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Fargo (1996)

by Ethan Coen and Joel Coen.
Final script.

More info about this movie on imdb.com
The following text fades in over black:

This is a true story.  The events depicted in this film
took place in Minnesota in 1987.  At the request of the
survivors, the names have been changed.  Out of respect
for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it
occured.

FLARE TO WHITE

FADE IN FROM WHITE

Slowly the white becomes a barely perceptible image:  white
particles wave over a white background.  A snowfall.

A car bursts through the curtain of snow.

The car is equipped with a hitch and is towing another car,
a brand-new light brown Cutlass Ciera with the pink sales
sticker showing in its rear window.

As the car roars past, leaving snow swirling in their dirft,
the title of the film fades in.

     FARGO

Green highway signs point the way to MOOREHEAD,
MINNESOTA/FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA.  The roads for the two cities
diverge.  A sign says WELCOME TO NORTH DAKOTA and another
just after says NOW ENTERING FARGO, ND, POP. 44,412.

The car pulls into a Rodeway Inn.


HOTEL LOBBY

A man in his early forties, balding and starting to paunch,
goes to the reception desk.  The clerk is an older woman.

		CLERK
	And how are you today, sir?

		MAN
	Real good now.  I'm checking in
	- Mr. Anderson.

The man prints "Jerry Lundega" onto a registration card,
then hastily crosses out the last name and starts to print
"Anderson."

As she types into a computer:

		CLERK
	Okay, Mr. Anderson, and you're
	still planning on staying with
	us just the night, then?

		ANDERSON
	You bet.


HOTEL ROOM

The man turns on the TV, which shows the local evening news.

		NEWS ANCHOR
	- whether they will go to summer
	camp at all.  Katie Jensen has
	more.

		KATIE
	It was supposed to be a project
	funded by the city council;  it
	was supposed to benefit those
	Fargo-Moorehead children who
	would otherwise not be able to
	afford to attend a lakeshore
	summer camp.  But nobody consulted
	city controller Stu Jacobson...


CHAIN RESTAURANT

Anderson sits alone at a table finishing dinner.  Muzak
plays.  A middle-aged waitress approaches holding a pot of
regular coffee in one hand and decaf in the other.

		WAITRESS
	Can I warm that up for ya there?

		ANDERSON
	You bet.

The man looks at his watch.


THROUGH A WINDSHIELD

We are pulling into the snowswept parking lot of a one-story
brick building.  Broken neon at the top of the building
identifies it as the Jolly Troll Tavern.  A troll, also in
neon, holds a champagne glass aloft.


INSIDE

The bar is downscale even for this town.  Country music
plays on the jukebox.

Two men are seated in a booth at the back.  One is short,
slight, youngish.  The other man is somewhat older, and
dour.  The table in front of them is littered with empty
long-neck beer bottles.  The ashtray is full.

Anderson approaches.

		ANDERSON
	I'm, uh, Jerry Lundegaard -

		YOUNGER MAN
	You're Jerry Lundegaard?

		JERRY
	Yah, Shep Proudfoot said -

		YOUNGER MAN
	Shep said you'd be here at 7:30.
	What gives, man?

		JERRY
	Shep said 8:30.

		YOUNGER MAN
	We been sitting here an hour.
	I've peed three times already.

		JERRY
	I'm sure sorry.  I - Shep told
	me 8:30.  It was a mix-up, I
	guess.

		YOUNGER MAN
	Ya got the car?

		JERRY
	Yah, you bet.  It's in the lot
	there.  Brand-new burnt umber
	Ciera.

		YOUNGER MAN
	Yeah, okay.  Well, siddown then.
	I'm Carl Showalter and this is
	my associate Gaear Grimsrud.

		JERRY
	Yah, how ya doin'.  So, uh, we
	all set on this thing, then?

		YOUNGER MAN
	Sure, Jerry, we're all set.  Why
	wouldn't we be?

		JERRY
	Yah, no, I'm sure you are.  Shep
	vouched for you and all.  I got
	every confidence in you fellas.

They stare at him.  An awkward beat.

		JERRY
	...  So I guess that's it, then.
	Here's the keys -

		CARL
	No, that's not it, Jerry.

		JERRY
	Huh?

		CARL
	The new vehicle, plus forty
	thousand dollars.

		JERRY
	Yah, but the deal was, the car
	first, see, then the forty
	thousand, like as if it was the
	ransom.  I thought Shep told you -

		CARL
	Shep didn't tell us much, Jerry.

		JERRY
	Well, okay, it's -

		CARL
	Except that you were gonna be
	here at 7:30.

		JERRY
	Yah, well, that was a mix-up, then.

		CARL
	Yeah, you already said that.

		JERRY
	Yah.  But it's not a whole pay-
	in-advance deal.  I give you a
	brand-new vehicle in advance and -

		CARL
	I'm not gonna debate you, Jerry.

		JERRY
	Okay.

		CARL
	I'm not gonna sit here and debate.
	I will say this though:  what Shep
	told us didn't make a whole lot
	of sense.

		JERRY
	Oh, no, it's real sound.  It's
	all worked out.

		CARL
	You want your own wife kidnapped?

		JERRY
	Yah.

Carl Stares.  Jerry looks blankly back.

		CARL
	...  You - my point is, you pay
	the ransom - what eighty thousand
	bucks? -  I mean, you give us
	half the ransom, forty thousand,
	you keep half.  It's like robbing
	Peter to play Paul, it doesn't
	make any -

		JERRY
	Okay, it's - see, it's not me
	payin' the ransom.  The thing is,
	my wife, she's wealthy - her dad,
	he's real well off.  Now, I'm in
	a bit of trouble -

		CARL
	What kind of trouble are you in,
	Jerry?

		JERRY
	Well, that's, that's, I'm not go
	inta, inta - see, I just need
	money.  Now, her dad's real
	wealthy -

		CARL
	So why don't you just ask him
	for the money?

Grimsrud, the dour man who has not yet spoken, now softly
puts in with a Swedish-accented voice:

		GRIMSRUD
	Or your fucking wife, you know.

		CARL
	Or your fucking wife, Jerry.

		JERRY
	Well, it's all just part of this -
	they don't know I need it, see.
	Okay, so there's that.  And even
	if they did, I wouldn't get it.
	So there's that on top, then.  See,
	these're personal matters.

		CARL
	Personal matters.

		JERRY
	Yah.  Personal matters that
	needn't, uh -

		CARL
	Okay, Jerry.  You're tasking us
	to perform this mission, but you,
	you won't, uh, you won't - aw,
	fuck it, let's take a look at
	that Ciera.


MINNEAPOLIS SUBURBAN HOUSE

Jerry enters through the kitchen door, in a parka and a red
plaid Elmer Fudd hat.  He stamps snow off his feet.  He is
carrying a bag of groceries which he deposits on the kitchen
counter.

		JERRY
	Hon?  Got the growshries.

		VOICE
	Thank you, hon.  How's Fargo?

		JERRY
	Yah, real good.

		VOICE
	Dad's here.


DEN

Jerry enters, pulling off his plaid cap.

		JERRY
	How ya doin', Wade?

Wade Gustafson is mid-sixtyish, vigorous, with a full head
of gray hair.  His eyes remain fixed on the TV.

		WADE
	Yah, pretty good.

		JERRY
	Whatcha watchin' there?

		WADE
	Norstars.

		JERRY
	...  Who they playin'?

		WADE
	OOOoooh!

His reaction synchronizes with a reaction from the crowd.


KITCHEN

Jerry walks back in, taking off his coat.  His wife is
putting on an apron.  Jerry nods toward the living room.

		JERRY
	Is he stayin' for supper, then?

		WIFE
	Yah, I think so...  Dad, are you
	stayin' for supper?

		WADE
		(off)
	Yah.


DINING ROOM

Jerry, his wife, Wade and Scotty, twelve years old, sit
eating.

		SCOTTY
	May I be excused?

		JERRY
	Sure, ya done there?

		SCOTTY
	Uh-huh.  Goin' out.

		WIFE
	Where are you going?

		SCOTTY
	Just out.  Just McDonald's.

		JERRY
	Back at 9:30.

		SCOTTY
	Okay.

		WADE
	He just ate.  And he didn't finish.
	He's going to McDonald's instead
	of finishing here?

		WIFE
	He sees his friends there.  It's
	okay.

		WADE
	It's okay?  McDonald's?  What do
	you think they do there?  They
	don't drink milkshakes, I assure
	you!

		WIFE
	It's okay, Dad.

		JERRY
	Wade, have ya had a chance to
	think about, uh, that deal I was
	talkin' about, those forty acres
	there on Wayzata?

		WADE
	You told me about it.

		JERRY
	Yah, you said you'd have a think
	about it.  I understand it's a
	lot of money -

		WADE
	A heck of a lot.  What'd you
	say you were gonna put there?

		JERRY
	A lot.  It's a limited -

		WADE
	I know it's a lot.

		JERRY
	I mean a parking lot.

		WADE
	Yah, well, seven hundred and
	fifty thousand dollars is a lot
	- ha ha ha!

		JERRY
	Yah, well, it's a chunk, but -

		WADE
	I thought you were gonna show
	it to Stan Grossman.  He passes
	on this stuff before it gets
	kicked up to me.

		JERRY
	Well, you know Stan'll say no
	dice.  That's why you pay him.
	I'm asking you here, Wade.  This
	could work out real good for me
	and Jean and Scotty -

		WADE
	Jean and Scotty never have to
	worry.


WHITE

A black like curls through the white.  Twisting perspective
shows that it is an aerial shot of a two-lane highway,
bordered by snowfields.  The highway carries one moving car.


INT. CAR

Carl Showalter is driving.  Gaear Grimsrud stares blankly
out.

After a long beat:

		GRIMSRUD
	Where is Pancakes Hause?

		CARL
	What?

		GRIMSRUD
	We stop at Pancakes Hause.

		CARL
	What're you, nuts?  We had
	pancakes for breakfast.  I gotta
	go somewhere I can get a shot
	and a beer - and a steak maybe.
	Not more fuckin' pancakes.  Come
	on.

Grimsrud gives him a sour look.

		CARL
	...  Come on, man.  Okay, here's
	an idea.  We'll stop outside of
	Brainerd.  I know a place there
	we can get laid.  Wuddya think?

		GRIMSRUD
	I'm fuckin' hungry now, you know.

		CARL
	Yeah, yeah, Jesus - I'm sayin',
	we'll stop for pancakes, then
	we'll get laid.  Wuddya think?


GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE

Jerry is sitting in his glassed-in salesman's cubicle just
off the showroom floor.  On the other side of his desk sit
an irate customer and his wife.

		CUSTOMER
	We sat here right in this room and
	went over this and over this!

		JERRY
	Yah, but that TruCoat -

		CUSTOMER
	I sat right here and said I didn't
	want no TruCoat!

		JERRY
	Yah, but I'm sayin', that TruCoat,
	you don't get it and you get
	oxidization problems.  It'll cost
	you a heck of lot more'n five
	hunnert -

		CUSTOMER
	You're sittin' here, you're talkin'
	in circles!  You're talkin' like
	we didn't go over this already!

		JERRY
	Yah, but this TruCoat -

		CUSTOMER
	We had us a deal here for nine-
	teen-five.  You sat there and
	darned if you didn't tell me
	you'd get this car, these options,
	WITHOUT THE SEALANT, for nine-
	teen-five!

		JERRY
	Okay, I'm not sayin' I didn't -

		CUSTOMER
	You called me twenty minutes ago
	and said you had it!  Ready to
	make delivery, ya says!  Come on
	down and get it!  And here ya are
	and you're wastin' my time and
	you're wastin' my wife's time and
	I'm payin' nineteen-five for this
	vehicle here!

		JERRY
	Well, okay, I'll talk to my boss...

He rises, and, as he leaves:

		JERRY
	...  See, they install that TruCoat
	at the factory, there's nothin' we
	can do, but I'll talk to my boss.

The couple watch him go to a nearby cubicle.

		CUSTOMER
	These guys here - these guys!
	It's always the same!  It's always
	more!  He's a liar!

		WIFE
	Please, dear.

		CUSTOMER
	We went over this and over this -


NEARBY CUBICLE

Jerry sits perched on the desk of another salesman who is
eating lunch as he watches a hockey game on a small portable
TV.

		JERRY
	So you're goin' to the Gophers
	on Sunday?

		SALESMAN
	You bet.

		JERRY
	You wouldn't have an extra ticket
	there?

		SALESMAN
	They're playin' the Buckeyes!

		JERRY
	Yah.

		SALESMAN
	Ya kiddin'!


JERRY'S CUBICLE

Jerry re-enters.

		JERRY
	Well, he never done this before,
	but seein' as it's special
	circumstances and all, he says I
	can knock one hunnert off that
	TruCoat.

		CUSTOMER
	One hundred!  You lied to me, Mr.
	Lundegaard.  You're a bald-faced
	liar!

Jerry sits staring at his lap.

		CUSTOMER
	...  A fucking liar -

		WIFE
	Bucky, please!

Jerry mumbles into his lap:

		JERRY
	One hunnert's the best we can
	do here.

		CUSTOMER
	Oh, for Christ's sake, where's my
	goddamn checkbook.  Let's get this
	over with.


WIDE EXTERIOR:  TRUCK STOP

There is a restaurant with many big rigs parked nearby, and
a motel with an outsize Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox
flanking its sign:  BLUE OX MOTEL.


MOTEL ROOM

Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud are in the twin beds
having sex with two truck-stop hookers.

		CARL
	Oh, Jesus, yeah.

