot water.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. DETECTIVE'S OFFICE - STAFFORD, IN - DAY
LIEUTENANT PHILIP GERARD, Indiana's finest police officer, stares intently at
a transparent Plexiglass map of the United States. Gerard has marked up the
glass with grease pencil: several states in the western U.S. are circled with
an X in the middle of Wyoming.
GERARD
Somewhere in here, I'm sure of it.
Behind Gerard, seated at a desk, is his boss: CAPTAIN CARPENTER, a huge bear
of a man. Carpenter rises and eats a snack as he confronts Gerard at the
map.
CAPT. CARPENTER
What about Mexico? He's near enough.
GERARD
(shakes his head)
No. He'd be "the Yankee" -- someone different.
CAPT. CARPENTER
Gerard, when are you due for a vacation?
GERARD
(grins)
I'm not taking my vacation, Captain. Later.
I will later.
Gerard leaves the map and picks up a trio of file folders from a nearby desk.
GERARD
East. South. Midwest. Every report verified.
Gerard fishes his eyeglasses out of his pocket and puts them on to read
through a report. Carpenter sits at another desk.
CAPT. CARPENTER
By the time you arrive...
GERARD
One day, he'll be there.
CAPT. CARPENTER
Phil. From the very beginning... the arrest,
all through the trial, the appeals -- and the
accident -- why? What is it about Kimble?
GERARD
(as if it were obvious)
I enforce the law. The law pronounced him
guilty. I enforce the law.
CAPT. CARPENTER
What are you trying to convince yourself of? I
remember his defense: man with one arm running
from the direction of the house.
Gerard blinks through his thick-framed eyeglasses.
CAPT. CARPENTER
Phil, I'm beginning to think you believe there
was such a man.
GERARD
(genuinely)
No. I-I did everything I could to find him.
CAPT. CARPENTER
Meaning that he didn't exist? Or that he
escaped?
Gerard lowers his head.
CAPT. CARPENTER
And if he did escape, the law made a mistake.
GERARD
Captain, whether the law is right or wrong is
not my concern. Let others debate and conclude.
(imperceptibly shrugs)
I obey. And when I begin to question, doubt...
Gerard tosses down the file folders, removes and pockets his glasses, and
returns to the map.
GERARD
I can't permit it. Others found him guilty.
Others were about to execute him. I was merely
an instrument of the law. And am.
(beat)
And Dr. Kimble must be found.
Gerard stares at the large glass map, pondering the good doctor's whereabouts.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - TUCSON, AZ - DAY
Kimble stares into the large mirror over the dresser, checking his black hair.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Ready? A job. What will it be?
Kimble, newspapers in hand, sits on the bed. He skips past the front
sections of the paper and goes straight to the CLASSIFIED AD SECTION.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Make no mistakes. Be ready for the questions
and hope there won't be too many.
Kimble runs his finger down a column of ads until he finds one that reads:
BARTENDER -- Work nights.
"The Branding Iron", 109 So.
Scott St.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT
A saloon with a western theme. Old-fashioned lanterns hang from the ceiling.
Not very crowded for a Friday night. A stocky man in a cowboy hat -- we'll
call him the COWBOY for now -- sits at the bar, nursing a drink. To lend the
joint a little class, an attractive woman named MONICA WELLES plays the piano
on a raised stage behind the bar. The boss is CLEVE BROWN, an affable man in
a bartender's vest decorated with the Branding Iron logo. Kimble sits at one
end of the bar. Cleve Brown gets behind the bar to confer with him.
CLEVE
(to Kimble)
You fast, Lincoln?
KIMBLE
I worked in Reno.
CLEVE
Well, you won't have to be fast tonight. But
tomorrow is Saturday. Bring your roller skates.
Kimble smiles -- he's got the job. Cleve comes out from behind the bar.
CLEVE
Take over. It's all yours.
Cleve and Kimble trade places.
CLEVE
Seventy-five a week. You'll find a vest at the
other end of the bar. Is it, er, Jim?
Kimble has to think for a moment -- is it Jim?
KIMBLE
Yeah, Jim's fine.
Kimble offers to shake hands but Cleve declines.
CLEVE
Cleve Brown. But we won't shake hands because
I might fire you tomorrow. The waitress is
Evelyn, the lady at the piano is Monica.
Introduce yourself.
Cleve ambles off. Kimble walks the length of the bar, past the Cowboy, and
finds his vest. He sheds his jacket and tie. Both Monica, at the piano, and
the blonde waitress, EVELYN, serving drinks at a nearby table, watch Kimble
put a big black western string tie around his neck. Evelyn joins Kimble at
the bar as he puts on his vest.
EVELYN
Hi! I'm Evelyn.
KIMBLE
(as if reminding himself)
My name is Jim Lincoln.
Kimble turns to check out the liquor, pausing to talk to Monica on the stage
behind him.
KIMBLE
The boss said to say hello. My name's Jim
Lincoln.
Monica doesn't respond. But the Cowboy at the bar does.
COWBOY
(friendly, to Kimble)
Her name's Monica. Monica Welles.
Kimble turns to the grinning Cowboy who fingers a silver dollar.
COWBOY
(very friendly)
Plays beautifully, doesn't she?
KIMBLE
(nods)
Mm hmm.
Kimble tries to familiarize himself with the bar.
COWBOY
(too friendly)
Lovely, too, wouldn't you say? Wouldn't you
say she was lovely?
KIMBLE
(amused)
Very.
COWBOY
Well, how can you tell? You just glanced at
her. You gotta look at her, Jim.
