НАЗВАНИЕ: Se7en (1995)
ГОД: 1995
СЦЕНАРИСТ: Andrew Kevin Walker
ИСТОЧНИК: ScriptSlug (PDF) — https://www.scriptslug.com/script/se7en-1995
URL: https://assets.scriptslug.com/live/pdf/scripts/se7en-1995.pdf
СКАЧАНО: 2026-10-12 11:49
ПРИМЕЧАНИЕ: текст чужой, для личного изучения. Не распространять. Не исполнять.
======================================================================

      SEVEN



    Written by


Andrew Kevin Walker




                      January 27,1992
                                        ii.




The world is a fine place,
and worth fighting for.

            - Ernest Hemingway
              For Whom the Bell Tolls
              1940
1   EXT.   COUNTRY CHURCH -- DAY                                1

    The white cross on the church steeple stands against blue
    sky. The church bell rings, resonating.

    Mass has let out. Small church, small congregation. The
    dirt road in front is lined with pick-up trucks and
    parishioners on foot heading to outlying farms and homes.
    An old two-story house sits across the road. Lone.

2   INT.   OLD HOUSE -- DAY                                     2

    Sunlight comes through the soot on the windows, more brown
    than bright. SOMERSET, 45, in a suit and tie, stands in
    this empty second-story room. He looks around, at the
    ceiling, at the worn wooden floor, at the peeling wallpaper
    on the walls.

    Somerset walks to one wall where the current wallpaper is
    peeled away to reveal flowery wallpaper underneath. He runs
    his finger across one of the pale red roses that decorates
    the older paper. He pushes the grime away, brings the rose
    out more clearly.

    He pulls at the edge of the paper, carefully ripping off a
    roughly squared section with the rose at its center.

    He studies it in his hand.

3   EXT.   OLD HOUSE -- DAY                                     3

    Birds sing.   Somerset stands, pondering the forested
    landscape.

                         MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
               Is something wrong?

    Somerset does not respond. The MAN, in an ill-fitting real
    estate jacket, is seated on the hood of a dirty Ford
    Thunderbird. He holds a check and a booklet of receipts.

                         MAN (CONT)
               Is something the matter?

                           SOMERSET
               No... no.    There's nothing wrong.

    Somerset still seems distant.

                         MAN
                   (writes receipt)
               Not that it's any of my business...
               but, are you figuring on moving out
               here eventually?
                                                              2.

                         SOMERSET
               Soon.

                         MAN
               I just never seen a man mortgaging
               an empty house before.

                         SOMERSET
               Everything here still seems...
               seems so strange to me. All this.

                         MAN
               I don't know. I'd say this place
               is about as normal as places get.

    The man walks over to hand over a receipt.     Somerset accepts
    the receipt, folds it. Somerset smiles.

                         SOMERSET
               That is exactly what I mean.
               Strange.

    Somerset looks back at the house.   The man does not
    understand.

4   INT.   AMTRACK TRAIN -- DAY -- (CREDIT SEQUENCE BEGINS)        4

    Somerset is in a window seat, smoking a cigarette, looking
    out the speeding train. He is near the back of the car,
    away from the few other passengers.

    Outside, farms, small homes and lawns pass. The entire
    panorama is dappled by the rays of the soon setting sun.

    The light flickers across Somerset's placid face.

5   INT.   AMTRACK TRAIN -- LATER DAY                              5

    The train is nearly full. Somerset has his suitcase on the
    aisle seat beside him. He has a hardcover book unopened on
    his lap. He still stares out the window, but his
    disposition has soured. The train is passing an ugly,
    swampy field.

    A car's burnt-out skeleton sits rusting in the bracken.    A
    little further on, two dogs are fighting, circling,
    attacking, their coats matted with blood.

    Somerset turns his head to watch the dogs.

    Away in the field, another dog sprints to join the fight.
                                                            3.

6   INT.   AMTRACK TRAIN -- EARLY EVENING                        6

    Passing urban streets below. Slums. Smashed cars. People
    stand on the corners, under the bleak glow of street lamps.

    Somerset's suitcase is by the window.   Somerset is now in
    the aisle seat, reading his book.

7   INT.   SOMERSET'S APARTMENT -- LATER NIGHT -- (END CREDITS)7

    Curtains closed. The SOUNDS of the CITY are here as they
    will be everywhere in this story. A CAR ALARM SHRIEKS.
    Somerset's life is packed in many moving boxes, except for
    clothing in a closet and hundreds of books on shelves.

    Somerset, dressed only in his underwear, lays back on the
    bed. He reaches to the nightstand, to a wooden, pyramidical
    metronome.

    He frees the metronome's weighted swingarm so it moves back
    and forth. Swings to the left... TICK, swings to the
    right... TICK. Tick, tick, tick, measured and steady.

    Somerset situates on the bed, closes his eyes. The
    metronome's ticking competes with the sound of the car
    alarm. Somerset's face tightens as he concentrates on the
    metronome.

    His eyes close tighter.

    Tick, tick, tick... the swingarm moves evenly. Somerset's
    breathing deepens. The car ALARM seems QUIETER.

    Tick, tick, tick.   Somerset continues his concentration.

    The METRONOME is the ONLY SOUND. Somerset's face relaxes
    slightly as he begins to fall asleep. Tick, tick, tick...

8   EXT.   CHINESE BODEGA/CITY STREETS -- NIGHT                  8

    DAVID MILLS, 31, exits with a bagged 40oz bottle of beer.
    He is a lean, attractive man, constantly coiled, eyes always
    smoldering. FOLLOW as he walks quickly past iron-gated
    storefronts. He crosses the street under elevated subway
    tracks. A train roars overhead.

    Mills watches it as he walks on.

    Blue sparks spit off the third rail and illuminate Mills,
    throwing his shadow long down the deserted street.
                                                              4.

9   EXT.   URBAN STREET OF ROW HOMES -- NIGHT                      9

    This rotting neighborhood lives in the shadow of a single
    fat skyscraper. Mills walks, looks at the broken
    refrigerators and pieces of junk in the gutter.

    Ahead in the street, TWO YOUNG THUGS struggle with a crowbar
    to break into the trunk of a parked car.

    Mills draws near. One thug looks up, doesn't think Mills
    will be a problem, continues prying. Mills stops, calm.

                         MILLS
               Is that your car, man?

                         FIRST THUG
               What the fuck do you care?

    Mills pauses, switches his beer bottle to his other hand.

                         MILLS
               Does that car belong to you?

    The thugs look at each other, gauging.    They face Mills.

                         FIRST THUG
               Yeah, it's my car, alright?    Fuck
               off.

                         MILLS
               You're telling me that's your car?

    The second thug starts the long way round the car.

                         SECOND THUG
               Well, for some strange reason, I
               don't believe you.

    Mills gives a "isn't that silly" laugh, shifts his gaze --

    Sees the first thug slide the crowbar so it's held as a
    weapon.

                         FIRST THUG
                   (steps forward)
               You can fucking suck my...

    Mills swiftly finishes that sentence by smashing his bottle
    against the first thug's head. The thug falls, swings
    blindly.

    The second thug moves from the side, brings out a knife.
                                                             5.

     Mills averts, swings, pounds the side of his fist into the
     second thug's face -- CRACK. Broken nose.

     The second thug stumbles back, drops the knife, his nose
     squirting blood.

     Mills turns, enraged, breathing hard.

     The first thug is screaming, trying to stand. Mills takes
     one step, punts the first thug's head. The crowbar clatters
     away.

     Mills is in the process of kicking a man when he's down,
     when the second thug grabs him from behind, pulls him
     backwards.

     Mills clutches at the thug's arm, trying to avoid a choke-
     hold. They both struggle spastically. The thug's winning.

     Gurgling, gasping for air, Mills shifts his weight, drops to
     one knee and spins the thug, slamming him against the car.

     Mills breaks loose, grabs a handful of the second thug's
     hair and holds the man's head against the car's side window.
     Mills' free hand pounds the thug's face: once, twice --
     third time's the charm as the window shatters. The thug
     goes out cold.

     Mills backs off, still incensed. He rubs his throat,
     looking at the two prone men. Slowly, he regains some
     composure.

     He takes a keychain from his pocket. He unlocks the door of
     the car, loads one of the thugs into the back seat. He
     walks to collect the other thug off the street.

10   INT.   SOMERSET'S APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- MORNING            10

     Somerset picks items off a moving box: keys, wallet,
     homicide badge. Finally, he opens the hardcover book from
     the train.

     From the pages, he takes the pale, wallpaper rose.

11   INT.   TENEMENT APARTMENT -- DAY                           11

     A wall is stained by a starburst of blood. Somerset stands,
     melancholy, looking at a body on the floor under a sheet
     near a sawed-off shotgun. The apartment is gloomy.
     DETECTIVE TAYLOR, looks through a notepad.

                          TAYLOR
                Neighbors heard them screaming at
                each other.
                                                        6.

          It was nothing new or unusual. But,
          then they heard the gun go off.
          Boom, boom... both barrels.

                    SOMERSET
          Did his wife confess? Did she
          actually speak the words?

                    TAYLOR
          When the patrolman got here she was
          trying to put his head back
          together. She was crying too hard
          to say anything.
              (shuts notebook)
          Crime of passion.

                    SOMERSET
          Yes. Look at all the passion
          splattered up on the wall here.

Taylor shifts his weight, impatient, annoyed.

                     TAYLOR
          This is a done deal.   All but the
          paperwork.

Somerset looks at a coloring-book open on the coffee table.
There are crayons beside it. Somerset picks the book up.

He flips through: crudely colored pictures.

                    SOMERSET
          Did their son see it happen?

                     TAYLOR
          What kind of question is that?
          Huh?
               (pointing)
          He's dead. His wife killed him.
          There it is. That's all. Anything
          else has nothing to do with
          nothing.

Somerset replaces the book, digs up a cigarette from his
pocket.

                    TAYLOR (CONT)
          You and your fucking questions,
          Somerset. I'm glad I'm getting rid
          of you today. You know that, you
          fuck?

David Mills enters, dressed in a suit.   He looks a bit lost.
                                                             7.

                          MILLS
                Uh... Lieutenant Somerset?

     Somerset lights his cigarette, looks to Mills.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                I'm David Mills... your new
                partner.

12   EXT.   TENEMENT/CITY STREET -- DAY                       12

     A body-bag is carried through the crowd around the tenement
     doors. Somerset follows. Mills follows Somerset. They
     walk towards the end of the filthy block.

                          MILLS
                I'm a little thrown. I just
                finished orientation at central,
                and they dumped me off down here.

                          SOMERSET
                I heard you brought in two small-
                timers last night.

                           MILLS
                Yeah.   Two real idiots.

                          SOMERSET
                Since we are just starting out, I
                thought we could go to a bar. Sit
                and talk for awhile. That way we
                can...

                          MILLS
                Excuse me, but I'd rather start
                sniffing for a case, if it's all
                the same to you. Seeing how we only
                have a week for this whole
                transition thing.
                    (waits)
                I want to get into the shit
                a.s.a.p., know what I mean?

     Somerset walks, no reply.   Mills searches to get a read on
     him.

                          SOMERSET
                I meant to ask you something...
                when we spoke on the phone. I
                can't help wondering...
                    (pause)
                Why are you here?
                                                8.

                    MILLS
              (wary)
          I... I don't follow.

                    SOMERSET
          All this effort you've gone
          through, to be transferred from
          Philadelphia to here. It's the
          first question that pops into my
          head.

Mills formulates his response.

                    MILLS
          I'm here for the same reasons as
          you, I guess. Or... at least the
          same reasons you used to have for
          being here...
              (cutting)
          ...before you decided to give up.

Somerset stops and faces Mills.

                    SOMERSET
          You think you know me? You just
          met me two minutes ago.

                    MILLS
          Maybe I don't understand the
          question.

                    SOMERSET
          It's very simple. You've come from
          the "City of Brotherly Love" to the
          "City of Brotherly Hate,"
          detective. I've never seen it done
          that way.

                    MILLS
          I don't know. Maybe I thought I
          could do more good here than there.
              (pause)
          You know, it'd be great by me if we
          didn't start right out kicking each
          other in the balls. But, you're
          calling the shots, lieutenant, so
          however you want it to go.

                    SOMERSET
          Let me tell you how I want this to
          go. I want you to look, and I want
          you to listen.
                                                             9.

                          MILLS
                I wasn't standing around Philly
                guarding the fucking Liberty Bell.

                          SOMERSET
                But, you've never worked homicide
                in this city.

                          MILLS
                I realize that.

                          SOMERSET
                Well, please do me the favor of
                remembering it.

     Mills just stares back at Somerset. Somerset walks. Mills
     rolls his eyes, looks to heaven like, "what'd I do to
     deserve this?" He follows Somerset.

13   INSERT -- TITLE CARD                                        13

     MONDAY

14   INT.   SOMERSET'S APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- EARLY MORNING       14

     Somerset lies asleep on the bed. It is still dark outside.
     Relatively quiet. The PHONE beside the inactive metronome
     RINGS HARSHLY. Somerset awakens suddenly, rankled.

15   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- EARLY MORNING           15

     It is barely becoming light outside.   Mills can't sleep.

     Alone in a double bed. He sits up, frustrated. Sits on the
     edge of the bed and looks around. The room is a shambles,
     filled with moving boxes.

     The light coming through the window glows upon a football
     trophy on one box. Large and noble, a golden player stands
     in frozen motion at the trophy's pinnacle.

     Mills looks at the trophy and a fond smile forms on his
     face. The CLINKING of DISHES and SILVERWARE is HEARD from
     another room. Mills looks at the closed bedroom door,
     troubled.

16   INT. MILLS' APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM/KITCHENETTE -- EARLY 16
     MORNING

     Across a living room full of boxes, TRACY MILLS, 30, a
     beautiful woman, stands in her bathrobe. She's upset about
     something, takes dishes out of boxes, puts them on the
     kitchenette counter.
                                                           10.

     She pulls a mug from a clump of newspaper and pours some tea
     from a pot on the stove. Blowing on the steaming tea, she
     leans back on the counter, looks over at the closed bedroom
     door.

     The tea is too hot to sip, and as Tracy is placing the mug
     on the counter behind her the PHONE RINGS. Startled, she
     releases the mug too close to the edge. It falls --

     Crashes to the floor, shatters.

17   INT.   APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, HALLWAY -- MORNING        17

     A dark hall. Somerset and Mills stand with OFFICER DAVIS,
     28, a beefy, uniformed cop. Light from a camera's flash
     spills in from the nearby kitchen. Davis hands Somerset two
     flashlights.

                          SOMERSET
                At what time did you confirm the
                death?

                          DAVIS
                Like I said, we didn't touch
                anything, but we were on scene at
                like o-five- hundred, so he's had
                his face in a plate of spaghetti
                for about half an hour.

                          MILLS
                Wait, wait, wait. You didn't check
                him? You didn't check vital signs?

                          DAVIS
                Believe me, he's gone. Unless he's
                breathing spaghetti sauce now.

                          MILLS
                No. The point is, when you're
                first man in, you check vital
                signs.

                          DAVIS
                This guy's sitting in a pile of his
                own shit and piss. If he ain't
                dead he would have stood up by now.

                          MILLS
                    (getting angry)
                Listen, Godzilla...

     Somerset steps in, heads Mills off.
                                                             11.

                          SOMERSET
                Thank you, Officer Davis. We'll
                see you again after we've had a
                look.

                            DAVIS
                Yes, sir.

     Davis leaves, eyeing Mills. Mills watches him. Somerset
     hands Mills a flashlight, takes out surgical gloves.

                          SOMERSET
                I wonder what exactly was the point
                of the conversation you were about
                to get into?

                          MILLS
                And, I wonder how many times
                Officer Davis there has found a
                supposedly dead man who didn't
                really die until Davis was back in
                the patrol car calling the morgue
                and eating a powdered donut.

     Somerset snaps one glove over his hand and checks the fit.

                          SOMERSET
                Drop it. We have more important
                concerns just now, don't we?

                          MILLS
                Fine... for now.

18   INT.   APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT            18

     The POLICE PHOTOGRAPHER packs up, hoists his camera and
     equipment bag. Somerset and Mills enter. Mills puts on his
     own pair of rubber gloves. The grubby kitchen is small;
     barely room for four people to move around in. The
     photographer exits:

                          PHOTOGRAPHER
                Bon appetit.

     The only light is a murky green illumination from the
     ceiling.

     The light bathes an OBESE MAN who is slumped forward in a
     kitchen chair, face-down-dead in a plate of spaghetti.

     The sizable kitchen table's green tablecloth is covered with
     soiled paper plates. The plates hold bits of half-eaten
     sandwiches, potatoes, donuts and other junk-food remnants.
                                                        12.

Mills and Somerset turn on their flashlights. Mills points
his at the green bulb above. Aluminum foil has been wrapped
around the bulb to focus the light on the corpse.

Somerset sweeps the room with his flashlight. He goes to
the body and kneels beside it. There's a rope tied around
the man's wide gut. Mills comes to stand beside Somerset.

                    MILLS
          I guess that makes it homicide.

Somerset crouches lower, uses a pen to lift one of the dead
man's pants cuffs. Rope is tied around the purplish ankle.

Mills examines the knots behind the chair's back.   Shines
his flashlight on the man's belly.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          Still, he could have tied himself
          in. To make it look like murder.

Somerset isn't listening, focused on the corpse.    He studies
the man's head and neck without touching.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          I don't see any blood or bruises
          yet. No wounds. You see anything?

                    SOMERSET
              (irritated)
          Not yet.

Somerset stands, points his flashlight: the obese man's
stiff hands are clutching utensils. A knife in the left
hand, a fork sticking straight up in the right with a hunk
of meat hanging skewered. Cockroaches swarm.

Mills turns to the sink and stove. Each burner of the stove
has a used pot or pan on it. There's food slopped
everywhere.

                    MILLS
          I saw a guy once... committed
          suicide, but he wanted to make sure
          his family could collect insurance
          money, right?

Somerset walks to the room's only window. The window has
been painted over with black paint. he touches the window
with his pinkie finger. The paint is still wet.

Mills goes to a trash can by the refrigerator. The trash
can is full to the brim with empty food containers.
                                                      13.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          So, this guy took this big knife...
          and he held it behind him, put the
          tip of it in his back, and he ran
          backwards into the wall. Cause, he
          thought it was going to look like
          someone stabbed him in the back.

Mills opens the refrigerator.    It's nearly empty.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          Except, he poked a big fucking hole
          in the dry wall when he did it.

                    SOMERSET
          If you could... spare me the
          anecdotes for now. Leave the
          refrigerator open for the light.

                    MILLS
              (sarcastic)
          Oh, forgive me. I thought we had
          this male-bonding thing going. My
          mistake.

Somerset looks at the floor, deep in thought. His
flashlight beam follows a trail of dripped sauces, soups and
bits of food running from the stove to the table.

                    SOMERSET
          What do you smell?     Other than him,
          and all the food.

                    MILLS
              (sniffs)
          I don't know... there's something.

Somerset goes close to the table, then leans to peer under.

                      SOMERSET
          A bucket.

Somerset points the flashlight and Mills crouches, pulls up
the tablecloth on his side of the table. Two large dead
rats lay on the floor beside a metal bucket.

Mills grimaces, slides under the table, careful to avoid the
rats. He looks in the bucket. He leans back, baffled.

                    MILLS
          It's vomit.

He looks at Somerset under the table.
                                                        14.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          It's a bucket of vomit.

                    SOMERSET
          Is there any blood in it?

                    MILLS
          Can't tell by looking.

Somerset stands, perplexed, stares at the dead man. There
is a knock at the door. The detectives look to DOCTOR
THOMAS O'NEILL, 52, the medical examiner. O'Neill is a
frumpy man, seems a bit gone, looking at the green bulb.

                    O'NEILL
          Mood lighting. Very sixties.

He drops his bag on the floor, sorts through the contents.

                    MILLS
              (to Somerset)
          You think he was poisoned?

Mills goes to the trash can, pokes the garbage with a
pencil.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          And, those rats there somehow ate
          the poison off the floor?

                    SOMERSET
          Guessing this early is useless.

                    O'NEILL
          You girls have got the forensics
          guys out there chompin' at the bit.
          Don't know if we'll all fit in here
          though.

Mills continues searching the garbage.

                    MILLS
          There's room. Light's the problem.

                    SOMERSET
          Well, three is certainly a crowd in
          here. And, with four, someone's
          bound to be stepping on evidence.
              (pause)
          Detective Mills, go help the
          officers question the neighbors.
                                                           15.

                          MILLS
                    (not pleased)
                Thanks, but no thanks.   I'll stay
                on this.

     Somerset watches O'Neill at the corpse. O'Neill points a
     thin flashlight with his mouth, his hands free for the
     examination.

                           SOMERSET
                     (not looking up)
                Send one forensic in on your way
                out.

     Mills is pissed. He lifts his flashlight to shine it on the
     side of Somerset's face.

     A moment passes. Somerset looks at Mills, light shining
     directly in Somerset's eyes. A longer moment. Mills
     switches the light off. He leaves.

     O'Neill unceremoniously places both hands on the dead man's
     head, lifts the swollen visage from the spaghetti.

                          O'NEILL
                He is dead.

19   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, BASEMENT GYM -- DAY                19

     THWACK, THWACK... THWACK. Mills punches the heavy bag with
     hard, quick punches. Sweat drips off his face. He's in
     work- out clothing, a bundle of nerves wearing boxing
     gloves.

     The walls are covered in mirrors. Other cops watch Mills as
     they pass, checking out the new kid. Mills keeps punching,
     skillfully.

     He stops when he sees Somerset reflected in one of the
     mirrors. Somerset walks over, carrying a pizza box with
     paper piled on top. He sits on a near bench, takes out a
     cigarette.

                          SOMERSET
                Pizza and paperwork, Detective
                Mills.

                          MILLS
                We need to chat.

20   INT.   BASEMENT GYM, BOXING RING -- DAY                   20

     Mills opens a door and enters with Somerset behind. They
     are alone. Chairs face an old, limp-roped boxing ring.
                                                        16.

Practice pads hang from pegs on a wall.    Mills clasps a pair
in his gloves, offers them to Somerset.

                       SOMERSET
          No.

                    MILLS
          You just hold them up.    I do all
          the work.

Somerset takes the pads reluctantly, puts them on. He still
has the un-lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Mills
climbs into the ring. He holds the ropes open for Somerset,
waits.

Somerset doesn't want to do this, but he climbs up.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          You've seen my files... seen the
          things I've done?

                     SOMERSET
          Yes.   Impressive work.

Mills motions to Somerset and Somerset holds up the practice
pads. Mills starts working them, lightly, warming up.

THWACK... THWACK...

                    MILLS
          So, what's your problem? I've done
          my time on door-to-doors, and
          walking a beat.

                       SOMERSET
          I know it.     That doesn't mean...

                    MILLS
          I did all that shit a long time
          ago.

THWACK... THWACK... Somerset's very stiff, uncomfortable.

                    SOMERSET
          I made a decision, because I have
          to worry about the integrity of the
          scene.

                    MILLS
          That's bullshit.
                                                               17.

                          SOMERSET
                When I'm on scene, I'm not going to
                worry whether you think you're
                getting enough time on the playing
                field. I'm there to do the work.

     Mills punches a little more aggressively. Somerset's
     backing, flinching, keeping the pads high. THWACK...
     THWACK... THWACK...

                          MILLS
                The badge in my pocket says
                "detective," just like yours. I've
                been Homicide for four and a half
                years.

                          SOMERSET
                You've worked Homicide for four
                years, or for five years... Don't
                count the half-years, unless you
                want to sound like a rookie.

     Mills unloads a mighty wallop and one practice pad recoils
     into Somerset's face, knocks Somerset on his ass.

                           MILLS
                Oops.   My hand slipped.

     Mills walks, climbs out of the ring.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                You fucked me over today, and you
                know it. You know it.

     Somerset looks at the broken cigarette in his mouth. He
     contains his anger. He seems to realize Mills has a point.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                Just don't jerk me off. That's all
                I ask. It's not much. Don't jerk
                me off.
                    (pause)
                Please, do me the favor of
                remembering that.

     Mills exits.   Somerset spits out the broken cigarette.

21   INT.   URBAN SCHOOL, OFFICE -- DAY                          21

     Tracy looks out a window from behind steel bars.

     Below her, young children play in a playground. They're
     playing hop-scotch, throwing balls, chasing each other. The
     swing sets are broken. The handball wall is graffitied.
                                                              18.

                          WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
                I'm sorry, Mrs. Mills. We don't
                have anything right now.

     Tracy looks away from the window to the haggard WOMAN.    The
     school's office is ill-equipped, busy, disorganized.

                          WOMAN (CONT)
                We'll try to give you a call if we
                need substitutes next month.

                             TRACY
                Thank you.

     Tracy looks back at the playground: on the other side of a
     chain-link fence, a butcher in a bloody apron walks down the
     ramp of a freezer truck. he carries a big, whole,
     slaughtered pig on his shoulder.

     The pig's head flops as the butcher walks. Some children
     stop their games and run to watch the man and the pig corpse
     pass.

22   INT.   UNDERGROUND SUBWAY TRAIN -- DAY                     22

     The train clatters through a tunnel, packed full, WHEELS
     SCREECHING. The lights go on and off. Passengers read
     tabloids, stare at their feet, study advertisements on the
     walls; anything to avoid making eye-contact with others.

     All races, creeds and colors; all ugly, forlorn human
     beings. Tracy stands fatigued, holding a handrail.

     A bag-lady, crusted with dirt, reeking, pushes her way
     through the crowd. A man presses against Tracy in an
     attempt to let the bag-lady pass. Tracy switches hands on
     the rail, turns sideways to make room. She looks down.

     On one seat, a man, quite normal looking, sits holding a
     porno magazine, THREE-WAY FUCK, in one hand. His other hand
     is in his pocket. He's obviously masturbating himself in
     his pants. No one else notices or seems to care.

     Tracy looks away, disgusted. She closes her eyes. The
     train's wheels SCREECH LOUDER as the train takes a curve.

23   INT.   INDOOR FRUIT STAND -- NIGHT                         23

     The front and one side of the shop are entirely open to the
     busy sidewalk and street. A transparent plastic canopy
     frames the entrance. A STRANGE MAN, 20, stands at the edge
     of the canopy. He wears a stained sweatsuit outfit and hums
     a song, oblivious.
                                                        19.

Tracy and Mills look together over the piles of fruits and
vegetables piled on wooden stands which form tight aisles.

                    MILLS
          It was okay. I mean... it was
          certainly better than yesterday.   I
          think Somerset and I came to a
          small understanding...

Mills holds his thumb and forefinger about a quarter of an
inch apart to illustrate.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          ...about this big.

                    TRACY
          He sounds interesting.

                    MILLS
          He is that, if nothing else.

Mills throws some oranges in the basket hanging from Tracy's
arm. He goes to check out the carrots. Tracy looks up from
heads of lettuce to the strange man at the entrance.