		HIS HOOKER
	There ya go, sugar.

		GRIMSRUD
	Nnph.

		HIS HOOKER
	Yeah.  Yeah.  Oh, yeah.


LATER

The couples like in their respective beds, gazing at the
offscreen TV.

		ED MCMAHON
	-  Johnny's guests tonight will be
	Lee Majors, George Wendt, and Steve
	Boutsikaros from the San Diego Zoo,
	so keep that dial -


LUNDEGAARD KITCHEN

We hear a morning show on television.  Jean Lundegaard is
making coffee in the kitchen as Scott eats cereal at the
table.

		JEAN
	I'm talkin' about your potential.

		SCOTT
		(absently)
	Uh-huh.

		JEAN
	You're not a C student.

		SCOTT
	Uhn.

		JEAN
	And yet you're gettin' C grades.
	It's this disparity there that
	concerns your dad and me.

		SCOTT
	Uh-huh.

		JEAN
	You know what a disparity is?

		SCOTT
		(testily)
	Yeah!

		JEAN
	Okay.  Well, that's why we don't
	want ya goin' out fer hockey.

		SCOTT
	Oh, man!

The phone rings.

		SCOTT
	...  What's the big deal?  It's
	an hour -

		JEAN
	Hold on.

She picks up the phone.

		JEAN
	...  Hello?

		PHONE VOICE
	Yah, hiya, hon.

		JEAN
	Oh, hiya, Dad.

		WADE
	Jerry around?

		JEAN
	Yah, he's still here - I'll
	catch him for ya.

She holds the phone away and calls:

		JEAN
	...  Hon?

		VOICE
	Yah.

		JEAN
	It's Dad.

		VOICE
	Yah...

Jerry enters in shirtsleeves and tie.

		JERRY
	...  Yah, okay...

		SCOTT
	Look, Dad, there is no fucking
	way -

		JEAN
	Scott!

		JERRY
	Say, let's watch the language -

He takes the phone.

		JERRY
	How ya doin', Wade?

		WADE
	What's goin' on there?

		JERRY
	Oh, nothing, Wade.  How ya doin'
	there?

		WADE
	Stan Grossman looked at your
	proposal.  Says it's pretty
	sweet.

		JERRY
	No kiddin'?

		WADE
	We might be innarested.

		JERRY
	No kiddin'!  I'd need the cash
	pretty quick there.  In order
	to close the deal.

		WADE
	Come by at 2:30 and we'll talk
	about it.  If your numbers are
	right, Stan says its pretty
	sweet.  Stan Grossman.

		JERRY
	Yah.

		WADE
	2:30.

Click.  Dial tone.

		JERRY
	Yah, okay.


GUSTAFSON OLD GARAGE

Jerry wanders through the service area where cars are being
worked on.  He stops by an Indian in blue jeans who is
looking at the underside of a car that sits on a hydraulic
lift with a cage light hanging off its innards.

		JERRY
	Say, Shep, how ya doin' there?

		SHEP
	Mm.

		JERRY
	Say, ya know those two fellas
	ya put me in touch with, up
	there in Fargo?

		SHEP
	Put you in touch with Grimsrud.

		JERRY
	Well, yah, but he had a buddy
	there.  He, uh -

		SHEP
	Well, I don't vouch for him.

		JERRY
	Well, that's okay, I just -

		SHEP
	I vouch for Grimsrud.  Who's his
	buddy?

		JERRY
	Carl somethin'?

		SHEP
	Never heard of him.  Don't vouch
	for him.

		JERRY
	Well, that's okay, he's a buddy
	of the guy ya vouched for, so I'm
	not worryin'.  I just, I was
	wonderin', see, I gotta get in
	touch with 'em for, I might not
	need it anymore, sumpn's happenin',
	see -

		SHEP
	Call 'em up.

		JERRY
	Yah, well, see, I did that, and
	I haven't been able to get 'em,
	so I thought you maybe'd know an
	alternate number or what have ya.

		SHEP
	Nope.

Jerry slaps his fist into his open palm and snaps his
fingers.

		JERRY
	Okay, well, real good, then.


CAR

Carl is driving.  Grimsrud stares out front.

After a beat:

		CARL
	...  Look at that.  Twin Cities.
	IDS Building, the big glass one.
	Tallest skyscraper in the Midwest.
	After the Sears, uh, Chicago...
	You never been to Minneapolis?

		GRIMSRUD
	No.

		CARL
	...  Would it kill you to say
	something?

		GRIMSRUD
	I did.

		CARL
	"No." First thing you've said
	in the last four hours.  That's
	a, that's a fountain of conversation,
	man.  That's a geyser.  I mean, whoa,
	daddy, stand back, man.  Shit, I'm
	sittin' here driving, man, doin'
	all the driving, whole fuckin' way
	from Brainerd, drivin', tryin' to,
	you know, tryin' to chat, keep
	our spirits up, fight the boredom
	of the road, and you can't say one
	fucking thing just in the way of
	conversation.

Grimsurd smokes, gazing out the window.

		CARL
	...  Well, fuck it, I don't have
	to talk either, man.  See how
	you like it...

He drives.

		CARL
	...  Total silence...


JERRY'S CUBICLE

He is on the phone.

		JERRY
	Yah, real good.  How you doin'?

		VOICE
	Pretty good, Mr. Lundegaard.
	You're damned hard to get on the
	phone.

		JERRY
	Yah, it's pretty darned busy here,
	but that's the way we like it.

		VOICE
	That's for sure.  Now, I just
	need, on these last, these financing
	documents you sent us, I can't
	read the serial numbers of the
	vehicles on here, so I -

		JERRY
	But I already got the, it's okay,
	the loans are in place, I already
	got the, the what, the -

		VOICE
	Yeah, the three hundred and twenty
	thousand dollars, you got the money
	last month.

		JERRY
	Yah, so we're all set.

		VOICE
	Yeah, but the vehicles you were
	borrowing on, I just can't read
	the serial numbers on your
	applicaton.  Maybe if you could
	just read them to me -

		JERRY
	But the deal's already done, I
	already got the money -

		VOICE
	Yeah, but we have an audit here,
	I just have to know that these
	vehicles you're financing with
	this money, that they really
	exist.

		JERRY
	Yah, well, they exist all right.

		VOICE
	I'm sure they do - ha ha!  But
	I can't read their serial numbers
	here.  So if you could read me -

		JERRY
	Well, but see, I don't have 'em
	in front a me - why don't I just
	fax you over a copy -

		VOICE
	No, fax is no good, that's what
	I have and I can't read the darn
	thing -

		JERRY
	Yah, okay, I'll have my girl
	send you over a copy, then.

		VOICE
	Okay, because if I can't correlate
	this note with the specific vehicles,
	then I gotta call back that money -

		JERRY
	Yah, how much money was that?

		VOICE
	Three hundred and twenty thousand
	dollars.  See, I gotta correlate
	that money with the cars it's being
	lent on.

		JERRY
	Yah, no problem, I'll just fax
	that over to ya, then.

		VOICE
	No, no, fax is -

		JERRY
	I mean send it over.  I'll shoot
	it right over to ya.

		VOICE
	Okay.

		JERRY
	Okay, real good, then.


CLOSE ON TELEVISION

A morning-show host in an apron stands behind a counter on a
kitchen set.

		HOST
	So I seperate the - how the heck
	do I get the egg out of the shell
	without breaking it?

Jean Lundegaard is curled up on the couch with a cup of
coffee, watching the television.

		HOSTESS
	You just prick a little hole in
	the end and blow!

Jean smiles as we hear laughter and applause from the studio
audience.  She hears something else - a faint scraping sound
- and looks up.

		HOST
	Okay, here goes nothing.

The scraping sound persists.  Jean sets down her coffee cup
and rises.

From the studio audience:

		AUDIENCE
	Awoooo!


KITCHEN

We track toward the back door.  A curtain is stretched tight
across its window.

Jean pulls the curtain back.  Bright sunlight amplified by
snow floods in.

A man in an orange ski mask looks up from the lock.

Jean gasps, drops the curtain, rutns and runs into -

- a taller man, also in a ski mask, already in the house.

We hear the crack of the back-door window being smashed.

The tall man - Gaear Grimsrud - grabs Jean's wrist.

She screams, staring at her own imprisoned wrist, then wraps
her gaping mouth around Grimsrud's gloved thumb and bites
down hard.

He drops her wrist.  As Carl enters, she races up the
stairs.

		GRIMSRUD
	Unguent.

		CARL
	Huh?

Grimsurd looks at his thumb.

		GRIMSRUD
	I need ... unguent.


UPSTAIRS BEDROOM

As the two men enter, a door at the far side is slamming
shut.  A cord snakes in under the door.


MASTER BATHROOM

Jean, sobbing, frantically pushes at buttons on the princess
phone.

The phone pops out of her hands, jangles across the tile
floor, smashes against the door and then bounces away, its
cord ripped free.

With a groaning sound, the door shifts in its frame.


BEDROOM

Grimsrud has a crowbar jammed in between the bathroom door
and frame, and is working it.


BATHROOM

Jean crosses to a high window above the toilet and throws it
open.  Snow that had drifted against the window sifts
lightly in.  Jean steps up onto the toilet.

The door creaks, moving as one piece in its frame.

Jean glances back as she steps up from the toilet seat to
the tank.

The groaning of the door ends with the wood around its knob
splintering and the knob itself falling out onto the floor.

The door swings open.

Grimsrud and Carl enter.


THEIR POV

Room empty, window open.

Carl strides to the window and hoists himself out.

Grimsrud opens the medicine cabinet and delicately taps
aside various bottles and tubes, seeking the proper unguent.

He finds a salve but after a moment sets it down, noticing
something in the mirror.

The shower curtain is drawn around the tub.

He steps toward it.

As he reaches for the curtain, it explodes outward, animated
by thrashing limbs.

Jean, screaming, tangled in the curtain, rips it off its
rings and stumbles out into the bedroom.  Grimsrud follows.


BEDROOM

Jean rushes toward the door, cloaked by the shower curtain
but awkwardly trying to push it off.


UPSTAIRS LANDING

Still thrashing, Jean crashes against the upstairs railing,
trips on the curtain and falls, thumping crazily down the
stairs.

Grimsrud trots down after her.


A PLAQUE:  WADE GUSTAFSON INCORPORTATED


INT. WADE'S OFFICE

Wade sits behind his desk; another man rises as Jerry
enters.

		JERRY
	How ya doin' there, Stan?  How
	are ya, Wade?

Stan Grossman shakes his hand.

		STAN
	Good to see ya again, Jerry.  If
	these numbers are right, this
	looks pretty sweet.

		JERRY
	Oh, those numbers are all right,
	bleemee.

		WADE
	This is do-able.

		STAN
	Congratulations, Jerry.

		JERRY
	Yah, thanks, Stan, it's a pretty -

		WADE
	What kind of finder's fee were
	you looking for?

		JERRY
	...  Huh?

		STAN
	The financials are pretty thorough,
	so the only thing we don't know
	is your fee.

		JERRY
	...  My fee?  Wade, what the
	heck're you talkin' about?

		WADE
	Stan and I're okay.

		JERRY
	Yah.

		WADE
	We're good to loan in.

		JERRY
	Yah.

		WADE
	But we never talked about your
	fee for bringin' it to us.

		JERRY
	No, but, Wade, see, I was
	bringin' you this deal for you
	to loan me the money to put
	in.  It's my deal here, see?

Wade scowls, looks at Stan.

		STAN
	Jerry - we thought you were
	bringin' us an investment.

		JERRY
	Yah, right -

		STAN
	You're sayin' - what're you
	sayin'?

		WADE
	You're sayin' that we put in
	all the money and you collect
	when it pays off?

		JERRY
	No, no.  I - I'd, I'd - pay you
	back the principal, and interest
	- heck, I'd go - one over prime -

		STAN
	We're not a bank, Jerry.

Wade is angry.

		WADE
	What the heck, Jerry, if I wanted
	bank interest on seven hunnert'n
	fifty thousand I'd go to Midwest
	Federal.  Talk to Bill Diehl.

		STAN
	He's at Norstar.

		WADE
	He's at -

		JERRY
	No, see, I don't need a finder's
	fee, I need - finder's fee's, what,
	ten percent, heck that's not gonna
	do it for me.  I need the principal.

		STAN
	Jerry, we're not just going to
	give you seven hundred and fifty
	thousand dollars.

		WADE
	What the heck were you thinkin'?
	Heck, if I'm only gettin' bank
	interest, I'd look for complete
	security.  Heck, FDIC.  I don't
	see nothin' like that here.

		JERRY
	Yah, but I - okay, I would, I'd
	guarantee ya your money back.

		WADE
	I'm not talkin' about your damn
	word, Jerry.  Geez, what the
	heck're you?...  Well, look, I
	don't want to cut you out of the
	loop, but his here's a good deal.
	I assume, if you're not innarested,
	you won't mind if we move on it
	independently.


PARKING LOT

We are high and wide on the office building's parking lot.
Jerry emerges wrapped in a parka, his arms sticking stiffly
out at his sides, his breath vaporizing.  He goes to his
car, opens its front door, pulls out a red plastic scraper
and starts methodically scraping off the thin crust of ice
that has developed on his windshield.

The scrape-scrape-scrape sound carries in the frigid air.

Jerry goes into a frenzy, banging the scraper against the
windshield and the hood of his car.

The tantrum passes.  Jerry stands pantin, staring at nothing
in particular.

Scrape-scrape-scrape - he goes back to work on the
windshield.