(beat)
Hey, Jim. Scotch and soda.
Kimble starts mixing the drink -- expertly, of course.
COWBOY
(off Monica)
Give her one, too.
Kimble turns to Monica who coolly shakes her head at him and keeps playing.
KIMBLE
(to the Cowboy)
She isn't drinking.
COWBOY
Maybe she would if you bought it, huh? I'll
pay for it.
Cowboy puts a stack of silver dollars on the bar. He flicks one of them into
Kimble's chest. It CLINKS loudly on the countertop. An increasingly annoyed
Kimble hands the Cowboy his scotch and soda.
KIMBLE
She doesn't want a drink.
COWBOY
You have one.
KIMBLE
Make it a rule never to, uh, drink when I'm
working.
COWBOY
That's a real dandy rule. You make that up all
by yourself?
CLEVE (o.s.)
Jim.
Kimble turns from the Cowboy to join Cleve at the far end of the bar.
CLEVE
(to Kimble)
'Bout now I usually have a so-called meal from
our so-called kitchen. You want something?
KIMBLE
No, thanks.
(off the Cowboy)
You know that fella back there?
CLEVE
No. Why?
KIMBLE
He's working pretty hard to make trouble.
CLEVE
(grins)
Jim, for the price of a drink, he can buy an
audience. On Monday morning, he'll have to
face whatever's bothering him. But this is
Friday night.
Cleve gives Kimble a friendly whack on the arm and walks off to eat his
so-called meal. Kimble, shaking his head in disbelief and trying to suppress
a smile, returns to his work.
COWBOY
(to Kimble)
Hey, what were you saying to him about me?
KIMBLE
(affably)
What makes you think I was talkin' about you?
COWBOY
(suddenly grim)
I don't like you, Jim. You wanna remember
that? I don't like you at all.
A worried Monica's eyes go from the Cowboy to Kimble. The Cowboy SLAMS a
dime down onto the bar, picks up his silver dollars, grins, rises, and waves
a finger at Monica.
COWBOY
See ya again, sweetheart.
Monica doesn't respond. The Cowboy can barely take his eyes off her as he
heads out the door. A relieved Monica finishes the tune she's been playing.
MONICA
(whispers, to Kimble)
May I please have a drink? Anything.
Kimble registers mild surprise at this as Monica climbs down from the stage
and grabs a stool at the bar. He pours a drink for her.
MONICA
Thank you.
Monica drinks.
KIMBLE
Do you know that fella?
Monica says nothing.
KIMBLE
You tell me if it's none of my business. You
know, sometimes these, uh, worshipers--
MONICA
(sharply)
He does not worship me!
(more friendly)
Thanks for trying to help.
KIMBLE
Meaning it's none of my business?
MONICA
Meaning it isn't fair to involve you.
EVELYN (o.s.)
One bourbon on the rocks!
Kimble crosses to Evelyn at the far end of the bar and starts to fix the
drink. Kimble stops when he catches sight of Monica. Both Kimble and Evelyn
watch with concern as Monica breaks down and weeps.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. BRANDING IRON CLOCK - NIGHT
Later that evening. The clock reads twelve forty-six.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT
Not long after. Over the front door is the Branding Iron's neon light. It
flickers and goes out just as Kimble emerges from the building (the Hotel
Santa Rita) wearing his civilian clothes. He turns up his collar at the
chilly desert wind and starts walking home. But he doesn't get very far.
MONICA (o.s.)
No! Please!
Kimble sees the Cowboy attacking Monica in the nearby parking lot. She tries
to break away from the Cowboy but he grabs her, pulls her back, and presses
her against a parked car.
MONICA
No! Stop! Stop! Please! Please!
Kimble wonders whether or not he should he get involved. The Cowboy hauls
back and starts SLAPPING Monica hard across the face.
Now, Kimble feels he has no choice. He rushes to her rescue: runs over;
pulls the Cowboy off her; punches him in the mouth. Cowboy goes down hard.
Terrified and hurt, Monica leans against the car for support.
Cowboy, down on one knee, raises his head to reveal a wickedly bleeding lip.
He glares at Kimble. Kimble stands by nervously -- what's the Cowboy's next
move? Cowboy puts a hand to his lip to feel the blood. Kimble's ready for
the worst. But the Cowboy jumps up and heads off in the opposite direction.
Fight's over.
While Kimble comforts Monica, the Cowboy gets into a fancy parked car, pops
on the lights, STARTS the engine, and guns past Kimble and Monica, nearly
running them down.
Kimble watches as the car disappears.
MONICA
Please... no police.
Kimble's actually rather relieved to hear this.
KIMBLE
Have you got a car?
Monica shakes her head.
KIMBLE
Come on, we'll get a cab.
MONICA
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to
involve you.
Kimble helps Monica back to the hotel.
FADE OUT
EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT
FADE IN a few minutes later as a Tanner Yellow Cab pulls up in front of the
El Capitan Apartments. Kimble and Monica emerge from the cab. Kimble pays
the fare and escorts Monica up the steps.
CUT TO:
INT. MONICA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Monica and Kimble enter, waking the middle-aged babysitter, MRS. BLAINE, who
lies on the sofa in what passes for a living room.
MONICA
Is everything all right, Mrs. Blaine?
MRS. BLAINE
Oh. Oh, yes. He's fine.
MONICA
Good.
Monica starts fishing some money out of her purse. But Mrs. Blaine is already
on her way out the door.
MRS. BLAINE
That's all right. I'll get my money tomorrow.