The strange man hums on, rocking back and forth slowly, his
eyes glassy. Customers come and go, paying him no mind.

Mills notices Tracy's interest.    He keeps comparing carrots.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          We started a big homicide case
          today. I'll spare you the grisly
          details.

The strange man suddenly stops humming and looks into the
store with a crooked grin.

                    STRANGE MAN
          Name that tune? Anybody name that
          tune? Name that tune...

The man keeps repeating this, over and over, still ignored.

                    TRACY
          It's... it's like they emptied all
          the insane asylums into the
          streets.

She looks back to the heads of lettuce.

                    TRACY (CONT)
          That's what it's like. Like they
          just gave up, and let everyone out.
                                                       20.

Mills nods, his back to Tracy.

                    TRACY (CONT)
          There are a lot of frightening
          people in this city.

                    MILLS
          There are a lot of frightening
          people in the world.

Tracy looks again to the strange man.

                    STRANGE MAN
          Name that tune? Anybody name that
          tune?

                    TRACY
          It seems worse than Philadelphia,
          because everything is pushed right
          up against you. In your face.

Mills edges past Tracy towards the front of the store, tries
to be pleasant.

                     MILLS
          Listen, honey. I don't want to
          fight tonight. Okay? Can we just
          go one night without fighting about
          something?

He looks over apples, thinks that's the end of that.

                    TRACY
          I'm not trying to start a fight.
              (pause)
          How am I trying to start a fight?

                    MILLS
          We're here now. Okay. Are we
          supposed to pack it all in and go
          back? How are we going to do that?

                    TRACY
          Do I have to act like I love this
          place? Is that what a "good wife"
          would do?

                     MILLS
               (doleful)
          There's a lot of pressure on me...
          I...
                                                            21.

                          TRACY
                And, there's a lot of pressure on
                me. I'm here with you.

                           MILLS
                I know.   I know...

     Mills steps towards the open air entrance. He's watching
     something. The strange man is still heard offscreen.

     Tracy reaches to a high wooden shelf, trying to reach a bag
     of rice, her back to Mills.

                          TRACY
                I'm not going to close my eyes and
                block everything out, David. I'm
                not going to act like you delivered
                us to some sort of paradise. I
                can't...

     She gets the rice and turns. Mills is not there. She
     sighs, angry, looks around. She walks towards the entrance
     and sees him --

24   TRACY'S P.O.V. -- THE STREET                             24

     In front of the stand, Mills has run to the corner of the
     sidewalk to help a very old woman with a cane. The elderly
     woman smiles up at Mills, takes his arm as he helps her off
     the curb and across the street. He talks to her as they go.

25   INT.   INDOOR FRUIT STAND -- NIGHT                       25

     Tracy's anger fades. She shakes her head, touched, amazed
     by the plain boy scoutishness of her husband.

26   TRACY'S P.O.V. -- THE STREET                             26

     Mills deposits the old woman on the other side. She thanks
     him, patting him on the cheek. Mills starts back towards
     the fruit stand, proud of himself. A car screeches to a
     halt, just missing him. The driver leans out the window,
     yelling at Mills. Mills kicks the side of the car.

                          MILLS
                Fuck you.
                    (as car leaves)
                Fuck you, you son of a bitch!   I'm
                walking here.

27   INT.   INDOOR FRUIT STAND -- NIGHT                       27

     Tracy rolls her eyes in amused disappointment.   She sighs
     again.
                                                            22.

     Mills passes the babbling strange man, comes up to Tracy.

                          MILLS
                I'm sorry... I couldn't pass it up.
                I never had a chance to actually do
                that. But, we can start the
                argument right back up where we
                left off, right?

     Tracy looks at him, charmed, no longer willing to fight.

                          MILLS
                    (playing dumb)
                What?

     Tracy wraps an arm around Mills and kisses him.   He holds
     her.

                          STRANGE MAN
                That was the theme from tv's Mod
                Squad. I'm surprised nobody got
                that one.

     The strange man starts humming a new tune. An old man tries
     to get through the aisle where Mills and Tracy are kissing.

                          OLD MAN
                    (infuriated)
                Excuse me. Excuse me!

28   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- NIGHT                  28

     A small transistor RADIO PLAYS on the bedside table.

     Mills and Tracy are in bed, making love under the sheets.
     They move rhythmically, kissing, sweating hard.

     Mills holds Tracy's hair in his hands, pulls her head back
     as she gasps and he thrusts his entire body against hers.

     Mills' hair is soaked. He is anything but mellow as a
     lover, quickening while Tracy twists underneath him. Tracy
     holds tight to the back of his neck with one hand.

     Finally, Mills pushes himself up on his arms, holding his
     head down against Tracy's chest. Holds for a long moment,
     till he is spent and lowers himself against her, into her
     arms. He rests a long time. She kisses his forehead,
     keeping her eyes closed.

     Finally, Mills rolls off her, gets behind her and wraps the
     both of them in the sheets. He folds himself against her,
     and they stay that way.
                                                            23.

                             TRACY
                Goodnight.

                             MILLS
                Goodnight.

     After a long moment, Mills shifts back, sits up. Tracy
     looks over her shoulder at him as he takes a towel off a
     chair and stands. Mills wraps the towel around his waist.

     He leans over to give Tracy a last kiss. She watches him
     leave the room. She is about to say something, but does
     not. A light comes on in the other room, leaking through
     the door.

29   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT              29

     Mills sits down at his desk. He starts looking through
     police paperwork. The RADIO in the other room goes OFF in
     mid song.

30   INSERT -- TITLE CARD                                       30

     TUESDAY

31   INT.   AUTOPSY ROOM -- EARLY MORNING                       31

     The room is cold, clean. Stainless steel. White tile.
     Many pathologists work at slabs. Mills and Somerset are
     with DOCTOR SANTIAGO, 35, who stands over the mostly
     dissected obese corpse.

                          SANTIAGO
                If you take a look here, buddies...
                I can tell you, it was not a
                poison. If you can see...

     I have emptied all of everything out of the stomach.   But,
     look at it, now that I took away the liver.

     Santiago reaches into the belly of the cavernous corpse.
     Mills moves closer beside Somerset, but not too close,
     trying to hide his disgust. We hear squashy sounds as
     Santiago works, but we don't see in.

                           SANTIAGO (CONT)
                I move the lungs over. First, see
                how big this fat son-of-a-bitch
                stomach is. Now... here is the
                strange thing, on the stomach.
                Stretches.
                    (pointing)
                And, here is it distended.
                                                         24.

          Look at the size of that, because
          of the foods.

                    MILLS
          I can see what you're pointing
          at...

                    SANTIAGO
          On the stomach. The lines of
          distention.

Somerset's looking in, not believing what he sees.

                    SOMERSET
          Doctor, are you saying this man...
          ate till he burst?

                    SANTIAGO
          Yes, well, he didn't actually
          burst. He was bleeding, inside of
          himself. And, there's a hemotoma on
          the outside... on the belly.

Somerset walks around the slab, looking the body over.

                    MILLS
          He died by eating?

                    SANTIAGO
          Someone punched him, or kicked him.

Somerset notices something on the partially shaved head.

He leans close to look at five or six small bruises on the
back of the dead man's head; circular bruises, some darker
than others, all about the same diameter as a dime.

                    SANTIAGO (CONT)
          Oh, and there is this here...
          something else you have to look at
          and see.

Somerset stands straight, realizes something about the
bruises.

                    SANTIAGO (CONT)
          Most of his stomach contents are in
          the lab now... but, this. I found
          these in the fat man's stomach.

Santiago looks amongst tools, buckets and jars of liquid.
He picks up a glass jar and shows it to Mills. In the jar:
many little bits of blue plastic. Like scrapings.
                                                           25.

                           MILLS
                Plastic?

     Mills gets Somerset's attention, hands him the jar.
     Somerset looks at it a long time.

                          SANTIAGO
                Why these were in a fat man's
                stomach, I don't know.

32   INT.   APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, HALLWAY -- MORNING          32

     Outside the door to the murder scene, Mills and Somerset cut
     through the RESTRICTED AREA/CRIME SCENE seal.

                          SOMERSET
                Those bruises on the back of the
                victim's head were caused by the
                muzzle of a gun.

                          MILLS
                So, the killer had him at gunpoint,
                and gave him a choice: eat, or get
                your head blown off.

33   INT.   APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, KITCHEN -- MORNING          33

     Somerset and Mills enter. Somerset takes out the jar of
     plastic scrapings, turns on the now normal light. They
     begin to search.

                          SOMERSET
                He was force-fed... till his body
                started rejecting the food. He
                literally couldn't eat another
                bite.

                          MILLS
                So, the killer held a bucket under
                him.

                          SOMERSET
                His throat was swollen from the
                effort. He was bleeding internally.
                He must have blacked out... and, if
                you're the killer, you're not going
                to want to wait around for him to
                die.

     Somerset examines the counter tops and wall. Mills gets
     down on his knees, examines the linoleum floor.
                                                              26.

                          MILLS
                You kick him, pop him like a
                fucking balloon.
                    (touches floor)
                Somerset, look here.

     Somerset gets down, holds the jar against the linoleum.

                          SOMERSET
                Same color and texture.

     They both crawl on hands and knees, study every inch of
     floor.

                          MILLS
                If this is what that is... it
                doesn't make sense. It doesn't
                figure.

                          SOMERSET
                Always look for one thing to focus
                on. There's always one singular
                thing, and it might be as small as
                a speck of dust, but find it and
                focus... till it's an exhausted
                possibility.

                          MILLS
                How are pieces of the floor going
                to get in the guy's stomach?

                          SOMERSET
                Exactly. Why would so many pieces
                be inside his stomach unless they
                were placed there intentionally?

     Somerset notices deep scratches in the linoleum, fingers the
     grooves. He takes a piece of plastic from the jar, holds it
     to the scratches, fiddles with it, fits it in. He looks up
     to see, these scratches are in front of the refrigerator.
     It looks like they were caused by the refrigerator having
     been pulled away from the wall and pushed back at some time.

34   INT.   APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, KITCHEN -- LATER MORNING     34

     We are BEHIND THE REFRIGERATOR as it is rocked back and
     forth. It's pulled away from the wall. Somerset and Mills
     strain, pull a few more feet, then release. They lean to
     look --

     The refrigerator had hidden a space on the wall where the
     dust has been cleared. In that space: a circle, smeared in
     grease, and a note taped in the center of the circle.
                                                            27.

     Somerset's BEEPER starts BEEPING.   Mills leans to read:

                          MILLS
                "Dear Detectives. Long is the way,
                and hard, that out of hell leads up
                to the light."
                    (looks at Somerset)
                This is not good.

                          SOMERSET
                Milton.

                          MILLS
                What?

                          SOMERSET
                It's a quote from a book.   Milton's
                Paradise Lost.

     Somerset takes out his beeper, looks at the LED window.    He
     looks up at Mills, like they've received very bad news.

35   INT.   LUXURY APARTMENTS, HALLWAY -- MORNING               35

     A marble hallway. A DETECTIVE, 50, nervously chewing his
     nails, quickly leads Mills and Somerset past cops and
     forensics.

                          DETECTIVE
                I said to myself, I'm not going to
                screw around with this. Nope.
                Fuck that. It's still pretty fresh
                meat. I called the medical
                examiner... he's coming.
                    (stops at door)
                When I got to it, I knew. As soon
                as I laid eyes on it, I knew...

     The detective opens the door.   FOLLOW Somerset and Mills --

36   INT.                                                      36
            LUXURY APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, LIVING ROOM -- MORNING

     Gross, deep yellow light comes through the only window with
     its blinds up. The light anoints a NUDE MAN displayed,
     dead.

                          DETECTIVE (O.S.)
                ...this is your guy who did this.

     The nude dead man's legs are folded under him as if he were
     kneeling, and he's bent forward, chin on the floor. His
     eyes are open, his arms outstretched before him. Mills and
     Somerset walk to either side of the man.
                                                            28.

     The detective closes the door, bites his thumbnail.   The
     apartment is on a high floor, so it's quiet.

     Somerset sees the window has been covered with a sheet of
     yellow gel, stapled in place to produce the colored light.

     Mills examines the corpse. There's a chair one foot behind
     the nude man. It's an elegant leather chair, drenched in
     blood. There's a carving knife on the carpet in the middle
     of a huge stain of blood under the chair. Mills looks at
     pieces of cut rope on the floor behind the chair. The rope
     is knotted.

     Somerset crouches beside the body. There's a big piece of
     flesh missing from the man's left side, as if the love-
     handle had been lopped off. Hundreds of pennies lie
     scattered under and around the man. The man's hands are
     palms up, fingers wrapped around more pennies.

     Mills walks over to examine a scale on the floor between the
     corpse and the doorway. It's an old-fashioned counter-
     balance scale with two suspended dishes on a see-saw arm.
     In the high dish: the hunk of flesh missing from the man's
     side. In the low dish: a one pound counterweight.

                          MILLS
                    (to Somerset)
                A pound of flesh.

     Somerset stands and walks backwards to view the entire scene
     from near the door.

     He looks worried, vaguely frightened. He turns his head,
     looks to a far wall. Beside a big, abstract, constructivist
     painting, there's a note pinned up inside a triangular smear
     of blood.

37   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, CAPTAIN'S OFFICE -- EARLY EVENING    37

     An office full of pictures, books and mugsheets, yet it is
     meticulously well kept. The CAPTAIN, 50, sits at his tidy
     desk. He's dressed conservatively. Mills and Somerset sit
     before him. Somerset reads from a photocopy of the note they
     just found.

                          SOMERSET
                    (reading)
                "One pound of flesh, no more no
                less. No cartilage, no bone, but
                only flesh. This task done, and he
                would go free."
                                                      29.

The captain is a calm man, but whenever not speaking,
without fail, he clenches his jaw repeatedly, causing the
muscles in his neck and jaw to pulse.

Somerset stands, paces.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          This victim, Mr. Gold, was tied
          down nude, holding a carving knife.
          And he was given a long time... to
          decide. Where to make the first
          cut? There's a gun to your head...
          but, what part or parts of your
          body are expendable?

Mills sits back in his chair, arms crossed, seems anxious,
doesn't know why they're here.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          Mr. Gold tried for the whole pound
          at once, his love handle. But, he
          went into shock. Bled to death.

                    CAPTAIN
          What is the point, Somerset?

                    SOMERSET
          Look at both killings together.
          This murderer is an artist.

                       CAPTAIN
          An artist?

                    SOMERSET
          He uses colors and symbols. He
          positions the bodies after death,
          so he's working with composition.
          It's been premeditated so
          meticulously... and this is just
          the beginning.

                    CAPTAIN
          Wrong. For all we know, we might
          never hear from him again, and I
          don't want that kind of talk
          floating around.

Somerset shakes his head "no."

                    SOMERSET
          The rats and the pennies. The
          circle and the triangle on the
          wall.
                                                        30.

          There's something about them...
          these murders mean something.

                        CAPTAIN
          So?   What?

Somerset has no answer.     The captain is irked, jaw
clenching.

                    CAPTAIN (CONT)
              (to Mills)
          You with him, or you just here to
          watch?

                    MILLS
          This is his stuff, captain. I've
          been out in the cold most of the
          day.

                    CAPTAIN
              (to Somerset)
          Always working overtime up in that
          big brain of yours, huh? Always
          cooking.

                    SOMERSET
          I need you to know... I want us
          reassigned. We're declining this
          case.

                    MILLS
              (sits up, angry)
          What?!

                    CAPTAIN
          What the hell are you talking
          about?

                    SOMERSET
          This cannot be my last duty here.
          It's going to go on and on.

                    CAPTAIN
          You've left unfinished business
          before.

                    SOMERSET
          Everything else was taken as close
          to a conclusion as humanly
          possible.

                    MILLS
          Can I just say something?
                                                            31.

                           SOMERSET
                 Also... I don't think this should
                 be Mills' first case.

                           MILLS
                 This is not my first case,
                 fuckhead!

                           CAPTAIN
                 I don't have anyone else to give
                 this to, Somerset. And nobody's
                 going to swap with you.

                           MILLS
                 Give it to me, then. There's
                 nothing that says I have to fly
                 with him.

     The captain considers this.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 If Somerset wants out, fuck him.

                           SOMERSET
                 It would be too much for him, too
                 soon.

                           MILLS
                     (to captain)
                 Could we talk about this in
                 private?

     The captain looks at Somerset, then at Mills.

                           CAPTAIN
                 That's not necessary.   You're in.

                           MILLS
                 Thank you, sir.

                           CAPTAIN
                 Start picking up the pieces. I'll
                 shuffle some paper and try to get
                 you a new partner.

     Mills stands. Somerset will not look him in the eye.   Mills
     leaves, slams the door. Somerset seems deflated.

                           CAPTAIN (CONT)
                 You win, Somerset. You're out.

38   INSERT -- TITLE CARD                                     38

     WEDNESDAY
                                                           32.

39   EXT.   CITY STREET -- MORNING                           39

     A vendor lays out a pile of tabloid newspapers at his busy
     newsstand. The headline: SECOND BIZARRE MURDER!, in huge
     print.

     The vendor lays out another tabloid pile. Headline: "GIVE
     ME MY POUND OF FLESH," SAYS BLOODTHRISTY KILLER, in big, red
     letters. The vendor places a third pile beside the others:
     SICKENING

40   MURDERS - EXCLUSIVE DETAILS INSIDE!!!                   40

41   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, SOMERSET'S OFFICE -- MORNING     41

     Old office. Moving boxes on the floor. The single window
     faces a billboard. Somerset works on a manual typewriter.
     He types hunt-and-peck, slowly. His paperwork is on the
     desk in two sloppy piles. A jarring SOUND is HEARD
     OFFSCREEN, like fingers on a blackboard. Somerset looks up,
     irritated.

     A WORKMAN is working at the open door, holding the source of
     the sound, a razor blade he's using to scrape the words
     DETECTIVE SOMERSET off the door's window.

                          WORKMAN
                Sorry.

     Somerset turns back to typing. The captain steps in, looks
     at the workman, then drops more papers on Somerset's desk.

     As always, the neatly groomed captain clenches his jaw. He
     looks around. Two of boxes on the floor have DETECTIVE
     MILLS written across them. The captain picks one up, puts
     it on top of the other. He sits, watching Somerset, starts
     straightening the forms on the desk.

                          CAPTAIN
                What are you going to do with
                yourself out there, Somerset?

                          SOMERSET
                I'll get a job. Maybe on a farm.
                I'll fix up my house.

                          CAPTAIN
                Can't you feel it yet?
                    (pause)
                Can't you feel that feeling... that
                you won't be special anymore?
                                                          33.

                    SOMERSET
              (lying)
          I don't know what you mean.

                      CAPTAIN
          You know.

Somerset reclines, looks at the captain.

                    SOMERSET
          Did you read in the paper today,
          about the man who took his dog for
          a walk? And how he was mugged?
          And, his wallet was taken, and his
          watch. Then, while he was still
          lying unconscious, his attacker
          stabbed him with a knife in both
          eyes. It happened last night. Not
          far from here.

                      CAPTAIN
          I heard.

                    SOMERSET
          I have no understanding of this
          place.

                    CAPTAIN
          It's always been like this.

Somerset saddles up to the typewriter.   Hunt-and-peck.

                     SOMERSET
          Yes.   You're absolutely right.

The captain lays the paperwork down in two neat stacks.

                    CAPTAIN
          You were made for this work,
          Somerset. I can't believe you're
          going to trade it all in for a tool
          belt and a fishing rod. But, I
          guess I'm wrong.

The captain leaves. Somerset looks up now that the
captain's gone. He grabs the paper piles and ruffles them
back to their disheveled state. He looks at the workman.

The workman is looking at Somerset, has a rag in his hand to
remove the last remnants of Somerset's name.

                    SOMERSET
              (angrily)
          Put a little elbow grease into it!
                                                               34.

     The workman is startled, continues his work.

42   INT.   LUXURY APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, LIVING ROOM -- DAY     42

     The grandly furnished apartment where the second murder took
     place has been dusted for prints and searched.

     Two female forensics are at work.

43   INT.   LUXURY APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, MASTER BEDROOM -- DAY43

     Mills is seated in front of a long writing desk with many
     drawers. All the drawers are open. Mills looks through
     letters and stationary. Nothing of use. He tosses the pile
     back.

     He sits back, frustrated, yanks off one rubber glove, looks
     around the room. Books have been taken off their shelves,
     the bed has been stripped. The room has been given the once
     over.

     The victim's family photographs hang in expensive frames on
     one wall. There are at least thirty photos of various
     sizes: ancestors, sons and daughters, grandchildren and
     friends. An over-weight forensic, CHRIS, 35, leans in
     through the doorway.

     Mills looks up and Chris shakes his head glumly.

                          MILLS
                He must have left us another puzzle
                to solve... somewhere.

                          CHRIS
                We'll keep looking, but we're
                running out of possibilities.

     Chris leaves and Mills stands to stretch. Something catches
     Mills' eye. He walks over to the door, curious. At the
     base of the open door, there's a ball of paper wedged under
     to act as a doorjamb. Mills puts his glove back on, pulls
     the ball out.

     He uncrumples the paper as the door slowly swings shut. The
     page has a drawing on it, of the sun with waves of heat at
     its edges. There is a single eye in the center of the sun.

     An arrow is drawn in dried blood on the back of the closing
     door. Mills notices this and pushes the door closed.

     The blood arrow points to the side and up, seems to be
     pointing to the photo gallery wall. Mills goes to examine
     the photos.
                                                               35.

     His eyes search each photo... one by one... till he sees it:

                            MILLS
                Christ...

     A framed photo of a falsely pretty, middle-aged woman
     smiling and wearing pearls. Under the glass, on the photo
     itself, circles have been drawn in blood around the woman's
     eyes.

44   EXT.   CITY STREETS, DOWNTOWN -- NIGHT                      44

     An assault on the senses. Crowded streets and sidewalks.
     On every corner, in every doorway, on every stairwell --
     freaks, junkies, punks, leather boys and motorcycle girls.
     A few tourists wander in the mix, heedful of the dangers
     around them. Buildings border narrowly.

     Somerset walks against the stream.   He carries a file.

     CAR HORNS HOWL. MUSIC BLASTS from the entrances of clubs.
     REGGAE from one club is soon OVERTAKEN by RAP from a second
     story window. TECHNO-POP blasts from the tattoo parlor.

     Somerset does not like this place, views it with disdain.
     He walks to avoid two men fighting on the ground. The men
     are pulling hair and pounding each other idiotically.

     Somerset takes a cigarette from a full pack, lights it as he
     crosses through the traffic jam in the street. A VAGRANT
     steps up with his hand out.

                          VAGRANT
                Spare me a cigarette, money-grip?
                Spare me a cigarette?

                           SOMERSET
                Sorry.   Last one.

     He walks on.   We BEGIN to HEAR JAZZ MUSIC.

45   INT.   JAZZ CLUB -- NIGHT                                   45

     A club at capacity. The JAZZ MUSIC CONTINUES like a slow,
     cool breeze from a JAZZ TRIO on a platform.

     The air is thick with smoke. Yuppies sit elbow to elbow
     with the last members of the beat generation. Everyone's
     drinking beer, smoking pot.

     Somerset crosses the club, looking for someone. He takes a
     tissue from his pocket, rips pieces off and jams the pieces
     in his ears.
                                                              36.

     At the back of the club, a major-league bouncer stands in
     front of a closed door. Somerset shows his badge and the
     bouncer steps aside with reservation.

46   INT.   NARROW STAIRWELL -- NIGHT                           46

     The walls are black. Somerset opens the door, enters, walks
     down the long flight of stairs. As Somerset descends, the
     JAZZ MUSIC FADES and is ENGULFED by the sound of SPEED
     METAL.

     DEAFENING.

     At the bottom, Somerset opens another door.     He enters --

47   INT.   UNDERGROUND ART GALLERY -- NIGHT                    47

     A narrow room. SPEED METAL is even LOUDER. This is a
     private art party. The people are lizard-like, pale. Men
     and women priding themselves on their gauntness.

     Somerset passes canvases on the walls. Pointlessly abstract
     paintings. Splatters, smears and blobs of color.

     Party-people stand in front of these "works," engrossed.
     Somerset slides past, not interested in the art, jamming the
     tissue further in his ears. He spots his objective.

     WILLIAM McCRACKEN, 42, stands inside a circle of admirers.
     He is dressed like a pauper, his baggy clothing stained with
     many colors of paint. He wears dark sunglasses, bored by
     the bleached-blonde girl whispering in his ear.

     Somerset worms his way to stand in front of William.     The
     party- goers turn their attention to this intrusion.

     William looks up, pushes the girl away. He takes off his
     sunglasses. His eyes are badly bloodshot and listless.

     He looks Somerset over... and then grins, glad to see him.

48   INT.   MILL'S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT              48

     Mills stands brooding over a photocopy of the picture of the
     woman with her eyes circled in blood. He looks overworked,
     drinks coffee. His desk is swamped with files.

                            MAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
                  I have voiced the same concerns to
                  our law enforcement officials, and
                  they assure me he is of the highest
                  caliber.
                                                      37.

Mills looks to a t.v. on a table, picks up a remote,
increases the volume. On the screen, MARTIN TALBOT, 47,
source of the voice, stands before reporters. He's a
powerful presence, with a gold tooth in the front of his
mouth.

                    A REPORTER (V.O.)
              (from t.v.)
          As District Attorney, don't you
          feel some responsibility?
          Detective David Mills lacks the
          experience...

                     TALBOT (V.O.)
              (from t.v.)
          I've always said... I've always
          said, don't send a boy to do a
          man's job.

Mills is hanging on every word.

                    TALBOT (V.O.,CONT)
          But, David Mills has a sterling
          record with the Philadelphia force.
          I stand behind him one hundred
          percent.

                    MILLS
              (relieved)
          You tell 'em boss. Detective David
          Mills is a wonderful human being...

                    TALBOT (V.O.)
          However... however... let me say
          this...

Mills looks back at the television.

                    TALBOT (V.O.,CONT)
          If Detective Mills, at any point in
          this investigation... if he is not
          pulling his weight, I will be the
          first in line to pull his plug.

Mills points the remote, turns the t.v. off as reporters
crowd Talbot. Mills stares at the blank screen, dispirited.

Across the room, Tracy stands in the doorway. Mills does
not see her. He looks at the photocopy and sits at his
desk.

Tracy watches him, great concern in her sad eyes.
                                                           38.

49   INT.   WILLIAM'S STUDIO/APARTMENT -- NIGHT                49

     Somerset walks through this vast artist's studio, a
     converted warehouse space filled with canvases. It's clear
     the works at the underground art gallery were William's.
     William climbs a ladder to a loft storage space. He moves
     cautiously, like he's not quite up to the task.

                          WILLIAM
                I always figured that's the only
                reason you and I used to be
                friends. Because I was a friend of
                hers.