FRONT DOOR

A beat, silent but for a key scraping at the lock.

The door swings open and Jerry edges in, looking about,
holding a sack of groceries.

		JERRY
	Hon?

He shuts the door.

		JERRY
	...  Got the growshries...

He has already seen the shower curtain on the floor.  He
frowns, pokes at it with his foot.

		JERRY
	...  Hon?


UPSTAIRS BATHROOM

Jerry walks in.  He sets the groceries down on the toilet
tank.

He looks at the open window, through which snow still sifts
in.  He shuts it.

He picks up the small tube of uguent that sits on the sink,
frowns at it, puts it back in the medicine chest.

He looks at the shower curtain rod holding empty rings.


FOYER

Once again we are looking at the rumpled shower curtain.

From another room:

		JERRY
	Yah, Wade, I - it's Jerry, I.

Then, slightly more agitated.

		JERRY
	...  Yah, Wade, it's, I, it's
	Jerry...

Beat.

		JERRY
	...  Wade, it's Jerry, I - we
	gotta talk, Wade, it's terrible...

Beat.


LIVING ROOM

Jerry stands in wide shot, hands on hips, looking down at a
telephone.

After a motionless beat he picks up the phone and punches in
a number.

		JERRY
	...  Yah, Wade Gustafson, please.


BLACK

Hold in black.

A slow tilt down from night sky brings the head of a large
paper-mache figure into frame.  It is a flannel-shirt
woodsman carrying a double-edged ax over one shoulder.  As
we hear the rumble of an approaching car, the continuing
tilt and boom down brings us down the woodsman's body to a
pedestal.

A sweep of headlights illuminates a sign on the pedestal:
WELCOME TO BRAINDERD - HOME OF PAUL BUNYAN.

The headlights sweep off and a car hums past and on into the
background.  The two-lane highway is otherwise empty.


INT. CAR

Carl drives.  Grimsrud smokes and gazes out the window.
From the back seat we hear whimpering.

Grimsrud turns to look.

Jean lies bound and curled on the back seat underneath a
tarpaulin.

		GRIMSRUD
	Shut the fuck up or I'll throw
	you back in the trunk, you know.

		CARL
	Geez.  That's more'n I've heard
	you say all week.

Grimsrud stares at him, then turns back to the window.

At a loud WHOOP Carl starts and looks back out the rear
window.  Fifty yards behind a state trooper has turned on
his gumballs.

Carl eases the car onto the shoulder.

		CARL
	Ah, shit, the tags...

Grimsrud looks at him.

		CARL
	...  It's just the tags.  I never
	put my tags on the car.  Don't
	worry, I'll take care of this.

He looks into the back seat as the car bounces and slows on
the gravel shoulder.

		CARL
	...  Let's keep still back there,
	lady, or we're gonna have to, ya
	know, to shoot ya.

Grimsrud stares at Carl.

		CARL
	...  Hey!  I'll take care of this!

Both cars have stopped.  Carl looks up at the rear-view
mirror.

The trooper is stopped on the shoulder just behind them,
writing in his citation book.

Carl watches.

We hear the trooper's door open.

The trooper walks up the shoulder, one hand resting lightly
on top of his holster, his breath steaming in the cold night
air.

Carl opens his window as the trooper draws up.

		CARL
	How can I help you, officer?

The trooper scans the inside of the car, taking his time.

Grimsrud smokes and gazes calmly out his window.

Finally:

		TROOPER
	This is a new car, then, sir?

		CARL
	It certainly is, officer.  Still
	got that smell!

		TROOPER
	You're required to display
	temporary tags, either in the
	plate area or taped inside the
	back window.

		CARL
	Certainly -

		TROOPER
	Can I see your license and
	registration please?

		CARL
	Certainly.

He reaches for his wallet.

		CARL
	...  I was gonna tape up the
	temporary tag, ya know, to be
	in full compliance, but it, uh,
	it, uh ... must a slipped my
	mind...

He extends his wallet toward the trooper, a folded fifty-
dollar bill protruding from it.

		CARL
	...  So maybe the best thing
	would be to take care of that,
	right here in Brainerd.

		TROOPER
	What's this, sir?

		CARL
	That's my license and regis-
	tration.  I wanna be in
	compliance.

He forces a laugh.

		CARL
	...  I was just thinking I could
	take care of it right here.  In
	Brainerd.

The policeman thoughtfully pats the fifty into the billfold
and hands the billfold back into the car.

		TROOPER
	Put that back in your pocket,
	please.

Carl's nervous smile fades.

		TROOPER
	...  And step out of the car,
	please, sir.

Grimsrud, smiling thinly, shakes his head.

There is a whimpering sound.

The policeman hesitates.

Another sound.

The policeman leans forward into the car, listening.

Grimsrud reaches across Carl, grabs the trooper by the hair
and slams his head down onto the car door.

The policeman grunts, digs awkwardly for footing outside and
throws an arm for balance against the outside of the car.

With his free hand, Grimsrud pops the glove compartment.  He
brings a gun out and reaches across Carl and shoots - BANG -
into the back of the trooper's head.

Jean screams.

		GRIMSRUD
	Shut up.

He releases the policeman.

The policeman's head slides out the window and his body
flops back onto the street.

Carl looks out at the cop in the road.

		CARL
		(softly)
	Whoa...  Whoa, Daddy.

Grimsrud takes the trooper's hat off of Carl's lap and sails
it out the open window.

		GRIMSRUD
	You'll take care of it.  Boy, you
	are smooth smooth, you know.

		CARL
	Whoa, Daddy.

Jean, for some reason, screams again.  Then stops.

		GRIMSRUD
	Clear him off the road.

		CARL
	Yeah.

He gets out.


EXT. ROAD

Carl leans down to hoist up the body.

Headlights appear:  an oncoming car.


INT. CIERA

Grimsrud notices.


EXT. ROAD

The car approaches, slowing.

Carl, with the trooper's body hoisted halfway up, is frozen
in the headlights.

The car accelerates and roars past and away.  We just make
out the silhouettes of two occupants in front.


INT. CIERA

Grimsrud slides into the driver's seat.  He squeals into a U-
turn, the driver's door slamming shut with his spin.

Small red tail lights fishtail up ahead.  The pursued car
churns up fine snow.

Grimsrud takes the cigarette from his mouth and stubs it in
his ashtray.  We hear the churning of the car wheels and the
pinging of snow clods and salt on the car's underside.

In the back seat, Jean starts screaming.

Grimsrud is not gaining on the tail lights.

He fights with the wheel as his car swims on the road face.

The red tail lights ahead start to turn.  With a distant
crunching sound, they disappear.

The headlights now show only empty road, starting to turn.

Grimsrud frowns and slows.

His headlights show the car up ahead off the road, crumpled
around a telephone pole, having failed to hold a turn.

Grimsrud brakes.

Jean slides off the back seat and thumps into the legwell.

Grimsrud sweeps his gun off the front seat, throws open his
door and gets out.


EXT. ROAD

The wrecked car's headlights shine off into a snowfield
abutting the highway.  A young man in a down parka is
limping across the snowfield, away from the wrecked car.

Grimsrud strides calmly out after the injured boy.  He
raises his gun and fires.

With a poof of feathers, a hole opens up in the boy's back
and he pitches into the snow.

Grimsrud walks up to the wreck and peers in its half-open
door.

A young woman is trapped inside the twisted wreckage,
injured.

Snow swirls in the headlights of the wreck.

Grimsrud raises his gun and fires.


AN OIL PAINTING

A blue-winged teal in flight over a swampy marshland.  The
room in which it hangs is dark.  We hear off-screen snoring.

We track off to reveal an easel upon which we see a half-
completed oil of a grey mallard.

The continuing track reveals a couple in bed, sleeping.  The
man, fortyish, pajama-clad, is big, and big-bellied.  His
mouth is agape.  He snores.  His arms are flung over a woman
in her thirties, wearing a nightie, mouth also open, not
snoring.

We hold for a long beat on their regular breathing and
snoring.

The phone rings.

The woman stirs.

		WOMAN
	Oh, geez...

She reaches for the phone.

		WOMAN
	...  Hi, it's Marge...

The man stirs and clears his throat with a long deep rumble.

		MARGE
	...  Oh, my.  Where?...  Yah...
	Oh, geez...

The man sits up, gazes stupidly about.

		MARGE
	...  Okay.  There in a jif...
	Real good, then.

She hangs up.

		MARGE
	...  You can sleep, hon.  It's
	early yet.

		MAN
	Gotta go?

		MARGE
	Yah.

The man swings his legs out.

		MAN
	I'll fix ya some eggs.

		MARGE
	That's okay, hon.  I gotta run.

		MAN
	Gotta eat a breakfast, Marge.
	I'll fix ya some eggs.

		MARGE
	Aw, you can sleep, hon.

		MAN
	Ya gotta eat a breakfast...

He clears his throat with another deep rumble.

		MAN
	...  I'll fix ya some eggs.

		MARGE
	Aw, Norm.


PLATE

Leavings of a huge plate of eggs, ham, toast.

Wider, we see Marge now wearing a beige police uniform.  A
patch on one arm says BRAINERD POLICE DEPARTMENT.  She wears
a heavy belt holding a revolver, walkie-talkie and various
other jangling police impedimenta.  Norm is in a dressing
gown.

		MARGE
	Thanks, hon.  Time to shove off.

		NORM
	Love ya, Margie.

As she struggles into a parka:

		MARGE
	Love ya, hon.

He is exiting back to the bedroom; she exits out the front
door.


EXT. GUNDERSON HOUSE

Dawn.  Marge is making her way down the icy front stoop to
her prowler.


INT. GUNDERSON HOUSE

Norm sits back onto the bed, shrugging off his robe.  Off-
screen we hear the front door open.


FRONT DOOR

Marge stamps the snow off her shoes.

		MARGE
	Hon?

		NORM
		(off)
	Yah?

		MARGE
	Prowler needs a jump.


HIGHWAY

Two police cars and an ambulance sit idling at the side of
the road, a pair of men inside each car.

The first car's driver door opens and a figure in a parka
emerges, holding two styrofoam cups.  His partner leans
across the seat to close the door after him.

The reverse shows Marge approaching from her own squad car.

		MARGE
	Hiya, Lou.

		LOU
	Margie.  Thought you might need
	a little warm-up.

He hands her one of the cups of coffee.

		MARGE
	Yah, thanks a bunch.  So what's
	the deal, now?  Gary says triple
	homicide?

		LOU
	Yah, looks pretty bad.  Two
	of'm're over here.

Marge looks around as they start walking.

		MARGE
	Where is everybody?

		LOU
	Well - it's cold, Margie.


BY THE WRECK

Laid out in the early morning light is the wrecked car, a
pair of footprints leading out to a man in a bright orange
parka face down in the bloodstained snow, and one pair of
footsteps leading back to the road.

Marge is peering into the car.

		MARGE
	Ah, geez.  So...  Aw, geez.
	Here's the second one...  It's
	in the head and the ... hand
	there, I guess that's a defensive
	wound.  Okay.

Marge looks up from the car.

		MARGE
	...  Where's the state trooper?

Lou, up on the shoulder, jerks his thumb.

		LOU
	Back there a good piece.  In
	the ditch next to his prowler.

Marge looks around at the road.

		MARGE
	Okay, so we got a state trooper
	pulls someone over, we got a
	shooting, and these folks drive
	by, and we got a high-speed
	pursuit, ends here, and this
	execution-type deal.

		LOU
	Yah.

		MARGE
	I'd be very surprised if our
	suspect was from Brainerd.

		LOU
	Yah.

Marge is studying the ground.

		MARGE
	Yah.  And I'll tell you what, from
	his footprints he looks like a big
	fella -

Marge suddenly doubles over, putting her head between her
knees down near the snow.

		LOU
	Ya see something down there, Chief?

		MARGE
	Uh - I just, I think I'm gonna barf.

		LOU
	Geez, you okay, Margie?

		MARGE
	I'm fine - it's just morning
	sickness.

She gets up, sweeping snow from her knees.

		MARGE
	...  Well, that passed.

		LOU
	Yah?

		MARGE
	Yah.  Now I'm hungry again.

		LOU
	You had breakfast yet, Margie?

		MARGE
	Oh, yah.  Norm made some eggs.

		LOU
	Yah?  Well, what now, d'ya think?

		MARGE
	Let's go take a look at that
	trooper.


BY THE STATE TROOPER'S CAR

Marge's prowler is parked nearby.

Marge is on her hands and knees by a body down in the ditch,
again looking at footprints in the snow.  She calls up to
the road:

		MARGE
	There's two of 'em, Lou!

		LOU
	Yah?

		MARGE
	Yah, this guy's smaller than
	his buddy.

		LOU
	Oh, yah?


DOWN IN THE DITCH

In the foreground is the head of the state trooper, facing
us.  Peering at it from behind, still on her hands and
knees, is Marge.

		MARGE
	For Pete's sake.

She gets up, clapping the snow off her hands, and climbs out
of the ditch.

		LOU
	How's it look, Marge?

		MARGE
	Well, he's got his gun on his hip
	there, and he looks like a nice
	enough guy.  It's a real shame.

		LOU
	Yah.

		MARGE
	You haven't monkeyed with his car
	there, have ya?

		LOU
	No way.

She is looking at the prowler, which still idles on the
shoulder.

		MARGE
	Somebody shut his lights.  I guess
	the little guy sat in there, waitin'
	for his buddy t'come back.

		LOU
	Yah, woulda been cold out here.

		MARGE
	Heck, yah.  Ya think, is Dave open
	yet?

