“Battle Creek” PILOT Vince Gilligan Gran Via Productions/ SPT/ CBS 12/26/02 TV Calling - For educational purposes only

TEASER FADE IN: INT. SCHOOL AUDITORIUM - NIGHT An elementary school pageant. Nothing too fancy. ASs “Flight of the Bumblebee” plays, A DOZEN SIX YERR-OLDS buzz about the stage in fat yellow and black striped costumes. They’re performing for a full house of smiling, blue-collar PARENTS. It's a charming scene. It gets even cuter when a ballerina all in green tiptoes into view, waving her magic wand. This tiny GREEN FATRY is a big-eyed heartbreaker. Absolutely adorable. The girl’s proud DAD hurries from his seat into the aisle. Grinning ear to eaxr, he frames his Green Fairy in the fold-out screen of his fancy CAMCORDER, videotaping her solo dance. Behind Dad, the door at the back of the darkened auditorium opens,.. revealing the SILHOUETTE of a MAN. CLOSE - THE SILHOUETTED MAN Meet RUSS AGNEW, 40. His suit is 1980s J.C. Penney, but clean and pressed. Russ clearly isn’t a parent, as he doesn’t give a shit what’s happening onstage. He’s here scanning the audience. When he sees what he’s looking for, he beelines down the aisle —-— straight for the DAD. He flashes a BADGE, keeps his voice low. RUSS Battle Creek Police. Sir, you wanna come with me? Dad is startled, but seeing as Russ doesn’t look like a man to be arqgued with, he accompanies him back up the aisle. Curious parents turn in their seats to watch. INT. SCHOOL BALLWAY - CONTINUOUS The Dad and Russ exit into the bright, deserted concourse. DAD W-What’s going on? == RUSS Detective Russell Agnew. my card -- trade you. Handing him his business card, Russ grabs the man’s CAMCORDER. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

CONTINUED: RUSS Police business. You'll get it back -- just call that number! Boom Russ is gone. Off bewildered Dad, looking at his card: INT. CARGO VAN ~ NIGHT - A VHS CAMCORDER Fills frame, big as & shoebox: “PROPERTY OF BATTLE CREEK POLICE” is on the side. A hand whacks this bulky antique. ADJUST to... DETECTIVE FONTANELLE WHITE, 30s. frustrated, trying to get this city-issue piece of shit to work in a hurry. Hearing a SCREECH OF TIRES, Font looks out his windshield. EXT. DOWN & OUT DINER - CONTINUOUS An ‘87 Dodge Omni comes SLIDING to the curb, bumping into it. Russ jumps out and runs to the van, parked in the darkness opposite a skeevy DINER. This is not the nice part of town. INT. CARGC VAN - CONTINUOUS Russ piles into the driver’s seat. Triumphant, he holds up the fancy, commandeered CAMCORDER. Delighted, Font lets the old one THUD to the floor and grabs this new one. FONT My man Russ! -- RUSS Twenty minutes to go. We good? FONT Just gotta put the wire on Teddy. Both detectives turn and look behind them, staring at: REVERSE — THE BACK OF THE VAN A pudgy young man sits shirtless atop a milk crate in the empty cargo bay. This is TEDDY THE SNITCH, and he’s nervous. Russ crawls in back with Teddy. He wastes no time taping a micrcphone to the snitch’s blobby, bare chest. TEDDY THE SNITCH This guy... I’m telling you... RUSS Relax, Teddy. Keep breathing. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