     William yanks a painting wrapped in dusty paper, climbs
     down.

                          WILLIAM (CONT)
                Speaking of which...

     William hands the painting to Somerset, walks to a
     director's chair facing a paint-splashed canvas on an easel.
     He is a used- up man, bound in an apathy-induced haze. He
     sits, picks up a squeeze bottle of orange paint from a table
     of supplies.

                          WILLIAM (CONT)
                I painted that about five years
                ago. I always told myself I'd give
                it to you next time I saw you.

     Somerset starts unwrapping the painting.

     William "paints," using the squeeze bottles and by flicking
     saturated brushes so that the paint flies against the
     canvas. Most times, he's not even looking at the canvas or
     colors he's using. He looks over his shoulder at Somerset.

                          WILLIAM (CONT)
                Things are different these days,
                pal. You wouldn't believe it...

     Somerset looks at the unwrapped painting and is hit by a
     swell of memories. Horribly sad memories. It's a portrait
     in oils of a pretty, red-headed woman.

     William shoots red paint with one hand, concentrates on
     lighting a filterless cigarette with the other.

                          WILLIAM (CONT)
                People buy my paintings now... they
                drive down in their BMWs and Rolls
                Royces.
                                                          39.

             It's the new money generation. I
             guess they think they're touching
             the avant-garde...

William looks at his creation, then calmly kicks the easel
over.

                       WILLIAM (CONT)
             There's another thousand dollar
             William McCracken expression of
             anarchy.

William gets up, walks across the wet canvas, leaving
footprints. He looks down at what he's done.

                       WILLIAM (CONT)
             Make that two thousand.

He laughs.    Somerset holds up the delicately rendered
portrait.

                       SOMERSET
             How is she? Have you seen her
             recently?

                       WILLIAM
             Huh... oh. No. She moved out of
             the city. Last winter. She
             married some businessman, or
             something like that.

Somerset fights the anguish this causes, puts the painting
down.

                       SOMERSET
             Good for her.
                 (pause)
             I'm leaving soon myself.   I'm
             finally getting out.

                       WILLIAM
             Yeah? What happened to the
             idealistic super-cop I used to
             know?

                       SOMERSET
             He became a realist.

William grunts, flicks his cigarette away, takes out a bag
of pills. He palms a few, notices the judgment in
Somerset's eyes.

                       WILLIAM
             Oh... sorry.
                                                           40.

     William turns his back to Somerset, pops the pills. Out of
     sight, out of mind. Somerset is disappointed, disgusted.

                          SOMERSET
                    (sarcastic)
                Not that I don't appreciate your
                recent artistic endeavors... but,
                what happened to the painter I used
                to know?

     William smiles like a dolt, laughs a little.

                          WILLIAM
                I can't remember.

50   INT.   WILLIAM'S STUDIO/APARTMENT -- LATER NIGHT        50

     Color photos of the first and second murder sit on a drawing
     table. The top photos are like establishing shots, each
     taking in the entire display the murderer created.

     William examines with Somerset looking over his shoulder.

                          WILLIAM
                Man... can I buy these from you?

                          SOMERSET
                They're not for sale.

     Somerset lays out photos of the notes, triangle and circle:

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                What is it? What's the murderer
                trying to say?

     William narrows his eyes.   Does not know.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                What picture is he painting?

                          WILLIAM
                    (figuring)
                Wait a minute...

     William has an idea. He ambles over to a row of cabinets
     where oversized art books are stacked. He hunts through a
     pile, shoves some books aside.

                          WILLIAM (CONT)
                I... I've seen things like that...

                          SOMERSET
                Where?
                                                         41.

William keeps digging, finds one book, finds another.     He
opens one as he walks back to the drawing table.

                    WILLIAM
          It's church stuff.   Christianity.

William lays a book down, finds a page. He opens it to
Somerset. There is a circle to the side of the text. It
says GLUTTONY under the circle.

Somerset creases his brow, turns the page.     William opens
another book.

                    WILLIAM (CONT)
          When it first started... Christian
          artwork was all from Bible stories.
          It was like... nobody had any
          imagination. It was all...
          standardized.

William pages through and we catch glimpses of the bizarre,
worlds of Hieronymus Bosch. Horrifying religious visions.

                    WILLIAM (O.S.,CONT)
          But, later, everyone started
          painting to tell their own
          stories... to teach lessons. Guys
          like Bosch, Bregel the elder... Van
          Eycks.

William shoves the open book to Somerset.    Somerset looks:

Seven paintings in a circular pattern showing characters
giving in to sins. Wicked, grotesque people.

Somerset turns the book to examine each painting right side
up.

                    SOMERSET (O.S.)
          The seven deadly sins.

                    WILLIAM (O.S.)
          That's what these murders remind me
          of. Paintings like these.
              (points)
          Gluttony... greed...

                    SOMERSET (O.S.)
          Envy, wrath, pride, lust and sloth.
          Seven deadly sins.

                    WILLIAM
          Amen, brother.
                                                           42.

     William goes to continue pulling other books.

                          WILLIAM (CONT)
                I can find more examples. There's
                lots of paintings like those...
                painted over hundreds of years.
                    (moves books)
                And you're right... that murderer
                is an artist.

     Somerset is chilled by all this, immersed in the Bosch book.

                          SOMERSET
                And, it's two down... five to go.

51   EXT.   CITY STREET, PORNO DISTRICT -- NIGHT             51

     A bright, tawdry intersection. Neon swirls and circuit-
     bulbs on porno theatres provide the flash. Cars, taxies,
     and barkers urging sexual indulgence from doorways provide
     the noise.

     The streets and sidewalks are crowded with lonely humans,
     mostly men, looking around, sizing up promises made on porno
     placards: FUN WITH NUDES, BIG BOOBS, NAKED DESIRE, etc. The
     usual contingent of abnormal cretins wanders in the crowd,
     looking for someone to hurt.

     MOVE through the crowds. Meet JOHN, a balding, middle-aged
     man, wearing thick glasses. There is not a single thing
     strange or unusual about his appearance. FOLLOW him as he
     walks. He's nervous, looking at the porno palaces.

     His sweaty hand clutches a Bible tight against his chest.
     He doesn't feel comfortable being here.

     John walks to a corner, waits for the light so he may cross.
     A grotesque STREET PREACHER approaches waving his own Bible.
     People walk away from him, so he confronts John.

                          PREACHER
                ...are you, Sir? Is Jesus Christ
                your Lord and Master? Do you
                believe in Him?

     John tries to ignore, traffic blocking his escape.

                          PREACHER (CONT)
                    (pleading)
                Don't ignore me. Listen to what I
                have to say. Christ can be your
                savior!
                                                           43.

                          JOHN
                    (quiet anger)
                Leave me alone.

                          PREACHER
                Think about God, sir. I can help
                you let Him into your life.

     Finally the light changes. John turns and spits in the
     preacher's face. The preacher recoils as John crosses
     quickly.

     John hurries between cars in the crosswalk. The preacher
     curses from the corner, his voice drowned out in traffic.

52   EXT.   ANOTHER CITY STREET, PORNO DISTRICT -- NIGHT        52

     People pass on the sidewalk. John is amongst them, but he
     stops, looking up at something offscreen.

     He's looking at a bright red storefront adorned with red
     neon: THE HOT HOUSE. Massage parlor. The Hot House's
     BARKER notices John's interest.

                          BARKER
                Interesting isn't it, friend? You
                like that, you like girls, then
                come on in.

     John doesn't hear the barker. Steps up to study fading
     pictures of naked women massaging happy men. Nudity.

                          BARKER (CONT)
                You'll see a lot more inside.
                You'll see a lot more than that.

     John's just looking, his face bathed in bright red light,
     the neon reflected in his thick glasses.

53   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY -- NIGHT         53

     Somerset, holding more than an armful of art books and
     novels, pounds on the apartment door. Tracy opens it with
     the chain on.

                          TRACY
                Can I help you?

     She takes a second to drink Somerset in. Somerset is
     surprised, having expected Mills. Tracy is so exquisite
     that he falters.
                                                            44.

                          SOMERSET
                Uh... I was looking for Mills.
                David, I mean.

                          TRACY
                He's not here right now.

     Somerset tries not to drop any books while he digs up his
     badge.

                          SOMERSET
                Mrs. Mills, my name is Somerset.
                If I could leave these books for
                him.

                          TRACY
                    (undoes chain)
                Please, come in.

54   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM/KITCHENETTE -- NIGHT 54

     Tracy leads Somerset into the disarray of the apartment.

                          TRACY
                David went for a walk. To clear
                his head. Oh, you can put those
                here.

                             SOMERSET
                Thank you.

     Tracy motions and Somerset puts the books on Mills' desk. He
     starts looking through one book, checking paperclipped
     pages.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                Could you tell him... tell him this
                is his reading assignment. It's
                urgent. I've marked the most
                important pages.

                          TRACY
                Would you like some coffee, or a
                drink. David should be back any
                minute.

                          SOMERSET
                I do have to get going.

     Somerset sees a medal encased in glass on the desk amongst
     pens and pencils. He picks it up: it's a medal for valor
     from the Philadelphia Police Department.
                                                       45.

                    TRACY
          At least I got to meet you. David
          has told me a lot about you.

                      SOMERSET
          Really?    Good things, I hope.

                      TRACY
          Oh, yes.    He said you were very
          smart.

                      SOMERSET
          Really?

                    TRACY
          I think he's a bit intimidated by
          you.

Somerset thinks about this, finds it hard to believe. He
goes through his pocket, pulls out a notepad and some paper
scraps.

                    SOMERSET
          I'm going to leave him a list of
          specifics. It all relates to the
          case he's on.

He lays the various scraps and receipts aside on the desk,
sits to start writing on the notepad. Tracy goes to the
kitchenette to get a chair.

                    TRACY
          You two aren't working together
          anymore. Isn't that so?

                    SOMERSET
          To be perfectly honest, Mrs.
          Mills...

                      TRACY
          Tracy.

                    SOMERSET
          Tracy. David and I weren't exactly
          what you could call fast friends.

                    TRACY
          That's too bad.

Tracy brings the chair over by the desk and sits.   Somerset
looks up from his writing.
                                                      46.

                    SOMERSET
          I doubt your husband shares that
          opinion.

Tracy nods, leaning forward, semi-conspiratorially.

                    TRACY
          You know, Somerset, David is
          very... determined. I'm sure
          you've seen, it's not likely he'll
          ever be compared to Gandhi.

                    SOMERSET
          He's a good cop. He just...

                    TRACY
          He sees police work as a crusade.
          That's what he wants it to be, and,
          that might sound naive, but he's
          made a conscious choice to be
          naive.
              (pause)
          Believe me, his heart's in the
          right place.

Somerset pauses, enchanted by her.

                    SOMERSET
          I hear you and he were high school
          sweethearts.

                    TRACY
          Yeah. Pretty hokey, huh? But,
          what girl wouldn't want the captain
          of the football team as their
          lifelong mate?

                    SOMERSET
          It's rare these days... that kind
          of commitment.

                    TRACY
          I guess so.

Tracy's smile falters a bit. Somerset notices this.   He
breaks from her spell, turns to continue writing.

                    SOMERSET
          Well... this will only take a
          minute.

                    TRACY
          Take your time.
                                                           47.

Somerset writes.   Tracy looks over the stack of books:

Titles on the spines: BOSCH, A HISTORY OF CHRISTIAN ART,
BREGEL THE ELDER, etc. Hardcover novels: DANTE'S PURGATORY
and THE CANTERBURY TALES.

Tracy stands to look at the novels on top, then sees the
pile of paper scraps from Somerset's pocket. She picks up
the piece of wallpaper with the pale red rose at its center.

                    TRACY (CONT)
          What is this?

Somerset looks up. Sees her holding the paper rose.       He
takes it, slightly self-conscious, looks at it.

                       SOMERSET
          My future.

Tracy tilts her head, looking at Somerset.

                    TRACY
          You have a strange way about you,
          Somerset... I mean in a good way...
          unusual.

Somerset doesn't know what to say.      He pockets the paper
rose.

                    TRACY (CONT)
          I apologize. I'll get out of your
          hair.

Tracy stands, takes the chair back to the kitchenette.

                     TRACY (CONT)
          It's just... it's nice to hear a
          man who talks like that. If David
          saw that paper, he'd say you're
          acting like a homosexual. That's
          how he is.

                    SOMERSET
              (mock indignation)
          Well! I guess I won't be showing
          this to him then.

                    TRACY
          I suppose not.

Somerset continues writing.       Tracy sits at the kitchenette
table, watches him.
                                                                 48.

55   INSERT -- TITLE CARD                                            55

     THURSDAY

56   EXT.   CITY MORGUE -- MORNING                                   56

     It's raining hard. Mills exits the morgue building with a
     few art books and a paper cup of coffee. He holds one art
     book over his head as he dashes through deep puddles in the
     street.

57   INT.   MILLS' CAR -- MORNING                                    57

     Mills gets in, puts his coffee on the dash and tosses the
     art books in a box. He closes the door. Alone with the
     sound of the rain. He wipes water off his face, looks at
     his tired eyes in the rearview mirror.

     He reaches in the box of books, takes out copies of The
     Canterbury Tales and Dante's Purgatory. He makes a face,
     opens Dante's Purgatory:

     -------------------------------------------------------------

     |                                     THE EARTHLY PARADISE
     |

     |-------------------------------------------------------- /\
     |

     |                                                               /
     \ |

     |                               VII The Lustful
     /____\|

     |                                                           /
     |

     |                                VI The Gluttonous
     /_______|

     |         7 TERRACES OF                                 /
     |

     |                                 V The Avaricious     /
     | |                                   and Prodigal
     /__________|

     |           PURGATION                              /
     |

     |                                                 /
     |
                                                                    49.

|                                                              /
|

|                              IV The Slothful
/______________|

|                                                          /
|

|                                                       /
|

|                                                      /
|

|                      III The Wrathful
/__________________|

|                                                  /
|

|                      II The Envious
/____________________|

|                                              /
|

|                        I The Proud
/______________________|

|                                          /
|

|                                         /
|

|                                      /               THE ISLAND
|

|                                     /
|

|                                  /                OF PURGATORY
|

|                                 /
|

|_______________________________/___________________________
__|

Mills turns to a bookmark, rests the book on the steering
wheel. He reads. He bites his lip, leaning close to the
words.
                                                              50.

     He concentrates, mouths some of the words to himself. He
     finally closes the book, shaking his head, not understanding
     anything he's reading. He starts pounding the book against
     the steering wheel with all his might.

                          MILLS
                Fucking Dante. Goddamn, poetry
                writing freak, mother-fuck...

     A figure outside the window knocks on the glass. Mills
     rolls it down. A COP in raincoat hands a wet paper bag
     through.

                          MILLS
                Good work, Officer.    Good work.

     The cop leaves as Mills quickly rolls the window up and rips
     the bag open. Inside: Cliff Notes for Dante's Purgatory and
     The Canterbury Tales.

                             MILLS
                Thank God.

58   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, SOMERSET'S OFFICE -- DAY               58

     It still rains outside. Somerset enters, stops to notice
     DETECTIVE MILLS painted on the door where his name used to
     be. He walks, sees all his belongings have been moved from
     his desk and piled on a small temporary desk in the corner.

     Somerset sits at the temporary desk, starts organizing the
     files and papers. Mills enters carrying the box of books.

                          SOMERSET
                How's it coming?

                             MILLS
                Great.

     Mills puts the box on the large desk. They both settle in,
     attending to their work. Two men, about five feet apart,
     each trying not to acknowledge the other's presence.

     Mills takes out his Cliff Notes, looks to see Somerset is
     occupied, hides them in a desk drawer.

     Somerset finishes one form, flips it and looks up.     There's
     a chalk board nailed to the wall.

     On the chalkboard:        1 gluttony(x)    5 wrath greed(x)
     6 pride sloth             7 lust envy

     The PHONE RINGS.    Both men look at it.   Phone RINGS again.
                                                               51.

                          SOMERSET
                It's your name on the door.

     Mills picks up.    Somerset returns to his work.

                          MILLS
                    (into phone)
                Detective Mills here.
                    (lowers voice)
                Honey, I asked you not to call
                unless...
                    (listens)
                What... why? Okay... okay. Hold
                on.

     Mills is confused.   He holds the phone out to Somerset.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                It's my wife.

     Somerset looks quizzical.     Mills shrugs.   Somerset takes it.

                          SOMERSET
                    (into phone)
                Hello?
                    (listens)
                Yes, well... I appreciate the
                thought, but... I...
                    (listens)
                Well, I guess I'd be delighted to.
                Thank you... goodbye.

     Somerset gets up, hangs up, puzzled.     Mills is waiting.

                           MILLS
                Well?

                          SOMERSET
                I'm invited to have a late supper
                with you and your wife. And I
                accept.

                          MILLS
                How's that?

                          SOMERSET
                    (sits back down)
                Tonight.

     Mills looks at the phone, lost.

59   INT.   MILL'S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM/KITCHENETTE -- NIGHT 59

     A record player on a moving box PLAYS QUIET MUSIC.
                                                        52.

There's a basketball game with NO VOLUME on the t.v. screen.
Tracy, Mills and Somerset eat at the kitchen table. Mills
has a beeper by his beer and occasionally fingers it
absently.

                    TRACY
          Why aren't you married, Somerset?

                     MILLS
          Tracy.   What the hell?

Somerset adjusts his napkin on his lap, thinking.

                    SOMERSET
          I was close. It just didn't
          happen.

                    TRACY
          It surprises me you're not married.
          It really does.

                    SOMERSET
          Any person who spends a significant
          amount of time with me finds me...
          disagreeable. Just ask your
          husband.

                    MILLS
          No argument.

Mills grins, but he means it. he sips beer. The
conversation lapses into long silence. Somerset
concentrates on his plate. Tracy looks at Mills, who eats
while watching the basketball game.

                    TRACY
              (to Somerset)
          How long have you lived here?

                    SOMERSET
          Too long. Much too long.
              (drinks)
          What do you think of our fair city?

                    TRACY
          You take the bad with the good, I
          suppose. It's... it's...

                    MILLS
          It takes time to settle in.

Tracy looks at Mills.   Somerset can see it is a sore
subject.
                                                        53.

                    SOMERSET
              (to Tracy)
          You'll get used to it pretty
          quickly. There are things in any
          big city that stand out at first.
          But...

A LOW RUMBLING is HEARD as plates begin to rattle and
clatter.

                    TRACY
          Subway train. It's right below us/

The dishes clatter more. Coffee cups clink against their
saucers. Tracy holds her cup to stop it, tries to act like
it is nothing, but she is clearly bothered.

                    TRACY (CONT)
          It'll go away in a minute.

They wait. The t.v. picture goes fuzzy. The RUMBLING grows
LOUDER, knocks something over in the sink. Mills continues
eating. Somerset fiddles with his food. The record player
skips, then plays on. The RUMBLING finally DIES DOWN, till
everything is normal.

                    MILLS
              (uncomfortable)
          This real estate guy... a real
          scum, brought us to see this place
          a few times. And, it was nice
          enough, and the price was right. I
          was thinking it was nothing, but I
          started to notice, he kept hurrying
          us along. I mean what could it be?
          Why would he only show it like five
          minutes at a time, before he'd
          hustle us out the door?

Mills laughs, lamely.

                    TRACY
          We found out the first night.

Somerset tries to stay straight, but he can't help laughing.

                    SOMERSET
          I'm sorry... it's a nice apartment.

He pulls himself together, but only for a moment. He can't
stop it, laughs harder, covering his mouth. Tracy and Mills
laugh.
                                                           54.

                         MILLS
                   (sighs)
               Oh, fuck.

60   INT. MILLS' APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM/KITCHENETTE -- LATER 60
     NIGHT

     The record player spins a different album, DIFFERENT MUSIC.
     Tracy's clearing the last dishes into the sink. Mills and
     Somerset have beers.

                         SOMERSET
               All television does is teach
               children that it's really cool to
               be stupid and eat candy bars all
               day.

                         TRACY
               I don't think I've ever met anyone
               who didn't have a television.

     Tracy takes a pot of coffee to the table and pours.

                         MILLS
               That's weird. It's un-American.

     Somerset shrugs.

                         MILLS (CONT)
               What about sports?

                         SOMERSET
               What about them?

     Tracy brings over a plate of cookies and puts it on the
     table.

                         MILLS
               You go to movies at least.

                         SOMERSET
               I read. Remember reading? What's
               the last book you read, Mills?

                         MILLS
               T.V. Guide.

     Mills laughs.   Burps.   he turns to Tracy.

                          MILLS (CONT)
               Excuse me.
                   (to Somerset)
                                                            55.

                I just have to say, I can't respect
                any man who's never seen Green
                Acres.

     Somerset gives a blank stare.   Tracy walks away.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                You've never seen The Odd Couple?
                The Flintstones?

                          SOMERSET
                I vaguely recall Wilma, and someone
                named... Dino.

     Across the room, Tracy turns the t.v. and the record player
     off. She goes into the bedroom, shuts the door behind her
     without a word. Somerset and Mills turn to the closed door.

     They look at each other, then sit for a time. Somerset
     drinks coffee. Mills drums his fingers on his beeper. Big
     silence.

61   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT BUILDING, STAIRWELL -- NIGHT     61

     Mills walks up the creaky stairs. He carries his briefcase,
     a six-pack and art books. Somerset follows, reading a case
     file.

                          MILLS
                We think he acted like he was
                delivering a package. The doorman
                at Mr. Gold's building says he
                doesn't even look at anyone who
                goes in anymore.

     Mills opens a door to the roof --

62   EXT.   MILLS' APARTMENT BUILDING, ROOFTOP -- NIGHT       62

     Mills and Somerset walk onto the roof. It is a spectacular
     view on all sides. Miles of city lights. Breathtaking.
     SOUNDS of the CITY reach them.

                          SOMERSET
                No connection between the two
                victims?

     Mills shakes his head, unloads what he's holding onto a
     rusty table. He sits in one of two lawn chairs. Somerset
     sits across from him.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                No witnesses of any kind?
                                                      56.

                    MILLS
          None. Which I can't understand.
          It's like this guy's invisible.

                    SOMERSET
          In this city, minding your own
          business is a perfected science.

Somerset takes a picture from the file, the drawing of the
sun with an eye at its center. He opens a book, CHRISTIAN
SYMBOLS, which is full of illustrations. He starts paging
through.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          At the precinct, Sunday nights,
          they offer a public crime
          prevention course. And, the very
          first thing they teach is that you
          should never scream "help" if
          you're in trouble. Scream "fire."
          Because people don't want to get
          caught up in anything. But, a
          fire... that's entertainment. They
          come running.

Somerset holds the books up to Mills, points to a picture of
the sun and eye, same as the drawing Mills found.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          "The Sun in Splendor with the Eye."
          It refers to God the father, and to
          Saint Thomas Aquinas.

                    MILLS
          Which saint is he?

                    SOMERSET
          Aquinas wrote a summary of
          theology, Summa Theologica. And he
          wrote about the seven deadly sins.

Mills takes the book and looks it over.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          Now, what else have you got?

                    MILLS
          Look, I appreciate being able to
          talk this out, but... it's my case.

                    SOMERSET
          So... satisfying my curiosity.   I'm
          still leaving town on Sunday.
                                                           57.

     Mills is pondering, very tired. He unlatches his briefcase,
     takes a photocopy of the photo of the falsely pretty woman
     and hands it to Somerset.

                          MILLS
                The eyes were circled.   With Mr.
                Gold's blood.

                          SOMERSET
                This is his wife?

                          MILLS
                    (nods)
                She was away on business. She got
                back the day he was killed. If
                this means she saw anything, I
                don't know what. We've questioned
                her about ten times.

                          SOMERSET
                And, if it's a threat?

                          MILLS
                We put her in a safe house.

                          SOMERSET
                This is the one thing.

                          MILLS
                I know.

63   EXT.   SLUM TENEMENTS -- NIGHT                             63

     Two twenty-story tenement buildings stand practically
     underneath the span of a bridge. The streets are littered
     with garbage. Teenagers stand in cliques in front of a
     liquor store. Cars pass slowly, CAR STEREOS PUMPING out HIP
     HOP.

     Under the bridge, in shadow, a car is parked between two
     dumpsters. The trunk is open.

64   AT THE BACK OF THE CAR                                     64

     The trunk is full of cardboard boxes which are in turn full
     of tall, orange candles. Hundreds of candles. JOHN leans
     in under the trunk's bulb, opens a leather pouch and checks
     the contents:

     A plastic bottle of prescription pills. A bottle of
     aspirin. A hypodermic needle filled with liquid. Lastly,
     many jars of baby food: STRAINED CARROTS, STRAINED SPINACH,
     CREAMED CORN, etc.
                                                           58.

65   INT.   SLUM TENEMENT BUILDING, STAIRWELL -- NIGHT       65

     John climbs the stairs holding the leather case and a closed
     shoebox. He wears clip-on sunglasses, a hat pulled low, a
     thin overcoat on his plump body.

66   INT.   SLUM TENEMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY -- NIGHT         66

     John comes from the stairwell door, looks, walks up the
     hall. The walls are graffitied. The soiled floor is wet in
     spots. ARGUMENTS and LOUD CHILDREN are HEARD from behind
     closed doors. John comes to apartment 303. He's winded from
     the climb. He takes out keys, lets himself in. Closes the
     door.

67   EXT.   MILLS' APARTMENT BUILDING, ROOFTOP -- NIGHT      67

     Somerset stands at the edge, holding the photo of Mrs. Gold.
     He puffs on a cigarette, looks out at the city lights.

                          SOMERSET
                It's like he's preaching.
                    (pause)
                The sins were used in medieval
                sermons. There were seven cardinal
                virtues, and then seven deadly
                sins, as a learning tool. The sins
                distract man from true worship.
                True faith.

     Mills is seated at the table with art books open.

     A breeze fans the pages of the books. The flipping pages
     reveal views of heaven, hell, adoration, crucifixion and
     sin.

                          MILLS
                Like in these paintings, and in
                Dante's Purgatory, right? But, in
                Purgatory, Dante and his buddy
                climb that big mountain...

                          SOMERSET
                Seven Terraces of Purgation.

                          MILLS
                Anyway... pride comes first, not
                gluttony. And in all the
                paintings, the sins are in a
                different order. I can't find a
                pattern.
                                                      59.

                    SOMERSET
          Because there's creativity in the
          mix. Consider these books as the
          murderer's inspiration. Or
          aspiration.

Somerset drops his cigarette to the empty street, watching
the glowing tip fall. He looks at the woman's circled eyes.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          He sees himself contributing to the
          body of Christian work.

                    MILLS
          He's punishing these people.

                     SOMERSET
          For all of us to see and learn
          from. These murders are like forced
          attrition.

                      MILLS
          What?    Forced what?

                    SOMERSET
          Attrition. When you regret your
          sins, but not because you love God.

                    MILLS
          Because someone's holding a gun on
          you.