Mrs. Blaine sees the nasty bruise on Monica's cheek.
MRS. BLAINE
(startled)
Oh. Well. Good night.
MONICA
Good night.
Mrs. Blaine exits, leaving Monica and Kimble alone and feeling uncomfortable.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. MONICA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
A few minutes later. Monica and Kimble sit on the sofa and drink coffee.
MONICA
When I asked you not to call the police, I had
a very good reason. That man is my husband.
Kimble registers surprise.
MONICA
Want to leave now? Or stick around and hear the
story of my life?
Kimble wants to stick around. He gives Monica a cigarette.
KIMBLE
Here.
MONICA
We live in Phoenix.
(corrects herself)
We... lived in Phoenix.
Kimble lights Monica's cigarette.
MONICA
About a month ago, I, uh, couldn't stand it any
longer, so I took Mark and came here and got a
job. Doing the only thing I've really ever
been trained for. Playing piano.
KIMBLE
But not in a bar.
(beat)
Well, what was it you couldn't stand?
MONICA
His suspicions. I, uh, I wouldn't mind it if
he had a reason to be jealous but he was simply
insanely suspicious.
(rises)
When we were married, I was, uh, considered the
luckiest girl in Phoenix.
(pours herself some coffee)
Ed was almost the -- his name is Ed -- almost
the perfect husband. He was a little jealous
then. But I-I was eighteen. I was flattered
by it. Month after he left for Korea, I found
out I was pregnant. So happy, I ran three
blocks in the rain to mail the letter. When he
wrote back, there was just a hint of an
accusation. But I answered, pretending not to
notice and he never wrote that way again. He
came home. Day by day, he began to grow more
and more suspicious. Violent. His face changed.
He doesn't look like the man I married.
KIMBLE
And he won't let you go?
MONICA
No. After a month of peace, he found me. He
walked into the bar and he had a drink and left,
without saying a word. [?]
KIMBLE
What does he want?
MONICA
To possess me. To beat me. And to teach my
son how evil I am.
KIMBLE
And you can't go to the police?
MONICA
I tried that. He found out and found it very
amusing. You see, he owns two hundred and
fifty thousand acres of Arizona. He
contributes to charity and belongs to all the
proper social organizations...
Unnoticed by Kimble and Monica, Monica's young son MARK enters silently,
wearing a robe, listening to the conversation about his father.
MONICA
... He has even been mentioned as a possible
political candidate. When he's not home, he's
almost the perfect man.
KIMBLE
Well, don't you have any friends or family in
another state? Back east?
MONICA
He'd find us.
Monica suddenly notices her son's presence.
MONICA
Mark! What are you doing out of bed?
MARK
(to Monica)
I heard you talking.
Mark stares at Kimble.
MONICA
Well, this is, uh, Mr. Lincoln.
(to Kimble)
My son, Mark.
KIMBLE
(to Mark)
My name's Jim.
Kimble smiles and offers to shake hands but Mark makes no move.
MONICA
(to Mark)
Uh, you know, you, uh, should be in bed. We
have a big day tomorrow. Come on, honey. Go
up to bed.
Monica leads Mark back to his bedroom as Kimble, hands in his pockets, paces
the room, wondering what to do. After a moment, Monica returns.
MONICA
I'm sorry he wasn't a little more friendly.
KIMBLE
Well, that's... I think he did fine under the
circumstances. Now, look, uh, Monica. I don't
know what I can do--
MONICA
No, no, it's, uh, enough just to talk to you.
KIMBLE
Well, then, maybe I could see you tomorrow.
MONICA
On Saturdays, I usually take Mark to Wonderland.
Helps him think of other things.
KIMBLE
Well, we'll make it noon at Wonderland. Maybe
we can all think of other things.
(beat)
I'll see you tomorrow.
MONICA
Good night.
Monica watches Kimble exit. For the first time, there is a glimmer of hope
in her eyes.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL - NIGHT
Not long after. An angry fist KNOCKS on the door of room 26. It's the
Cowboy, EDWARD WELLES. He scratches his neck like an animal and KNOCKS
again.
KIMBLE (o.s.)
Who is it?
ED WELLES
Ed Welles.
CUT TO:
INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
An uncertain Kimble unlocks the door and opens it, allowing Evil Ed Welles to
enter. Kimble just stands there with his hands in his pockets while Ed
checks out the room.
ED WELLES
Now, I'm not gonna talk about you hittin' me.
KIMBLE
Then I won't talk about you hitting a woman.
ED WELLES
She's my wife.
KIMBLE
And that gives you certain rights?
ED WELLES
(laughs)
You travel pretty light, don't you? Come into
town and get yourself a little room, grab a
job. Thinkin' 'bout staying long?
KIMBLE
I'd like to.
ED WELLES
So you can make more trouble.
KIMBLE
I didn't make it. I walked into it.
ED WELLES
You walked into me, bartender.
Ed puts a lot of emphasis on that word "bartender."
KIMBLE
Yeah, I've already heard how important you are.
Ed reaches into his jacket and pulls out a revolver. Kimble's eyes go wide.
ED WELLES
(off the gun)
I had that custom made for me. Every bit of it.
Hand made. You look at it. Go on, take it.
Look at that workmanship on it.
Kimble takes it -- reluctantly.
ED WELLES
It's loaded. I have to carry a lot of money
sometimes. More than it's safe, you know?
Ed takes the revolver back.
ED WELLES
Now, it's not going to do you a bit of good
trying to help her because Monica can go
anywhere in this world....
Ed re-holsters his gun.