		LOU
	You don't think he's mixed up in -

		MARGE
	No, no, I just wanna get Norm some
	night crawlers.


INT. PROWLER

Marge is driving; Lou sits next to her.

		MARGE
	You look in his citation book?

		LOU
	Yah...

He looks at his notebook.

		LOU
	...  Last vehicle he wrote in
	was a tan Ciera at 2:18 a.m.
	Under the plate number he put
	DLR - I figure they stopped him
	or shot him before he could finish
	fillin' out the tag number.

		MARGE
	Uh-huh.

		LOU
	So I got the state lookin' for a
	Ciera with a tag startin' DLR.
	They don't got no match yet.

		MARGE
	I'm not sure I agree with you a
	hunnert percent on your policework,
	there, Lou.

		LOU
	Yah?

		MARGE
	Yah, I think that vehicle there
	probly had dealer plates.  DLR?

		LOU
	Oh...

Lou gazes out the window, thinking.

		LOU
	...  Geez.

		MARGE
	Yah.  Say, Lou, ya hear the one
	about the guy who couldn't afford
	personalized plates, so he went
	and changed his name to J2L 4685?

		LOU
	Yah, that's a good one.

		MARGE
	Yah.


THE ROAD

The police car enters with a whoosh and hums down a straight-
ruled empty highway, cutting a landscape of flat and perfect
white.


EMBERS FAMILY RESTAURANT

Jerry, Wade, and Stan Grossman sit in a booth, sipping
coffee.  Outside the window, snow falls from a gunmetal sky.

		WADE
	-  All's I know is, ya got a
	problem, ya call a professional!

		JERRY
	No!  They said no cops!  They were
	darned clear on that, Wade!  They
	said you call the cops and we -

		WADE
	Well, a course they're gonna say
	that!  But where's my protection?
	They got Jean here!  I give these
	sons a bitches a million dollars,
	where's my guarantee they're gonna
	let her go.

		JERRY
	Well, they -

		WADE
	A million dollars is a lot a damn
	money!  And there they are, they
	got my daughter!

		JERRY
	Yah, but think this thing through
	here, Wade.  Ya give 'em what they
	want, why wont' they let her go?
	You gotta listen to me on this one,
	Wade.

		WADE
	Heck, you don't know!  You're just
	whistlin' Dixie here!  I'm sayin',
	the cops, they can advise us on
	this!  I'm sayin' call a professional!

		JERRY
	No!  No cops!  That's final!  This
	is my deal here, Wade!  Jean is
	my wife here!

		STAN
	I gotta tell ya, Wade, I'm leanin'
	to Jerry's viewpoint here.

		WADE
	Well -

		STAN
	We gotta protect Jean.  These -
	we're not holdin' any cards here,
	Wade, they got all of 'em.  So
	they call the shots.

		JERRY
	You're darned tootin'!

		WADE
	Ah, dammit!

		STAN
	I'm tellin' ya.

		WADE
	Well...  Why don't we...

He saws a finger under his nose.

		WADE
	...  Stan, I'm thinkin' we should
	offer 'em half a million.

		JERRY
	Now come on here, no way, Wade!
	No way!

		STAN
	We're not horse-trading here, Wade,
	we just gotta bite the bullet on
	this thing.

		JERRY
	Yah!

		STAN
	What's the next step here, Jerry?

		JERRY
	They're gonna call, give me
	instructions for a drop.  I'm
	supposed to have the money ready
	tomorrow.

		WADE
	Dammit!


THE CASHIER

She rings up two dollars forty.

		CASHIER
	How was everything today?

		JERRY
	Yah, real good now.


PARKING LOT

Snow continues to fall.  Jerry and Stan stand bundled in
their parkas and galoshes near a row of beached vehicles.
Wade sits behind the wheel of an idling Lincoln, waiting for
Stan.

		STAN
	Okay.  We'll get the money together.
	Don't worry about it, Jerry.  Now,
	d'you want anyone at home, with you,
	until they call?

		JERRY
	No, I - they don't want - they're
	just s'posed to be dealin' with
	me, they were real clear.

		STAN
	Yah.

Jerry pounds his mittened hands together against the cold.

		JERRY
	Ya know, they said no one listenin'
	in, they'll be watchin', ya know.
	Maybe it's all bull, but like you
	said, Stan, they're callin' the
	shots.

		STAN
	Okay.  And Scotty, is he gonna
	be all right?

		JERRY
	Yah, geez, Scotty.  I'll go talk
	to him.

There is a tap at the horn from Wade, and Stan gets into the
Lincoln.

		STAN
	We'll call.

The Lincoln spits snow as it grinds out of the lot and
fishtails out onto the boulevard.


SCOTTY'S BEDROOM

Scotty lies on the bed, weeping.  Jerry enters and perches
uncomfortably on the edge of his bed.

		JERRY
	...  How ya doin' there, Scotty?

		SCOTT
	Dad!  What're they doing?  Wuddya
	think they're doin' with Mom?

		JERRY
	It's okay, Scotty.  They're not
	gonna want to hurt her any.
	These men, they just want money,
	see.

		SCOTT
	What if - what if sumpn goes wrong?

		JERRY
	No, no, nothin's goin' wrong here.
	Grandad and I, we're - we're makin'
	sure this gets handled right.

Scott snorfles and sits up.

		SCOTT
	Dad, I really think we should call
	the cops.

		JERRY
	No!  We can't let anyone know about
	this thing!  We gotta play ball with
	these guys - you ask Stan Grossman,
	he'll tell ya the same thing!

		SCOTT
	Yeah, but -

		JERRY
	We're gonna get Mom back for ya, but
	we gotta play ball.  Ya know, that's
	the deal.  Now if Lorraine calls, or
	Sylvia, you just say that Mom is in
	Florida with Pearl and Marty...

Scotty starts to weep again.  Jerry stares down at his lap.

		JERRY
	...  That's the best we can do here.


EXT. CABIN

It is a lakeside cabin surrounded by white.  A brown Ciera
with dealer plates is pulling into the drive.

Grimsrud climbs out of the passenger seat as Carl climbs out
of the driver's.  Grimsrud opens the back door and, with an
arm on her elbow, helps Jean out.  She has her hands tied
behind her and a black hood over her head.

With a cry, she swings her elbow out of Grimsrud's grasp and
lurches away across the front lawn.  Grimsrud moves to
retrieve her but Carl, grinning, lays a hand on his
shoulder.

		CARL
	Hold it.

They both look out at the front lawn, Grimsrud
expressionless, Carl smiling.

With muffled cries, the hooded woman lurches across the
unbroken snow, staggering this way and that, stumbling on
the uneven terrain.

She stops, stands still, her hooded head swaying.

She lurches out in an arbitrary direction.  Going downhill,
she reels, staggers, and falls face-first into the snow,
weeping.

		CARL
	Ha ha ha ha ha ha!  Jesus!

Grimsrud, still expressionless, breaks away from Carl's
restraining hand to retrieve her.


BRAINERD POLICE HEADQUARTERS

We track behind Marge as she makes her way across the floor,
greeting various officers.  She holds a small half-full
paper sack.

Beyond her we see a small glassed-in cublcle.  Norm sits at
the desk inside with a box lunch spread out in front of him.
There is lettering on the cubicle's glass door:  BRAINERD
PD. CHIEF GUNDERSON.

Marge enters and sits behind the desk, detaching her walkie-
talkie from her utility belt to accomodate the seat.

		MARGE
	Hiya, hon.

She slides the paper sack toward him.

		NORM
	Brought ya some lunch, Margie.
	What're those, night crawlers?

He looks inside.

The bottom of the sack is full of fat, crawling earthworms.

		MARGE
	Yah.

		NORM
	Thanks, hon.

		MARGE
	You bet.  Thanks for lunch.  What
	do we got here, Arbie's?

		NORM
	Uh-huh.

She starts eating.

		MARGE
	...  How's the paintin' goin'?

		NORM
	Pretty good.  Found out the Hautmans
	are entering a painting this year.

		MARGE
	Aw, hon, you're better'n them.

		NORM
	They're real good.

		MARGE
	They're good, Norm, but you're
	better'n them.

		NORM
	Yah, ya think?

He leans over and kisses her.

		MARGE
	Ah, ya got Arbie's all o'er me.

Lou enters.

		LOU
	Hiya, Norm, how's the paintin'
	goin'?

		NORM
	Not too bad.  You know.

		MARGE
	How we doin' on that vehicle?

		LOU
	No motels registered any tan Ciera
	last night.  But the night before,
	two men checked into the Blue Ox
	registering a Ciera and leavin' the
	tag space blank.

		MARGE
	Geez, that's a good lead.  The
	Blue Ox, that's that trucker's
	joint out there on I-35?

		LOU
	Yah.  Owner was on the desk then,
	said these two guys had company.

		MARGE
	Oh, yah?


EXT. STRIPPER CLUB

Marge's prowler is parked in an otherwise empty lot.  Snow
drifts down.


INT. STRIPPER CLUB

Marge sits talking with two young women at one end of an
elevated dance platform.  The club, not yet open for
business, is deserted.

		MARGE
	Where you girls from?

		HOOKER ONE
	Chaska.

		HOOKER TWO
	LeSeure.  But I went to high school
	in White Bear Lake.

		MARGE
	Okay, I want you to tell me what
	these fellas looked like.

		HOOKER ONE
	Well, the little guy, he was
	kinda funny-looking.

		MARGE
	In what way?

		HOOKER ONE
	I dunno.  Just funny-looking.

		MARGE
	Can you be any more specific?

		HOOKER ONE
	I couldn't really say.  He wasn't
	circumcised.

		MARGE
	Was he funny-looking apart from
	that?

		HOOKER ONE
	Yah.

		MARGE
	So you were having sex with the
	little fella, then?

		HOOKER ONE
	Uh-huh.

		MARGE
	Is there anything else you can
	tell me about him?

		HOOKER ONE
	No.  Like I say, he was funny-looking.
	More'n most people even.

		MARGE
	And what about the other fella?

		HOOKER TWO
	He was a little older.  Looked like
	the Marlboro man.

		MARGE
	Yah?

		HOOKER TWO
	Yah.  Maybe I'm sayin' that cause
	he smoked Marlboros.

		MARGE
	Uh-huh.

		HOOKER TWO
	A subconscious-type thing.

		MARGE
	Yah, that can happen.

		HOOKER TWO
	Yah.

		HOOKER ONE
	They said they were goin' to the
	Twin Cities?

		MARGE
	Oh, yah?

		HOOKER TWO
	Yah.

		HOOKER ONE
	Yah.  Is that useful to ya?

		MARGE
	Oh, you bet, yah.


EXT. LAKESIDE CABIN

It is now dusk.  The brown Ciera with dealer plates still
sits in the drive.


INT. CABIN

We track in on Jean Lundegaard, who sits tied in a chair
with the black hood still over her head.  As we track in, we
hear inarticulate cursing, intermittent banging and loud
static.

We track in on Gaear Grimsrud, who sits smoking a cigarette
and expressionlessly gazing offscreen.

We track in on Carl Showalter, who stands over an old black-
and-white television.  It plays nothing but snow.  Carl is
banging on it as he mutters:

		CARL
	...days ... be here for days with
	a - DAMMIT! - a goddamn mute ...
	nothin' to do ... and the fucking -
	DAMMIT!...

Each "dammit" brings a pound of his fist on the TV.

		CARL
	...  TV doesn't even ... plug me
	in, man...  Gimmee a - DAMMIT! -
	signal...  Plug me into the
	ozone, baby...  Plug me into the
	ozone - FUCK!...

With one last bang we cut:


BACK TO THE TELEVISION SET

In extreme close-up an insect is lugging a worm.

		TV VOICE-OVER
	The bark beetle carries the worm
	to the nest ... where it will feed
	its young for up to six weeks...

A pull back from the screen reveals that we are in Marge's
house.

Marge and Norm are watching television in bed.  From the TV
we hear insects chirring.

After a long beat, silence except for the TV, Marge murmurs,
still looking at the set:

		MARGE
	...  Well, I'm turnin' in, Norm.

Also looking at the TV:

		NORM
	...  Oh, yah?

Marge rolls over and Norm continues to watch.

We hold.


BLACK

Hold.

A snowflake drops through the black.

Another flake.

It starts snowing.


BRAINERD MAIN STREET

The lone traffic light blinks slowly, steadily, red.  Snow
sifts down.  There is no other movement.


PAUL BUNYAN

We are looking up at the bottom-lit statue.  Snow falls.


HIGH SHOT OF MARGE'S HOUSE

Snow drops away.


HIGH SHOT IN MARGE'S BEDROOM

The bedroom is dark.  Norm is snoring.

The phone rings.

Marge gropes in the dark.

		MARGE
	Hello?

		VOICE
	Yah, is this Marge?

		MARGE
	Yah?

		VOICE
	Margie Olmstead?

		MARGE
	...  Well, yah.  Who's this?

		VOICE
	This is Mike Yanagita.  Ya know
	- Mike Yanagita.  Remember me?

		MARGE
	...  Mike Yanagita!

		MIKE
	Yah!

Marge props herself up next to the still-sleeping Norm.

		MARGE
	Yah, yah, course I remember.
	How are ya?  What time is it?

		MIKE
	Oh, geez.  It's quarter to eleven.
	I hope I dint wake you.

		MARGE
	No, that's okay.

		MIKE
	Yah, I'm down in the Twin Cities
	and I was just watching on TV
	about these shootings up in
	Brainderd, and I saw you on the
	news there.

		MARGE
	Yah.