Somerset thinks.   He walks from the edge to Mills.

                     SOMERSET
          When Mr. Gold's wife found the
          body, about how long was she in the
          apartment?

                    MILLS
          She didn't find it. The door to
          the apartment was open and a
          neighbor...

                    SOMERSET
          I thought you said she found the
          body. When she got back from a
          business trip.

                    MILLS
          No. She got back after you and I
          had already been there.

Somerset thinks, coming up with something.
                                                           60.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                What?

     Somerset holds up the photo of Mrs. Gold.

                          SOMERSET
                Maybe she is supposed to see
                something... she just hasn't had a
                chance to see it yet.

68   INT.   SAFE HOUSE -- NIGHT                                 68

     The room is like a bland hotel room. Mills stands beside
     MRS GOLD. He shows her photos from the murder scene. Mrs.
     Gold is crying. Somerset stands across the room.

                          MILLS
                Please, look for anything strange
                or out of place. Anything at all.

                          MRS GOLD
                I... I don't understand.   Why now?

     Mills helps her go through the photos. He is shaken
     himself, not wanting to put her through this.

                          MILLS
                I need your help if we're going to
                get the guy who killed your
                husband. If there's anything in
                these pictures...

     Mrs. Gold sobs quietly, wipes her tears.

                          MRS GOLD
                I don't see anything.

                          MILLS
                Are you absolutely sure?

                          MRS GOLD
                I can't do this now... please.

     ette to the empty street, watching the glowing tip fall.    He
     looks at the woman's circled eyes.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                He sees himself contributing to the
                body of Christian work.

                          MILLS
                He's punishing these people.
                                                           61.

                           SOMERSET
                For all of us to see and learn
                from. These murders are like forced
                attrition.

                           MILLS
                What?   Forced what?

                          SOMERSET
                Attrition. When you regret your
                sins, but not because you love God.

                          MILLS
                Because someone's holding a gun on
                you.

     Somerset thinks.   He walks from the edge to Mills.

                           SOMERSET
                When Mr. Gold's wife found the
                body, about how long was she in the
                apartment?

                          MILLS
                She didn't find it. The door to
                the apartment was open and a
                neighbor...

                          SOMERSET
                I thought you said she found the
                body. When she got back from a
                business trip.

                          MILLS
                No. She got back after you and I
                had already been there.

     Somerset thinks, coming up with something.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                What?

     Somerset holds up the photo of Mrs. Gold.

                          SOMERSET
                Maybe she is supposed to see
                something... she just hasn't had a
                chance to see it yet.

69   INT.   SAFE HOUSE -- NIGHT                              69

     The room is like a bland hotel room. Mills stands beside
     MRS GOLD. He shows her photos from the murder scene. Mrs.
     Gold is crying. Somerset stands across the room.
                                                           62.

                    MILLS
          Please, look for anything strange
          or out of place. Anything at all.

                    MRS GOLD
          I... I don't understand.    Why now?

Mills helps her go through the photos. He is shaken
himself, not wanting to put her through this.

                    MILLS
          I need your help if we're going to
          get the guy who killed your
          husband. If there's anything in
          these pictures...

Mrs. Gold sobs quietly, wipes her tears.

                    MRS GOLD
          I don't see anything.

                    MILLS
          Are you absolutely sure?

                    MRS GOLD
          I can't do this now... please.

Mills looks at Somerset.    Somerset holds other photos.

                    MILLS
          We have to show her those. There
          might be something she's missing.

Somerset looks at the photos in his hand, hesitant. These
photos show Mr. Gold's corpse, not covered in any way.

                    SOMERSET
          Have her look one last time.

                     MRS GOLD
          Wait.   Here... here's something...

                    MILLS
          What is it?

Mrs. Gold points at the constructivist painting on the wall
in one photo. The painting is an abstraction of colored
squares.

                    MRS GOLD
          This painting... in the living
          room...
                                                              63.

                           MILLS
                What?

                          MRS GOLD
                Why is it hanging upside-down?

     Mills jerks his head to look at Somerset.   Big score.

70   INT.   LUXURY APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT 70

     This is where the greed murder took place. Somerset and
     Mills are taking the constructivist painting off the wall.
     Nothing on the wall behind the painting. Blank space.

                           MILLS
                Nothing.

                          SOMERSET
                This has got to be it.

     Somerset puts the painting down, resting it on its bottom
     edge. The frame is backed by a thick sheet of brown paper.
     He points to where the wire used to be screwed into the
     frame, and to where it has been re-screwed.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                It has to be. He changed the wire
                to rehang it.

     Somerset tears along the edge of the brown paper to get to
     the space between it and the canvas. He tears out the
     entire sheet. Mills helps pull it away, but there's nothing
     there. Empty. Mills looks at both sides of the paper, then
     tosses it away.

                          MILLS
                It's nothing.

     Somerset pays the painting down, face up. He pokes his
     finger on the painted surface. Mills watches as Somerset
     kneels, takes out a credit card and presses it's edge
     against the canvas, trying to peel up some of the paint.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                Give it up. The killer didn't
                paint the fucking thing.

     Somerset pushes the painting away, stands, frustrated.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                He fucked us.
                                                              64.

     Somerset backs away from the wall, staring at the space
     where the painting hung. There is only a nail. He stares
     intently, then turns and walks out of the room.

     Mills holds his hands to his temples, furious. SOMERSET can
     be HEARD from the other room, going through drawers,
     dropping things. GLASS is HEARD BREAKING. Mills grabs a
     lamp and throws it on the floor.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                Son of a bitch!

     Somerset comes back in, holding something.    He steps over
     the lamp and goes to the blank wall space.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                What?

                          SOMERSET
                Bear with me.

     Mills watches. Somerset has a woman's make-up compact in
     hand. He opens it, uses the soft brush to begin applying the
     red rouge powder to the wall around the nail.

                          MILLS
                    (incredulous)
                Oh, yeah, sure. You got to be
                kidding.

                          SOMERSET
                Shut up and wait!

     Somerset brushes with wider strokes. He blows, leans very
     close to the wall to study the powder. Leans closer still.
     Pause.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                Call the print lab. Now.

71   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- NIGHT                   71

     Tracy is asleep with lights on.     She stirs, opens her eyes.

72   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT -- NIGHT                            72

     Tracy opens the door, enters. It's quiet. She sees Mills
     and Somerset are gone. She's all alone. Unhappy.

73   EXT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, FIRE ESCAPE -- NIGHT               73

     Through the window, we can see into the bedroom.    Tracy
     comes back from the living room.
                                                            65.

     She goes to her side of the bed, kneels. She reaches
     between the mattress and bedspring, takes out a paperback
     book she has hidden there.

     She comes to the window, opens it and climbs out onto the
     fire escape. She sits, dangles her feet through the metal
     bars. She opens the book and tries to read by the street
     light, resting her head against the railing. A WOMAN is
     HEARD SCREAMING distantly.

     Tracy looks down the empty street, unsettled.   The woman is
     not heard again.

     Tracy lays back, looks at the sky, holding herself. We can
     now see the title of the book: PREPARING FOR PARENTHOOD.
     There is a picture of a baby on the cover.

     Tracy cries, quietly.

74   INT.   LUXURY APARTMENT/CRIME SCENE, LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT 74

     A MALE FORENSIC uses a magnifying glass to study a very
     clear fingerprint in black powder on the wall.

                             FORENSIC
                Oh, boy...

                          MILLS (O.S.)
                Talk to me.

     The forensic bites his lip, still studying.

     Mills and Somerset watch the forensic who works offscreen.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                    (to Somerset)
                Listen, honestly... have you ever
                seen anything like this? Been
                involved in anything remotely like
                this?

                           SOMERSET
                No.   I have not.

                          FORENSIC (O.S.)
                Well, I can tell you this,
                detectives...

     The forensic steps down from a stool. Behind him, where the
     painting once was, there are fingerprints, clear and
     distinct. The prints have been left side by side, to form
     letters which form the words: HELP ME.
                                                              66.

                          FORENSIC (CONT)
                ...just by studying the
                underloop... these are not the
                victim's prints.

75   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, PRINT LAB -- NIGHT                     75

     Dark. A TECHNICIAN sits before an old computer. The
     computer's green screen shows fingerprints being aligned,
     compared and then rejected; whir - click - whir - click -
     whir - click. Mills and Somerset watch, bathed in the green
     glow.

                          SOMERSET
                It doesn't work for me. I can't
                believe he wants us to help him
                stop.

                          MILLS
                Who the hell knows? There's plenty
                of schizoids out there doing dirty
                deeds they don't want to do. With
                tiny voices whispering nasty things
                in their ears.

     Somerset doesn't buy it.     The technician adjusts a knob.

                          TECHNICIAN
                I've seen this baby take three days
                to finish a cycle, so you guys can
                go cross your fingers somewhere
                else.

76   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, HALLWAY -- NIGHT                       76

     Somerset and Mills come from the print lab. A janitor is
     mopping the hall. The computer is HEARD WHIRRING AND
     CLICKING onwards. Somerset sits with a groan on a couch
     outside the door. Mills flops beside him.

                          SOMERSET
                You really meant what you said to
                Mrs. Gold. You really believe
                we'll get him, don't you?

                          MILLS
                And you don't?

                          SOMERSET
                I wish I still thought like you.
                I'm so far gone from that.
                                                      67.

                    MILLS
          So, tell me what you think we're
          doing.

                    SOMERSET
          All we do is pick up the pieces.
          We take all the evidence... all the
          pictures, statements. Write
          everything down and note what time
          things happened. We take it all,
          make a nice, neat pile and file it
          away. Just in case it's ever
          needed in a courtroom.

                    MILLS
          You're unbelievable. In my entire
          life, you're the oldest man I've
          ever met.

                    SOMERSET
          I've seen even the most promising
          clues lead to dead ends. Hundreds
          of times.

                    MILLS
          I've seen the same. I'm not the
          country hick-boy you seem to think
          I am.

Somerset takes out a cigarette and lights it.

                    SOMERSET
          In this city, if all the skeletons
          came out of all the closets... if
          every un- revenged corpse were to
          suddenly rise and walk again, there
          would be no more room for the
          living.

Mills slumps back, crosses his arms, closes his eyes to
sleep.

                     MILLS
          Don't try to tell me you didn't get
          that rush tonight... that
          adrenalin. Like we were getting
          somewhere.
              (pause)
          And, don't try to tell me it was
          because you thought we found
          something that would play well in a
          courtroom.
                                                              68.

     Somerset looks at Mills, puffs the cigarette.     The computer
     is heard: whir - click - whir - click...

77   INSERT -- TITLE CARD                                       77

     FRIDAY

78   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, HALLWAY -- EARLY MORNING            78

     Our detectives are fast asleep on the couch, leaning against
     each other. People pass and look at them strangely.

                          CAPTAIN
                Wake up, Glimmer Twins.   We have a
                winner.

79   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, READY ROOM -- EARLY MORNING         79

     A windowless classroom. The captain stands in front with a
     white screen at his side. The face of a black man, 25,
     ZERO, is projected on the screen from a slide projector.

                          CAPTAIN
                His street name is Zero, as some of
                you know. His prints were found at
                the scene by Detectives Mills and
                Somerset.

     FIVE hardened POLICE OFFICERS, four men, one woman, sit in
     chairs facing the captain. They all wear bullet-proof vests
     with "POLICE" stencil-painted across them. Somerset and
     Mills sit in back, drinking coffee, still trying to wake up.

                          CAPTAIN (CONT)
                Now, Zero has a long, long history
                of mental illness. Serious
                illness. He was all over your
                television sets two years ago after
                he raped and killed a seventy-three
                year old woman. He got off, as the
                saying goes, on a technicality. So
                we watched him on the streets, and
                he went out of circulation about a
                year ago.

                          FEMALE COP
                If he disappeared, what do you want
                from us?

                          CAPTAIN
                His last place of residence is
                still in his name. A search
                warrant is being pushed through the
                court as we speak.
                                                           69.

     A red-headed cop, CALIFORNIA, 28, raises his meaty hand.

                          CALIFORNIA
                So, have the housing cops walk up
                and ring the doorbell. Problem
                solved.

     The cops laugh.   The captain clenches his jaw.

                          CAPTAIN
                Listen, California. When you go
                in, if Zero isn't home, some of his
                buddies might be house-sitting.
                And besides using, Zero deals, so,
                you will be very uninvited guests.

     There is chatter among the cops. Somerset leans to Mills
     while the captain continues the briefing.

                          SOMERSET
                Does not seem like our killer, does
                it?

                          MILLS
                You tell me. I'm new in town.

                          SOMERSET
                Zero does possess the requisite
                degree of insanity... but, he
                doesn't have the desire somehow.
                Our killer seems to have more
                purpose. More purpose than Zero
                could ever conceive of.

                          MILLS
                We'll tag along.

     Somerset wants no part of that.

                          SOMERSET
                Why would we?

                          MILLS
                Satisfy our curiosity?

80   INT.   MILLS' CAR -- MORNING                               80

     Mills drives, follows a police van. Somerset rides shotgun.
     Mills is pumped, ready. Somerset takes one Rolaids tablet
     off a fresh roll and chews it.

                          MILLS
                You ever take one?
                                                       70.

Somerset pulls out his gun, checks the load.

                     SOMERSET
           No. Never in twenty-four years. I
           took my gun out only five times
           with the actual intention of using
           it. I never fired it. Not once.

                     MILLS
           I pulled it once, fired it once.    I
           never took a bullet.

                     SOMERSET
           And?

Mills turns a corner, tires screeching.

                     MILLS
           It was my first one of these. We
           were a secondary unit, in vice. I
           was pretty shaky going in. When we
           busted the door, looking for a
           junkie, the fucking guy opened
           fire. One cop was hit in the arm.
           He went flying... like in slow
           motion.
               (pause)
           I remember riding in the ambulance.
           His arm was like... a piece of
           meat. I thought, it's just his
           arm. But, he bled to death right
           there anyway.

A pause.   Somerset opens the window, feels the air on his
face.

                     SOMERSET
           How did the fire-fight end?

                     MILLS
           Well, I was doing really good in
           Philly up till then. Lots of
           simple busts. I've always had this
           weird luck... but, this was wild.
               (pause)
           I got that fuck with one shot...
           right between the eyes. And the
           next week, the mayor's pinning a
           medal on me. Picture in the paper,
           the whole nine yards.

                     SOMERSET
           How was it?
                                                           71.

                          MILLS
                I expected it to be bad, because I
                heard about other guys. You
                know... I took a human life. But,
                I slept like a baby that night.

     Somerset eats another antacid.

                          SOMERSET
                I think Hemingway wrote
                somewhere... I can't remember
                where, but he wrote that, in order
                to live in a city, you have to have
                the ability to kill. I think he
                meant you truly must be able to do
                it, not just faking it, to survive.

                          MILLS
                Sounds like he knew what he was
                talking about.

81   INT.   SLUM TENEMENT BUILDING, STAIRWELL -- MORNING     81

     Crack vials and hypodermic needles crunch under heavy boots.

     The five cops from the briefing, fully geared up, rifles and
     handguns held, move quickly up the stairs, single-file.
     Somerset and Mills follow, guns out. Somerset is sweating
     bullets. Mills is juiced.

82   INT.   SLUM TENEMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY -- MORNING       82

     The cops enter the dank hallway, the same hall we saw John
     in before. They move cautiously, stepping over a drunken,
     helpless man. A door opens and a woman peeks out. The
     female cop points her gun and the woman obeys, slamming the
     door.

     California leads, steps up to apartment 303. He has a
     search warrant scotch-taped to the front of his bullet-proof
     vest.

                          CALIFORNIA
                    (to black cop)
                This is it. Give it up.

     A black cop hoists a battering ram. The other cops get on
     both sides of the door. Mills moves front. Somerset hangs
     back.

                           CALIFORNIA (CONT)
                Police!!   Open the door!
                                                              72.

     The black cop brings the ram forward with a splintering
     thud. The door flies open. The cops storm in.

83   INT.   SLUM APARTMENT, MAIN ROOM -- MORNING                83

     The cops charge down a short hall into this incredibly dusty
     room. A bed sits against a far wall. Mills and California
     move up to the bed. Someone lies under an indigo blanket.
     Three other cops move, training their weapons on the bed.

                          CALIFORNIA
                Good morning, Sweetheart!

     A blond cop goes into another room.     Mills kicks the bed.

                          MILLS
                Get up now, motherfucker!    Now!

84   INT.   SLUM APARTMENT, ADJOINING ROOM -- MORNING           84

     The blond cop enters, gun trained, looks around in
     confusion.

     The room's tables, chairs and floor are covered with
     hundreds of colorful, plastic air fresheners.

85   INT.   SLUM APARTMENT, MAIN ROOM -- MORNING                85

     Somerset moves in, looks around. He notices the area around
     the bed, the ceiling, walls and floor, has been painted
     indigo, while the rest of the room is its original white.
     On a wall, a white sheet is pinned up with a square drawn on
     it in excrement.

                          MILLS
                I said get up, Sleepyhead!

     Mills pulls the indigo blanket off the bed, reveals the
     shriveled, sore-covered form of a black man who is
     blindfolded and tied to the bed with a thin wire wrapped
     time and time again around the bed. Tubes lead from the
     stained loincloth around the man's waist and snake under the
     bed. The victim is partially covered by what seem to be
     piles of black spaghetti.

                          CALIFORNIA
                Oh, fuck me!

     Somerset pushes past the cops who recoil from the stench.

                             MILLS
                Holy shit.
                                                         73.

                    SOMERSET
          Sloth... it's sloth.

The black cop touches the black spaghetti.     Holds a piece.

                    BLACK COP
          What the hell... those are dead
          worms.

                    CALIFORNIA
              (to Somerset)
          Check this out, dick.

California points with his gun to the end of the black man's
right arm. The hand is gone, severed at the wrist long ago.

                      MILLS
          It's him.    It's Zero.

                    SOMERSET
          Someone call an ambulance.

                    CALIFORNIA
          Someone call a hearse, more like.

The female cop has gone to the wall where the sheet is
pinned up. She pulls the sheet aside and finds: fifty-two
polaroid pictures; all pictures of Zero tied to the bed,
with a date written at the bottom of each. it is a visual
history of Zero's physical decay. The blond cop enters from
the other room.

                    BLOND COP
          What the fuck is going on?

                    MILLS
          Hey, California.   Get your people
          out.

Somerset takes out rubber gloves and puts them on.

                    CALIFORNIA
          You heard him. Hit the hall, and
          don't touch anything.

The other cops file out as Mills goes to examine the
polaroids under the sheet. Somerset replaces the sheet over
Zero's body. California stays by his side.

                    CALIFORNIA (CONT)
          It looks like he's some kind of
          friggin' wax sculpture.

Somerset places his finger along Zero's throat.
                                                         74.

                    MILLS
          Somerset, you... you better look
          here.

Mills studies the polaroids.    Somerset walks to join him.

                     MILLS (CONT)
          All pictures of Zero tied to the
          bed.
               (crouches)
          The last one's dated three days
          ago.

Somerset looks at the first photo.    In it, Zero is bound and
gagged, but he is fit, healthy.

                    SOMERSET
              (awed)
          The first photo... it's dated one
          year ago. Almost to the day.

California lifts Zero's blanket to peek under, examining
with morbid curiosity.

                       CALIFORNIA
          Mo-ther...

Mills kneels and lifts the bottom of the sheet off the
floor, finds an open shoebox. On the box: TO THE
DETECTIVES.

                    MILLS
          What's this?

California leans close to Zero's gaunt, blindfolded face.

                    CALIFORNIA
          You got what you deserved, Zero.

Somerset leans down beside Mills. Mills looks through the
shoebox. Inside are plastic, zip-lock bags. One bag
contains small clumps of hair, one contains a yellow
liquid...

                    MILLS
          A urine sample... hair sample...
          fingernail clippings. He's
          laughing at us.

California is still close to Zero's face when suddenly
Zero's lips twist. Zero lets out a loud, guttural bark.
California jerks back in fear, shouting, falling over a
chair.
                                                           75.

     Mills and Somerset reel, standing. They see California on
     the ground, scared out of his mind, pointing.

                          CALIFORNIA
                He's alive!

     Mills and Somerset look towards the bed.

     Zero's lips move feebly as he lets out a sick, gurgling
     moan.

                          CALIFORNIA
                He's still alive!

86   EXT.   SLUM TENEMENT BUILDING -- MORNING                  86

     A crowd has gathered. Mills' car, the police van and two
     ambulances are parked on the sidewalk.

87   INT.   SLUM APARTMENT, HALLWAY -- MORNING                 87

     The siege cops are in the hall, holding neighbors at bay.

88   INT.   SLUM APARTMENT, MAIN ROOM -- MORNING               88

     Three ambulance attendants are at the bed, working on Zero.
     One attendant uses wire-cutters to clip Zero's bonds.

89   INT.   SLUM TENEMENT BUILDING, STAIRWELL -- MORNING       89

     Mills and Somerset stand in the middle of one flight of
     stairs. They are both highly agitated.

                          SOMERSET
                The way this has gone, I didn't
                think it was possible, but we may
                have underestimated this guy. The
                type of intestinal fortitude it
                must take... to keep a man bound
                for a full year. To sever his hand
                and use it to plant fingerprints.

                          MILLS
                I want him bad. I don't just want
                to catch him anymore. I want to
                hurt him.

                          SOMERSET
                Listen... we have to divorce
                ourselves from our emotions here.
                We have to keep focusing on the
                small details.
                                                         76.

                    MILLS
          I don't know about you, Somerset,
          but I feed off my emotions.

                    SOMERSET
          He'll string us along all the way
          if we're not careful.

Mills is looking at the floor, burning with anger.     Somerset
grabs him by the jacket.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          Are you listening to me?!

Mills pushes Somerset's hand off.

                    MILLS
          I hear you.

There is a sudden brilliant flash of light and the SOUND of
a CAMERA ADVANCING. Mills and Somerset look --

Down the stairs, John is posing as a reporter. He has his
camera and flash up, pointed at the detectives.

                    JOHN
          Say cheese.

He takes another picture, flashbulb flashing. Mills charges
downwards, grabs John by his wrinkled clothing.

                    MILLS
          What the fuck are you doing?

John squirms, holds up a laminated PRESS identification
pass.

                    JOHN
          I have a right, Officer.    I...

Mills shoves him and John stumbles a few steps, then falls
to the landing below with a thud. His glasses fly off.

                    MILLS
          That doesn't mean anything. This
          is a closed crime scene now!

Somerset steps down and pulls Mills back.     John stands.

                    JOHN
          You can't do this!   You can't...

                    MILLS
          Get the fuck out of here!
                                                           77.

     John gets his glasses, scrambles downstairs, out of sight.

                          JOHN (O.S.)
                The public has a right to know!

     Somerset yanks Mills harder, till Mills sits on the stairs.

                          MILLS
                How do those cockroaches get here
                so quick?

                          SOMERSET
                They pay cops for the inside scoop,
                and they pay well. You can hate
                them, but you better give them
                something, or they'll make it all
                up.

                          MILLS
                    (calming)
                I'm sorry... I just...

                          SOMERSET
                Oh, it's alright. It's always
                impressive to see a man feeding off
                his emotions.

90   INT.   HOSPITAL ROOM -- DAY                             90

     Mills stands with the blase DR. BEARDSLEY, who reviews a
     medical chart on a clipboard. Zero lies inside an oxygen
     tent with tubes running into him. The room is dark.

                           BEARDSLEY
                A year of immobility seems about
                right, judging by the deterioration
                of the muscles and spinal cord.
                Blood tests show a whole
                smorgasbord of drugs in his system.
                Heroin... crack... even an
                antibiotic which was administered
                to keep the bed sores from
                infecting.

     Mills looks into the oxygen.

                          MILLS
                He hasn't said anything, or tried
                to express himself in any way?

                          BEARDSLEY
                Even if his brain were not mush,
                which it is... he chewed his own
                tongue off a long time ago.
                                                              78.

     Mills winces, moves away from the bed.

                          MILLS
                There's no way he'll survive?

                          BEARDSLEY
                Detective, he'd die right now of
                shock if you were to shine a
                flashlight in his eyes.

91   EXT.   CITY STREET, CATHOLIC CHURCH -- AFTERNOON           91

     A tall church on a bustling street. Smoggy air has eaten at
     the stonework. The homeless are camped out on the stairs.

92   INT.   CATHOLIC CHURCH, PRIEST'S QUARTERS -- AFTERNOON     92

     The priest's accommodations are quite spacious and
     comfortable. The parish's wealth is evident. FATHER
     BLEEKER, 38, stands looking at several 8" by 10" glossies.
     He's dressed in his "civilian" clothing, wears his hair
     short and proper. These photos are making him heartsick.

     Bleeker hands them to Somerset who is seated by a fireplace.

                          BLEEKER
                Put them away. I wish you hadn't
                brought them into the church.

                          SOMERSET
                I needed for you to see them.

     Father Bleeker shakes his head, as if he were trying to
     forget the images. Somerset replaces the murder photos in a
     file.

                          BLEEKER
                There were five principal phases in
                the development of early Christian
                art. From Hellenistic through the
                Renaissance... each period was
                affected by the decrees of
                religious leaders.

                          SOMERSET
                If this killer belongs to a certain
                branch of the church... if he
                collects religious art from a
                certain period, I want to know. I
                have to narrow it down.

     Bleeker walks to an ornate, gold cabinet.     He puts on a pair
     of cotton gloves.
                                                         79.

                    BLEEKER
          The influences on these... things
          he's done, couldn't have come
          before the Gothic period. What's
          in those pictures is presented far
          too asymmetrically.

Bleeker crosses himself before using a key to open the
cabinet. He takes out an ancient devotional book and a piece
of cloth.

                    BLEEKER (CONT)
          The colors will tell the tale.

Bleeker takes the book to a table. Somerset follows.
Bleeker lays the cloth under the book, opens the book,
tenderly.

                    BLEEKER (CONT)
          Each sin had a symbolic color. But
          the specific color designations
          changed throughout the ages.

Somerset leans to examine Bleeker's illuminated manuscript:

Two pages of prayer. The prose is elaborately formed,
surrounded by colorful illustrations of the seven deadly
sins. Bleeker's finger points to a rendering of a man seated
on a rock, guzzling from a jug. It's been painted in
orange.

                    BLEEKER (O.S.,CONT)
          This is an example. Gluttony is
          the sin, and the color is orange.
          This particular manuscript is
          preserved from the 18th century.

                    SOMERSET (O.S.)
          In the murders, gluttony is green.
          Greed is yellow. Sloth is indigo.

Bleeker steps away and Somerset gets closer to the pages.

                    BLEEKER
          So, if this murderer is as precise
          as you say, then you need to find
          out at what period in history was
          gluttony green... and so on.

                    SOMERSET
          Where do I look? If the colors
          changed so often?
                                                              80.