ED WELLES
She can go anywhere. And I'm gonna find her.
Sooner or later, I'll be there. See?
KIMBLE
For another beating?
ED WELLES
(shakes his head)
Not as long as she behaves herself. You know
what I mean.
KIMBLE
Welles, stop torturing that woman and child.
Get yourself some help. See a psychiatrist.
Evil Ed winces and starts to freak out. He talks through clenched teeth,
moving ominously toward Kimble.
ED WELLES
You just said the wrong thing. Said exactly the
wrong thing. And you said it and I heard it
and there's nothing left for you to do but get
out of my sight, see? About a million miles out.
Ed abruptly turns and walks slowly out of the room and down the hall. An
angry and frustrated Kimble SLAMS the door shut.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. WONDERLAND - DAY
Saturday afternoon. An outdoor carnival: rides, games, circus clowns, you
name it. Kimble and Monica's son Mark ride the merry-go-round. The ride
stops and a bored Mark exchanges glances with Kimble. Kimble offers to help
Mark down off his horse but Mark hops off on his own. The two of them step
off the merry-go-round and walk together.
KIMBLE
I'm, er, not very good at picking rides. I,
uh, guess that was kids' stuff to you, huh?
MARK
It was all right.
KIMBLE
I'm probably pretty square about what kids like
these days. Uh, what do we do now? Another
ride? Something to eat?
MARK
Look, Mr. Lincoln, I know you want to talk to
my mom. I'd like to go over to the batter up
game.
KIMBLE
All right, we'll meet you there.
Mark takes off. Lost in thought, Kimble walks through the crowded
Wonderland, past a balloon salesman, a clown entertaining a group of
party-hatted children at a picnic table (must be someone's birthday), a small
Ferris wheel, etc., until he finds Monica on a bench. Kimble sits with her.
KIMBLE
Your son went over to the batter up game. I
hope that's all right.
MONICA
That's fine.
KIMBLE
You know, I used to think I was pretty good
with children. I don't seem to be getting
anywhere with him.
MONICA
It isn't your fault. He's afraid every man
might be like his father. Sometimes I think he
sensed the truth about Ed before I did.
KIMBLE
His father paid me a visit last night. He must
have followed us, and then waited, and then
followed me to my hotel. The sum and substance
of our meeting: uh, he threatened me if I didn't
leave town. So here I am.
MONICA
Oh, Jim, this is going too far. You--
KIMBLE
All we have to do is find an answer. I've been
trying.
MONICA
(realizes something)
He threatened you.
KIMBLE
Under the pretext of showing off his custom
made revolver.
MONICA
Yes. He showed it to me. If he threatened you,
why don't you go to the police?
Kimble pauses and looks away. Should he tell her why? He silently watches a
clown leading a group of children past a boat ride -- normal people leading
normal lives. Monica senses something's wrong.
MONICA
Jim, what is it?
KIMBLE
I can't go to the police. If you ask me, I
can't tell you why.
MONICA
I'm in no position to ask anything of you.
Except your help.
KIMBLE
Let's go get your son.
They rise and walk over to the batter up game. Mark, baseball bat in hand,
swings and HITS a series of balls tossed by an automatic pitching machine.
Mild applause and cheers from onlookers. Kimble and a proud Monica watch.
After the last hit, Mark grips the bat with satisfaction, drops it, and runs
to the BATTER UP GUY to accept a prize.
BATTER UP GUY
Well, you really belted that one, son. Here ya
are.
The Batter Up Guy hands Mark a goofy-looking doll of a ballplayer with a big
bobbing head. Mark takes it and stares at it proudly. Kimble and Monica
stand nearby.
MONICA
(to Mark)
What a marvelous strike that was!
MARK
(joins Kimble and Monica)
Mom! Strike is when ya miss!
KIMBLE
(ironic)
Yeah, Mom! What's the matter with ya?
(to Mark)
What do you play, Mark? The infield?
MARK
Second.
KIMBLE
You know, I used to play a little ball. Ya
know how good I was? My sister pitched.
Remember one game, a man came up and he said,
What's the score? I said, it's twenty-two to
nothing but we ain't been up to bat yet.
Kimble and Monica laugh. But Mark takes the story seriously and offers his
doll to Kimble.
MARK
Here.
KIMBLE
Well, that's yours, Mark. You-you won it.
MARK
(shakes his head)
Kids' stuff.
Touched that the boy has reached out to someone, Kimble accepts the doll. He
and Mark exchange uncertain smiles.
MONICA
(to Kimble)
What do we do now?
KIMBLE
Well, what I can do and what I'd like to do are
two different things so I guess we'll just have
to wait. I don't know what for or how long but
we wait.
MARK
What are you talkin' about?
KIMBLE
(ironic, to Mark)
Kids' stuff!
(upbeat, to all)
Come on, let's get a hot dog.
Kimble, Monica and Mark head off through the crowds, past pony riders and a
HONKING tram ride -- not suspecting that, just a few yards behind, Evil Ed
Welles stalks them, scowling grimly.
FADE OUT
EXT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT
FADE IN on customers at the front door.
CUT TO:
INT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT
It's Saturday night and the joint is hoppin'. Cleve Brown and Evelyn work
the tables. Monica's at the piano. Kimble's behind the bar. Evelyn
approaches the bar and sees Monica staring sympathetically at Kimble. Kimble
looks up and exchanges looks with Monica before loading Evelyn's tray with
drinks. As Evelyn disappears into the noisy crowd, Evil Ed emerges, a
cigarette in his mouth. He squints at Monica. Both Kimble and Monica spot
him as he approaches the bar.