CONTINUED: TEDDY THE SNITCH This guy is psycho! Big, Paul Bunyan-looking psycho, and he smokes more meth than he sells! If he gets even the faintest whiff I’m narking cn him... RUSS Relax. It’ll go like clockwork. g Up front, Font is checking the operation of the camcorder. Seeing footage of the cute GREEN FAIRY, he frowns, confused. FONT Russ? Where’d you get this? RUSS Ah. Try not to tape over that. Russ finishes wiring Teddy, then switches on their McCarthy-era RF EQUIPMENT. He squints at it, switches it off and on again. RUSS Font? Why isn‘t the red light coming on? Red light means. it’s working, correct? A . (off Font’s nod) N . Yeah? No red light. Russ chuckles to himself, takes a calming breath -- what to do? A beat, then... BAM!BAMIBAM!BAM! He POUNDS on the egquipment. TEDDY THE SNITCH Who sells you this crap -- “Goodwill?!” Font puts a finger to his lips to shush him. Teddy won’ € shush. TEDDY THE SNITCH No, dude -- first the video camera then the wire? What the hell kinda police department is this?! RUSS The grossly underfunded kind. Shut up and let me think! -- Anxious silence. Font speaks low and intense to his partner. FONT Dealer’s gonna be here in nineteen minutes. What we gonna do, Russ? N We gotta be able to record this buy -- otherwise we got ngthing. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

CONTINUED: ({2} RUSS (teeth gritted) I know that. I am on it. TEDDY THE SNITCH You’re on it? You’re done! B to the 0 to the N-E-D! This is over! It’s pathetic! FONT No, “pathetic” is a white man with titties like Shirley Hemphill. Chastened, Teddy puils his shirt on. Font turns back to Russ. FONT C'mon, Russ. C’mon, my brother... Russ shuts his eyes, thinks for all he’s worth. Now... RUSS Wait. Your sister lives near here, right? {cff Font’s nod} Didn’t she just have a baby? Off Font, wondering just how this is supposed to help them: INT. SISTER’S KITCHEN ~ NIGHT ~ A BABY MONITOR Fills frame. It’s molded to look like a teddy bear. little RED LIGHT glows as it sits here atop the kitchen counter. We PULL BACK to include Fontanelle’s SIS grating carrots at the sink. She Smiles, hearing the happy CO0S and GURGLES of herx baby coming loud and clear through the monitor’s speaker. THUMP. 2&n odd bumping sound broadcasts threough the giving Sis pause. THUMP... THUMP. Suddenly: FONT (V.0Q.) Son of a bitch! ~-- Eyes wide, grips her knife tight and sprints out of frame. INT. ROOM -~ CONTINUOUS runs into the room, letting out, a SCREECH at the sight of... 2 MAN on all fours beneath the cribside table. 1It’s Font, who WHACKS his head sitting up. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

CONTINUED: SIS What in the hell you doing? == FONT I just gotta... Hey, Sis. I just gotta borrow your thing here. Uh. Font works fast, not wanting to explain. He fumbles under the table, trying to unplug the other half of the teddy bear BABY MONITOR. Bs he struggles, it falls over with a clunk and automatically starts singing a chirpy little SONG. BABY MONITOR La~dee-da, da-dee-dee, I wuv you... Do yoooo wuv me? Jerk! Font yanks the plug from the wall, grabs up the monitor. FONT Police business. He splits. Off Sis staring after him, utterly confounded: INT. DOWN & OUT DINER - NIGHT Gangbangers, tweaking crackheads, homeless guys and runaways -- this isn’t exactly Denny’s. We PAN this dangerous interior to land on... the BABY MONITOR, sitting atop a booth table. A hand props a MENU against it, hiding it. This is Teddy, who sits alone, simultaneously scared and pissed. TEDDY THE SNITCH Un... believable. INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS - TEDDY Can be seen on the fold~out CAMCORDER SCREEN -- Font is zoomed in on him, videotaping him through the distant diner window. Beside Font sits Russ, fiddling with the volume on the OTHER HALF of the BABY MONITOR. It’s plugged to an inverter that’s in turn plugged to the cigarette lighter. And lo and behold... TEDDY THE SNITCH (V.0.) Can you hear me? Of course you can’t hear wme, you couple of freakin’ lunatics. No way is this gonna work. I'm gonna get raped. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