                          BLEEKER
                    (contemplates)
                There is one man... Father Stone.
                    (pause)
                I haven't heard from him for quite
                some time. This was his passion.
                He spent his life studying the
                sins... and preaching against them.

93   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, SOMERSET'S OFFICE -- AFTERNOON      93

     The chalkboard on the wall: 1 gluttony (x)           5 wrath
     greed (x)          6 pride sloth (x)             7 lust envy

     Mills is behind his paperwork covered desk, listening to a
     uniformed OFFICER who looks over a report sheet.

                           OFFICER
                Zero's landlord said an envelope of
                cash was in the office mailbox each
                month. He says, quote, "I never
                heard a single complaint from this
                guy and nobody ever complained
                about him. He's the best tenant I
                ever had."

                          MILLS
                There's a landlord's dream tenant.
                A paralyzed man with no tongue.

                          OFFICER
                Who pays his rent on time.

                          MILLS
                Bring me everything as soon as it's
                transcribed.

     The officer leaves. Mills starts sorting through piles on
     his desk. He doesn't know where to begin.

     He sits back in his chair, looks at the collage-like
     collection of pictures pinned on the walls: photos and
     diagrams of the murder scenes, the drawing of the sun and
     eye, color pages and black and white copies of pages from
     art books.

     He stares, thinking. He stands, takes a photocopy off the
     wall. The killer's first note:

     Dear Detectives, Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell
     leads up to the light.
                                                                 81.

                           MILLS
                     (to himself)
                 Milton.

94   INT.   CENTRAL LIBRARY -- AFTERNOON                           94

     Big brass lamps hang from the high ceiling. Mahogany chairs
     and tables run down the center floor which is bordered by
     three levels of balconies. People wander like ants in an
     ant farm.

     Mills walks, taking it all in. He goes to the circulation
     desk. Impatient patrons wait in a long line. He watches the
     bored HEAD LIBRARIAN, female, 64, help an old man at the
     desk.

     She opens the old man's books, runs a laser pen over a bar
     code sticker, pushes a few buttons on a computer.

95   INT.   CENTRAL LIBRARY, TOP BALCONY -- LATER AFTERNOON        95

     Near the balcony railing, overlooking the main floor, Mills
     sits before a computer card catalog. He reads the computer
     screen, unsure. He sets down his pad and pencil, cracks his
     knuckles, begins typing on the keyboard. The computer gives
     off a quiet BEEP. Pleased, Mills reads the screen. Types.

     On the screen:                     TITLE / PARADISE LOST_

     He hits return. Reads the screen as information on the book
     appears. He copies it on his pad, puts the pencil in his
     mouth.

     He types.   On the screen:         SUBJECT / JACK THE RIPPER_

     Hits return.   Again, he copies info from the screen.

96   INT.   INNER CITY CLOISTER -- AFTERNOON                       96

     A monk opens a formidable gateway door, letting Father
     Bleeker and Somerset into a garden courtyard. Bleeker now
     wears his priestly garb and collar. The monastery's main
     building looms at the end of a pathway. The building is
     stately, ivy-covered.

                           BLEEKER
                 Father Stone had a church and
                 congregation of his own. But,
                 he... there were some problems.
                 The church is deserted now.

                             SOMERSET
                 Problems?
                                                              82.

     Bleeker continues walking.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                Father?

97   INT.   INNER CITY CLOISTER, HALLWAY -- AFTERNOON           97

     The walls of the hallway are carved with images of saints.
     Bleeker whispers to Somerset beside a windowless door.

                          BLEEKER
                There was a small orphanage
                attached to the church, overseen by
                Father Stone. This was almost
                thirty years ago.
                    (hesitant)
                He was an excellent priest, devoted
                in every way. Many in his parish
                demanded his return.

                          SOMERSET
                Tell me what happened.

     Bleeker sees a NUN down the hall, coming towards them.

                          BLEEKER
                Allegations were made... Stone was
                accused of abusing the children in
                his care. But, those charges were
                never substantiated.

                          SOMERSET
                What abuse?

                          BLEEKER
                It was claimed... that the children
                were beaten. And, punished
                severely.

     The nun is too close for Bleeker to speak freely.

98   INT.   INNER CITY CLOISTER, STONE'S ROOM -- AFTERNOON      98

     The door is unlocked and opened by the nun. Somerset enters
     and Bleeker waits outside as the nun closes the door. It's
     dark.

     FATHER STONE, 73, is in a wheelchair. Feeble and frail,
     eyes sunken in their sockets. He looks up at Somerset.

                          SOMERSET
                Father Stone. I'm a policeman.
                I'd like to ask you a few
                questions, if it's alright?
                                                        83.

The whites of Stone's eyes have yellowed.    He seems to nod.
Somerset sits on a stool, close.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          I want to ask you about the seven
          deadly sins.

                       STONE
          The sins.

                    SOMERSET
          Yes, father.

Stone reaches out a hand to touch Somerset's face. Stone's
extremely long fingernails trail against Somerset's cheek
and Somerset tries to hide his revulsion.

                    STONE
          Are you one of mine?

                       SOMERSET
          I don't...

                    STONE
          Are you saved? Do you have God?

                    SOMERSET
          I... I need to ask about the sins.
          Do you understand what I'm saying?

Stone takes his hand away, seems to be getting angry.

                    STONE
          Are you a sinner?

Stone's weak arms wheel him away, towards a corner.

                    STONE (CONT)
          There are sinners here. Even here.
          And, pain waits for them. Hell is
          hungry for them.

Stone bites his lip, moaning, disoriented.

                    STONE (CONT)
          They don't realize... they don't
          know.
              (pause)
          Fuck them all!

Somerset is shocked by the strength and volume of Stone's
jagged voice. The nun goes to place a comforting hand on
Stone's shoulder. Stone is beginning to cry.
                                                            84.

                           NUN
                     (to Somerset)
                 They shouldn't have let you disturb
                 him. This shouldn't have been
                 allowed.

                           STONE
                 Where are the children?
                     (much louder)
                 Where are the children?!

99    INT. CENTRAL LIBRARY, OUTSIDE LIBRARIAN'S OFFICE --        99
      AFTERNOON

      From a mahogany hallway lined with book-carts, we look
      THROUGH a big WINDOW into the head librarian's office. The
      elderly head librarian is at a computer, chain-smoking,
      working the keyboard. Mills alternates talking on the
      telephone and reading things off his pad to the librarian.

      We cannot hear them, but it's clear Mills is excited as he
      walks back and forth, hovering over the librarian, looking
      at her computer screen, making suggestions, then walking to
      monitor a dot-matrix printer which spews a waterfall of
      computer paper onto the floor. Back and forth goes Mills,
      carrying the phone. He closes the pad, puts it in his
      pocket.

      The librarian finishes typing, sits back, done. Mills hangs
      up the phone, goes to put it on the librarian's desk, but
      the cord drags, knocks a pile of books off a table.

      The librarian is irritated, goes to pick up the books.
      Mills is apologizing. He goes to watch the printer. He
      tears the last sheet's perforated edge, gathers the huge
      pile of printed paper off the floor.

      Prize in hand, Mills is so grateful he bends to give the old
      woman a kiss on the cheek, but she pushes him away, now even
      more annoyed. Mills goes to leave, knocks over another pile
      of books. Before he can assist, the angry librarian points
      to the door. Mills obeys like a scolded child, exits.

      The librarian shakes her head in disgust.

100   EXT.   ABANDONED CHURCH/ORPHANAGE -- AFTERNOON         100

      A once exemplary church, now boarded up, neglected. Gothic
      in style, it stands with deserted brownstones and empty lots
      of rubble as neighbors. Smokestacks spew smoke distantly.
      Cars and trucks drive by on a nearby elevated highway, but
      down here on the street it's a ghost town.
                                                               85.

      There's a building attached to the rear of the church.
      Somerset's car is parked beside it.

101   INT.   ABANDONED ORPHANAGE, CLASSROOM -- AFTERNOON        101

      The windows are covered over. Somerset and Father Bleeker
      move through. Somerset has a flashlight with a wide beam.
      The room is empty except for broken, cob-web covered school
      desks and a few file cabinets. There are cracked
      blackboards on the walls. Rats skitter away from the light.

      Somerset opens a file cabinet drawer. It's empty. He walks
      to a door, starts pulling at the rotting boards which seal
      it shut.

                           BLEEKER
                 What are you looking for?

                           SOMERSET
                 I'm just looking.

102   INT.   ABANDONED CHURCH -- AFTERNOON                      102

      Somerset pushes the door. He and Bleeker enter from the
      classroom into the far back corner of the church. Big
      church. Shafts of colored light needle through the holes in
      the pieces of wood and cloth that cover the broken stained
      glass windows.

      Somerset walks down the center aisle between deteriorated
      pews. rats run. Pigeons flap about, dirt drifting off their
      wings.

      Somerset shines his flashlight forward to the rather barren
      altar. To the right, at the top of the altar stairs, there
      is a stone statue of a saint with his arms outstretched,
      welcoming.

      The life-size saint is covered in spider-webs. Tiny spiders
      crawl across his eyes, which look down on Somerset.

                           BLEEKER
                 Saint Jerome Emiliani.   The patron
                 saint of orphans.

      Somerset shines the flashlight against the back altar wall,
      revealing a wooden carving of Christ crucified.

                           SOMERSET
                 Is this still the Lord's house?

                           BLEEKER
                 Of course it is.
                                                            86.

                           SOMERSET
                 And, even if Father Stone was
                 guilty of everything... if he was
                 hurting children here? It's still
                 the Lord's house?

      Father Bleeker finds this talk insulting and offensive.

                           BLEEKER
                 You have no faith, Somerset?     Have
                 you given up on the church
                 entirely?

                           SOMERSET
                 No.
                     (pause)
                 That's not what I've given up on.

      Somerset notices two ends of a thick rope suspended from the
      ceiling above the center of the altar. He looks up,
      following the rope with the flashlight, when he notices
      something else. His mouth drops. Bleeker looks, and is
      equally horrified.

      Above them, in the beam of light: seven large paintings on
      panels tilted forward at the curve of the ceiling above the
      altar. Seven ancient paintings; seven deadly sins.

      The beam of light moves to the panel to the immediate right:
      a painting of a man kneeling, grasping at gold coins all
      around him. The man is naked, as was the victim of the
      greed murder. The chief color in this panel is a vulgar
      yellow.

      The third in the series is sloth. The painting, in indigo,
      shows a man at rest in a pliant bed. The skeletal man's
      eyes are rolled up in their sockets. He is covered in slimy
      worms.

103   EXT.   ABANDONED CHURCH -- LATE AFTERNOON                 103

      The streets are full of patrol cars. Cops and forensics
      enter and exit the church from various doorways. Saw-horses
      are loaded off a flat-bed truck as a police barricade is
      erected.

104   INT.   ABANDONED CHURCH -- LATE AFTERNOON                 104

      Much activity, as forensics with flashlights go about their
      business, checking every nook and cranny of the church,
      looking for any sign that someone's been here recently.
      Small temporary floodlights are hoisted on tripods.
                                                       87.

Two photographers stand at the tops of tall ladders. Flash-
photo after flash-photo is taken of the seven paneled
tableau.

Near the open church doors, Mills speaks with great
animation, holding his ream of computer paper. Somerset
looks at the altar and the tableau, preoccupied.

                    MILLS
          Our guy's a bookworm, right? And,
          I know it's a long shot, but you
          have to give a picture id and
          current phone bill to get a library
          card. Hey...

Mills snaps his fingers in Somerset's face, gets his
attention.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          I made two separate lists of books.
          One relating to the sins... Dante's
          Purgatory, Canterbury Tales... The
          Dictionary of Catholicism... all
          the religious stuff. The second
          list was books about torture
          methods, mass murderers...
          sadomasochism. Whatever our killer
          might study to do the things he's
          done. Whatever his other interests
          are.

Somerset takes the computer list.

                    SOMERSET
          So, what is this?

                    MILLS
          Alright. Everything at the library
          goes into a computer. So, you can
          get in the system and cross-
          reference...

Mills fumbles in his pocket, takes out his pad and reads.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          Let's say you take, Dante's
          Purgatory, call number eight-five-
          one-D, and... The Biography of the
          Marquis de Sade, ninety-two S-A-D-
          E. Put those books in the system,
          and the computer can give you the
          name of anyone who's ever taken out
          both those books.
                                                             88.

                 And, it doesn't just give you their
                 name and address, it gives you a
                 complete history of their library
                 reading habits.

      Mills slaps the list in Somerset's hand.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                     (psyched up)
                 If somebody's out there reading
                 Paradise Lost and studying The Life
                 and Times of Charlie Manson, I want
                 to talk to them.

      Somerset looks up from the list, warming to it.   He starts
      looking around, searching for someone.

105   EXT.   ABANDONED CHURCH -- LATE AFTERNOON               105

      Somerset and Mills exit down the stairs. Somerset's still
      searching, holding the list. He spies a uniformed cop,
      DARIO.

                            SOMERSET
                 Dario!   Come here.

      Dario runs up. Somerset puts his hand on his shoulder and
      makes him walk with him. Mills continues on to his car.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 According to the Father, this
                 orphanage wasn't around for more
                 than five or six years in the late
                 fifties. So, I want someone to go
                 to the Department of Child Welfare
                 or City Hall and dig up all the
                 records on this place. Understand?

                             DARIO
                 I got it.

                           SOMERSET
                 Get a list of every child who
                 attended this orphanage before it
                 shut down. Get it on my desk
                 within the hour.

      Somerset releases Dario, who runs to obey. Somerset goes to
      his own car. Mills is driving to leave, stops, revs the
      engine. Somerset hands the computer list through the window.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 You thought of this all by
                 yourself? This was your brainstorm?
                                                             89.

                          MILLS
                 Yeah. Is that so hard for you to
                 believe?

                           SOMERSET
                 It's a pleasant surprise.

                           MILLS
                 I'm not as stupid as I look.

      Mills peels away.     Somerset heads to his own car.

                           SOMERSET
                     (to himself)
                 I guess not.

106   INT.   SOMERSET'S OFFICE -- EARLY EVENING                 106

      Seven large photos hang with the other materials on the
      wall:

      The seven tableau paintings. Gluttony, greed and sloth,
      followed by vanity. Vanity shows a woman standing in front
      of a mirror, staring at her image. The floor around her is
      scattered with flowers. The primary color is violet, and as
      in all the paintings, there is a quality of ugliness in the
      character.

                             MILLS (O.S.)
                 Ramirez.    Manuel Ramirez.

                           SOMERSET (O.S.)
                 No... I don't see any Ramirez.

      The lust painting is next. It shows a man standing over a
      woman. The woman is nude, under a sheet, and the man's
      features are bizarre, lecherous. He wants that woman.
      There are apples on the floor and on the bed. The color is
      red.

                             MILLS (O.S.)
                 Elinski.    Dennis Elinski.

                             SOMERSET (O.S.)
                 No.

      Envy is particularly gruesome. The Devil is seen hovering
      in the air, wearing a crown, his body orange and slick,
      wrapped in a cloak of flames. His arms held high, his right
      hand grips a sword, a bolt of lightning, arrows, wheat,
      thistles, etc. His left hand, holds a plain globe around
      which a serpent has wrapped itself. He looks down at
      several pitiful mortals in a pit of fire.
                                                      90.

The mortals reach for him, yearn for him, the skin on their
bodies is stretched taut over their bones.

                     MILLS (O.S.)
          Atwater?   Paul Atwater.

                     SOMERSET (O.S.)
          No.

Wrath shows a man surrounded by vaporous, satanic demons.
He stands in a puddle of blood, looking at his hands stained
with and dripping blood. Other than the rich red, the color
is blue.

Mills is at his desk, a good portion of the print-out list
draped to the floor. He rubs his eyes, sighing, gets back
to it. Somerset, at the temporary desk, studies his orphan
list.

                     MILLS
          Okay, here we go. Listen to the
          books this guy's been taking out...
              (reading list)
          Basic Homicide Investigation.
          Forensic Toxicology... The
          Encyclopedia of Modern Serial
          Killers...
              (looks up, excited)
          Of Human Bondage.

                    SOMERSET
          That's not what you think it is.

Mills is disappointed, runs his finger further down the
page.

                    MILLS
          Holy shit. Somerset...
              (reading list)
          The Writings of Saint Thomas
          Aquinas.

Mills points to the drawing of "the Sun in splendor with the
eye" which hangs on the wall.

                     MILLS (CONT)
          Aquinas.   Right?

                    SOMERSET
          That's right. Let me have it.

Mills looks at the page... searching...
                                                             91.

                          MILLS
                Fuck... he used a false name.

                          SOMERSET
                How do you know?

                          MILLS
                His library card lists him as
                Jonathan Doe. John Doe.

      Mills sits back, angry. Something strikes Somerset as odd.
      Familiar. He starts leafing quickly through the orphanage
      list.

                          MILLS (CONT)
                What?

      Somerset finds what he's looking for.

                          SOMERSET
                Christ... it's like a sick joke.

                          MILLS
                What are you talking about?

                          SOMERSET
                There is one boy here. He was
                abandoned... no one knew who his
                parents were, so he was named at
                the orphanage...
                    (looks at Mills)
                John Doe. It's his legal name.

107   INT. JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY -- EARLY    107
      EVENING

      Somerset and Mills climb stairs, turn a corner into this
      hall.

                          MILLS
                It's impossible odds that this is
                him.

                          SOMERSET
                We're focusing.

                          MILLS
                I know, I know. On one little
                thing. I'm not complaining. I'll
                follow anything we get and I'll
                take it any way we can get it.
                                                      92.

                    SOMERSET
          We'll look at him. Ask a few
          questions. Try to get a feeling
          whether we should keep tabs on him.

They reach a door, apartment 3A. Somerset knocks. Mills
takes out his gun and looks at Somerset to ask "what do you
think?" Somerset nods that he should have the gun ready.
Mills steps to the side of the door, knocks hard. Waits.

                    MILLS
              (quietly)
          I'll do the talking, right? Let me
          practice here... um, excuse me Mr.
          Doe, but, are you by any chance a
          serial killer? Oh... oh, you are?
          Well, come with us then, if you
          don't mind.

Mills smiles at his own wit. A STAIR is HEARD CREAKING
offscreen. Mills turns to look towards the stairs.

A MALE FIGURE stands at the top of the stairs, wearing a
hat, standing in shadows. The man looks at them, lets out a
scream of horror and reaches into his coat.

                      MILLS (CONT)
          Somerset!

GUNFIRE SOUNDS and a bullet slams into door 3A behind Mills.
He and Somerset recoil in shock, going to the floor as
another bullet explodes, blasting plaster off the wall. The
man is HEARD RUNNING back down the stairs.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          It's him! Jesus Christ, we can get
          this fucker!

Mills jumps up. He moves towards the railing. Somerset
sits up and takes out his own gun. The stairwell is silent.

Mills peers over the railing into the stairwell's center,
gun pointed. A HEAVY METALLIC CLICK is HEARD. Echoes.
Mills leaps backwards as bullets begin raining up from
below, accompanied by the SOUND of an UZI SUB-MACHINE GUN
FIRING.

Somerset lays flat as he and Mills crawl away from the
railing, which is being shredded along with the floor around
it. Bullets soar unceasingly. Mills and Somerset hold
their hands over their ears. Pieces of wood and plaster fly
everywhere. The uzi stops and the man can be HEARD RUNNING
again.
                                                                93.

      Mills gets up, covered in debris. He runs down into the
      smoky stairwell. Somerset rolls over, gets up more slowly.

108   EXT.                                                     108
             JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT BUILDING, REAR -- EARLY EVENING

      Mills rushes out into this weedy, overgrown courtyard. He
      sees a thin vagrant sleeping on the building's junk-pile,
      then looks all directions. His eyes are wild. His gun hand
      is shaking.

      The courtyard is surrounded by alleyways. The shooter could
      have gone anywhere and is nowhere in sight. Somerset comes
      out, face wet with sweat. Mills holsters his gun.

                           MILLS
                 Are you alright?   Are you okay?

                            SOMERSET
                 Yeah.   I think so.

      They look at each other for a long time.      Both realizing
      they came very close to dying.

109   EXT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT BUILDING, FRONT -- NIGHT       109

      Police cars on scene.   Curious civilians have gathered.

110   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT BUILDING, STAIRWELL -- NIGHT 110

      UP THE STAIRWELL, several forensics are collecting shell
      casings, putting them in bags. The casings are scattered
      all the way up the stairs. ONE FORENSIC walks up beside a
      COP.

                           ONE FORENSIC
                 I hear he's running around with an
                 uzi in one hand and a book of
                 poetry in the other.

                           COP
                 A real, modern-day renaissance man,
                 huh?

      AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, two forensics, SARAH and BILLY,
      wait behind Mills and Somerset. Surgical gloves on all
      hands. Mills kicks at the door to apartment 3A with all his
      might. Again.

111   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, ROOMONE -- NIGHT              111

      BOOM -- door flies open.   Mills enters with Somerset.
      Darkness.
                                                              94.

                           MILLS
                     (to forensics)
                 Give us first crack at it.

      Sarah and Billy wait in the hall. Somerset hits a switch on
      the wall and a lamp illuminates on a desk. The desk is in
      the center of the room, facing them. The walls, floor to
      ceiling, are covered with visual stimuli; pictures,
      paintings, newspaper articles, sketches, writings on napkins
      and notebook sheets, etc. Mostly religious images.

      The far wall is made of shelves full of books. Mills goes
      to the desk while Somerset goes to the books. Books: An
      Overview of Theology, Handbook of Firearms, A History of the
      World, Summa Theologica, U.S. Criminal Law Review, etc.

      Mills looks at the desktop. The surface is marked by dried
      oil colors. There are tubes of paint laying out, boxes of
      water colors and pastels. Mills looks at one corner of the
      desk. An orange candle has been allowed to burn down. The
      wax trail goes all the way down the edge of the desk to a
      puddle on the floor.

      Somerset walks, studying one wall of pin-ups. There are
      articles about the seven deadly sins, pages from art books,
      pencil drawings of Satan and Christ, and drawings of the
      seven paneled tableau paintings which inspired the murders.
      Somerset lifts several sheets to note the paper scraps are
      spaced so tightly and completely that they cover the window.

      At the desk, Mills opens the top middle drawer. It's empty
      except for The Holy Bible. he opens another drawer, which
      is filled with at least forty empty aspirin bottles.

      Somerset looks at a door which is papered over by all the
      newspaper articles and photographs about the seven deadly
      sin murders. He opens the door --

112   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, ROOM TWO -- NIGHT              112

      Somerset enters. The ceiling light is on. There are
      bookshelves on each wall, filled with thousands of
      notebooks.

      Somerset takes one notebook down. It is a thick composition
      book with a marbled black and white cover. Inside, the
      pages are covered in small handwritten sentences and
      drawings.

      Somerset takes down another notebook and opens it.    Same as
      the first; scribbled sentences and sketches.

      He walks to another wall, pulls another notebook.    Same
      deal.
                                                             95.

                           SOMERSET
                 Jesus Christ.

113   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, ROOM ONE -- NIGHT          113

      Mills opens a final drawer to find a rosary and a revolver.

      He looks around, nervous and excited, being in the
      murderer's lair. He goes to a closed door across the room,
      notices John Doe's bed in the corner. Sees Doe has a cross
      nailed to the ceiling directly above the bed's pillow.

114   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, BATHROOM -- NIGHT          114

      Mills enters the bathroom. It has been converted into a
      darkroom, lit by red bulbs, with strips of film hanging from
      the ceiling. WATER is HEARD DRIPPING.

      Mills opens the shower curtain.   Prints hang drying, clipped
      to wires over the tub.

115   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, THE PAINTROOM -- NIGHT     115

      Somerset enters from the room of notebooks. This is John
      Doe's art studio. Windowless, with several easels holding
      paintings in various states of completion. The walls are
      covered with photos and finished canvases, except for one
      wall which is blank white. Somerset turns the lights off.

      There is a 16mm film projector on a table, facing the blank
      wall. Somerset turns the projector on. It clatters to
      life, running a piece of film.

      The film is spliced into a non-stop loop. Somerset watches
      the wall, light strobing across him.

      The projector shows an image of clouds drifting, with
      strange, superimposed angels in flowing robes floating
      jerkily. It's like an old, Hollywood version of heaven.

      The image switches abruptly to fire and tormented souls
      laboring around a pit of molten goo. Like Heaven, it's a
      scratched piece of film from Hollywood's early days.

      Somerset turns to examine one of the paintings on an easel.
      The painting has been skillfully rendered, in small,
      controlled brush strokes. It shows a modern city street,
      stylized, dark. The city is peopled by mutated humans and
      freakish beasts. Sinners in the streets, killing, raping,
      pillaging. Buildings are burning, blood is being spilled.
      It's dense with detail.

      Somerset walks to another painting which is covered by a
      drop cloth. He removes the cloth, uncovers a huge canvas.
                                                               96.

      We do not see the painting, but when Somerset does his
      features turn grim.

                             MILLS (O.S.)
                 Somerset!

      Mills enters, tormented, weary. He stands in the
      projector's bright beam, holds an 8" by 10" print.

                           MILLS (O.S.)
                 Somerset, we had him. Goddamn it.

      He hands a press pass and the photo to Somerset.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 The pass is a fake... we had him.

      Somerset looks at the photo, a picture of Mills and Somerset
      on the stairwell of the slum apartment building; the picture
      John took when he posed as a reporter.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 We were that close to him.

                             SOMERSET
                 I know.

      Somerset motions to the huge canvas.    Mills looks:

      The painting is frightening collage, thick with paint. The
      photo of Mills and Somerset has been incorporated in bits
      and pieces. Duplicate images: enlarged eyes, hands, faces.
      The faces have been ripped, scratched, mutilated. Grainy
      eyes with holes jabbed in them are mounted in paint beside
      chopped broken arms. Mills' head is on Somerset's body, and
      vice versa. It's like a sick, fragmented vision of a
      slaughter house floor.

116   EXT.   CITY STREETS -- NIGHT                              116

      A block of burnt-out row homes and warehouses. Stray, wild
      dogs roam in a pack. A car turns down this street. It's
      John Doe's car, moving fast. Its headlights go out and it
      cruises, avoiding garbage cans in the street.

      FOLLOW the dark car. Ahead, a few blocks away, we can see
      the only lights in this neighborhood, the flashing reds,
      whites and blues of police activity.

117   INT.   JOHN DOE'S CAR -- NIGHT                            117

      John Doe brings the car to a stop.    He watches the police at
      work around the abandoned church.
                                                            97.

      He gives no discernable reaction, puts the car in reverse.
      He looks behind as he drives back the way he came.

118   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, KITCHEN -- NIGHT          118

      The refrigerator door is open. A male forensic uses tongs
      to remove Zero's severed hand from behind soda cans and
      mayonnaise.

119   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, ROOM ONE -- NIGHT         119

      The forensic walks through with the hand in a clear plastic
      bag, past a FEMALE SKETCH ARTIST who puts the finishing
      touches on a fairly accurate drawing of the balding John
      Doe.