CUSTOMER (o.s.)
Bartender, give me another!
Bartender Kimble doesn't move. He just stares at Ed who grabs a barstool in
front of him.
ED WELLES
(casually)
Jim. I'll have the usual.
CUSTOMER (o.s.)
Hey, bartender, give me another!
ED WELLES
And the usual for me.
Kimble grabs a bottle and leaves to take care of the customer. Monica stares
straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with Ed.
ED WELLES
(to Monica)
Sweetheart, that's a pretty tune.
Monica glares at him.
ED WELLES
Do I know it?
Kimble tends to the cash register and then turns to mix Ed's drink.
ED WELLES
You work hard, huh, Jim? I don't know as I
could stand that -- people yellin' at me all
the time. 'Course, I had to put up with some
of that in the army. You ever in the service,
Jim?
KIMBLE
Here's your drink.
ED WELLES
Down in Korea, in combat, they used to have
these loudspeakers and they told me all about
what was goin' on back here when we were
fightin'.
KIMBLE
They used to tell you?
Ed points to his forehead and grins.
ED WELLES
(sharply, to Kimble)
You have a nice time out there at Wonderland?
Stunned, Kimble and Monica exchange glances.
ED WELLES
I saw ya. You looked like you were enjoyin'
yourselves. The three of ya made a... nice
lookin' family.
KIMBLE
Welles, I'm not going to pretend to guess what
makes you this way. Your suspicions about your
wife are all wrong.
ED WELLES
I got no suspicions. Facts, Jim.
Monica watches Ed down his drink and then stare at the empty glass.
ED WELLES
You make real good drinks. I don't know, maybe
it's just 'cause I'm in such a good mood I
wouldn't know the difference.
KIMBLE
Don't you ever think of what you're doing to
your boy?
ED WELLES
(smiles)
Now, let's not spoil everything with a lot of
unpleasant talk.
KIMBLE
Welles, see a doctor.
ED WELLES
I'm in perfect health. You've got no idea how
good I do feel. Well, good night, Jim.
Ed rises, walks away, stops and turns to wave his cigarette at Monica.
ED WELLES
Good night, sweetheart.
Kimble and Monica watch as Ed walks out the door.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT
The desert wind WHISTLES. It's closing time, in the wee small hours of
Sunday morning. Their shifts over, Kimble and Monica exit the bar and
tighten their coats around themselves.
MONICA
Oh! These desert winds.
KIMBLE
There's our cab.
As Kimble escorts Monica across the street to a waiting taxi, an
undistinguished car, parked farther up the street, STARTS up and pulls beside
them. Two men sit in front. The man in the passenger seat gets out of the
car and confronts Kimble who has just helped Monica into the taxi.
SGT. BURDEN
(to Kimble)
The lady will leave now.
(politely, to Monica)
Uh, police officer.
(to the cab driver)
See me about her fare. Ask for Sergeant
Burden.
SGT. BURDEN, the creepiest plainclothes detective in Arizona, gently pushes
Kimble aside and closes the cab door on Monica. Kimble and Burden watch the
taxi pull away.
SGT. BURDEN
We'd be obliged if you'd get in the automobile,
Mr. Lincoln. That is your name, James Lincoln?
KIMBLE
Yes. Would you mind telling me--?
Sgt. Burden shows Kimble his badge.
SGT. BURDEN
Detective-Sergeant Burden. Please get in.
Kimble and Burden get in the back seat. The car's driver, a bespectacled man
named FAIRFIELD, puts the car in gear. They drive through the empty streets
of Tucson.
CUT TO:
INT. CAR - NIGHT
Sgt. Burden, sitting next to Kimble in the rear, introduces Sgt. Fairfield at
the wheel.
SGT. BURDEN
(to Kimble)
Ah, Detective Fairfield. He's from Ohio.
Where are you from, Mr. Lincoln?
KIMBLE
Uh, Rockford. Illinois.
SGT. BURDEN
Care for a cigarette?
KIMBLE
Uh, no, thanks.
Sgt. Burden prepares to light up.
KIMBLE
Could you tell me what this is about?
SGT. BURDEN
Is this your first visit to Tucson, Mr.
Lincoln?
Kimble nods.
SGT. BURDEN
Ya like it?
KIMBLE
I haven't seen much.
SGT. BURDEN
But you've liked what you have.
Sgt. Burden lights his cigarette.
SGT. FAIRFIELD
How do you like your job, Lincoln?
SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Well, he hasn't seen much of it. But he likes
what he has.
(to Kimble)
Correct?
An increasingly nervous Kimble nods.
KIMBLE
You know what?
Without thinking, Kimble reaches into his jacket pocket. Sgt. Burden tenses
up. Kimble senses this and slowly pulls out his own pack of cigarettes and
shows them to a relieved Burden. Only six months a fugitive, an
inexperienced Kimble allows himself to talk too much -- rambling to cover his
nervousness.
KIMBLE
It's funny...
SGT. BURDEN
Something funny?
KIMBLE
Well, I guess I mean, uh, strange. An average
man, if there is one, is walking home and...
and the police pick him up for questioning --
What's your name? Where'd ya come from? -- et
cetera. You know he's scared.
SGT. BURDEN
Is that right? Well, I never knew that.
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Did you know that, Fairfield?
SGT. FAIRFIELD
Now, why would the average man be scared of the
police?
KIMBLE
Guilt. I guess there isn't a man in the world
who doesn't have something he wants to hide.