N CONTINUED: Amazed his muttering is coming in so loud and clear, Russ and Font bump fists -- victory! FONT This is actually gonna work! RUSS Whoa, whoa here he comes. RBoth detectives peer out the window. Across the way, one mean, Paul Bunyan-size mofo crosses the parking lot and enters the diner. This is the DEARLER they’ve been waiting for. Russ clicks on a MICROCASSETTE RECORDER, holds it beside the baby monitor. With bated breath, Font mans the camera. On his little SCREEN we see the Dealer take a seat opposite Teddy. TEDDY THE SNITCH (V.O0.) Hey buddy, whassup? How you been? DEALER (V.0.) Can’t complain. TEDDY THE (V.0.} Yeah? Excellent. How's tricks? Font looks askance at Russ -- tricks? Mr. Cool’s in the house. DEALER (V.0.} {impatient) You got the money? TEDDY THE SNITCH Absolutely, right here. You're welcome to coun--— (the guy grabs it} Yeah. Go ahead and count it. That’s cool. Font gives a thumbs-up. ' Russ grins and nods —- they’ve got him dead to rights. It’s all going likée clockwork. Until... BUMP. BABY MONITOR La-dee-da, da-dee-dee, I wuv you... Do yooco wuv me? Russ and Font FREEZE. Oh... shit. RUSTLING SOUNDS are heard. DEALER- {V.0.) What the hell is this? ~- TEDDY THE SNITCH (V.O.) Guys. Guys. Guys. GUYS!! -- TV Calling - For educational purposes only

N N CONTINUED: (2) WHAM! The sounds of a BEATING. Teddy HOWLING. Russ and Font drop everything and take off, sprinting across the parking lot. INT. DOWN & OUT DINER -~ CONTINUGUS Russ and Font burst inside, shoving through a crowd of low-lifes who stand watching the Dealer as he swings Teddy by the collar, BANGING HIS HEAD off the floor like he’s trying to drive a nail. TEDDY THE SNITCH SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD! Font tackles the big man low -- Russ hits him high. They all sprawl to the floor in a big, kicking pile. ' Hanging on for dear life, Russ fumbles in his pocket pulls out a STUN GUN. It’s old and worn, with duct tape around the handle. Russ jams the business end into the huge man’s NECK. Nothing happens. Russ holds it up, clicks it on and off. It’s not working -- which gives the Dealer the opportunity to grab Russ by the throat. RUSS’S POV —~ THE DEALER The Clint Eastwood shot: a fist as big as a Christmas ham cocks back, then comes whistling straight at us. As it HITS -- BOOM! CUT TO BLACK. END _OF TEASER TV Calling - For educational purposes only

A COMPUTER SCREEN Fills frame. It’s one of those ancient yellow monochrome jobs. On it gets started a letter, addressed to: Mr. Mike Wallace “Sixty Minutes” We are: INT. RUSS’S APARTMENT -~ MORNING Russ sits hunched at his build-it-yourself Ikea desk, typing away on his twelve year-old computer. Judging by the bachelor decor, he lives alone and doesn’t earn a hell of a lot. As he writes, hotly determined, we hear his letter in VOICEOVER. RUSS (V.0.} Dear Mr. Wallace: knowing your show and its long history of investigating injustice, I believe I have a story which will intrigue your viewers. . We ARC AROUND Russ, revealing... his BLACK EYE courtesy of the Dealer. This BLACK EYE will REMAIN throughout the episode. INT, /EXT. MONTAGE - VARIOUS LOCATIONS - MORNING VOICEQVER continues over a series of SHOTS of Russ in his 87 Dodge Omni, driving to work. This MONTAGE gives us a feel for Russ’s hometown, much like the title sequence of “The Sopranos.” RUSS (V.0.) I write to you from Battle Creek, Michigan, a vibrant Midwestern city of 50,000. We are famous the world over for our contributions to nutrition and digestive health. Russ passes the KELLOGG CEREAL FACTORY. A huge TONY THE TIGER SIGN glides by “It’s GRRRRREAT!” RUSS (V.0.) Sadly, our own public servants are not so well-nourished, metaphorically speaking. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