                           SKETCH ARTIST
                 This is the guy?

      Mills stands over the artist. Sarah, Billy and two deputy
      detectives are at work in the room, photographing,
      searching.

                           MILLS
                 Make sure it gets around.

                           SKETCH ARTIST
                 You got it. Tomorrow morning, this
                 city's good citizens will be on the
                 lookout for Elmer Fudd.

                           SARAH
                     (to Mills)
                 We can't find anything to hang
                 onto. No pay-stubs, no appointment
                 books or calendars. Not even a
                 book of phone numbers. And, you're
                 not going to believe this...

                           MILLS
                 Keep looking.

                           SARA
                 It's just... we haven't found any
                 fingerprints yet. Not one.

                           MILLS
                 You know, you're right. I don't
                 believe it. Keep looking.
                                                              98.

120   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, ROOM TWO -- NIGHT           120

      Somerset reads one of Doe's notebooks. Three cops are
      looking through other notebooks from the shelves. Mills
      enters.

                           SOMERSET
                 We need to put more men on this.

                           MILLS
                 I'm working on it, alright.   What
                 have we got.

      Somerset bristles slightly at Mills' abrupt demeanor.

                           SOMERSET
                 We've got about five thousand
                 notebooks in this room. And, as
                 near as I can tell, each notebook
                 contains two hundred and fifty
                 pages.

                           MILLS
                 Then, he must write about the
                 murders.

      Somerset looks at the notebook, reads.

                            SOMERSET
                 "What sick, silly puppets we are,
                 and what a gross stage we dance on.
                 What fun we have, dancing around,
                 not a care in the world. Not
                 knowing that we are nothing. We
                 are not what God intended."
                     (turns pages)
                 "On the subway today, a man came up
                 to start a conversation. He was
                 making small talk, this lonely man,
                 talking about the weather and other
                 things. I tried to be
                 accommodating, but my head began to
                 hurt from his banality. I almost
                 didn't notice it had happened, but
                 I threw up all over him. And I
                 couldn't stop myself from
                 laughing."
                     (closes book)
                 No dates indicated. They're placed
                 on the shelves in no discernible
                 order. He describes a scab on his
                 arm for five pages, then writes
                 about existential philosophy on the
                 next.
                                                               99.

      Mills walks.   He looks into the adjoining paint room.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 It's just his mind poured out on
                 paper.

      Mills leans in the doorway, looking at Doe's strange
      artworks.

                           MILLS
                 You were right.    He is preaching.

      The PHONE RINGS in the other room.

121   INT.   JOHN DOE'S APARTMENT, MAIN ROOM -- NIGHT           121

      All attention is focused on the phone on Doe's desk. A tape
      recorder is rigged to the receiver. Mills and Somerset
      enter. Mills walks over, pushes a button on the recorder,
      picks up.

                           MILLS
                     (into phone)
                 Hello... hello?

                           JOHN DOE (V.O.)
                     (from recorder)
                 I admire you, David. Imagine my
                 surprise on finding you at my
                 doorstep. I admire you more and
                 more every day.

                           MILLS
                     (into phone)
                 Okay, John. Let's...

                            JOHN DOE (V.O.)
                      (from recorder)
                 No, no, no! You listen and don't
                 talk. I suppose you found the
                 painting and the photos. This is
                 just as well. Now we all know
                 we've all seen each other.
                      (pause)
                 I mean what I say. I do admire
                 you.

      Long pause.    Mills waits.

                           JOHN DOE (V.O.,CONT)
                 Oh, there is one other thing.
                 Fourteen hundred thirty. West
                 Eighty-sixth street. Apartment six-
                 o-four.
                                                           100.

      John Doe hangs up.

122   INT.   APARTMENT 604, BATHROOM -- NIGHT                  122

      Somerset looks around this femininely decorated bathroom.

      In the sink, objects covered in blood: a pair of scissors, a
      hypodermic needle, first-aid tape and gauze bandages, a
      bottle of anesthetic for use with the needle, a straight
      razor.

      Somerset moves from the sink, looks in the bathtub. The tub
      and shower walls are splattered with blood. The tub has a
      few inches of water in it. The water is cloudy red and bits
      of gauze float in it. Somerset jiggles the drain's knob.

      Some bubbles pop up from the clogged drain.

123   INT.   APARTMENT 604 -- NIGHT                            123

      Mills is in a dark mood. He and Dr. O'Neill stand by a
      WOMAN who hangs by a noose from the ceiling. The woman's
      head has been bandaged sloppily with white gauze and tape.
      Her eyes have been left uncovered. The gauze is stained red
      in small spots.

      The woman hangs low, so her feet are inches from the floor
      where piles of dried flowers and a cordless telephone lay.
      There's a chair knocked over behind her.

      O'Neill's going through his black bag. A violet, velvet
      curtain has been draped on the wall in the corner, behind a
      full length mirror. The mirror reflects the corpse. A
      seven-pointed star is smeared in lipstick on the mirror's
      surface, with the words I DID NOT KILL HER, SHE WAS GIVEN A
      CHOICE below.

      Somerset enters from the bathroom, looks at the murder
      display.

                             MILLS
                 Pride.    Just like in the painting.

      Somerset nods. He walks to a dresser. The woman's purse
      sits open and Somerset extracts her driver's license. He
      looks at the photo. The woman in the picture is beautiful.

                           SOMERSET
                 You can see what he did.

      O'Neill steps up to the woman. He brandishes dull scissors.
      The captain enters with two uniform cops. He looks around,
      grim, clenching his jaw.
                                                                101.

                           MILLS
                 Cut her up... dressed the wounds.
                 He put the noose around her neck
                 and stood her on the chair.

                           SOMERSET
                 She had the telephone.

                           MILLS
                 Call for help, and you'll live.
                 But, you'll be mutilated.

                           SOMERSET
                 Or, kick out the chair, and spare
                 yourself a lifetime of hideousness.

      O'Neill's cutting the bandages on the woman's face. He
      pulls them away in front. Mills looks, disgusted by the
      sight.

      Somerset sits in a chair, runs his fingers through his hair.

                           O'NEILL
                 He cut off her nose to spite her
                 face. And he did it very recently.

                           CAPTAIN
                 Alright, boys, you're running on
                 empty. Go home. Just make sure you
                 sleep with the phone between your
                 knees.

124   INT.   BOOKSTORE -- NIGHT                                   124

      The bookstore is a labyrinth. Tables and shelves, mountains
      and valleys of books. Books, new and used, hard and soft,
      in disorganized groups. CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYS. A few
      customers search for titles.

      Somerset walks, downcast, winds out of one aisle into
      another. he has his jacket over his shoulder, runs his
      fingers along the books as he goes. He pulls one book, The
      Merchant of Venice, looks at it, replaces it. He looks down
      the aisle and is surprised to see Tracy.

      Tracy stands solemn, scanning book spines.     Somerset
      approaches.

                           SOMERSET
                 Tracy?

      Tracy brightens a bit upon recognizing him.
                                                     102.

                       TRACY
          Somerset.     How are you?

                    SOMERSET
          I'm alright. I'm glad to see you
          found this place. I almost should
          have expected to run into you here,
          knowing that you teach English.

Tracy looks up and around.

                    TRACY
          It's so huge. It's amazing.

                    SOMERSET
          This is why I moved into this
          neighborhood.

                    TRACY
          Don't you love the smell of all the
          old books. It smells like...
          like... I guess just old books,
          but, I love it.

Somerset notices Tracy noticing his gun.

                    TRACY (CONT)
          Forgive me. No matter how often I
          see guns, I can't get used to them.

                       SOMERSET
          Same here.

Tracy laughs.   She looks at her watch.

                    TRACY
          If David's going to be back home
          soon, I should get back.

She starts down the aisle and Somerset walks with her.

                    TRACY (CONT)
          I hope you'll come to dinner
          another night. Before you leave.

                    SOMERSET
          You can stay and browse a little
          longer, can't you? I mean...

Tracy considers this as they enter an open area.
                                                               103.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 I... I hardly know anyone I can
                 talk about books with anymore. I'd
                 appreciate the company.

      Tracy stops.   Somerset looks hopeful.   Tracy is very
      tempted.

125   INT.   BOOKSTORE -- LATER NIGHT                            125

      Shelves and empty aisles of books.   CLASSICAL MUSIC still
      PLAYS.

                           SOMERSET (O.S.)
                 The irony is, that after a day of
                 the type of work he did, he'd come
                 home and read me these morbid crime
                 stories. Le Fanu's Green Tea.
                 Murders in the Rue Morgue.

      MOVE TO the aisle marked MYSTERY, where Somerset and Tracy
      are leaning against shelves. They both hold books they've
      selected.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 My mother would give him hell...
                 because I was young, and he was
                 keeping me up till all hours,
                 giving me nightmares.

                           TRACY
                 Sounds like a father who wanted his
                 son to follow in his footsteps.

                           SOMERSET
                 One birthday, he gave me a
                 hardcover book called The Century
                 of the Detective, by Jurgen
                 Thorwald. It traced the history of
                 detection as a science and it
                 sealed my fate. Because it was
                 real, and that a drop of blood or a
                 piece of hair could solve a
                 crime... was incredible to me.

      A CLERK looks down the aisle, then walks on.

                           CLERK (O.S.)
                 We're closing up, Somerset.

                           SOMERSET
                 Okay, thanks.
                                                              104.

                           TRACY
                 David's going to wonder where I am.

                           SOMERSET
                 I'll give you a ride.

                            TRACY
                 No.   Please, don't bother.

                           SOMERSET
                 I have to insist. If your husband
                 found out I let you ride the subway
                 at this hour he'd tear my head off.

      They make their way out of the aisle.    Somerset chuckles.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 I mean, literally.

126   EXT.   CITY STREET -- NIGHT                               126

      Somerset's car stops at the corner of Mills' street.

127   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT                            127

      Somerset puts the car in park.     Tracy sits for a long time,
      then turns to face Somerset.

                           TRACY
                 You've lived here for so long,
                 Somerset. You know this city. I...

      Tracy can't quite figure how to put it.

                           SOMERSET
                 It's a hard place, Tracy.

                           TRACY
                 When David and I lived in
                 Philadelphia, we could afford to
                 live on the outskirts. But now...
                     (pause)
                 I hate it here. I feel scared, and
                 I feel sick and... I hate it.

      Tracy wants to laugh, like it's silly, but can't pull it
      off.

                           SOMERSET
                 You have to put blinders on
                 sometimes. Most times. But, keep
                 in mind, Tracy, like tonight, there
                 are small pockets of sanity. Some
                 bars and bookstores. Museums.
                                                             105.

                 Several last vestiges of
                 civilization.

128   EXT.   CITY STREET -- NIGHT                               128

      In Somerset's car, Tracy and Somerset continue talking.

      On the other side of the street, closer to the middle of the
      block, John Doe's car is parallel parked at the curb.

129   INT.   JOHN DOE'S CAR -- NIGHT                            129

      Behind the wheel, John Doe is slumped low, calmly watching
      Somerset and Tracy. He can see them clearly from here.

130   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT                            130

      Tracy looks out through the windshield, fighting tears.

                           TRACY
                 I've visited so many of the
                 schools, looking for work, you
                 know. And, the conditions are...
                 horrible. I can't believe how bad
                 it is.
                     (pause)
                 Children shouldn't have to grow up
                 here.

                            SOMERSET
                 You can always look into the
                 private schools. You'll find
                 something.

      Somerset gives her a handkerchief.    She wipes her tears.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 You're too hard on yourself, Tracy.

      She will not look at him, keeping herself under control.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 It's okay to hate this city. It's
                 natural. But, there is a bright
                 side in all this. There is. You
                 want to hear it?

      Tracy is able to muster a small smile.

                           TRACY
                 Oh, God, yes. Please.
                                                             106.

                           SOMERSET
                 I can't think of another place that
                 needs education more than this
                 city. And you're a teacher. You
                 can make a difference in a few
                 people's lives. It's a very good
                 thing.

      Tracy leans to give him a kiss on the cheek.

                           TRACY
                 Goodnight, Somerset.

      They remain close, looking into each other's eyes.

                              SOMERSET
                 Goodnight.

      Somerset reaches to touch Tracy's face. They kiss. They
      kiss a long time. Tracy wraps her arms around Somerset's
      neck. Somerset runs his fingers through Tracy's hair. They
      share their sorrow. Tracy's tears run down her face.
      Finally, they part, opening their eyes.

      They know this is wrong. Somerset's hands are shaking.       He
      grips the wheel, feels helpless.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 I'm sorry, Tracy. I'm sorry.

      Tracy's face is flushed.     She is confused.

                           TRACY
                 I... I better go.

      Tracy gets out, neglects to close the door, not looking
      back.

      Somerset tries to come to his senses. He doesn't understand
      either, and his heart is aching. He adjusts the rearview
      mirror to watch Tracy go.

131   INSERT -- THROUGH REARVIEW MIRROR -- SOMERSET'S P.O.V.    131

      Tracy walks down the block, straightening her hair.    She
      runs.

132   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT                            132

      Somerset looks away from the mirror.    he holds his head in
      his hands for a moment.
                                                            107.

133   EXT.   CITY STREET -- NIGHT                             133

      Somerset leans to pull the door shut, puts the car in gear.
      He drives, turns the corner.

134   INT.   JOHN DOE'S CAR -- NIGHT                          134

      John Doe watches Somerset's car leave. Doe turns his
      attention to Tracy, who hurries along the other side of the
      street. Tracy looks back, enters her apartment building,
      digs out her keys. She gets through the door and climbs
      stairs, disappearing.

135   EXT.   CITY STREET -- NIGHT                             135

      Doe gets out of his car.

      He looks both ways down the street, walks towards Mills' and
      Tracy's building.

136   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- LATER NIGHT         136

      Mills and Tracy are asleep in their bed.   Mills' eyes shift
      under their lids. Rapid eye movement.

      A SOUND is HEARD from the other room. Mills awakens. He
      lays still a moment, then gets up, slowly, reaches to take
      his gun off the bedside table. He grabs his pants from a
      chair, slides into them.

137   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM/KITCHENETTE -- NIGHT137

      Mills opens the bedroom door and enters quietly, gun held
      up. He moves, crouching.

      In the dark, objects in the room and shadows from windows
      form complex, confusing patterns.

      Mills walks between moving boxes, attempting to remain
      silent. He aims the gun from point to point as he advances.

      He gets to a closet. Staying on one side, he opens the door
      and points his gun. He carefully separates the clothing
      hanging there. Nothing. No one.

      He turns to look over the room.   It's the first time we see
      it in Mills' eyes -- real fear.

      The door to the apartment is wide open.
                                                            108.

138   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY -- NIGHT        138

      Mills moves from his apartment, gun out, into the dark
      hallway. The coast is clear. He stays low, moves down the
      hall. He stops, looks up.

139   EXT.   MILLS' APARTMENT BUILDING, ROOFTOP -- NIGHT        139

      Mills shoves the rooftop door open.   It creaks as it swings.

      Mills moves out, backwards, looking to top the raised
      rooftop entrance, covering it with his gun. He moves
      around, sees nothing, walks to the edge of the roof and
      looks over.

140   INT.   MILLS' APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- NIGHT                 140

      Mills returns to the bedroom, still holding his gun up. He
      looks at Tracy asleep in the bed. The room begins to RATTLE
      a little as a subway train is again passing underground.

      He walks to the window and checks the lock. He halts. He
      opens the window and reaches out. The rattling is a bit
      LOUDER.

      From the fire escape, he picks up a bundle of thorny
      thistles wrapped with a rubber band. Mills realizes, Doe
      was here.

141   INT.   SAFE HOUSE -- NIGHT                                141

      The room is plain, like the room Mrs. Gold was kept in. The
      door opens and Tracy and Mills enter. They look sleepy,
      carrying suitcases. A uniformed cop closes the door for
      them.

      Mills goes to lay a suitcase on a table while Tracy looks
      around, depressed, distant. The lighting is bad. There are
      no decorations, no windows. A wide crack runs down one
      wall.

      Tracy sits down on the bed.   Mills notices her discontent.

                           MILLS
                 It won't be for long, honey. I
                 swear. This is just till this is
                 over.

                           TRACY
                 I know.

      Mills goes to sit beside her.   He puts his hand on her
      shoulder.
                                                            109.

                              MILLS
                 I'm sorry.

      Tracy nods.   She stands, goes to start turning down the
      covers.

                             TRACY
                 I know.    It can't be helped.

      Mills feels useless, powerless. He goes to the suitcase and
      starts unpacking the contents. Tracy continues turning down
      the sheets.

142   INSERT -- TITLE CARD                                       142

      SATURDAY

143   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, SOMERSET'S OFFICE -- EARLY MORNING143

      The chalkboard:            1 gluttony (x)      5 lust greed
      (x)         6 envy sloth (x)         7 wrath pride (x)

      Somerset is seated, holding the photo of the lust painting
      from the tableau. Mills is behind his own desk. They both
      look like they haven't gotten much sleep.

                           MILLS
                 There's two people in that
                 painting. So, maybe he's planning
                 to kill two people this time.
                 Maybe.

      Mills looks at Somerset, who doesn't seem to be listening.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 What's wrong this morning?

                             SOMERSET
                 Nothing.    Sorry.

      Somerset looks up, sips from a cup of coffee, looks at the
      photo. Mills swings his chair, looks out the window at the
      morning light on the billboard.

                           MILLS
                 Lust is next. Lust is sex.

                           SOMERSET
                 Apples on the floor.    Original sin.

                           MILLS
                 Adam and Eve.
                                                              110.

      Somerset puts the photo down, leans back, takes out a
      cigarette.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 Sex, sex, sex. Fucking sex.

                           SOMERSET
                 Lust is everywhere. That's the
                 hard part. I think lust is the
                 most prevalent sin, even more than
                 greed.

      Somerset looks at the burning tip of his cigarette.    He gets
      up to stretch his legs.

      Mills picks up the lust photo, puts his feet up on the desk.

                           MILLS
                 Lust is red.

      Long pause.

                           SOMERSET
                 Bright red.

                              MILLS
                 Blood red.

                           SOMERSET
                 Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

                           MILLS
                 Red blooded. Red head.     Dead.

                           SOMERSET
                 Red light district.

      Pause.   Realization.    Somerset and Mills look at each other.

                           MILLS
                 That would make sense.

                           SOMERSET
                 It would be fitting.

                           MILLS
                 You're damn right it would.

      Mills picks up the phone.

144   EXT.   CITY STREETS, PORNO DISTRICTS -- AFTERNOON         144

      Porno theaters and Adult Bookstores rule these busy
      sidewalks.
                                                            111.

      Marquees offer SEXY STUFF, PUSSY FEST and movies like
      MIDNIGHT PLOWBOY and NATIONAL LAM-PORN'S CHRISTMAS
      INSERTION. Cops are walking through the pedestrian flow,
      handing out photocopies. There are many patrol cars on the
      street. Definitely a larger than usual police presence.

      Cops are questioning the proprietors of porn at the
      entrances of their shops and theaters.

      Cops are taping photocopies onto lamp posts. These
      photocopies are warnings, with the drawing of John Doe's
      face above a line of information and the words HAVE YOU SEEN
      THIS MAN?

145   INT.   WILD BILL'S LEATHER SHOPPE -- AFTERNOON            145

      Somerset's holding up the composite sketch of John Doe.

                           WILD BILL (O.S.)
                 Yeah, he was here. This morning.

      Mills and Somerset are across the sales counter from WILD
      BILL, Wild Bill is shirtless, covered in tattoos. A thick
      scar runs down his forehead to his bent nose. Leather
      belts, whips and jackets hang from the walls.

                           MILLS
                 It was definitely him?   You're
                 positive?

                           WILD BILL
                 Yeah. John Doe. Easy name to
                 remember.

                           SOMERSET
                 What was this job you did for him?

      Wild Bill pulls a box from behind the counter, digs in it.

                           WILD BILL
                 I got a picture of it. That's what
                 he came for this morning. I
                 figured he must be one of those art
                 guys... like those guys who piss in
                 a cup and drink it on stage.
                 Performance art.

      Wild Bill gives a polaroid to Mills.   We don't see the
      image.

                           MILLS
                 Oh, fuck...
                                                           112.

                           WILD BILL
                 I think I undercharged him. I was
                 up all night working to finish it.

                           SOMERSET
                     (looks at photo)
                 You built this for him?    You built
                 this?

                           WILD BILL
                 I've built weirder shit than that.

      A BEEL CHIMES as a POLICEMAN enters the store.

                           POLICEMAN
                 Somerset... we have a situation.

      Mills and Somerset follow the policeman out.

                           WILD BILL
                 Hey, my picture!

      They're gone.   Wild Bill scratches his scar.

                           WILD BILL (CONT)
                 Fucking pigs.

146   EXT.   THE HOT HOUSE MASSAGE PARLOR -- AFTERNOON       146

      It's a madhouse outside The Hot House. Police action in
      progress. Cops have formed a barrier, holding off a crowd
      and creating an aisle to the back of a jail-van. Cops and
      detectives escort various men, women and transvestites into
      the large vehicle. The crowd, consisting of the dregs of
      society, is angry. Some spit and throw trash at the cops.

147   INT.   THE HOT HOUSE, RECEPTION AREA -- AFTERNOON      147

      An ANGRY COP pounds his nightstick on a glass cage. Inside
      the cage sits an oily FAT MAN in front of a wall of sex
      toys.

                              FAT MAN
                 Just wait!

                           COP
                 Get out of the fucking booth!

                              FAT MAN
                 Just wait!     I'll come out, just
                 wait!
                                                              113.

148   INT.   THE HOT HOUSE, CORRIDORS -- AFTERNOON              148

      All the lights and walls are red. Mills and Somerset follow
      a COP through the twisting corridors. ROCK MUSIC THROBS.
      They reach a door.

                           COP
                 I don't want to go in there again.

149   INT.   THE HOT HOUSE, RED ROOM -- AFTERNOON               149

      Mills and Somerset enter. ROCK MUSIC CONTINUES, LOUD. A
      strobe light flashes from the ceiling onto TWO AMBULANCE
      ATTENDANTS. The first attendant places a sheet over a bed,
      hiding the corpse of a WOMAN with long blonde hair. The
      second attendant tries to examine the pupils of a CRAZED
      MAN, 55, who sits naked on the floor, wrapped in a sheet. A
      COP holds the crazed man down.

                           CRAZED MAN
                 He... he... he made me do it!

                           SECOND ATTENDANT
                 I have to look at you. I have to
                 look at you.

      An X is scratched into the red paint on the wall.    Mills and
      Somerset move towards the covered body.

      There are apples on the bed and floor.     The ROCK MUSIC from
      outside SUDDENLY STOPS.

                           FIRST ATTENDANT
                 You're not going to want to see
                 this more than once.

                           CRAZED MAN
                 He had a gun! He... he made me do
                 it!

      The sheet is lifted for the detectives. They grimace at
      what they see. We do not see. Somerset closes his eyes and
      walks to face a wall, shaken. The first attendant replaces
      the sheet.

      Mills steps back, takes out his handkerchief and sucks on
      it.

                           CRAZED MAN (O.S.,CONT)
                 He made me do it!
                                                           114.

150   INT.   SANATORIUM, WHITE ROOM -- AFTERNOON               150

      A polaroid is on a white table. It is the photo Wild Bill
      gave to Mills and Somerset. It is a picture of a belt, made
      with extra leather straps so it can be worn securely around
      the groin. It is a strap-on phallus, but there is no
      plastic protuberance. Instead, there is a metal knife. It
      is a strap- on butcher's knife.

      Somerset is seated beside the white table in this white
      room. Mills stands behind him. The crazed man from the lust
      murder is in a chair across the room. The crazed man is
      crying.

                           CRAZED MAN
                 And... and... and he said... he
                 asked if I was married. And, I
                 could see he had a gun in his hand.

                           SOMERSET
                 Where was the girl?

                            CRAZED MAN
                 What?   What?

                           SOMERSET
                 Where was the prostitute?

                           CRAZED MAN
                 She was... she was on the bed.      She
                 was just sitting on the bed.

                           SOMERSET
                 Who tied her down?    You or him?

                           CRAZED MAN
                 He had a gun. He had a gun, and he
                 made it happen. He made me do it!
                 He made me put it on... that thing.
                 Oh, God... he made me wear it. He
                 had the gun in my mouth.

      The man slides off the chair and hides his face in his
      hands.

                           CRAZED MAN (CONT)
                 The gun was in my throat.

      Mills looks at the mirror in the room.

      Somerset stands, picks up the Polaroid as two men in white
      uniforms enter to collect the crazed man from off the floor.
                                                            115.

151   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, SOMERSET'S OFFICE -- EARLY EVENING151

      Somerset and Mills are shell-shocked, seated at their desks.
      Somerset is looking out the window. Mills stares at the
      wall.

      Somerset looks to his temporary desk. He picks up a small
      pile of mail, sorts through it. An 8" by 10" manila
      envelope interests him. It reads DETECTIVE SOMERSET on the
      outside, handwritten in red marker. He opens it.

      He takes out a grainy photograph of he and Tracy kissing in
      his car. It's obviously been taken with a special night-
      lens.

      Somerset goes pale, suppressing a gasp. He holds the photo
      to hide it from Mills, looks to see Mills has not noticed.
      He feels panicky, crumples the photo and envelope in his
      hand.

152   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, MEN'S ROOM -- NIGHT              152

      Somerset enters, latches the door. He takes the crushed
      photo and envelope from his pocket. He quickly checks under
      the stalls to see he is alone. He opens a window, goes to
      the sink.

      He takes out his cigarette lighter, lights the envelope and
      photo, watches them catch. Once they're burning steady he
      throws them in the sink.

      He backs away, leans against the wall, watching, feeling
      sick.

153   INT.   SPORTS BAR -- NIGHT                              153

      Somerset and Mills sit with a full pitcher of beer between
      them. The JUKEBOX plays QUIETLY for other customers. The
      walls of the bar are lined with trophies, ribbons and other
      victory symbols.

                           SOMERSET
                 There's not going to be a happy
                 ending. It's not possible.

                           MILLS
                 If we get him, I'll be happy
                 enough.

                           SOMERSET
                 No. Face it now. Stop thinking
                 it's good guys against the bad guys
                 in this city.
                                                     116.

Mills drinks deep, pours more.

                    MILLS
          How can you say that?   Especially
          after today?

                    SOMERSET
          You tell me... when you walk into
          an apartment, and a man has beaten
          his wife to death, or, a wife
          murdered her husband in cold
          blood... and you have to wash the
          blood off their children. You put
          the killer in jail. Who won?

                    MILLS
          If I thought like you, I'd have
          slit my wrists a long time ago.

                    SOMERSET
          Where's the victory?

                    MILLS
          You do your job. Follow the law
          and do the best you can. It's all
          there.