Even you two.
SGT. BURDEN
Now, that remark was not calculated to gain
favor with me.
KIMBLE
I'm sorry. I guess these questions are just
getting me a little nervous. You know,
Sergeant, you are pushing me around. Gently,
but pushing. Put yourself in my place. I'm a
stranger in town. No one to vouch for me. No
friend who's a lawyer. I can't demand a thing.
I just have to sit here and take it.
SGT. BURDEN
I wish I could argue with ya. But you know
you're right. I wouldn't want you to think I
was sadistic.
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Fairfield, do you think we've been unkind?
SGT. FAIRFIELD
Maybe so, Sergeant.
SGT. BURDEN
(to Kimble)
Well, some comfort to think we've saved you a
walk on a chilly evening. Your hotel.
To Kimble's surprise, the car brakes to a halt outside his hotel. A relieved
Kimble senses that they're about to let him go.
KIMBLE
Um, I certainly appreciate it.
SGT. BURDEN
Not at all.
Kimble and Sgt. Burden exchange pleasant nods.
KIMBLE
Good night, Sergeant.
SGT. BURDEN
Good night.
KIMBLE
(to Fairfield)
Good night.
Fairfield grins and nods as Burden and Kimble start to exit the car.
CUT TO:
EXT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL - NIGHT
The car is parked out front. Burden and Kimble emerge from the back seat and
Kimble starts to enter his hotel.
SGT. BURDEN
Uh, Mr. Lincoln...
Kimble stops dead in his tracks as Burden and Fairfield leave the car and
join him in the hotel entrance.
SGT. BURDEN
I honest to goodness don't know what's the
matter with us.
KIMBLE
That's all right, Sergeant. It's an easy
mistake.
SGT. BURDEN
Of course. But we want to do the right thing.
SGT. FAIRFIELD
We'll see you to your room.
KIMBLE
Well, you... you don't really have to--
SGT. BURDEN
Mr. Lincoln. We insist.
Reluctantly, Kimble allows the policemen to escort him into the hotel.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Kimble and Sgt. Fairfield look on as Sgt. Burden opens Kimble's suitcase and
examines the contents.
SGT. BURDEN
Well, Fairfield, wouldn't you say it's about
time he unpacked?
SGT. FAIRFIELD
Well, maybe he did, found he didn't like it
here, and now he's getting ready to leave.
SGT. BURDEN
(nods, to Kimble)
I was born here. I'll die here. I'd like to
keep Tucson as clean as its air. I welcome
visitors. Most of 'em.
Sgt. Fairfield fishes a huge pile of newspapers out of the wastebasket.
SGT. FAIRFIELD
Mr. Lincoln, you... you usually read every
paper?
KIMBLE
Well, that's how I found the job.
Kimble watches nervously as Sgt. Fairfield heads off to search the bathroom.
SGT. BURDEN
We've had a complaint against you, Mr. Lincoln.
KIMBLE
Complaint?
SGT. BURDEN
Mr. Edward Welles, Phoenix. Claims you're
breaking up his marriage.
KIMBLE
His marriage is already broken up. I'm just
trying to help his wife and boy. They're
afraid of him.
SGT. BURDEN
That's not the impression we got from Mr.
Welles.
KIMBLE
Have you talked to Mrs. Welles?
SGT. BURDEN
We're not in the marriage counseling business.
Nor are you.
KIMBLE
I'll tell you this. Unless that man is helped,
you might pay a very high price to find out
just how dangerous he really is.
Sgt. Fairfield returns from the bathroom carrying a bottle of black hair dye
and a dye-stained toothbrush.
SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
He claims Mr. Welles is dangerous, Fairfield.
Burden and Fairfield grin wickedly at the bottle in Fairfield's hand.
SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
What've you got there?
SGT. FAIRFIELD
Hair dye.
Both men, grinning like maniacs, turn to Kimble.
SGT. FAIRFIELD
You use this stuff?
KIMBLE
Uh... yeah. Last month, I-I saw a little gray.
I-I thought it wouldn't exactly help in finding
work.
Burden and Fairfield stare hard at Kimble who tries to maintain his composure.
SGT. FAIRFIELD
(to Sgt. Burden)
Does a good job. I don't see a single gray.
Maybe he worries a lot.
SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Could be diet. I read where a man can get gray
from certain foods.
(to Kimble)
Are you eating right, Mr. Lincoln?
KIMBLE
I eat what I can afford. I try not to worry.
SGT. BURDEN
(grimly, to Kimble)
Leave Tucson tonight.
Kimble, looking like a whipped puppy dog, nods in agreement.
SGT. FAIRFIELD
What's the matter? We cost you a job in a
wonderful city. Aren't you going to protest?
KIMBLE
I'm too tired.
SGT. BURDEN
Get some rest in another town, Mr. Lincoln.
Sgt. Fairfield hands Kimble his dye and toothbrush. Burden and Fairfield
exit the hotel room. A defeated Kimble stands alone.
FADE OUT
EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT
FADE IN a few minutes later as a Tanner Yellow Cab pulls up in front of the
El Capitan Apartments. Kimble emerges from the cab.
KIMBLE
(to the cab driver)
Wait for me!
Kimble runs up the steps and walks to Monica's apartment. He KNOCKS on the
door.
CUT TO:
INT. MONICA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Monica runs to the front door and lets Kimble in.
MONICA
What did the police want?
KIMBLE
He convinced them I was an outsider trying to
break up his happy home.
(beat)
Monica. I've got to leave town. But if you
and Mark come with me, you might be worse off.