EXT. STRIP MALL -~ MORNING The VOICEOVER MONTAGE continues as Russ walks into a DONUT SHOP, pausing to say hi to TWC UNIFORM COPS who are on their way out. RUSS (V.0.) I am senior detective with the Battle Creek Police. The fine men and women of my department -- herces all -~ are understaffed and underfunded. They’re forced to make do with substandard and out~of~date equipment. This is a sure recipe for disaster. INT. DONUT SHOP - MORNING The last of ECLAIRS gets tonged into a box. Russ jokes with the big Polish COUNTER GIRL, opens his wallet to pay. Not enough cash. Russ reluctantly gives her his credit cazd. RUSS (V.0.) I’ve done everything I can think to do. petitioned the mayor, the city council they all claim there’s no additional money for us in their budget. I find that hard to swallow, given certain recent expenditures for public sculpture. EXT. GOVERNMENT COMPLEX ~ MORNING A giant CORN FLAKE cast in bronze sits atop a black pedestal. We arc around it, seeing it from our moving car. Russ drives, frowning out his window at the big corn flake. He motors into the complex, passing a sign that says “POLICE.” RUSS (V.O.) Mr. Wallace, I urge you to bring your “Sixty Minutes” crew to . Battle Creek, I say this dreading the publicity it will heap upon us. However, the safety of my fellow officers is too important. Russ pulls into his parking space, climbs out with his box of eclairs. A sign that says “RESERVED FOR R. AGNEW” marks his space. Russ notes that the post it is on stands slightly ASKEW. He carefully straightens it, then walks toward the building. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

10. CONTINUED: RUSS (V.0.) Yours, Detective Russell Agnew. Off this, END MONTAGE. INT. P.D. HALLWAY - MORNING WORKMEN finesse a long roll of carpeting around a sharp corner. Russ steps over it, rounding into view on his way up this bland hall. He slows, staring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of an EMPTY OFFICE SUTTE. More WORKMEN are inside, painting. Wondering at this, Russ turns and enters the office DIRECTLY OPPOSITE. The sign on this door says “DETECTIVE SQUAD.” INT. DETECTIVE SQUAD - CONTINUOUS Russ enters. This bullpen is panelled with blonde wood, as if brought via time machine from the 1960s. The place is a struggle between homey and homely -- family photos and personal touches brighten the mismatched office furniture. Computers dating back to the Sputnik program weigh down each desk. There’s not a lot of in here for the DETECTIVES present, who are perhaps larger than most. There’s FUNKHAUSER, JACOCKS and NIBLET. Nice guys -- but they tend to tie their ties a bit short, and they look like they eat way too much cheese. FUNKHAUSER There he is! French Connection! RUSS French Connection ends with the bad guy getting away, Funkhauser. FUNKHAUSER Yeah, but drugs, right? You know what I mean. Good bust! Russ shakes his hand. The others call out to congratulate him: “Great job,” “Nice shiner.” Russ waves them off -- no big deal. RUSS Guys, I brought eclairs. Help yourselves. The guys nod pleasantly -=- == -and turn back to their woxk. Maybe hoping for a bigger reaction, Russ keeps it alive. RUSS putting them right here. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

11. CONTINUED: Russ sets the eclairs beside the “Mannix”-era coffee machine. He glances at the wall behind it -- three COMMENDATION PLAQUES are hung in a neat row, all awarded to “Det. Russell Agnew.” Russ takes a gquick brush at one, flicking a speck off the brass. HOLLY {(0.S.) Congratulations. Russ. turns to see HOLLY, the office manager. She’s early 30s, and cute. Most definitely cute. Upon seeing Russ's black eye, her smile turns to a frown of concern. HOLLY Aw, Russ! --— RUSS It’s fine. nothing. HOLLY Does it hurt? He shakes his head -- please. She reaches a hand out, almost touches his face, but not guite. They stare at one another Jjust long enough for us to know that there’s mutual attraction here. Russ drcps his eyes first, points to the table. RUSS I brought esclairs. Holly nods pleasantly -- cool. Russ nods past her, turning her attention to the windows which look out onto the hallway. From here, the workmen are visible across the hall. RUSS . What’s with the spare office? HOLLY Somebody rented it. Wheoever it " is, they’re sure deing it up. Russ stares at the workers, irked. RUSS Not like the city couldn’t have given it to us. We’re crammed in here like sardines. Holly holds up a newspaper -- “The Battle Creek Intelligencer.” HOLLY Did you see? Nice write-up about your bust. I just wish they’d mention you and Font by name. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