                    SOMERSET
          If we caught John Doe tomorrow, and
          it turned out he was the devil...
          if it turned out he was literally
          Satan, then, that might live up to
          our expectations. No human being
          could do these horrible things,
          right?! But, this is not the
          devil. It's only a man.

                    MILLS
          Why don't you shut the fuck up for
          a while?! Huh? You make these
          speeches... like you know
          everything there is to know.

Somerset sits back, looking at Mills.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          You think you're preparing me for
          the hard times ahead?

You think you're toughening me up? Well, you're not! (pause)
You're quitting, fine... but I'm staying to fight.
                                      117.

          SOMERSET
Who are you fighting for? People
don't want a champion. They just
want to keep playing the lottery
and eating hamburgers.

          MILLS
What the fuck is wrong with you,
huh? What burnt you out?

          SOMERSET
There's no one thing, if that's
what you mean. I just... I can't
live anymore where stupidity is
embraced and nurtured as if it were
a virtue.

          MILLS
You're so much better than
everyone, right? No one's worthy
of you.

          SOMERSET
Wrong! I sympathize completely.
Because if you can't win... then,
if you don't ignore everything and
everyone around you, you go insane.
It's easier to smoke crack, and not
worry that your wife and kids are
starving to death. And, it's so
much easier to bear a child till
that child finally shuts up,
because it takes so much work to
love. And, if you bothered to think
about the abuse, and the damage,
you'd be sad.

          MILLS
You're talking about people who are
mentally ill. You're...

          SOMERSET
    (cuts in, furious)
No, I am not! I'm talking about
common, everyday life here. Where
Ignorance isn't bliss, it's a
matter of survival.

          MILLS
Listen to yourself. You say, "the
problem with people is they don't
care, so I don't care about
people." But, if you're not part
of the solution...
                                                              118.

                           SOMERSET
                     (cuts him off)
                 People who are in arguments over
                 their heads always use meaningless
                 slogans. But, life doesn't conform
                 to analogies.

                           MILLS
                 You're already here, and you've
                 been here a long time. So, there's
                 a part of you that knows, even if
                 everything you say is true, none of
                 it matters.

                           SOMERSET
                 That part of me is dead.

      Mills stands.

                           MILLS
                 Fuck you. You want me to agree
                 with you. "Yeah, you're right,
                 Somerset, this place is fucked.
                 Let's go live in a fucking log
                 cabin!" Well, I don't agree with
                 you. You're quitting, and it makes
                 me sick. Cause, you're the best
                 I've ever seen.

      Mills digs out some money and throws it on the table.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 Thanks for the beer.

      Mills leaves. Other patrons watch him go. Somerset takes
      out a cigarette. He goes to light it. The lighter will not
      light, and when it does, Somerset's hand is shaking.

154   INT.   SAFE HOUSE -- NIGHT                                154

      Mills comes quietly into the bedroom. Tracy is asleep in
      the bed. Mills takes off his jacket, puts it down. He sits
      on a chair and unties one shoe, takes it off. He looks at
      Tracy, looks at her a long time.

      He puts the shoe on the floor and goes to get on the bed.
      He kisses Tracy's forehead, looks at her sleeping
      innocently. He is touched, saddened. He kisses her cheek,
      then wraps his arms under and around her. He holds tight,
      kisses her again. Tracy stirs.

                           TRACY
                 David?
                                                            119.

      Mills his face against her, holding tighter still.

                           MILLS
                 I love you.

      Tracy holds his face in her hands, sees that he is crying.

                           TRACY
                 David?

                           MILLS
                 I love you.

      Mills clings to her. She wraps her arms around him as he
      cries quietly against her, and she kisses him, tries to
      comfort him. He sobs.

155   EXT.   CITY STREETS, INDUSTRIAL AREA -- NIGHT           155

      John Doe walks in this section of huge industrial complexes.
      Factories and foundries are lined side by side, seemingly
      for miles. We can HEAR TUGBOAT HORNS sounding low and deep.
      We're near the water.

      Doe seems to know where he's going. He passes stacks of
      industrial piping and steel drums piled to the sky.

      He walks through an industrial junk-yard filled with trashed
      bulldozers, trucks and discarded factory equipment. It's
      like a stroll through a bone-yard of dead dinosaurs.

      At the end of this field of metal, there is a tall, narrow
      alleyway formed by two warehouses. Doe enters, looking up
      at the single lit bulb on the wall above.

      He looks at the ground, picks up a rock and a beaten hubcap,
      walks under the bulb. He throws the hubcap with all his
      might. It soars, but misses the bulb, falls to the ground
      behind.

      Doe takes aim with the rock.   He throws, grunting.

      The rock smashes the bulb, bringing darkness to the alley.

      Doe walks back to the mouth of the alley. He stops and
      turns to start from there. He walks, deliberately, looking
      down at his feet.    FOLLOW as he walks.

      He stops, looks back to the way he came, then looks down at
      the ground in front of him again. He takes off his thick
      glasses.

      He holds the glasses in his hand.
                                                              120.

156   INT.   SOMERSET'S APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- NIGHT             156

      Somerset is in bed. The metronome is sounding: tick, tick,
      tick... The SOUNDS of the CITY are LOUD.

      Somerset closes his eyes, concentrating on the metronome.
      Tick, tick, tick... A MAN and a WOMAN are HEARD SCREAMING at
      each other incoherently from outside. Somerset rolls over,
      restless. Tick, tick, tick...

      A THIRD VOICE is HEARD from outside. This man is screaming
      at the other two people to shut up. Somerset opens his
      eyes, sits up. He reaches over, grabs the metronome and
      throws it against the wall.

157   INSERT -- TITLE CARD                                      157

      SUNDAY

158   INT.   SOMERSET'S APARTMENT, BEDROOM -- EARLY MORNING     158

      Somerset sits away from the bed. He's smoking a cigarette.
      The PHONE RINGS. Somerset gets up, not in the best of
      moods.

                           SOMERSET
                     (into phone)
                 Hello.

                           TRACY (V.O.)
                     (from phone, upset)
                 Hello, Somerset. It's Tracy.

                           SOMERSET
                 Is everything alright?

                           TRACY (V.O.)
                 Yes. Everything's fine. Could...
                 could you meet me somewhere. To
                 talk.

                           SOMERSET
                     (pause)
                 I don't think that's a good idea.

                           TRACY (V.O.)
                 I need to talk to someone,
                 Somerset. You're the only friend I
                 have here. I don't know anyone
                 else.
                                                              121.

159   INT.   COFFEE CAFE -- MORNING                               159

      Somerset and Tracy are seated in a booth by the window. The
      city's morning rush passes by outside. The cafe is noisy.
      Tracy is very upset. Somerset is very uneasy.

                           SOMERSET
                 David doesn't know about this?    You
                 haven't told him?

      Tracy shakes her head.   Somerset sighs.    Long silence.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 I have to tell you, Tracy, I'm not
                 the one to talk to about this.

                           TRACY
                 I just can't think straight. I
                 don't know why I called you, except
                 I can't stand to hold it as a
                 secret anymore. I had to get it
                 out... and I can't tell David yet.
                 Not yet.

      Somerset takes out his cigarettes, but thinks better of it
      and puts them away. He watches Tracy stir her coffee.

                           SOMERSET
                 I... I had a relationship once,
                 very much like a marriage. And,
                 there was a baby. A long time ago.
                 Things were good. And I got up one
                 morning, and I went on a case... a
                 murder, like any other. Except it
                 was my first since hearing about
                 the baby. And, I felt this fear
                 and anxiety coming over me. I
                 looked around and I thought, how
                 can I raise a child here? So, that
                 night, I told her I didn't want us
                 to have children, And, over the
                 next few weeks... I convinced
                 her...

      Tears come to Somerset's eyes.

                           SOMERSET (CONT)
                 I mean, I wore her down... slowly.

                           TRACY
                 I want to have children.   But...
                                                       122.

                    SOMERSET
          I can tell you, I know... I'm
          positive I made the right decision.
          I'm positive it was the right thing
          to do. But, there's never a day
          that goes by that I don't wish I
          had decided differently.

Tracy reaches to hold Somerset's hand, but he withdraws it,
wipes his tears away.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          If you... if you decide not to have
          the baby... if that's what you
          decide, then never tell Mills you
          were pregnant. I mean that. Never
          tell.
              (pause)
          Your marriage would just wither,
          and die altogether.

Tracy looks around the cafe, tears in her eyes.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          But, if you decide to have the
          baby, then, at that very instant,
          when you're absolutely sure... tell
          him. Tell him that exact second.
          And, spoil that kid every chance
          you get.

                    TRACY
          Somerset...

Somerset stands.   He forces a smile.

                    SOMERSET
          That's all the wisdom I can share
          with you, Tracy. I barely know
          you.

                    TRACY
          Will I see you again, before you
          leave?

                    SOMERSET
          Probably not. But, it's probably
          better that way.

Somerset steps away, leaves.   Tracy watches him go.
                                                              123.

160   EXT.   CITY STREET -- DAY                                 160

      Mills and Somerset walk towards the precinct house.     They
      wade through cars to cross the street.

                            SOMERSET
                 I've decided... I want to stay on,
                 till this is over. Till either
                 it's done, or we can see it will
                 never end.

      Mills remains impassive.

                           MILLS
                 Oh, you want to stay now?

                           SOMERSET
                 One of two things is going to
                 happen. We're either going to get
                 John Doe... or, he will finish his
                 series of seven, and he'll never be
                 found.

                           MILLS
                 You think if you stay you're doing
                 me some big favor?

                           SOMERSET
                 I'm requesting you keep me on as
                 your partner a few more days.
                 You'd be doing me the favor.

                           MILLS
                 You knew I'd say yes.

                            SOMERSET
                 No.   I wasn't sure at all.

      They enter the precinct house. Down the sidewalk, from a
      distance, comes John Doe. His brown workboots and clothing
      are splattered with blood.

      He walks towards the precinct house, hands in his pockets,
      like he's merely out for a walk on a Sunday afternoon.
      People on the sidewalk stop upon seeing him, avoiding him.

161   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, RECEIVING LOBBY/BOOKING -- DAY     161

      Mills and Somerset walk past booking cubicles and benches of
      handcuffed low-lifes. The place is swimming with activity.

      The two detectives head to a duty desk at the end of the
      room.
                                                      124.

                    SOMERSET
          As soon as this is over, I'll be
          gone.

                    MILLS
          What a great big surprise that is.

They pass through a gate and Somerset goes to the staircase
leading to the second floor. Mills stops at the duty desk.
Other cops are fighting for the DUTY SERGEANT'S attention.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          Mills and Somerset are on the
          premises.

                    SERGEANT
          Wonder-fucking-ful.

Mills stops, looks.   Somerset stops, looks back down the
stairs.

John Doe stands inside the precinct house doors.   He holds
out his arms as if to say "presto, here I am."

Near silence comes to the room as all eyes go to the figure
of John Doe.

Mills is riveted, finding this impossible to comprehend.

One UNIFORMED COP takes out his gun, points it at John Doe.

                      UNIFORMED COP
          It's him!

Several other cops drop what they're doing and draw weapons.
Mills, still off-balance, walks back through the gate, takes
his gun out and points it at Doe.

                    MILLS
          Get down on the floor.

Somerset comes back down the stairs.

                    SOMERSET
          Be careful!

Cops move slowly in on Doe from all sides.

                    ANOTHER COP
          You heard him! Get on the floor!

John Doe gets on his knees, hands up. Mills moves close,
but not too. ONE COP comes from behind, nudges Doe with his
foot.
                                                              125.

                           ONE COP
                 Spread your legs and get your hands
                 out in front of you.

                             MILLS
                 Get down!    Face down!

      John Doe gets on his stomach, obeys. Mills comes right up
      to Doe, steps on his neck, puts his gun against Doe's head.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 Don't move. Don't move a fucking
                 inch.

      Cops frisk and handcuff Doe.     Somerset comes beside Mills.

                           SOMERSET
                 I don't believe it.

                           JOHN DOE
                 Hello, Lieutenant Somerset.

                           COP
                 What the hell is this?

      The cop putting the handcuffs on Doe holds up Doe's hands.
      Doe winces. Every single one of Doe's fingers has a bandage
      wrapped around it. John Doe looks up, his face pressed
      against the floor, glasses askew, Mills' gun at his temple.

                           JOHN DOE
                 I want to speak with my lawyer.

162   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, OBSERVATION ROOM -- DAY            162

      Mills, Somerset and the captain stand in darkness.

      On the other side of a two-way mirror, John Doe is seated in
      a restraining chair in an interrogation room. His hands and
      legs are bound with leather straps to the chair's arm and
      legs. A strap hold tight around Doe's throat. This is not
      some superman/serial killer. He looks more like an
      eccentric college professor. His lawyer MARK SWARR, 43,
      sits at a table, taking notes.

      Mills holds a fingerprint card. The black ink prints are
      just useless blobs with traces of blood in them.

                            CAPTAIN
                 He cuts off the skin of his
                 fingertips. That's why we can't
                 find a single usable print in his
                 apartment.
                                                   126.

          For a long time, he's been cutting
          before the papillary lines can grow
          back.

                    MILLS
          What about the trace on his bank
          account? The guns?

                    CAPTAIN
          The orphanage is all we have. His
          bank account is only five years old
          and it started as cash. There's no
          credit history, no employment
          history. We even tried to trace
          his furniture. All we know for
          sure is he's wealthy, well educated
          and totally insane. We may never
          know how he got that way.

Somerset stands looking in at Doe.

                    SOMERSET
          Because he is John Doe, by choice.

                    MILLS
          When do we get to question him?

                       CAPTAIN
          You don't.     This goes to court now.

                    MILLS
          This doesn't make sense, captain.
          He wouldn't just turn himself in!

                    CAPTAIN
          Well, there he sits. It's not
          supposed to make sense.

                    MILLS
          He's not finished!

                    CAPTAIN
          You're wound way too tight on this,
          Mills.

                    MILLS
          Somerset... help me out here.

Somerset looks at them.    Says nothing.

                       CAPTAIN
          It's over.

The captain leaves.    Mills is furious.
                                                             127.

                           MILLS
                 Damn it, Somerset. You know
                 Johnny's fucking with us. He's
                 pissing in our faces again!

                           SOMERSET
                 Slow up. You and I are, probably
                 for the first time ever, in total
                 agreement. He wouldn't just stop.

                           MILLS
                 Well... what the fuck, man?

                           SOMERSET
                 John Doe's only two murders away
                 from finishing his masterpiece,
                 right? But, can you even conceive
                 of what might happen next? I mean,
                 can you tell me how he's going to
                 go about it?

                             MILLS
                       (pause)
                 No.

                           SOMERSET
                 I can tell you this; I recognize
                 his lawyer. His name is Mark
                 Swarr. He's the one who kept Zero
                 out of prison.
                     (pause)
                 We'll wait for John Doe's plea.

163   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, SOMERSET'S OFFICE -- DAY          163

      Mills is at the desk with his feet up, stares at the
      chalkboard:

      gluttony (x)         5 lust (x) greed (x)         6 wrath
      sloth (x)            7 envy pride (x)

      Clock on the wall says 4:45. Somerset packs books into
      boxes, preparing for his eventual departure. The captain
      opens the door and steps into the office. He clears his
      throat, looking like there is something very wrong.

164   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, CAPTAIN'S OFFICE -- DAY           164

      Mills and Somerset stand together. The captain is behind
      his desk with the D.A., Martin Talbot, seated in front of
      him. Mark Swarr addresses them all, seems nervous, but in
      control.
                                                    128.

                    SWARR
          My client says there are two more
          bodies... two more dead, hidden
          away. He will take Detective Mills
          to these bodies, but only Detective
          Mills. Only at six o'clock, today.

Swarr wipes his brow with a handkerchief.

                    TALBOT
          Oh, Christ.

                    MILLS
          Why me?

                    SWARR
          He says he admires you.

                    SOMERSET
              (to captain)
          This is all part of his game plan.

                    SWARR
          Mr. Doe claims that if the
          detective does not accept this
          offer, the bodies will never be
          found.

                    CAPTAIN
          Frankly, counselor, I'm inclined to
          let them rot.

Mills walks up into Swarr's face.

                    MILLS
          You like what you do for a living?

                    CAPTAIN
          Back off, Mills.

                    SWARR
          I'm required by law to serve my
          clients to the best of my ability,
          and to serve their interests.

Mills eases off. Talbot is agitated, tapping a finger on
the gold tooth in his mouth. He looks at Swarr.

                    TALBOT
          We don't make deals like this.

                    CAPTAIN
          We're going to have to pass.
                                                    129.

                    SWARR
          My client... he also wishes that I
          inform you, if you do not accept,
          he will plead insanity, across the
          board.

                    TALBOT
          Let him try. I'd like to see him
          try!

                    SWARR
          Come now, Martin. Even he knows,
          with the nature of these crimes, I
          could get him off with such a plea.

Talbot stands, wringing his hands. Mills and Somerset are
looking at each other, thinking it over.

                    TALBOT
          I'm not letting this conviction
          slide. I can tell you that, right
          here and right now!

                    SWARR
          He says, if you accept, under his
          specific conditions, he will sign a
          full confession and plead guilty...
          right here, and right now.

Talbot looks at Swarr with hatred.

                    MILLS
          I'll do it.

                    SOMERSET
          Hold on... just a minute.

Somerset turns to Talbot.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          If he were to plead insanity...
          this conversation is admissible.
          The fact that he's blackmailing us
          with his plea...

                    SWARR
          And, my client reminds you, two
          more people are dead. The press
          would have a field day if they
          found out the police didn't seem
          too concerned about finding them...
          giving them proper burial.
                                                               130.

                           MILLS
                 I'll do it. I want to finish it.

      Somerset is thinking it through.    He looks at Mills.

                           SOMERSET
                     (to captain)
                 Well... let's get the fucking
                 lawyer out of the room, and we can
                 talk about how this whole thing's
                 going to go down.

165   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, BATHROOM -- LATE AFTERNOON          165

      Mills' hand reaches to the sink to pick up a razor. He's
      shirtless, his chest covered in shaving cream. He starts
      shaving in front of a mirror. Somerset is behind him,
      smoking.

                           SOMERSET
                 If John Doe's head splits open, and
                 a U.F.O. flies out, I want you to
                 have expected it.

                             MILLS
                 I will.

                           SOMERSET
                 No emotion. Stay as cold as ice.

                             MILLS
                 I will.

      Somerset flicks ash in the sink. Mills finishes shaving.
      He steps away from the sink and wipes his chest off with a
      towel.

                           MILLS (CONT) (CONT’D)
                     (very serious)
                 Listen, Somerset... we've been
                 through a lot together. And, I
                 uh...

                           SOMERSET
                 What is it?

                           MILLS
                 I would like to make sweet love to
                 you.

      Somerset walks away.    Mills laughs.

                             SOMERSET
                 Please...
                                                                  131.

      As they leave.

                           MILLS
                 Give me a kiss on the lips.

                           SOMERSET
                 Give me a break.

166   INT.   PRECINCT HOUSE, READY ROOM -- LATE AFTERNOON           166

      Mills has his shirt off. A female technician, Josie, tapes
      a radio transmitter and microphone to his chest.

      Somerset sits nearby at one of the ready room desks. He
      wears a bullet-proof vest, is just finishing a check of his
      gun. He's putting the bullets back into it.

      Josie finishes prepping Mills. Mills presses the adhesive,
      making sure it will hold. He puts on a shirt and bullet-
      proof vest, fastens the velcro.

      Somerset stands, puts the gun in his hip holster.

      Mills picks up his own gun, checks it, holsters it. He
      watches Somerset take out a roll of antacids. Somerset pops
      a few.

                              SOMERSET
                 Ready?

                              MILLS
                 Extremely.

      They look at each other.        Mills holds out his hand.   They
      shake on it.

167   INT. CITY STREET, IN FRONT OF PRECINCT HOUSE -- LATE          167
      AFTERNOON

      The street is full of shadows as the sun is falling low. On
      the steps of the precinct house, a throng of reporters
      shifts anxiously. A line of policemen holds them back. The
      precinct doors open. Martin Talbot arrives, escorted by
      cops. The press swarm lurches forward, flashbulbs explode.

      Talbot holds out his hands, quieting them, about to speak.

168   EXT. CITY STREET, AT BACK OF PRECINCT HOUSE -- LATE           168
      AFTERNOON

      Mills' car pulls out of the fenced parking lot.        John Doe is
      seated in the rear.
                                                            132.

      The car speeds up on the street, turns onto an avenue,
      heading into a canyon formed by tall buildings. At the
      corner, a car is parked.

      Somerset is at the wheel.   He pulls out, follows Mills' car.

169   EXT.   SKYSCRAPER ROOFTOP -- LATE AFTERNOON              169

      California is dressed in full battle gear. He looks through
      binoculars at the city below. The wind blows hard.

      He turns and runs to a sleek helicopter on the roof's heli-
      pad, climbs in the side door. The PILOT leans back from the
      cockpit to hand him a helmet. California dons it, starts
      strapping himself in so he can lean out the open door.

                           CALIFORNIA
                 Is this wind going to hurt us?

      The pilot cranks the helicopter's whining engine and the
      blades start to spin, churning the air.

                           PILOT
                 Just makes the ride a little more
                 fun.

      California hefts a high-powered automatic rifle as the
      chopper lifts from the pad and takes off.

170   INT.   MILLS' CAR -- LATE AFTERNOON                      170

      Mills drives, looking to the back seat through the rearview
      mirror. A steel mesh partition separates front from back.

      John Doe sits with his hands cuffed. He is dressed in gray
      pants and a gray shirt. His feet are cuffed to a metal
      fastener on the floor of the car. Rivulets of sweat pour
      down his face. He seems wired.

                           MILLS
                 What's your story, Johnny?     Who are
                 you, really?

      Doe pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, looks
      at Mills' eyes in the rearview mirror.

                           JOHN DOE
                 It doesn't matter who I am. Who I
                 am means absolutely nothing.

171   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- LATE AFTERNOON                  171

      Somerset adjusts the volume on a radio receiver mounted on
      the dash. He watches the road ahead, tailing Mills.
                                                           133.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 What's your deal? You seem pretty
                 fucking nervous.

                           JOHN DOE (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 I want this to go well. It's very
                 important to me, obviously.

172   INT.   POLICE HELICOPTER -- LATE AFTERNOON             172

      The chopper hovers amongst skyscrapers. California and the
      pilot are listening, through their helmet headsets.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from headset)
                 You want this to go well?    What is
                 this?

                           JOHN DOE (V.O.)
                     (from headset)
                 Turn right on this street.     Stay in
                 the left lane.

      California leans out the chopper door, using his binoculars.

173   EXT.   CITY STREET -- LATE AFTERNOON                   173

      Mills' car weaves through traffic.

      Somerset's car isn't far behind, goes through a red light,
      barely missing a truck. Other cars blow their horns.

174   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- LATE AFTERNOON                174

      A cellular phone on the passenger side is BEEPING. Somerset
      pushes a button on the phone's panel. He puts on a
      headset/telephone, speaks into the mouthpiece.

                             SOMERSET
                 I'm here.

                           CALIFORNIA (V.O.)
                     (from headset)
                 Downtown and moving west. Looks
                 like you're going to be crossing
                 water.

                           SOMERSET
                 If we're on the bridge, you keep
                 your distance. You hear me?
                                                               134.

175   INT.   POLICE HELICOPTER -- LATE AFTERNOON                 175

      The helicopter hovers steady.     California stows his
      binoculars.

                            SOMERSET (V.O.)
                     (from headset)
                 Cross the river before us if
                 necessary.

                           CALIFORNIA
                 You got it.

      California taps the pilot's helmet.

176   EXT.   CITY SKY -- LATE AFTERNOON                          176

      The helicopter dips, flying like a bullet over the city
      skyline, heading towards the river and the setting sun.

177   EXT.   CITY STREETS -- LATE AFTERNOON                      177

      FROM HIGH ABOVE, we see traffic on the highway at the
      polluted river's edge. Cards and trucks move like blood
      through veins.

      DOWN CLOSER, we can see Mills' car in the flow. The car
      turns into a lane of traffic on its way to the huge
      suspension bridge.

      Somerset's car is in close pursuit.

      UNDER THE BRIDGE, the police helicopter travels close to the
      water, moving parallel to the bridge, but low, so that it's
      out of the sightline of the vehicles above.

178   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- LATE AFTERNOON                    178

      Traffic is bumper to bumper. Somerset moves his headset
      mouthpiece to smoke a cigarette. He steers onto the bridge,
      under the massive girders.

                            MILLS (V.O.)
                      (from receiver)
                 For us to go pick up two more dead
                 bodies, and have that be the end of
                 it... just seems too boring for
                 you.

179   INT.   MILLS' CAR -- LATE AFTERNOON                        179

      Beyond the crest of the bridge, the sunset is crimson.
                                                       135.

                    MILLS
          Wouldn't be sensational enough.

                    JOHN DOE
          Wanting people to pay attention,
          you can't just tap them on the
          shoulder.

John Doe strains to turn, looks out the back window.

                     JOHN DOE (CONT)
          Sometimes you have to hit them in
          the head with a sledgehammer... and
          then you get their strict
          attention.

                    MILLS
          What are you looking at, Johnny?

                    JOHN DOE
          Looking back... at the city
          proper...

Doe situates forward, holds his hands in front of his face,
looking at his bandaged fingers.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          And yet, no pillar of salt.
              (smiles to himself)
          Lost on you, isn't it? You've
          never read the Bible, have you,
          David?

                    MILLS
          I remember a lot of people reading
          it at me when I was a kid. I
          preferred the classic comic version
          myself.

This is an affront to Doe, angers him.   Mills sees it, likes
it.

                    MILLS (CONT)
          I used to have "Godspell" on an
          eight- track tape. Does that
          count?

Doe leans forwards, fury building in him.

                    JOHN DOE
          You make me sick.

                    MILLS
          Sit back, freak.
                                                              136.

      Mills slams his fist against the partition.     Doe sits back.

                           JOHN DOE
                     (under his breath)
                 Ignorant heathen.

                            MILLS
                 Right, right. I forgot. You think
                 these murders were for God. Right?
                     (pause)
                 I'm asking you seriously. You
                 really think what you did was God's
                 good work?

      Doe looks out the window at other cars, refuses to answer.

      He's pressing the tips of his forefingers into his thumbs,
      causing blood to drip from under the bandages.

                           JOHN DOE
                 The Lord works in mysterious ways.

180   EXT.   CITY STREETS, INDUSTRIAL AREA -- NIGHT             180

      It's getting dark. We've been in this section of factories
      before, with John Doe. The police helicopter soars
      overhead.

181   INT.   POLICE HELICOPTER -- NIGHT                         181

      California's looking down, wearing night-vision goggles.

182   INSERT -- CALIFORNIA'S P.O.V. -- THROUGH GOGGLES          182

      The goggles allow California to see clearly into the maze
      formed by buildings, yards and worksheds below. No one in
      sight.