MONICA
I don't understand.
KIMBLE
My picture's in every police station in the
country. Right now they might just be
realizing who James Lincoln really is. A
convicted murderer.
MONICA
I don't believe it.
KIMBLE
I said, convicted. I'm innocent.
(beat)
I'm a doctor, pediatrician.
(corrects himself)
I was a doctor. My wife wouldn't have children.
She wouldn't adopt. We argued -- too much for
too long. One night, I walked out. I got in
the car, I drove, I parked... just stared at
the river. I remember a boy in a rowboat. He
didn't see me. After a while, I cooled off and
I drove home. About a block from the house, I
almost hit a man. A man with one arm. He was
running. I found my wife beaten to death.
MONICA
Who...?
KIMBLE
I don't know. It had to be unmotivated. A
vagrant, a prowler. The police never... That
was over two years ago. Trial was a nightmare.
The neighbors had heard our arguments. My only
hope was to find the man with one arm. I was
convicted. I sat in prison for eighteen months.
There were appeals. They were taking me to be
executed when the train derailed. Ever since
then, I've been running, hoping that someday
I'd find the man with one arm, a face I can
never forget. I keep running and they keep
hunting. One man in particular -- Lieutenant
Philip Gerard. Sometimes I feel like I've
known him all my life. Some nights I can't
sleep. I hear his footsteps on the stairs. I
see his face outside my door. Gerard...
MONICA
I don't want him to find you.
Monica and Kimble kiss.
MONICA
I'll pack.
Monica rushes off leaving a saddened Kimble alone.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. TUCSON POLICE STATION - NIGHT
Over a half an hour later. In the detectives' office, Kimble's wanted poster
is tacked to a bulletin board. But Sergeants Burden and Fairfield, on the
opposite side of the room, pay no attention to it. Burden studies a wall map
while Fairfield pecks away at a typewriter. A KNOCK at the door. Burden and
Fairfield turn to see Ed Welles enter and join them.
SGT. BURDEN
Well, how are you, Mr. Welles?
ED WELLES
I just wanted to stop by and say thanks. Now,
I hope I'm not being premature, am I?
SGT. BURDEN
Not at all. I explained to him how we feel
about the honored residents of our state.
ED WELLES
How'd he take it?
SGT. FAIRFIELD
Hotel clerk said he checked out half an hour
ago. Probably buying a bus ticket right now.
ED WELLES
Uh, I wish I could express my gratitude in some
way.
SGT. BURDEN
We accept no bribery, sir.
Evil Ed looks offended.
ED WELLES
I didn't mean that, Sergeant.
SGT. FAIRFIELD
(tries to placate Ed)
Sir... Sergeant likes to joke.
ED WELLES
Yeah. I better get back to my family.
SGT. BURDEN
Oh, Mr. Welles. Can we drive you?
ED WELLES
Oh, no, thanks. No, I think I can handle this
little thing all by myself. Good night.
SGT. BURDEN
Good night, then.
Evil Ed departs as Sgt. Burden, shaking his head, crosses to a coat rack next
to the bulletin board and pulls some cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He
walks right past Kimble's wanted poster and fails to see it.
SGT. BURDEN
I don't know. You think you know this job and
all of a sudden you don't. A woman breaks up a
fine home to play a piano in a saloon, take up
with a man she's known only a few hours. I
feel sorry for the little boy.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT
FADE IN a few minutes later as Evil Ed pulls up in front of the El Capitan
Apartments. He emerges from his car and walks up the steps, heading for
Monica's apartment, nearly stepping on a stray cat as he goes.
CUT TO:
EXT. FRONT OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
A taxi pulls up in front of the building. Kimble, Monica, and Mark emerge
from the taxi with suitcases and enter the building.
CUT TO:
INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
It's the middle of the night on a Sunday morning and the place is virtually
empty. A janitor mops the floor. A couple of uniformed Air Force policemen
hang out near the pinball machines. Kimble, Monica, and Mark approach the
ticket window. But a woman with a bag reaches the window first.
WOMAN
One ticket to San Diego.
Kimble, Monica, and Mark wait impatiently.
CUT TO:
EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT
Evil Ed KNOCKS on Monica's door. No answer. He POUNDS on it. Nobody home.
CUT TO:
INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
Kimble, Monica, and Mark continue to wait. Kimble watches nervously as the
two uniformed Air Force policemen study a nearby vending machine. Suddenly,
the woman with the bag has finished buying her ticket and rushes off.
TICKET AGENT
Thank you, ma'am.
Kimble approaches the window.
KIMBLE
What time does the next bus leave?
TICKET AGENT
Well, that would depend on where you wanted to
go, now wouldn't it?
KIMBLE
We don't care. We just want the next bus.
CUT TO:
EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT
Ed Welles runs back to his car, gets in, and drives away, tires SQUEALING.
CUT TO:
INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
The Ticket Agent fusses with the tickets. Kimble turns to reassure Monica.
KIMBLE
It won't be long now.
Kimble watches the two Air Force policemen walk over to an area marked:
SANDWICHES
COFFEE - CANDY
COLD DRINKS - ICE CREAM
CIGARETTES
The Ticket Agent hands the tickets to a distracted Kimble.
TICKET AGENT
Here are your tickets.
Kimble takes the tickets and gathers up the luggage.
KIMBLE
(to Monica)
Let's go.
Kimble leads Monica and Mark to the rear of the terminal.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
A grim Ed Welles sits behind the wheel of his car as it speeds through Tucson.