		MIKE
	I thought, geez, is that Margie
	Olmstead?  I can't believe it!

		MARGE
	Yah, that's me.

		MIKE
	Well, how the heck are ya?

		MARGE
	Okay, ya know.  Okay.

		MIKE
	Yah?

		MARGE
	Yah - how are you doon?

		MIKE
	Oh, pretty good.

		MARGE
	Heck, it's been such a long time,
	Mike.  It's great to hear from ya.

		MIKE
	Yah...  Yah, yah.  Geeze, Margie!


GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE

Jerry is on the sales floor, showing a customer a vehicle.

		JERRY
	Yah, ya got yer, this loaded here,
	this has yer independent, uh, yer
	slipped differential, uh, yer rack-
	and-pinion steering, yer alarm and
	radar, and I can give it to ya with
	a heck of a sealant, this TruCoat
	stuff, it'll keep the salt off -

		CUSTOMER
	Yah, I don't need no sealant though.

		JERRY
	Yah, you don't need that.  Now
	were you thinking of financing here?
	You oughta be aware a this GMAC
	plan they have now, it's really
	super -

		ANOTHER SALESMAN
	Jerry, ya got a call here.

		JERRY
	Yah, okay.


JERRY'S CUBICLE

He sits in and picks up his phone.

		JERRY
	Jerry Lundegaard.

		VOICE
	All right, Jerry, you got this
	phone to yourself?

		JERRY
	Well ... yah.

		VOICE
	Know who this is?

		JERRY
	Well, yah, I got an idea.  How's
	that Ciera workin' out for ya?

		VOICE
	Circumstances have changed, Jerry.

		JERRY
	Well, what do ya mean?

		VOICE
	Things have changed.  Circumstances,
	Jerry.  Beyond the, uh ... acts of
	God, force majeure...

		JERRY
	What the - how's Jean?

A beat.

		CARL
	...  Who's Jean?

		JERRY
	My wife!  What the - how's -

		CARL
	Oh, Jean's okay.  But there's
	three people up in Brainerd who
	aren't so okay, I'll tell ya that.

		JERRY
	What the heck're you talkin' about?
	Let's just finish up this deal
	here -

		CARL
	Blood has been shed, Jerry.

Jerry sits dumbly.  The voice solemnly repeats:

		CARL
	...  Blood has been shed.

		JERRY
	What the heck d'ya mean?

		CARL
	Three people.  In Brainerd.

		JERRY
	Oh, geez.

		CARL
	That's right.  And we need more
	money.

		JERRY
	The heck d'ya mean?  What a you
	guys got yourself mixed up in?

		CARL
	We need more -

		JERRY
	This was s'posed to be a no-rough
	-stuff-type deal -

		CARL
	DON'T EVER INTERRUPT ME, JERRY!
	JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!

		JERRY
	Well, I'm sorry, but I just - I -

		CARL
	Look.  I'm not gonna debate you,
	Jerry.  The price is now the whole
	amount.  We want the entire eighty
	thousand.

		JERRY
	Oh, for Chrissakes here -

		CARL
	Blood has been shed.  We've incurred
	risks, Jerry.  I'm coming into town
	tomorrow.  Have the money ready.

		JERRY
	Now we had a deal here!  A deal's
	a deal!

		CARL
	IS IT, JERRY?  You ask those three
	pour souls up in Brainerd if a
	deal's a deal!  Go ahead, ask 'em!

		JERRY
	...  The heck d'ya mean?

		CARL
	I'll see you tomorrow.

Click.

Jerry slams down the phone, which immediately rings.  He
angrily snatches it up.

		JERRY
	Yah!

		VOICE
	Jerome Lundegaard?

		JERRY
	Yah!

		VOICE
	This is Reilly Deifenbach at GMAC.
	Sir, I have not yet recieved those
	vehicle IDs you promised me.

		JERRY
	Yah!  I ... those are in the mail.

		VOICE
	Mr. Lundegaard, that very well may
	be.  I must inform you, however,
	that absent the reciept of those
	numbers by tomorrow afternoon, I
	will have to refer this matter to
	our legal department.

		JERRY
	Yah.

		VOICE
	My patience is at an end.

		JERRY
	Yah.

		VOICE
	Good day, sir.

		JERRY
	...  Yah.


WIDE ON THE CUBICLE

We are looking at Jerry's cubicle from across the showroom.
Noise muted by distance, we watch Jerry slam down the
reciever, rise to his feet, fling the phone to the floor,
raise his desk blotter high over his head with pens and
pencils rolling off it and slam it onto his desktop.

He stands for a moment, hands on hips, glaring.

He stoops and picks up the phone, places it back on the
desktop, starts picking up the pens and pencils.


TRACK

On steam-table bins of food, each identified by a plaque:
BEEF STROGANOFF, SWEDISH MEATBALLS, BROILED TORSK, CHICKEN
FLORENTINE.

A complementary track shows two rays being pushed along a
buffet line, piled high with many foods.


MARGE AND NORM AT A TABLE

They sit next to each other at a long cafateria-style
Formica table, silently eating.

A hip with a hissing walkie-talkie enters frame.

		GARY
	Hiya, Norm.  How ya doin', Margie?
	How's the fricasse?

		MARGE
	Pretty darn good, ya want some?

		GARY
	No, I gotta - hey, Norm, I thought
	you were goin' fishin' up at Mile
	Lacs?

		NORM
	Yah, after lunch.

He goes back to his food.

		MARGE
	Whatcha got there?

Gary hands her a flimsy.  Marge takes it with one hand and
looks, her other hand frozen with a forkful of food.

		GARY
	The numbers y'asked for, calls
	made from the lobby pay phone
	at the Blue Ox.  Two to Minneapolis
	that night.

		MARGE
	Mm.

		GARY
	First one's a trucking company,
	second one's a private residence.
	A Shep Proudfoot.

		MARGE
	Uh-huh...  A what?

		GARY
	Shep Proudfoot.  That's a name.

		MARGE
	Uh-huh.

		GARY
	Yah.

		MARGE
	...  Yah, okay, I think I'll
	drive down there, then.

		GARY
	Oh, yah?  Twin Cities?

Norm, who has been eating steadily throughout, looks over at
Marge with mild interest.  He stares for a beat as he
finishes chewing, and them swallows and says:

		NORM
	...  Oh, yah?


KITCHEN OF LUNDEGAARD HOUSE

Jerry, Wade, and Stan Grossman sit around the kitchen table.
It is night.  The scene is harshly toplit by a hanging
fixture.  On the table are the remains of coffee and a
cinammon filbert ring.

		WADE
	Dammit!  I wanna be a part a
	this thing!

		JERRY
	No, Wade!  They were real clear!
	They said they'd call tomorrow,
	with instructions, and it's gonna
	be delivered by me alone!

		WADE
	It's my money, I'll deliver it
	- what do they care?

		STAN
	Wade's got a point there.  I'll
	handle the call if you want, Jerry.

		JERRY
	No, no.  See - they, no, see, they
	only deal with me.  Ya feel this,
	this nervousness on the phone there,
	they're very - these guys're
	dangerous -

		WADE
	All the more reason!  I don't want
	you - with all due respect, Jerry
	- I don't want you mucking this up.

		JERRY
	The heck d'ya mean?

		WADE
	They want my money, they can deal
	with me.  Otherwise I'm goin' to
	a professional.

He points at a briefcase.

		WADE
	...  There's a million dollars
	here!

		JERRY
	No, see -

		WADE
	Look, Jerry, you're not sellin'
	me a damn car.  It's my show here.
	That's that.

		STAN
	It's the way we prefer to handle
	it, Jerry.


THE DOWNTOWN RADISSON HOTEL

Marge is at the reception desk.

		MARGE
	How ya doin'?

		CLERK
	Real good.  How're you today, ma'am?

		MARGE
	Real good.  I'm Mrs. Gunderson, I
	have a reservation.

The clerk types into a computer console.

		CLERK
	You sure do, Mrs. Gunderson.

		MARGE
	Is there a phone down here, ya think?


LOBBY CORNER

Marge is on a public phone.

		MARGE
	...  Detective Sibert?  Yah, this
	is Marge Gunderson from up Brainerd,
	we spoke -  Yah.  Well, actually
	I'm in town here.  I had to do a
	few things in the Twin Cities, so
	I thought I'd check in with ya about
	that USIF search on Shep Proudfoot...
	Oh, yah?...  Well, maybe I'll go
	visit with him if I have the...  No,
	I can find that...  Well, thanks a
	bunch.  Say, d'ya happen to know a
	good place for lunch in the downtown
	area?...  Yah, the Radisson...  Oh,
	yah?  Is it reasonable?


A GREEN FREEWAY SIGN

Through a windshield we see a sign for the MINNEAPOLIS
INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT.


ROOFTOP PARKING LOT

The brown Ciera enters and drives lazy S-curves around the
few snow-covered cars parked on the roof of the lot.

It stops by one car and Carl emerges.  He quickly scans the
lot, then kneels in the snow at the back of the parked car
and starts unscrewing its license plate.


EXIT BOOTH

Carl pulls up and hands the attendant his ticket.

		CARL
	Yeah, I decided not to park here.

The attendant frowns uncomprehendingly at the ticket.

		ATTENDANT
	...  What do you mean, you decided
	not to park here?

		CARL
	Yeah, I just came in.  I decided
	not to park here.

The attendant is still puzzled.

		ATTENDANT
	You, uh...  I'm sorry, sir, but -

		CARL
	I decided not to - I'm, uh, not
	taking the trip as it turns out.

		ATTENDANT
	I'm sorry, sir, we do have to
	charge you the four dollars.

		CARL
	I just pulled in here.  I just
	fucking pulled in here!

		ATTENDANT
	Well, see, there's a minimum charge
	of four dollars.  Long-term parking
	charges by the day.

A car behind beeps.  Carl glances back, starts digging for
money.

		CARL
	I guess you think, ya know, you're
	an authority figure.  With that
	stupid fucking uniform.  Huh, buddy?

The attendant doesn't say anything.

		CARL
	...  King Clip-on Tie here.  Big
	fucking man.

He is peeling off one dollar bills.

		CARL
	...  You know, these are the limits
	of your life, man.  Ruler of your
	little fucking gate here.  There's
	your four dollars.  You pathetic
	piece of shit.


GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE

Jerry is staring up, mouth agape, at the underside of a car
on a hydraulic lift.  Bewildered, he looks about, then asks
a mechanic passing by, his voice raised over the din of the
shop.

		JERRY
	Where's Shep?

The mechanic points.

		MECHANIC
	Talkin' to a cop.

Jerry looks.

		JERRY
	...  Cop?

Marge and Shep face each other at the other end of the floor
in a grimy and cluttered glassed-in cubicle.

		MECHANIC
	Said she was a policewoman.

Marge and Shep silently talk.

Jerry stares, swallows.


INSIDE THE CUBICLE

		MARGE
	- Wednesday night?

Shep is shaking his head.

		SHEP
	Nope.

		MARGE
	Well, you do reside their at
	1425 Fremont Terrace?

		SHEP
	Yep.

		MARGE
	Anyone else residing there?

		SHEP
	Nope.

		MARGE
	Well, Mr. Proudfoot, this call
	came in past three in the morning.
	It's just hard for me to believe
	you can't remember anyone calling.

Shep says nothing.

		MARGE
	...  Now, I know you've had some
	problems, struggling with the
	narcotics, some other entanglements,
	currently on parole -

		SHEP
	So?

		MARGE
	Well, associating with criminals,
	if you're the one they talked to,
	that right there would be a
	violation of your parole and would
	end with you back in Stillwater.

		SHEP
	Uh-huh.

		MARGE
	Now, I saw some rough stuff on
	your priors, but nothing in the
	nature of a homicide...

Shep stares at her.

		MARGE
	...  I know you don't want to be
	an accessory to something like
	that.

		SHEP
	Nope.

		MARGE
	So you think you might remember
	who those folks were who called
	ya?


JERRY'S OFFICE

Jerry is worriedly pacing behind his desk.  At a noise he
looks up.

Marge has stuck her head in the door.

		MARGE
	Mr. Lundegaard?

		JERRY
	Huh?  Yah?

		MARGE
	I wonder if I could take just a
	minute of your time here -

		JERRY
	What...  What is it all about?

		MARGE
	Huh?  Do you mind if I sit down
	- I'm carrying quite a load here.

Marge plops into the chair opposite him.

		MARGE
	...  You're the owner here, Mr.
	Lundegaard?

		JERRY
	Naw, I...  Executive Sales Manager.

		MARGE
	Well, you can help me.  My name's
	Marge Gunderson -

		JERRY
	My father-in-law, he's the owner.

		MARGE
	Uh-huh.  Well, I'm a police officer
	from up Brainerd investigating some
	malfeasance and I was just wondering
	if you've had any new vehicles stolen
	off the lot in the past couple of
	weeks - specifically a tan Cutlass
	Ciera?

Jerry stares at her, his mouth open.

		MARGE
	...  Mr. Lundegaard?

		JERRY
	...  Brainerd?

		MARGE
	Yah.  Yah.  Home a Paul Bunyan and
	Babe the Blue Ox.

		JERRY
	...  Babe the Blue Ox?

		MARGE
	Yah, ya know we've got the big
	statue there.  So you haven't had
	any vehicles go missing, then?

		JERRY
	No.  No, ma'am.

		MARGE
	Okey-dokey, thanks a bunch.  I'll
	let you get back to your paperwork,
	then.

As Marge rises, Jerry looks blankly down at the papers on
the desk in front of him.