                           CALIFORNIA (O.S.)
                 Fuck, man... there's about a
                 thousand places to be ambushed out
                 here.

183   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT                            183

      The headlights are off. Mills' car's red brake lights are
      far ahead on this industrial road.

                           CALIFORNIA (V.O.)
                     (from headset)
                 I don't see anything... not yet.
                                                             137.

                           SOMERSET
                     (in mouthpiece)
                 A quick sweep is all we get. Clear
                 out now. You're right in front of
                 us.

      Somerset reaches to turn up the volume on his radio
      receiver. Mills is HEARD SINGING "Jesus Christ Superstar,"
      loud. Somerset allows a very faint smile.

184   INT.   MILLS' CAR -- NIGHT                               184

      Mills drives along, singing.

                           MILLS
                 Jesus Christ, Superstar... who in
                 the world do you think you are?
                 Jesus Christ, Superstar...

      Doe's in the back seat, trying to bear it, steaming.

185   EXT.   INDUSTRIAL SKIES -- NIGHT                         185

      The chopper goes high, away, over the industrial area.

      It moves to the other side of the factories and settles in
      low over the river.

186   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT                           186

      Mills' tune comes to a conclusion. Somerset slows the car
      as he sees Mills' brake lights go on ahead.

                           JOHN DOE (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 We can walk from here.

                           SOMERSET
                     (in mouthpiece)
                 You stay out of this unless I call
                 you in, California. Understand?

                           CALIFORNIA (V.O.)
                     (from headset)
                 You're in charge.

      Somerset takes off the headset/phone, stops the car.

187   EXT.   INDUSTRIAL ROAD, AT SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT       187

      Somerset gets out.   He looks through binoculars.
                                                             138.

188   INSERT -- SOMERSET'S P.O.V. -- THROUGH BINOCULARS         188

      Mills' car has stopped under the lights of a junk-yard.
      Mills gets out. He walks to unlock the passenger door.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 Alright, Somerset. Going for a
                 stroll.

189   AT MILLS' CAR                                             189

      Mills opens the passenger door.     Doe looks out.

                           MILLS
                 Lean on your side. Hands behind
                 your head and lock your fingers
                 together.

      Doe obliges.    Mills moves to unchain Doe's feet, cautious.

190   INSERT -- SOMERSET'S P.O.V. -- THROUGH BINOCULARS         190

      Mills lets Doe out. Doe does a deep knee bend to loosen his
      legs. Mills takes out his gun.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 Where are we going?

      Doe points with handcuffed hands, at a path through the junk-
      yard, towards warehouses. Mills motions with his gun.

                           MILLS (V.O.,CONT)
                     (from receiver)
                 Lead the way.

      Doe starts walking. Mills follows, keeping the gun on Doe.
      We lose sight of them behind the junk-yard's massive pieces.

191   AT SOMERSET'S CAR                                         191

      Somerset lowers his binoculars. He gets back in the car,
      leaves the lights off, drives slowly towards Mills' car.

192   EXT.   INDUSTRIAL AREA, JUNK-YARD -- NIGHT                192

      Mills follows Doe past rusting collections of machines. We
      took this walk with Doe before, through this metallic bone-
      yard.

                           JOHN DOE
                 It's right this way.
                                                            139.

      Mills is on edge. His eyes search the towering, twisted
      junk. Sharp edges reach for the sky. Glass breaks under
      their feet.

                           MILLS
                 So far, so good.

      SOUNDS of BOATS on the river can be HEARD. Doe's heading
      for the alleyway created by two warehouses beyond the junk-
      yard.

      Doe nears the alleyway. It is pitch dark.   Doe stops before
      entering, turns to Mills.

                            JOHN DOE
                 In here.

      Mills steps up, keeping his distance from Doe.   He can't see
      a thing in the blackness ahead.

                           MILLS
                 You go first.

      Doe faces the alley. He starts walking. We MOVE with him
      as he goes. He's counting silently to himself, moving his
      lips.

      Mills walks behind Doe, keeping a sharp eye out in all
      directions. He's about ten feet behind Doe, keeping his gun
      trained on the back of Doe's skull.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 Tell me where we're going.

      Doe continues walking, counting his steps, a bit quicker.

193   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT                            193

      Somerset has pulled along Mills' car, at the junk-yard.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 Slow down, Johnny. Stop right
                 there.
                     (pause)
                 I said stop!

194   EXT.   WAREHOUSE ALLEYWAY -- NIGHT                        194

      Doe walks on. Mills is behind, walking to close the gap.
      We can HEAR the faint SOUND of RUSHING WATER.

                           MILLS
                 I'll blow your head off right now!
                                                            140.

      Doe stops abruptly.   He spins on his heels, facing Mills.

      Mills is getting closer, pumped, ready to pull the trigger.

      Doe reaches up with his hands, takes off his glasses. He
      holds them in one hand. The SOUND of the WATER is LOUDER.

      Mills is about six feet from Doe, and knows something's
      wrong.

      John Doe smiles.

                            MILLS (CONT) (CONT’D)
                 What...

      Doe takes one step backwards and falls, straight down,
      disappears in the blink of an eye.

                            MILLS (CONT) (CONT’D)
                 No!

195   INT.   SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT                            195

      Somerset looks towards the far off alleyway, horrified.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 Motherfucker! No!

196   INT.   WAREHOUSE ALLEYWAY -- NIGHT                        196

      Mills stands facing the open manhole cover Doe disappeared
      into.

      A torrent of water rushes by underground. Mills fires a few
      futile shots into the water, out of his mind with rage. He
      pulls back the top of his bullet-proof vest, exposing the
      microphone.

                           MILLS
                 He's gone, Somerset!   He's in the
                 water!

197   EXT.   INDUSTRIAL ROAD, SOMERSET'S CAR -- NIGHT           197

      Somerset leaps out, takes out his gun.   FOLLOW as he runs
      into the junk-yard as fast as he can.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from receiver)
                 I'm going in!
                                                            141.

198   INT.   POLICE HELICOPTER -- NIGHT                         198

      The chopper's over the river.   California listens intently.

                           MILLS (V.O.)
                     (from headset)
                 I have to go in after him!

      STATIC CRACKLES LOUD in his headset, then it GOES DEAD.
      California grips his mouthpiece.

                           CALIFORNIA
                 Somerset, what's going on down
                 there?!

199   INT.   UNDERGROUND WATERWAY -- NIGHT                      199

      An underground pipe-way. Mills tries to swim, is mostly
      carried in the flow. He's battered against the sides of the
      pipe, holding his breath desperately.

200   EXT.   INDUSTRIAL JUNK-YARD -- NIGHT                      200

      FOLLOW Somerset as he charges onwards through the junk-yard,
      stumbling over pieces of metal. He runs towards the
      alleyway.

201   INT.   UNDERGROUND WATERWORKS -- NIGHT                    201

      WATER ROARS. A square pool of water churns. A moment, then
      Mills rises, gasping, choking. He's disoriented, furious,
      waving his gun, expecting Doe to be right on top of him.

      No one around. Mills looks. This is some sort of unmanned
      water switching station. the walls are covered in catwalks,
      drainage pipes and tunnels. Some tunnels and pipes spew
      water down into the central pool, others are sealed shut.

      Mills pulls himself from the central pool to a concrete
      spillway. He stands up, searching. Doe could be anywhere.

                           MILLS
                 Come on, Johnny!   I'm right here!

202   INT.   UNDERGROUND WATERWORKS TUNNEL -- NIGHT             202

      There is a plastic bag with an automatic pistol and extra
      clip inside hanging from a protruding shut-off valve. John
      Doe's hands tear the bag open, taking the contents.

203   EXT.   WAREHOUSE ALLEYWAY -- NIGHT                        203

      Somerset enters the alley, short of breath. He points his
      gun in front of him, fearful. Moving slowly.
                                                           142.

                              SOMERSET
                 Mills!

204   INT.   POLICE HELICOPTER -- NIGHT                        204

      California is enraged, looks towards the pilot.

                           CALIFORNIA
                 God damn it! Let's do something!

                           PILOT
                 Somerset said wait!

                              CALIFORNIA
                 Fuck that!     Let's go!

                              PILOT
                 Where?

                           CALIFORNIA
                 I don't know! Just go!

205   INT.   UNDERGROUND WATERWORKS -- NIGHT                   205

      Mills climbs onto a catwalk. He passes tunnels, looking
      down each, intense, ready to kill. A waterfall flows and
      over the other end of the catwalk.

      Mills stands, looking over the railing at the central pool
      and other tunnels. He points his gun and fires into a far
      tunnel.

                            MILLS
                 Come on!   Let's do it!    You and me!

      A figure appears in the center of the waterfall behind
      Mills.

                           MILLS (CONT)
                 I'm not going to let you win this!

      John Doe steps out of the waterfall, putting on his glasses.

      He seems calm, unloads his gun into Mills' back... BLAM,
      BLAM...

      Mills twists, blown forward by the bullets slamming into his
      bullet-proof vest. BLAM, BLAM, BLAM... he stumbles, trying
      to turn and fire back, but bullets strike him down and he
      falls to the floor of the catwalk, gun falling from his
      hand.
                                                             143.

      CLICK. Doe's gun is empty. The gunshots echo. Mills lays
      there on his stomach, pounded, blacking out, the hot bullets
      in his vest smoking and sizzling from the water splashing
      them.

      Doe moves quickly, starts searching Mills' pockets.

206   EXT.   WAREHOUSE ALLEYWAY -- NIGHT                          206

      Somerset comes upon the open manhole.    Water rushes by.

                             SOMERSET
                 Christ.

207   INT.   UNDERGROUND WATERWORKS -- NIGHT                      207

      The central pool bubbles, undulating. Somerset surfaces,
      inhaling, bringing his gun up. He looks. No one in sight.

                             SOMERSET
                 Mills!    Pull out!

      His voice reverberates, barely heard against the roaring
      water. he swims to the edge, climbs out. He walks,
      looking...

                           SOMERSET (CONT) (CONT’D)
                     (pleading)
                 Pull out now!

      Somerset looks up, and freezes up on seeing --

      -- Doe's handcuffs hang, swinging, on the rail of the
      catwalk above, with Mills' radio transmitter and wire tied
      to them.

208   EXT.   INDUSTRIAL JUNK-YARD -- NIGHT                        208

      Somerset runs to his car, driven, gasping for breath, still
      soaking wet. He stops for one second, looks.

      Not too far away, the police helicopter flies low to the
      ground, turning in wide circles.

      Somerset climbs into the car, starts it up. He drives away,
      leaving his lights off. The engine protests loudly, forced
      to its limit. The car disappears in darkness.

      The police helicopter circles, useless.
                                                             144.

209   EXT.   ABANDONED CHURCH/ORPHANAGE -- NIGHT                209

      The church stands elegant at night, when its decayed state
      is partially hidden. Small shafts of light escape from
      holes in the facade and just into the blackness.

      Somerset is out of his car. He strides towards the church,
      checks his gun as he goes. FOLLOW with him, getting closer
      to the church. He climbs the stairs.

      Somerset steps up and kicks the church doors open, met by a
      tremendous blast of light --

210   INT.   ABANDONED CHURCH -- NIGHT                          210

      Flickering orange light from hundreds of once tall orange
      candles, now burnt low. They greet Somerset, in the
      church's old candle racks, on the floor, on the altar and
      all through out the pews.

      Somerset's eyes try to adjust to the light. He holds his
      gun ready, walks down the long center aisle.

                           JOHN DOE (O.S.)
                 Hello, Somerset.

      Doe sounds far, his voice echoing from the front of the
      church.

                           SOMERSET
                 Where's David?

                              JOHN DOE (O.S.)
                 He's here.     With me.

                           SOMERSET
                 Tell me what you want.

      Somerset can see through the heat warp.    Doe stands facing
      him from the altar.

                           JOHN DOE
                 What do I want? The same you... I
                 want an ending. Stay where you
                 are. Put your gun on the floor and
                 slide it all the way down here.

      Somerset obeys, bends, slides the gun down the aisle till it
      hits the bottom altar stair. He keeps walking, slowly.

                           SOMERSET
                 I want to see him.    Show me Mills.
                                                       145.

On the altar, Doe is sweating hard, standing over Mills.
Mills is slumped forward on the floor, unconscious. His
bullet-proof vest has been removed.

Mills' hands are tied tight together in front of him, tied
to one end of the thick rope suspended from the ceiling.
Doe holds the other end of the rope, has his gun tucked
under his belt.

                    JOHN DOE
          You're an intelligent man,
          Somerset. You understand what
          you're a part of, don't you? When
          this is finished, it will seem
          surreal, but it will be a whole,
          crystalline reality. And, no one
          will be able to deny it, no matter
          how hard they try.

Doe's voice is thick with passion. Somerset is about
halfway down the aisle, still moving.

                     SOMERSET
          You're a murderer. That's all.
          The only way you've distinguished
          yourself is by your particular
          brutality.

Doe walks across the altar.

                    JOHN DOE
          You know that's not true.   You
          know.

                    SOMERSET
          You're killing innocent people, and
          I should admire you? You're doing
          it because it gives you pleasure.
          That's the only purpose... your
          sick pleasure.

Doe picks up a container of gasoline, looks out at Somerset.

                    JOHN DOE
          Stay where you are!

Somerset stops.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          I won't deny my personal desires.
          I won't.
                                                         146.

Doe begins dousing Mills with gasoline, covering Mills' body
and clothing. Mills stirs, coming to. He coughs, choking
on the gas and fumes.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          But, I don't mourn the victims in
          this any more than I mourn the
          thousands who died in Sodom and
          Gomorrah.

Somerset looks fearful.   He starts approaching again.

                    SOMERSET
          All you've done is cause more
          misery and pain! You've given
          people all the more reason to
          believe there is no God!

Somerset eyes his gun at the bottom of the stairs.

Doe sees Somerset moving, throws the gas can away, takes out
his gun. Doe walks to the edge of the altar, all the time
holding his end of the rope.

                      JOHN DOE
          Stop!

Somerset is twitching with anger, looking at the gun about
fifteen feet in front of him.

Mills manages to look up, weak, his eyes barely able to open
because of the stinging gasoline.

                      MILLS
          Somerset?

Doe takes one step down off the altar. Somerset is still
edging forward, hands out away from his body.

                    SOMERSET
          Do you really think I'm just going
          to let this happen?! You think I'm
          going to let him die?

                      JOHN DOE
          Yes.

Doe fires his gun and the bullet slams into the front of
Somerset's bullet-proof vest. Somerset flies back, knocking
over a rack of candles on his way to the floor.

Doe walks quickly back onto the altar.
                                                     147.

                    MILLS
          Motherfucker!

Mills tries to grab at Doe as he passes, but Doe turns and
kicks Mills in the ribs. Mills cringes in pain.

Somerset lays in the aisle, on his stomach, gasping. He
can't catch his breath, his twisted face pressed against the
floor.

                    JOHN DOE
          How can you speak of God, Somerset?
          When was the last time you spoke
          His name?

Mills tries to rub the gas out of his eyes with his bound
hands.

His mind works feverishly. He looks around to see where he
is, then he searches the floor. We can see, inside his open
shirt, the bleeding, upside-down cross Doe has cut into his
chest.

Doe walks back to shout angrily down at Somerset.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          When did you last speak His name?
          Was it in prayer? Or, did you say
          the Lord's name after you stubbed
          your big toe? Or, did you use His
          name to curse another man?

Somerset holds his chest, blinking, trying not to black out.

Mills finds a piece of broken stained glass on the floor.
He picks it up, palms it, still choking on gasoline.

Doe walks over to the statue of Saint Jerome Emiliani,
pulling the rope from above so it goes taut and Mills' arms
raise above his head. Doe wraps the rope around Emiliani's
arm.

                    MILLS
          I'm going to kill you, Johnny.   I'm
          going to see you dead.

Doe begins twisting the loose end of the rope around the
statue.

                    JOHN DOE
          The irony, David, is that you
          policemen and I want the same
          things. But, you are so short
          sighted.
                                                     148.

          In this city, where you can see a
          deadly sin on every street
          corner... and in every home, we
          want repentance.

Mills clutches the glass piece and starts cutting the rope
just above his hands.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          We want good over evil. We want
          values instilled in the children.
          We want a world where a man or
          woman can lead a decent life.
              (pause)
          Wisdom, understanding, counsel,
          fortitude, knowledge, piety, and
          fear of the Lord. Such simple
          concepts. Why are they non-
          existent?

Somerset manages to life his head, struggles to his knees.

                    SOMERSET
              (weakly)
          Let him go, God damn you.

Doe checks to make sure the rope around Saint Emiliani is
secure, tightening the knots.

                    JOHN DOE
          There were two men once, who had
          wonderful gardens. Two gardens of
          flowers that went on as far as the
          eye could see. Beautiful
          gardens... the fragrance was
          inspiration in itself.

Doe stands behind Emiliani, heaves against the statue.

Mills watches, gritting his teeth, rubbing the glass against
the rope, fingers bleeding.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          But, both gardens were beset by
          problems. Weeds started to take
          root, and there were infestations
          of insects and diseases. The
          gardens started to turn putrid.
          And, one man fought to save his
          garden, because he could never
          forget how it once was. Everyday
          he cut the weeds, and killed the
          insects. Fought the diseases.
                                                     149.

Doe finally topples the statue, down the altar stairs, and
the other end of the rope pulls Mills upwards, screaming in
pain. Mills is held, about eight feet in the air, legs
dangling.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          That man never had a beautiful
          garden again.

                      MILLS
          Fuck you!

                    JOHN DOE
          The other man plowed his garden
          under.
              (pause)
          He plowed it under the soil. He
          started over.

Somerset gets to his feet, steadying himself on a pew.

Doe walks across the altar, picks up a long metal pole with
a thick wick and candle snuffer on the end. He lights the
wick from a near candle. The flame burns long and thin. He
looks down at Somerset, takes out his gun.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          Stay there, Somerset. Or, I'll
          kill him right now.

Doe holds the flaming pole up, near Mills.

Somerset stops.   He looks up at Mills.

Mills is straining. He nods to Somerset, and Somerset sees
Mills cutting at the rope.

                    SOMERSET
          Alright... you don't have to do
          this, John. You've already made
          your point.

                    JOHN DOE
          Do you think I chose this? Can you
          even begin to understand how
          painful my existence has been?
          It's like... like having every
          sense heightened beyond
          comprehension.

Doe lowers the flame, standing below and beside Mills, with
his attention focused on Somerset.
                                                         150.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          So that the stench of the street
          coats your throat like bile. So,
          sugar is so sweet it... it makes
          your bones ache to the marrow.

                    SOMERSET
          You're insane. That's why.

                    JOHN DOE
              (seething)
          No! You're wrong!

Mills continues cutting, bleeding, almost through the rope.
He begins to swing his feet slightly, his body swaying.

                    JOHN DOE (CONT)
          I was chosen. And I've wished a
          thousand times I could have been a
          normal man. Like David Mills, a
          common man... with a common life.
          But, wishing that is my sin. I
          can't have it and I shouldn't.

Doe steps towards Mills.

                    SOMERSET
          Don't do this!

                    JOHN DOE
          I meant what I said. I admire
          David Mills. I envy David Mills.
              (pause)
          Envy is my sin.

                    SOMERSET
          No!

Just as Doe is to put the flame to Mills, the rope is
finally cut through. Mills drops, swinging his legs
forward, smashing Doe in the face, knocking Doe's glasses
off.

Mills hits the floor with a thud.

Somerset runs forward.

                    SOMERSET (CONT)
          David, get out!

Doe has fallen back, dropping the metal pole. Mills
scrambles to his feet and charges at Doe, shouting.

Doe squints, screaming, raises his gun.   Fires twice!
                                                              151.

      The bullets catch Mills in mid-run, and carry him off his
      feet, backwards.

      Somerset grips his own gun, just as Mills' body falls,
      tumbles off the altar area and down the stairs in front of
      him.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                No!

      Somerset lets out a scream of pain and rage that chokes in
      his throat. He falls to his knees and halts Mills' body.

      Somerset's shaking, unable to breathe, turning Mills over
      and cradling his head in his arms. Tears come to his eyes.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                David... David? Please...

      On the altar, Doe throws his gun away. he starts feeling
      around him, unsteady, looking for his glasses.

      Mills' eyes are closed.   He is still, bloody.   He swallows.

      With one gasp, without a word, he is dead.

      Somerset looks up at Doe, vision blurred by rage and tears.

      Doe stands, putting on his glasses, faces Somerset.

      Somerset lays Mills' body down.   Stands, walks up towards
      the altar, raises his gun.

                          SOMERSET (CONT)
                You.

      Doe stands, quaking, teeth clenched, fists balled up.    He
      waits for the bullets, falls to his knees.

      The gun trembles in Somerset's hand as Somerset brings the
      barrel to Doe's face. A millisecond's pause. Somerset
      changes the angle of fire. BLAM, he blows John Doe's arm to
      pieces in a splattering explosion.

      Doe screams, falling back, on the altar floor.

211   VIEWED FROM FAR BACK IN THE CHURCH                        211

      The entire church with its candles frames the torture:

      Somerset walks to where Doe flops horribly, bleeding.
      Somerset aims, shoots Doe in the leg. Doe screams, rolling,
      trying to crawl away, knocking over candle racks. Somerset
      follows. He shoots Doe's other leg.
                                                            152.

      He shoots Doe in the other arm. Flames begin to rise and
      spread quickly amongst the pews. Doe continues to spasm,
      wrenching, hand slapping the bloody floor. BLAM, BLAM, BLAM.
      Somerset steps back from Doe, overturns a rack of candles on
      top of him. He steps away. Watching. Flames begin rising
      on Doe's clothing.

212   CLOSE ON JOHN DOE'S FACE                                212

      Doe's face, covered in blood, twisted in agony, helpless,
      flames rising. He continues screaming.

      His glasses crack from the heat.

213   EXT.   ABANDONED CHURCH/ORPHANAGE -- NIGHT              213

      Smoke billows from the windows. The fire is moving quickly,
      ravenous. It's just starting to light up the night.

      From the front door, Somerset walks weeping, carrying Mills'
      body in his arms.

214   INT.   ABANDONED CHURCH -- NIGHT                        214

      The seven deadly sin tableau burns.

      Flames cause the paint to bubble and blacken.   Gluttony,
      greed and sloth are already halfway gone.

      Flames eat at pride, lust.

      Wrath and envy are being consumed. Wrath goes last. A man
      with bloodied hands, in tones of blue. Flames devour it.

215   EXT.   CEMETERY -- DAY                                  215

      A field of blue. Cops in orderly rows. The funeral of
      David Mills. Many police officials and politicians stand in
      tribute.

      Somerset is here, in his dress blue uniform. He stares
      forward, still numb, beaten. Rifles are raised by a corps
      of riflemen. Blanks explode from the barrels. They reload
      in unison.

      Somerset looks towards the grace where Mills' casket lies
      under an American flag. Tracy is there.

      Tracy stands surrounded by strangers at the grave-site. Her
      head is lowered. She cries. Each blast of the rifle salute
      causes her to react with a start.
                                                               153.

216   EXT.   CEMETERY -- LATER DAY                               216

      The funeral is over. Somerset stands at the edge of the
      graveyard, looking at the distant city. Behind him, the
      mourners are still filing out to their cars.

      The captain approaches.   He comes to stand beside Somerset,
      similarly solemn.

                           CAPTAIN
                 I don't know if I should do this.
                     (pause)
                 We found the motel room Doe must
                 have been staying in after you
                 found his apartment.

      Somerset hasn't acknowledged the captain, still looking
      away.

                           CAPTAIN (CONT)
                 Anyway... we found this in his
                 belongings.

      The captain takes out a sealed envelope.      Somerset takes it.

      On the envelope: DETECTIVE SOMERSET, handwritten, in red
      marker.

217   EXT.   MILLS' APARTMENT BUILDING -- DAY                    217

      Tracy and Somerset stand near a moving truck in front of the
      apartment building. MOVERS carry Tracy's belongings to the
      truck. Mills' car is attached to be towed behind.

                           SOMERSET
                 I wish I could say something...
                     (pause)
                 Something to... I don't know...

                           TRACY
                 I'll be okay.

      Somerset nods.

                           SOMERSET
                 We'll keep in touch.   I'll come
                 visit.

                           TRACY
                 I'll write to you when we get
                 there.
                                                               154.

                           SOMERSET
                 Take care of yourself.
                     (pause)
                 Take care of the baby.

      Tracy nods. There's nothing left for them to say. They're
      both empty. It's time for them to give a gesture, a kiss,
      or a hug, to say goodbye, but neither makes the first move.

                           MOVER
                 That's all, Mrs. Mills.   We got
                 everything.

      Movers latch up the back of the truck while the driver
      climbs in and fires up the engine.

                           SOMERSET
                 Goodbye, Tracy.

                           TRACY
                 Goodbye, Somerset.

      Somerset walks away. Tracy walks away, gets in the
      passenger side of the moving truck.

218   EXT.   CITY STREET -- LATER DAY                            218

      Sidewalks jammed with people, hurrying. Somerset walks in a
      fog, hands in his pockets. He stops at a corner, but does
      not cross. He stands there, looks up.

      At the city around him.   The buildings towering over him.

      At the cars, buses and taxies racing in the streets, blowing
      their horns and spouting soot.

      Somerset reaches into his jacket pocket, takes out the
      envelope from John Doe. He studies it in his hand.

                           SOMERSET
                     (to himself)
                 Oh... man...

      He opens it.   He takes out a small note, handwritten.    It
      reads:

      PLOW THEM UNDER.

      Somerset looks up again, mortified, fighting to keep control
      of his emotions. He looks around:

      At the miserable people, walking past him.
                                                              155.

      At a man at the top of the subway station stairs, sitting in
      a cardboard box, holding out a cup, rattling the change
      inside.

      A father passes by, holding his young son's hand. Somerset
      turns to watch them as they pass. The gather reaches to
      pick the boy up and carry him. The boy holds tight.

      For some reason, this makes Somerset ache with sorrow.

      The father hugs his son to him, kisses him on the cheek.
      The boy returns the kiss, with great affection.

      Somerset watches them disappear in the mass of humanity.       He
      looks back at the note in his hand.

      He tears the note up, into little pieces.

219   INT.   MOVING TRUCK -- DAY                                219

      The truck moves along in steady traffic. Tracy sits beside
      the driver. She looks out at the city across the river.

      She reaches into her pocket, takes out a small manila
      envelope. She opens the envelope and slides two keys on a
      keychain out into her palm.

      She's looking at the keys when she notices something about
      the envelope. She reopens it, takes out a small folded
      piece of paper. She unfolds it:

      It is the piece of wallpaper with the pale rose at its
      center.

      She smiles very faintly.

220   EXT.   PRECINCT HOUSE -- EARLY EVENING                    220

      Cars roll by in the street.   Cops come and go.

      Somerset walks up the stairs into the precinct house.

                                    END