CONTINUED: (2) Russ pores over it. He hesitates just a tad too long before: RUSS We're cops, not movie stars. He tucks the paper under his arm, keeping it. Giving Holly a smile, he heads for the COMMANDER’S OFFICE. INT. COMMANDER’S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS The boss, COMMANDER GUZIEWICZ, looks more like the Maytag repairman than a cop. His office is no fancier than the bullpen it’s adjacent to -~ but it’s got low-budget character. There’s a Goldstar TV, on which dances the adorable GREEN FAIRY. Guziewicz (pronounced GUEZA-wits) stands staring raptly at the Green Fairy. Font sits nearby, watching her, too. Russ enters. RUSS Morning. {sees the TV) Fast~forward it’s after this. GUZIEWICZ I've seen it. {a beat; absently) Boy, 1is she a cutie. Font nods. Guziewicz shuts off the tape, turns to Russ. GUZIEWICZ Great job yesterday. Russ shakes his head, pulls the door shut. Points to his EYE. RUSS You call this “great?” {to Font) How’s your ribs? Font shrugs, shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Russ grabs the broken WIRE EQUIPMENT off a table, holds it for the boss to see. RUSS Commander, that bust -- it should’ve gone by the numbers. Instead, we get issued recording gear that looks like it came out of Maxwell Smart’s shoe. FONT -- Out of his ass. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

13. CONTINUED: RUSS And this friggin’ piece of junk... Russ digs his broken STUN GUN out of his pocket, holds it up and clicks it on. A tiny puff of blue SMOKE curls out of it. RUSS See?! This is unacceptable! FONT Unacceptable. Gotta concur. Guziewicz has heard it all before, but patiently holds his tongue. Russ counts off on his fingers for emphasis. RUSS We need new police eguipment, manufactured in this century. We need the latest training. We need... we need everything! Russ looks to Font for backup. Font nods -~ hell yeah! GUZIEWICZ {a beat; smiling) I got some good news this morning. Russ and Font look to one another, surprissd. FPleasantly so. RUSS We’re getting more money? -~ GUZIEWICZ No. getting more help. Off Russ and Font, wondering what that means: EXT. DETROIT FIELD OFFICE - NIGHT A high-rent building towers over us. We FIND a sign in f.g: “FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, DETROIT FIELD OFFICE.” INT. DETROIT FIELD OFFICE - NIGHT The blue and gold FBI SEAL fills frame, mounted on a wall. We PAN off it to reveal... a bullpen that is everything the little Battle Creek detective sguad is not. Low, stark-white ceiling and walls stretch away to a vanishing point. Flat screens are on every desk. This looks more like the newest Ian Schrager hotel than'a law enforcement facility. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