		JERRY
	...  Yah, okay.

He looks up at Marge's retreating back.  He looks back down
at the papers.  He looks over at the phone.

he picks up the phone and dials four digits.

		JERRY
	...  Yah, gimmee Shep...  The
	heck d'ya mean?...  Well, where'd
	he go?  It's only...  No, I don't
	need a mechanic - oh, geez - I
	gotta talk to a friend of his, so,
	uh ... have him, uh ... oh, geez...


HOTEL BAR

Marge enters.  She looks around the bar, a rather
characterless, lowlit meeting place for business people.

		VOICE
	Marge?

It is a bald, paunching man of about Marge's age, rising
from a booth halfway back.  His features are broad,
friendly, Asian-American.

		MARGE
	Mike!

He approaches somewhat carefully, as if on his second drink.
They hug and head back toward the booth.

		MIKE
	Geez!  You look great!

		MARGE
	Yah - easy there - you do too!
	I'm expecting, ya know.

		MIKE
	I see that!  That's great!

A waitress meets them at the table.

		MIKE
	...  What can I get ya?

		MARGE
	Just a Diet Coke.

Again she glances about.

		MARGE
	...  This is a nice place.

		MIKE
	Yah, ya know it's the Radisson,
	so it's pretty good.

		MARGE
	You're livin' in Edina, then?

		MIKE
	Oh, yah, couple years now.  It's
	actually Eden Prarie - that school
	district.  So Chief Gunderson, then!
	So ya went and married Norm Son-of-
	a-Gunderson!

		MARGE
	Oh, yah, a long time ago.

		MIKE
	Great.  What brings ya down - are
	ya down here on that homicide -
	if you're allowed, ya know, to
	discuss that?

		MARGE
	Oh, yah, but there's not a heckuva
	lot to discuss.  What about you,
	Mike?  Are you married - you have
	kids?

		MIKE
	Well, yah, I was married.  I was
	married to -  You mind if I sit
	over here?

He is sliding out of his side of the booth and easing in
next to Marge.

		MIKE
	...  I was married to Linda
	Cooksey -

		MARGE
	No, I -  Mike - wyncha sit over
	there, I'd prefer that.

		MIKE
	Huh?  Oh, okay, I'm sorry.

		MARGE
	No, just so I can see ya, ya know.
	Don't have to turn my neck.

		MIKE
	Oh, sure, I unnerstand, I didn't
	mean to -

		MARGE
	No, no, that's fine.

		MIKE
	Yah, sorry, so I was married to
	Linda Cooksey - ya remember Linda?
	She was a year behind us.

		MARGE
	I think I remember Linda, yah.
	She was - yah.  So things didn't
	work out, huh?

		MIKE
	And then I, and then I been workin'
	for Honeywell for a few years now.

		MARGE
	Well, they're a good outfit.

		MIKE
	Yah, if you're an engineer, yah,
	you could do a lot worse.  Of
	course, it's not, uh, it's
	nothin' like your achievement.

		MARGE
	It sounds like you're doin' really
	super.

		MIKE
	Yah, well, I, uh ... it's not that
	it didn't work out -  Linda passed
	away.  She, uh...

		MARGE
	I'm sorry.

		MIKE
	Yah, I, uh...  She had leukemia,
	you know...

		MARGE
	No, I didn't...

		MIKE
	It was a tough, uh ... it was a
	long -  She fought real hard,
	Marge...

		MARGE
	I'm sorry, Mike.

		MIKE
	Oh, ya know, that's, uh - what
	can I say?...

He holds up his drink.

		MIKE
	...  Better times, huh?

Marge clinks it.

		MARGE
	Better times.

		MIKE
	I was so...  I been so ... and
	then I saw you on TV, and I
	remembered, ya know...  I always
	liked you...

		MARGE
	Well, I always liked you, Mike.

		MIKE
	I always liked ya so much...

		MARGE
	It's okay, Mike -  Should we get
	together another time, ya think?

		MIKE
	No - I'm sorry!  It's just -  I
	been so lonely - then I saw you,
	and...

He is weeping.

		MIKE
	...  I'm sorry...  I shouldn't a
	done this...  I thought we'd have
	a really terrific time, and now
	I've...

		MARGE
	It's okay...

		MIKE
	You were such a super lady ...
	and then I...  I been so lonely...

		MARGE
	It's okay, Mike...


CARLTON CELEBRITY ROOM

Carl Showalter is sitting at a small table with a tarty-
looking blonde in a low-cut gown.  Each holds a drink.

		CARL
	Just in town on business.  Just
	in and out.  Ha ha!  A little of
	the old in-and-out!

		WOMAN
	Wuddya do?

Carl looks around.

		CARL
	Have ya been to the Celebrity Room
	before?  With other, uh, clients?

		WOMAN
	I don't think so.  It's nice.

		CARL
	Yeah, well, it depends on the artist.
	You know, Jose Feliciano, ya got no
	complaints.  Waiter!

The reverse shows a disappearing waiter and the backs of
many, many people sitting at tables between us and the very
distant stage.  Jose Feliciano, very small, performs on a
spotlit stool.  The acoustics are poor.

Carl grimaces.

		CARL
	...  What is he, deaf?...  So,
	uh, how long have you been with
	the escort service?

		WOMAN
	I don't know.  Few munce.

		CARL
	Ya find the work interesting, do ya?

		WOMAN
	...  What're you talking about?


A DIRTY BEDROOM

Carl is humping the escort.

We hear the door burst open.

The escort is grabbed and flung out of bed.

		CARL
	Shep!  What the hell are you doing?
	I'm banging that girl!  Shep!  Jesus
	Ch -

Shep slaps him hard, forehand, backhand.

		SHEP
	Fuck out of my house!

He hauls him up -

		CARL
	Shep!  Don't you dare fucking hit
	me, man!  Don't you -

- punches him and flings him away.

Carl hits a sofa and we see his bare legs disappear as he
flips back over it.

Shep enters frame to circle the sofa and kick at Carl behind
it.

		SHEP
	Fuck outta here.  Put me back in
	Stillwater.  Little fucking shit.

There is a knock at the door.

		VOICE
	Hey!  Come on in there!

Shep strides to the door, flings it open.

A man in boxer shorts stands in the doorway.

		MAN
	C'mon, brother, it's late -  Unghh!

Shep hits him twice, then grabs both of his ears and starts
banging his head against the wall.

The hooker runs by, clutching her clothes, and Shep kicks
her in the ass as she passes.

He spins and goes back into the apartment.

Carl is hopping desperately into his pants.

		CARL
	Stay away from me, man!  Hey!
	Smoke a fuckin' peace pipe, man!
	Don't you dare fuckin' -  Unghh!

After hitting him several times, Shep yanks Carl's belt out
of his dangling pants and strangles him with it.  Carl
gurgles.  Shep knees Carl repeatedly, then dumps him onto
the floor and starts whipping him with the buckle end of the
belt.


CHAIN RESTAURANT PHONE BOOTH

Carl listens to the phone ring at the other end.  His face
is deeply bruised and cut.

Finally, through the phone...

		VOICE
	...  Yah?

		CARL
	All right, Jerry, I'm through
	fucking around.  You got the
	fucking money?


JERRY'S KITCHEN

Jerry is at the kitchen phone.  Through the door to the
dining room we see Wade picking up an extension.

		JERRY
	Yah, I got the money, but, uh -

		CARL
	Don't you fucking but me, Jerry.
	I want you with this money on the
	Dayton-Radisson parking ramp, top
	level, thirty minutes, and we'll
	wrap this up.

		JERRY
	Yah, okay, but, uh -

		CARL
	You're there in thirty minutes or
	I find you, Jerry, and I shoot
	you, and I shoot your fucking wife,
	and I shoot all your little fucking
	children, and I shoot 'em all in the
	back of their little fucking heads.
	Got it?

		JERRY
	...  Yah, well, you stay away from
	Scotty now -

		CARL
	GOT IT?

		JERRY
	Okay, real good, then.

The line goes dead.

A door slams offscreen.


EXT. HOUSE

Wade, briefcase in hand, gets into his Cadillac, slams the
door and peels out.


INT. CAR

Wade's jaw works as he glares out at traffic.  He mumbles to
himself as he drives.

		WADE
	Okay ... here's your damn money,
	now where's my daughter?...
	Goddamn punk ... where's my damn
	daughter...

He pulls out a gun, cracks the barrel, peers in.

		WADE
	...  You little punk.


JERRY'S HOUSE

Jerry sits in the foyer, trying to pull on pair of galoshes.
Scotty's voice comes from upstairs:

		VOICE
	...  Dad?

		JERRY
	It's okay, Scotty.

		VOICE
	Where're you going?

		JERRY
	Be back in a minute.  If Stan
	calls you, just tell him I went
	to Embers.  Oh, geez -

Thunk! - his first boot goes on.


RADISSON

Marge sits on the bed in her hotel room, shoes off,
massaging her feet.  The phone is pressed to her ear, and
through it, we hear ringing.

		VOICE
	...  Hello?

		MARGE
	Norm?


MILLE LACS LAKE

It is late evening, blowing storm.  A leisurely pan across
the bleak gray expanse finds a little hut in the middle of
the frozen lake with a pickup truck parked next to it.

		MARGE'S VOICE
	They bitin'?


INT. HUT

Norm has a cellular phone to his ear.  His feet are
stretched out to an electric heater.  The interior is bathed
in soft orange light.

		NORM
	Yah, okay.  How's the hotel?

		MARGE
	Oh, pretty good.  They bitin'?

		NORM
	Yeah, couple a muskies.  No pike
	yet.  How d'you feel?

		MARGE
	Oh, fine.

		NORM
	Not on your feet too much?

		MARGE
	No, no.

		NORM
	You shouldn't be on your feet too
	much, you got weight you're not
	used too.  How's the food down
	there?

		MARGE
	Had dinner at a place called the
	King's Table.  Buffet style.  It
	was pretty darn good.

		NORM
	Was it reasonable?

		MARGE
	Yah, not too bad.  So it's nice
	up there?

		NORM
	Yah, it's good.  No pike yet, but
	it's good.


DAYTON-RADISSON RAMP

The top, open, level.  Snow blows.  A car sits idling.

Another car pulls onto the roof.  It creeps over to the
parked car and stops.  It continues to idle as its door
opens and Wade steps out, carrying the briefcase.

The door of the other car bangs open and Carl bounces out.

		CARL
	Who the fuck are you?  Who the
	fuck are you?

		WADE
	I got your goddamn money, you
	little punk.  Now where's my
	daughter?

		CARL
	I am through fucking around!  Drop
	that fucking briefcase!

		WADE
	Where's my daughter?

		CARL
	Fuck you, man!  Where's Jerry?  I
	gave SIMPLE FUCKING INSTRUCTIONS -

		WADE
	Where's my damn daughter?  No
	Jean, no money!

		CARL
	Drop that fucking money!

		WADE
	No Jean, no money!

		CARL
	Is this a fucking joke here?

He pulls out a gun and fires into Wade's gut.

		CARL
	...  Is this a fucking joke?

		WADE
	Unghh ... oh, geez...

He is on the pavement, clutching at his gut.  Snow swirls.

		CARL
	You fucking imbeciles!

He bends down next to Wade to pick up the briefcase.

		WADE
	Oh, for Christ ... oh, geez...

Wade brings out his gun and fires at Carl's head, close by.

		CARL
	Oh!

Carl stumbles and falls back, and then stands up again.  His
jaw is gouting blood.

		CARL
	...  Owwmm...

One hand pressed to his jaw, he fires down at Wade several
times.  Blood streams through the hand pressed to his jaw.

		CARL
	...  Mmmmmphnck!  He fnkem shop me...

He pockets the gun, picks up the briefcase one-handed,
flings it into his car, gets in, peels out.


DOWN RAMP

Carl screams down the ramp.  He takes a corner at high speed
and swerves, just missing Jerry in his Olds on his way to
the top.


INT. JERRY'S CAR

Jerry recovers from the near miss and continues up.

		JERRY
	Oh, geez!


EXIT BOOTH

Carl squeals to a halt at the gate, still pressing his hand
to his bleeding jaw.

		CARL
	Ophhem ma fuchem gaphe!

		ATTENDANT
	May I have your ticket, please?


RAMP ROOF

Jerry pulls to a halt next to Wade's idling Cadillac.  He
gets out and walks slowly to Wade's body, prostrate in the
swirling snow.

		JERRY
	Oh!  Oh, geez!

He bends down, picks Wade up by the armpits and drags him
over to the back of the Cadillac.  He drops Wade's body,
walks to the driver's side of the car, pulls the keys and
walks back to pop the trunk.  He wrestles Wade's body into
the trunk, slams it shut and walks back to the scene of the
shooting.

He kicks at the snow with his galoshed feet, trying to hide
the fresh bloodstains.


EXIT BOOTH

Jerry approaches in the Cadillac.

The wooden gate barring the exit has been broken away.  The
booth is empty.

Jerry eases toward the street, looking over at the booth as
he passes.

Inside the booth we see the awkwardly angled leg of a
prostrate body.


EXT. JERRY'S HOUSE

The car pulls into the driveway.


FOYER

Jerry enters and sits on the foyer chair to take off his
galoshes.

		SCOTT'S VOICE
	...  Dad?

		JERRY
	Yah.

		SCOTT'S VOICE
	Stan Grossman called.

		JERRY
	Yah, okay.

		SCOTT'S VOICE
	Twice.

		JERRY
	Okay.

		SCOTT'S VOICE
	...  Is everything okay?