CUT TO:
INT. REAR OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
Kimble, Monica, and Mark walk to a waiting Greyhound bus bound for San Diego.
CUT TO:
EXT. FRONT OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
Ed Welles pulls up outside and enters the building.
CUT TO:
INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
Ed lurches up to the ticket window.
ED WELLES
(to the Ticket Agent)
You! You seen a man with a woman and a boy?
TICKET AGENT
(smiling)
When?
Evil Ed grabs the Ticket Agent by the throat.
ED WELLES
Just now!
TICKET AGENT
Yes. San Diego bus, outside.
Ed releases the stunned Ticket Agent and stalks off.
CUT TO:
INT. REAR OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
The San Diego bus opens its door. Kimble, Monica, and Mark join a handful of
others in preparing to board. Suddenly, the terminal door BANGS open. It's
Ed Welles, howling like a wounded animal.
ED WELLES
Lincoln!
Everybody near the bus turns to Ed as he approaches and stares at Mark.
ED WELLES
I'm glad to see you, Marky. I'm glad you're
here. This is what your mother is. This is
what she did to me when-when I was in the army.
MARK
I don't believe you, Dad.
Ed glares at Kimble.
ED WELLES
You did this...
Ed reaches into his jacket for his custom-made revolver. But just as he
pulls it out, Kimble grabs his arm and pushes him back to another Greyhound
parked nearby. Pressing Ed against the bus' front grille, Kimble smashes
Ed's gun hand into the windshield. The gun FIRES noisily into the air.
Monica, Mark, and the others cringe in fear. Kimble savagely shakes the gun
out of Ed's hand. The gun skitters across the pavement and comes to a stop
in front of the San Diego bus.
Ed elbows Kimble in the gut and runs off to retrieve the gun. He dives for
it. Kimble dives on top of Ed.
CUT TO:
INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
The policemen and the Ticket Agent run to see what all the shooting's about.
CUT TO:
EXT. REAR OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT
Ed kicks Kimble off of him and Kimble ends up with his back to the San Diego
bus' grille. Ed, gun in hand, rises from the pavement with a wicked grin.
He points his weapon right at Kimble. Kimble realizes he's about to die.
Suddenly, the police arrive with their guns drawn.
POLICEMAN
Air Police! Hold it!
Without hesitation, Ed FIRES at the policemen. He misses. They FIRE back.
Ed is hit. Hard. He falls backward through a railing into a pile of trash.
Dead.
The police, the Ticket Agent, and a small group of onlookers instantly crowd
around the body. Kimble sees his chance to slip away in the confusion and
joins Monica who comforts Mark on the opposite side of the San Diego bus.
Kimble grabs his suitcase and confronts her.
KIMBLE
Monica, if I stay...
MONICA
They'll find you. And you'll never find him.
KIMBLE
(reassuring)
You can go home now. It's over.
MONICA
Everything?
KIMBLE
We won't forget. That's all we're left with,
remembering.
(beat)
Maybe...
But Kimble can't finish the sentence.
KIMBLE
(to Monica)
Good-bye.
(to Mark)
Good-bye, son.
Deeply saddened, Monica and Mark watch Kimble walk off. He stops and turns
to look back at them for a moment -- just as the sound of a distant police
SIREN approaches. Hearing it, Kimble turns at once and disappears into the
night. As Monica puts a comforting hand on her son's shoulder, a police car
and a police motorcycle arrive at the terminal.
FADE OUT
EXT. CEMETERY - PHOENIX, AZ - DAY
FADE IN, days later, on some parked cars near a sign reading: PHOENIX
CEMETERY. A large, fancy funeral for Ed Welles is just now coming to an end.
The clergyman closes his book. Monica, dressed in black, walks off with Mark
and his governess as the crowd disperses. From amongst the tombstones
appears a man in a trenchcoat, under a darkly threatening sky: the sinister
figure of the implacable Lieutenant Gerard.
GERARD
Mrs. Welles?
Monica, Mark, and the governess stop short at the sight of Gerard who
approaches and nods for Mark to leave. Monica indicates to the governess
that she should take Mark away. They depart at once, leaving Monica alone
with Gerard.
GERARD
I'm sorry. About the circumstances.
MONICA
Who are you?
GERARD
Mrs. Welles, where did James Lincoln tell you
he was going?
MONICA
You're Lieutenant Gerard. The Tucson police
must--
GERARD
They recognized him. Unfortunately, after the
fact.
(beat)
Well. He told you about me? Excellent. He
thinks of me as much as I think of him.
MONICA
He's innocent.
GERARD
The law says guilty.
MONICA
The law isn't perfect.
Gerard merely stares at her.
MONICA
Wherever he is now, he knows I believe him. I
always will.
Monica pauses, a faraway look in her eye.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CITY SIDEWALK - A THOUSAND MILES AWAY - NIGHT
The shadowy figure of a man with a suitcase. He walks down a deserted, foggy
street in the middle of the night. A tiny kitten, lost and MEOWING
plaintively, crosses his path. The shadowy figure turns out to be Kimble.
He stops, crouches, and carefully picks up the kitten, stroking it gently.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
Now six months, two weeks, and another thousand
miles a fugitive, this is Richard Kimble. And
this is how it is with him.
Kimble reluctantly sets the animal back down, picks up his suitcase, and
leaves the kitten behind.
Near a large RAILROAD CROSSING sign, the silhouette of the suitcase-carrying
Fugitive walks along some dimly lit railroad tracks and disappears into the
mist.
FADE OUT
Last revision: 15 July 1999