		JERRY
	Yah.

Thoonk - the first boot comes off.

		SCOTT'S VOICE
	Are you calling Stan?

		JERRY
	Well...  I'm goin' ta bed now.


CARL'S CAR

Carl mumbles as he drives, underlit by the dim dash lights,
one hand now holding a piece of rag to his shredded jaw.

		CARL
	...  Fnnkn ashlzh...  Fnk...


ROAD

Carl's car roars into frame, violently swirling the snow.
Its red tail lights fishtail away.

FADE OUT

HOLD IN BLACK

HARD CUT TO:  BRIGHT - LOOKING THROUGH A WINDSHIELD

It is a starky sunny day.  We are cruising down a street of
humble lookalike houses.

We pan right as we draw toward one house in particular.  In
its driveway a man in a hooded parka shovels snow.  He
notices the approaching car and gives its driver a wave.

The driver is Gary, the Brainderd police officer.  He gives
a finger-to-the-head salute and pulls over.


OUTSIDE

Gary slams his door shut and the other man plants his shovel
in the snow.


		MAN
	How ya doin'?

		GARY
	Mr. Mohra?

		MAN
	Yah.

		GARY
	Officer Olson.

		MAN
	Yah, right-o.

The two men caucus the driveway without shaking hands and
without standing particularly close.  They stand stiffly,
arms down at their sides and breath streaming out of their
parka hoods.  Each has an awkward leaning-away posture, head
drawn slightly back and chin tucked in, to keep his face
from protruding into the cold.

		MAN
	...  So, I'm tendin' bar there at
	Ecklund && Swedlin's last Tuesday
	and this little guy's drinkin'
	and he says, 'So where can a guy
	find some action - I'm goin' crazy
	down there at the lake.'  And I
	says, 'What kinda action?' and he
	says, 'Woman action, what do I
	look like,'  And I says 'Well,
	what do I look like, I don't
	arrange that kinda thing,' and he
	says, 'I'm goin' crazy out there
	at the lake' and I says, 'Well,
	this ain't that kinda place.'

		GARY
	Uh-huh.

		MAN
	So he says, 'So I get it, so you
	think I'm some kinda jerk for
	askin',' only he doesn't use the
	word jerk.

		GARY
	I unnerstand.

		MAN
	And then he calls me a jerk and
	says the last guy who thought he
	was a jerk was dead now.  So I
	don't say nothin' and he says, 'What
	do ya think about that?'  So I
	says, 'Well, that don't sound like
	too good a deal for him then.'


		GARY
	Ya got that right.

		MAN
	And he says, 'Yah, that guy's dead
	and I don't mean a old age.'  And
	then he says, 'Geez, I'm goin'
	crazy out there at the lake.'

		GARY
	White Bear Lake?

		MAN
	Well, Ecklund && Swedlin's, that's
	closer ta Moose Lake, so I made
	that assumption.

		GARY
	Oh sure.

		MAN
	So, ya know, he's drinkin', so I
	don't think a whole great deal of
	it, but Mrs. Mohra heard about the
	homicides out here and she thought
	I should call it in, so I called
	it in.  End a story.

		GARY
	What'd this guy look like anyways?

		MAN
	Oh, he was a little guy, kinda
	funny-lookin'.

		GARY
	Uh-huh - in what way?

		MAN
	Just a general way.

		GARY
	Okay, well, thanks a bunch, Mr.
	Mohra.  You're right, it's probably
	nothin', but thanks for callin'
	her in.

		MAN
	Oh sure.  They say she's gonna
	turn cold tomorrow.

		GARY
	Yah, got a front movin' in.

		MAN
	Ya got that right.


CLOSE ON CARL SHOWALTER

In his car, now parked, one hand holding the rag pressed to
his mangled jaw.  He is staring down at something in the
front seat next to him.

His other hand holds open the briefcase.  It has money
inside - a lot of money.

Carl unfreezes, takes out one of the bank-wrapped wads and
looks at it.

		CARL
	...  Mmmnphh.

He paws through the money in the briefcase to get a feeling
for the amount.

		CARL
	...  Jeshush Shrist...  Jeshush
	fuchem Shrist!

Excited, he counts out a bundle of bills and tosses it onto
the back seat.

He starts to take the rag away from his chin but the layer
pressed against his face sticks, its loose weave bound to
his skin by clotted blood.

He pulls very gently and winces as blood starts to flow
again.

He carefully tears the rag in half so that only a bit of it
remains adhering to his jaw.


EXT. CAR

It is pulled over to the side of an untraveled road.  THe
door opens and Carl emerges with the briefcase.

He slogs through the snow, down a gulley and up the
embankment to a barbed-wire fence.  He kneels at one of the
fence posts and frantically digs into the snow with his bare
hands, throws in the briefcase and covers it back up.

He stands and tries to beat the circulation back into his
red, frozen hands.

He looks to the right.

A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away
against unblemished white.

He looks to the left.

A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away
against unblemished white.

He looks at the fence post in front of him.

		CARL
	Mmmphh...

He looks about the snowy vastness for a marker.  Finding
none, he kicks the fence post a couple of times, failing to
scar or tilt it, then hurriedly plants a couple of sicks up
against the post.

He bends down, scoops up a handful of snow, presses it
against his wounded jaw, and lopes back to the idling car.


HOTEL ROOM

Marge has a packed overnight back sitting on the unmade bed.
She is ready to leave, already wearing her parka, but is on
the phone.

		MARGE
	No, I'm leavin' this mornin', back
	up to Brainerd.

		VOICE
	Well, I'm sorry I won't see ya.

		MARGE
	Mm.  But ya think he's all right?
	I saw him last night and he's -

		VOICE
	What'd he say?

		MARGE
	Well, it was nothin' specific
	he said, it just seemd like it
	all hit him really hard, his
	wife dyin' -

		VOICE
	His wife?

		MARGE
	Linda.

		VOICE
	No.

		MARGE
	Linda Cooksey?

		VOICE
	No.  No.  No.  They weren't -
	he, uh, he was bothering Linda
	for about, oh, for a good year.
	Really pestering her, wouldn't
	leave her alone.

		MARGE
	So ... they didn't...

		VOICE
	No.  No.  They never married.
	Mike's had psychiatric problems.


		MARGE
	Oh.  Oh, my.

		VOICE
	Yah, he - he's been struggling.
	He's living with his parents now.

		MARGE
	Oh.  Geez.

		VOICE
	Yah, Linda's fine.  You should
	call her.

		MARGE
	Geez.  Well - geez.  That's a
	suprise.


MARGE'S CAR

Marge drives, gazing out at the road.


MARGE AT A DRIVE-THROUGH

She leans out of her open window and yells at the order
panel:

		MARGE
	Hello?


MARGE AT THE GUSTAFSON OLDS GARAGE

She sits in the lot, eating a breakfast sandwich.


JERRY LUNDEGAARD'S OFFICE

Jerry is at his desk using a blunt pencil to enter numbers
onto a form.  Beneath the form is a piece of carbon paper
and beneath that another form copy, which Jerry periodically
checks.  The carbon-copy form shows thick smudgy, illegible
entries.

Jerry hums nervously.

Glass rattles as someone taps at his door.

Jerry looks up and freezes, mouth hanging open, brow knit
with worry.

Marge sticks her head in the door.

		MARGE
	Mr. Lundegaard?  Sorry to bother
	you again.  Can I come in?

She starts to enter.

		JERRY
	Yah, no, I'm kinda - I'm kinda
	busy -

		MARGE
	I unnerstand.  I'll keep it real
	short, then.  I'm on my way out
	of town, but I was just -  Do you
	mind if I sit down?  I'm carrying
	a bit of a load here.

		JERRY
	No, I -

But she is already sitting into the chair opposite with a
sigh of relieved weight.

		MARGE
	Yah, it's this vehicle I asked you
	about yesterday.  I was just
	wondering -

		JERRY
	Yah, like I told ya, we haven't had
	any vehicles go missing.

		MARGE
	Okay, are you sure, cause, I mean,
	how do you know?  Because, see,
	the crime I'm investigating, the
	perpetrators were driving a car
	with dealer plates.  And they
	called someone who works here, so
	it'd be quite a coincidence if
	they weren't, ya know, connected.

		JERRY
	Yah, I see.

		MARGE
	So how do you - have you done any
	kind of inventory recently?

		JERRY
	The car's not from our lot, ma'am.

		MARGE
	but do you know that for sure
	without -

		JERRY
	Well, I would know.  I'm the
	Executive Sales Manager.

		MARGE
	Yah, but -

		JERRY
	We run a pretty tight ship here.

		MARGE
	I know, but - well, how do you
	establish that, sir?  Are the
	cars, uh, counted daily or what
	kind of -

		JERRY
	Ma'am, I answered your question.

There is a silent beat.

		MARGE
	...  I'm sorry, sir?

		JERRY
	Ma'am, I answered your question.
	I answered the darn -  I'm
	cooperating here, and I...

		MARGE
	Sir, you have no call to get
	snippy with me.  I'm just doin'
	my job here.

		JERRY
	I'm not, uh, I'm not arguin' here.
	I'm cooperating...  There's no, uh
	- we're doin' all we can...

He trails off into silence.

		MARGE
	Sir, could I talk to Mr. Gustafson?

Jerry stares at her.

		MARGE
	...  Mr. Lundegaard?

Jerry explodes:

		JERRY
	Well, heck, if you wanna, if you
	wanna play games here!  I'm
	workin' with ya on this thing, but
	I...

He is getting angrily off his feet.

		JERRY
	Okay, I'll do a damned lot count!

		MARGE
	Sir?  Right now?

		JERRY
	Sure right now!  You're darned
	tootin'!

He is yanking his parka from a hook behind the opened door
and grabbing a pair of galoshes.

		JERRY
	...  If it's so damned imporant
	to ya!

		MARGE
	I'm sorry, sir, I -

Jerry has the parka slung over one arm and the galoshes
pinched in his hand.

		JERRY
	Aw, what the Christ!

He stamps out the door.

Marge stares.

After a long moment her stare breaks.  She glances idly
around the office.

There is a framed picture facing away from her on the
desktop.  She turns it to face her.  It is Scotty, holding
an accordion.  There is another picture of Jean.

Marge looks at it, looks around, for some reason, at the
ceiling.

She looks at a trophy shelf on the wall behind her.

She fiddles idly with a pencil.  She pulls a clipboard
toward her.  It holds a form from the General Motors Finance
Corporation.

She looks idly around.  Her look abruptly locks.

		MARGE
	...  Oh, for Pete's sake.

Jerry is easing his car around the near corner of the
building.

Marge's voice is flat with dismay:

		MARGE
	...  Oh, for Pete's sake...

She grabs the phone and punches in a number.

		MARGE
	...  For Pete's s- he's fleein' the
	interview.  He's feelin' the
	interview...

Jerry makes a left turn into traffic.

		MARGE
	...  Detective Sibert, please...


POLICE OFFICER

We are looking across a steam table at a man in blue.  He
moves slowly to the right, pushing his tray along a
cafeteria line.  Behind him, in the depth of the room, is an
eating area of long Formica tables at which sit a mix of
uniformed and civilian-clothed police and staff.

We are listening to an offscreen woman's voice.

		WOMAN
	Well, so far we're just saying he's
	wanted for questioning in connection
	with a triple homicide.  Nobody at
	the dealship there's been much help
	guessing where he might go...

The woman is entering frame sliding a tray.  Marge enters
behind her, sliding her own.  We move laterally with them as
they slowly make their way along the line.

		MARGE
	Uh-huh.

		WOMAN
	We called his house; his little
	boy said he hadn't been there.

		MARGE
	And his wife?

		WOMAN
	She's visiting relatives in Florida.
	Now his boss, this guy Gustafson,
	he's also disappeared.  Nobody at
	his office knows where he is.

		MARGE
	Geez.  Looks like this thing goes
	higher than we thought.  You call
	his home?

		WOMAN
	His wife's in the hospital, has
	been for a couple months.  The big C.

		MARGE
	Oh, my.

		WOMAN
	And this Shep Proudfoot character,
	he's a little darling.  He's now
	wanted for assault and parole
	violation.  He clobbered a neighbor
	of his last night and another
	person who could be one of your perps,
	and he's at large.

		MARGE
	Boy, this thing is really ... geez.

		WOMAN
	Well, they're all out on the wire.
	Well, you know...

		MARGE
	Yah.  Well, I just can't thank you
	enough, Detective Sibert, this
	cooperation has been outstanding.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	Ah, well, we haven't had to run
	around like you.  When're you due?

		MARGE
	End a April.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	Any others?

		MARGE
	This'll be our first.  We've been
	waiting a long time.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	That's wonderful.  Mm-mm.  It'll
	change your life, a course.

		MARGE
	Oh, yah, I know that!

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	They can really take over, that's
	for sure.

		MARGE
	You have children?

Detective Sibert pulls an accordion of plastic picture
sleeves from her purse to show Marge.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	I thought you'd never ask.  The
	older one is Janet, she's nine, and
	the younger one is Morgan.

		MARGE
	Oh, now he's adorable.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	He's three now.  Course, not in that
	picture.

		MARGE
	Oh, he's adorable.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	Yah, he -

		MARGE
	Where'd you get him that parka?

They have reached the end of the cafeteria line.  With a nod
to the cashier, Detective Sibert indicates hers and Marge's
trays.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	Both of these.

		MARGE
	Oh, no, I can't let you do that.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	Oh, don't be silly.

		MARGE
	Well, okay - thank you, Detective.

		DETECTIVE SIBERT
	Oh, don't be silly.


GAEAR GRIMSRUD

He sits eating a Swanson's TV dinner from a TV tray he has
set up in front of an easy chair.

He watches the old black-and-white TV set whose image - it
might be a game show - is still heavily ghosting and
diffused by snow.  The audio crackles with interference.
Despite the impenetrability of its image, it holds
Grimsrud's complete attention.

At the sound of the front door opening, Grimsrud looks up.

Carl enters, his face suppurating and raw.

He reacts to Grimsrud's wordless look with a grotesque
laugh.

		CARL
	You should she zhe uzher guy!

He glances around.

		CARL
	...  The fuck happen a her?

Jean sits slumped in a straight-backed chair facing the
wall.  Her hooded head, resting on her chin, is motionless.
There is blood on the facing wall.

		GRIMSRUD
	She started shrieking, you know.

		CARL
	Jezhush.

He shakes his head.

		CARL
	...  Well, I gotta muddy.

He is plunking down eight bank-wrapped bundles on the table.

		CARL
	...  All of it.  All eighty gran.
	Forty for you...

He makes one pile, pockets the rest.

		CARL
	...  Forty for me.  Sho thishuzh
	it.  Adiosh.

He slaps keys down on the table.

		CARL
	...  You c'n'ave my truck.  I'm
	takin' a Shiera.

		GRIMSRUD
	We split that.

Carl looks at him.

		CARL
	HOW THE FUCK DO WE SHPLITTA FUCKIN'
	CAR?  Ya dummy!  Widda fuckin'
	chainshaw?

Grimsrud looks sourly up.  There is a beat.  Finally:

		GRIMSRUD
	One of us pays the other for half.

		CARL
	HOLD ON!  NO FUCKIN' WAY!  YOU
	FUCKIN' NOTISH ISH?  I GOT FUCKIN'
	SHOT INNA FAISH!  I WENT'N GOTTA
	FUCKIN' MONEY!  I GET SHOT FUCKIN'
	PICKIN' IT UP!  I BEEN UP FOR
	THIRTY-SHIKSH FUCKIN' HOURZH!  I'M
	TAKIN' THAT FUCKIN' CAR!  THAT
	FUCKERZH MINE!

Carl waits for an argument, but only gets the steady sour
look.

Carl pulls out a gun.

		CARL
	...  YOU FUCKIN' ASH-HOLE!  I
	LISHEN A YOUR BULLSHIT FOR A WHOLE
	FUCKIN' WEEK!

A beat.  Carl returns Grimsrud's stare.

		CARL
	...  Are we shquare?

Grimsrud says nothing.

		CARL
	...  ARE WE SHQUARE?

A beat.

Disgusted, Carl pockets the gun and heads for the door.

		CARL
	...  Fuckin' ash-hole.  And if
	you shee your friend Shep Proudpfut,
	tell him I'm gonna NAIL hizh
	fuckin' ash.


OUTSIDE

We are pulling Carl as he walks toward the car.  Behind him
we see the cabin door opening.  Carl turns, reacting to the
sound.

Grimsrud is bounding out wearing mittens and a red hunter's
cap, but no overcoat.  He is holding an ax.

Carl fumbles in his pocket for his gun.

Grimsrud swings overhand, burying the ax in Carl's neck.


MARGE

In her cruiser, on her two-way.  Through it we hear Lou's
voice, heavily filtered:

		VOICE
	His wife.  This guy says she was
	kidnapped last Wednesday.

		MARGE
	The day of our homicides.

		VOICE
	Yah.

Marge is peering to one side as she drives, looking through
the bare trees that border the road on a declivity that runs
down to a large frozen lake.

		MARGE
	And this guy is...

		VOICE
	Lundegaard's father-in-law's
	accountant.

		MARGE
	Gustafson's accountant.

		VOICE
	Yah.

		MARGE
	But we still haven't found Gustafson.

		VOICE
		(crackle)
	-  looking.

		MARGE
	Sorry - didn't copy.

		VOICE
	Still missing.  We're looking.

		MARGE
	Copy.  And Lundegaard too.

		VOICE
	Yah.  Where are ya, Margie?

We hear, distant but growing louder, harsh engine noise, as
of a chainsaw or lawnmower.

		MARGE
	Oh, I'm almost back - I'm driving
	around Moose Lake.

		VOICE
	Oh.  Gary's loudmouth.

		MARGE
	Yah, the loudmouth.  So the whole
	state has it, Lundegaard and
	Gustafson?

		VOICE
	Yah, it's over the wire, it's
	everywhere, they'll find 'em.

		MARGE
	Copy.

		VOICE
	We've got a -

		MARGE
	There's the car!  There's the car!

We are slowing as we approach a short driveway leading down
to a cabin.  Parked in front is the brown Cutlass Ciera.

		VOICE
	Whose car?

		MARGE
	My car!  My car!  Tan Ciera!

		VOICE
	Don't go in!  Wait for back-up!

Marge is straining to look.  The power-tool noise is louder
here but still muffled, its source not yet visible.

		VOICE
	...  Chief Gunderson?

		MARGE
	Copy.  Yah, send me back-up!

		VOICE
	Yes, ma'am.  Are we the closest PD?

		MARGE
	Yah, Menominie only has Chief Perpich
	and he takes February off to go to
	Boundary Waters.


ROAD EXTERIOR

Marge pulls her prowler over some distance past the cabin.
She gets out, zips up her khaki parka and pulls up its fur-
lined hood.

For a moment, she stands listening to the muffled roar of
the power tool.  Then, with one curved arm half pressing
against, half supporting her belly, she takes slow, gingerly
steps down the slope, through the deep snow, through the
trees angling toward the cabin and the source of the
grinding noise.

She slogs from tree to tree, letting each one support her
downhill-leaning weight for a moment before slogging to the
next.


The roar grows louder.  Marge stands panting by one tree,
her breath vaporizing out of her snorkel hood.  She squints
down toward the cabin's back lot.

A tall man with his back to us, wearing a red plaid quilted
jacket and a hunting cap with earflaps, is laboring over a
large power tool which his body blocks from view.

Marge advances.

The man is forcing downward something which engages the
roaring power tool and makes harsh spluttering noises.

The man is Grimsrud, his nose red and eyes watering from the
cold, hatflaps pulled down over his ears.  His breath steams
as he sourly goes about his work, both hands pressing down a
shod foot, as it if were the shaft of a butter churn.

The roar is very loud.

Marge slogs down to the next tree, panting, looking.

Grimsrud forces more of the leg into the machine, which we
can now see sprays small wet chunks out the bottom.

Marge's eyes shift.

A large dark form lies in the snow next to Grimsrud.

Grimsrud works on, eyes watering.  With a grunt he bends
down out of frame and then re-enters holding a thick log.
He uses it to force the leg deeper into the machine.

Marge is advancing.  She holds a gun extended toward
Grimsrud, who is still turned away.

Grimsrud rubs his nose with the back of his hand.

Marge closes in, grimacing.

Grimsrud's back strains as he puts his weight into the log
that pushes down into the machine.

The dark shape in the snow next to his side is the rest of
Carl Showalter's body.

Marge has drawn to within twenty yards.  When she bellows it
sounds hollow and distant, her voice all but eaten up by the
roar of the power tool.

		MARGE
	Stop!  Police!  Turn around and
	hands up!

Startled, Grimsrud scowls.  He turns to face her.

He stares.

Marge bellows again:

		MARGE
	...  Hands up!

Conscious of the noise, she shows with a twist of her
shoulder the armpatch insignia.

		MARGE
	...  Police!

Grimsrud stares.

With a quick twist, he reaches back for the log, hurls it at
Marge and then starts running away.

Marge twists her body sideways, shielding herself.

No need - the heavy log travels perhaps ten yards and lands
in the snow several feet short of her.

Grimsrud pants up the hill - slow going through the deep
snow.

Behind him:

		MARGE
	...  Halt!

She fires in the air.

She lowers the gun and carefully sighs.

		MARGE
	...  Halt!

She fires.

Grimsrud still slogs up the hill - a miss.

Marge sights again.

		MARGE
	...  Halt!

She fires again.

Grimsrud pitches forward.  He mutters in Swedish as he
reaches down to clutch at his wounded leg.

Marge walks toward him, gun trained on him as her other hand
reaches under her parka and gropes around her waist.

It comes out with a pair of handcuffs, which she opens with
a snap of the wrist.

		MARGE
	...  All right, buddy.  On your
	belly and your hands clasped
	behind you.


THE CRUISER

Marge drives.  Grimsrud sits in the back seat, hands cuffed
behind him.

For a long moment there, he is quiet - only engine hum and
the periodic clomp of wheels on pavement seams - as Marge
grimly shakes her head.

		MARGE
	...  So that was Mrs. Lundegaard
	in there?

She glances up in the rear-view mirror.

Grimsrud, cheeks sunk, eyes hollow, looks sourly out at the
road.

Marge shakes her head.

At length:

		MARGE
	...  I guess that was your
	accomplice in the wood chipper.

Grimsrud's head bobs with bumps on the road; otherwise he is
motionless, reactionless, scowling and gazing out.

		MARGE
	...  And those three people in
	Brainerd.

No response.

Marge, gazing forward, seems to be talking to herself.

		MARGE
	...  And for what?  For a little
	bit of money.

We hear distant sirens.

		MARGE
	...  There's more to life than money,
	you know.

She glances up in the rear-view mirror.

		MARGE
	...  Don't you know that?...  And
	here ya are, and it's a beautiful
	day...

Grimsrud's hollow eyes stare out.

The sirens are getting louder.  Marge pulls over.

		MARGE
	...  Well...

She leans forward to the dash to give two short signalling
WHOOPS on her siren.

She turns on her flashers.

She leans back with a creak and jangle of utilities.

She stares forward, shakes her head.  We hear the dull click
of her flashers.

		MARGE
	...  I just don't unnerstand it.

Outside it is snowing.  The sky, the earth, the road - all
white.

A squad car, gumballs spinning, punches through the white.
It approaches in slow motion.

An ambulance punches through after it.

Another squad car.

					 FADE OUT:


FADE IN:



HIGH AND WIDE ON A SHABBY MOTEL

It stands next to a highway on a snowy, windslept plain.
One or two cars dot the parking lot along with an idling
police cruiser.


MOTEL ROOM DOORWAY

We are looking over the shoulders of two uniformed policemen
who stand on either side of the door, their hands resting
lightly on their holstered sidearms.  One of them raps at
the door.

		COP ONE
	Mr. Anderson...

A title fades in:  OUTSIDE OF BISMARK, NORTH DAKOTA

After a pause, muffled through the door:

		VOICE
	...  Who?...

		COP ONE
	Mr. Anderson, is this your burgundy
	88 out here?

		VOICE
	...  Just a sec.

		COP ONE
	Could you open the door, please?

		VOICE
	...  Yah.  Yah, just a sec.

We hear a clatter from inside.

		VOICE
	...  Just a sec...

One of the policemen unholsters his gun and nods to someone
whose back enters - a superintendent holding a ring of keys.
This man turns a key in the door and then stands away.

The two policemen, guns at the ready, bang into the motel
room.

The rough hand-held camera rushes in behind them as the two
men give the room a two-handed sweep with their guns.

The room is empty.

Cop one indicates the open bathroom door.

		COP ONE
	Dale!

The two men charge the bathroom, belts jingling, guns at the
ready, jittery camera behind them rushing to keep pace.

A man in boxer shorts is halfway out the bathroom window.

The policemen holster their guns and charge the window, and
drag Jerry Lundegaard back into the room.

His flesh quivers as he thrashes and keens in short,
piercing screams.

The cops wrestle him to the floor but his palsied thrashing
continues.  The policemen struggle to restrain him.

		COP ONE
	Call an ambulance!

		COP TWO
	You got him okay?

Cop One pinions Jerry's arms to the floor and Jerry bursts
into uncontrolled sobbing.

		COP ONE
	Yah, yah, call an ambulance.

Jerry sobs and screams.


A BEDROOM

We are square on Norm, who sits in bed watching television.

After a long beat, Marge enters frame in a nightie and
climbs into bed, with some effort.

		MARGE
	Oooph!

Norm reaches for her hand as both watch the television.

At length Norm speaks, but keeps his eyes on the TV.

		NORM
	They announced it.

Marge looks at him.

		MARGE
	They announced it?

		NORM
	Yah.

Marge looks at him, waiting for more, but Norm's eyes stay
fixed on the television.

		MARGE
	...  So?

		NORM
	Three-cent stamp.

		MARGE
	Your mallard?

		NORM
	Yah.

		MARGE
	Norm, that's terrific!

Norm tries to suppress a smile of pleasure.

		NORM
	It's just the three cent.

		MARGE
	It's terrific!

		NORM
	Hautman's blue-winged teal got the
	twenty-nine cent.  People don't
	much use the three-cent.

		MARGE
	Oh, for Pete's - a course they do!
	Every time they raise the darned
	postage, people need the little
	stamps!

		NORM
	Yah.

		MARGE
	When they're stuck with a bunch a
	the old ones!

		NORM
	Yah, I guess.

		MARGE
	That's terrific.

Her eyes go back to the TV.

		MARGE
	...  I'm so proud a you, Norm.

Norm murmurs:

		NORM
	I love you, Margie.

		MARGE
	I love you, Norm.

Both of them are watching the TV as Norm reaches out to rest
a hand on top of her stomach.

		NORM
	...  Two more months.

Marge absently rests her own hand on top of his.

		MARGE
	Two more months.

Hold; fade out.
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