CONTINUED: No one is at their desk, however. Folks are standing around in a big group. It’s an OFFICE PARTY, and the last lines of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” are rising to a crescendo. CLOSER - THE CROWD We PRESS THROUGH these well-heeled men and women, coming upon their guest of honor. Meet... SPECIAL AGENT MILTON BRADLEY. Milt is Brad Pitt, only taller. He’s George Clooney, only more aw-shucks charming. He’s a couple of years younger than Russ, clean-cut and perfectly -~ though not overly -- groomed. THAT NOBODY CAN DENY!” gets sung at full volume, then everyone applauds. Champagne is poured. Male agents clap Milt on the back. FPemale agents hug him, kiss him, practically hang off him like tinsel. Everybody adores this guy. TINK-TINK! A champagne glass gets tapped, quieting everyone. The boss, SPECIAL AGENT-IN-CHARGE (SAC) BROMBERG, has the floor. SAC BROMBERG Don’t get too drunk -- got bad guys to catch! The crowd laughs. Bromberg gets serious now. Heartfelt. SAC BROMBERG I'm no good at these things. I'd just like to say... Milt, you’ve been an asset to this office. You’ve run some major, high-profile cases, done it More than that, you’ve been a true friend. Frankly, I don’t know what we’re going to do without you. Hear, hear. The crowd murmurs in sad agreement. Milt’s turn. MILT SAC Bromberg... everybody. I’m no good at these things, either... FEMALE AGENT Milt, you're good at evervthing! The crowd coooohs good-naturedly, sensing a double entendre. The cute FEMALE AGENT puts her hands to her mouth and blushes. MILT I... huh. Thank you, Sandy! No, seriously, I am so touched right now... TV Calling - For educational purposes only

15, CONTINUED: (2} Humble Milt shrugs and gives up. He turns to SAC Bromberg, offers the man his hand. Bromberg firmly shakes it... Then gives Milt a full-on, fatherly HUG. Everybody CLAPS. SAC BROMBERG our loss is Battle Creek’s gain. Bromberg and Milt pose for photographs, Bromberg’s arm across Milt’s shoulder. FLASH, FLASH, FLASH! OZff this lovefest: INT. BROMBERG’S OFFICE - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER Bromberg enters his plush office and closes the door, blocking cur view of the revelers in b.g. He has complete privacy now. He breathes a ragged sigh of relief -~ thank God that’s over. Muttering to himself, as if talking about Bin Laden or Hitler: SAC BROMBERG Good riddance, you miserable sack of shhh -~ Before he can finish this sentence, we PRELAP INT. DETECTIVE SQUAD - DAY - RING! An oldfangled phone with lighted push-buttons and a six-pound handpiece fills frame, RINGING. ADJUST to Russ, who sits at his desk, staring at it unhappily. Reluctantly, he answers. RUSS Detective Squad. Agnew speaking. INTERCUT WITH: INT. MRS. SEYMOUR’S PLACE - DAY - CONTINUOUS MRS. SEYMOUR, a feisty but slightly out-of-it little lady in a WHEELCHAIR is on the line. A cat or two scampers through frame. MRS. SEYMOUR I want to file a complaint. Is this Russell? Russ was clearly expecting this call. He’s listless but polite. RUSS How are you today, Mrs. Seymour? TV Calling - For educational purposes only

16, CONTINUED: MRS. SEYMOUR I want to file a complaint. A morality complaint. RUSS {prompting hex) Nice young man with the mustache? MRS. SEYMOUR -~ There’s this nice young man with a mustache who’s being “kept” by an older man with a mustache. They live in a big mansion together and the young man gets to ride around in a fancy red sports car -- but he has to wear shozt shorts! Always! It’s obscene. Font wanders into frame, watching with interest. He grins. FONT The “Magnum, P.I.” Lady? Russ nods tiredly. Into the phone: RUSS Tell you what, Mrs. Seymour -~ fly to Hawaii first thing tomorrow and arrest Tom Selleck. MRS. SEYMOUR Well, I wish you would! Russ thanks her, gently hangs up, Noticing something o.s., he and Font drift out of frame. Across the bullpen, the other detectives are gathered by the windows which look out onto the hall. They’re staring at a blue and gold FBI SEAL being mounted on the office across the way. FUNKHAUSER Damn. Would you look at that. JACOCKS {to Russ} What's it called? Resident what? RUSS “Resident agency.” It’s a little FBI satellite office. told there’s over a hundred of them spread arcund the country. TV Calling - For edficational purposes only

CONTINUED: (2) FUNKHAUSER Why open one in Battle Creek? Russ has no answer for that. The others ooooh as a rich leather SOFA gets carried into the swank new space. Font snorts. FONT You watch -- they’re gonna try and take over. NIBLET Say what? FONT Feds is smug-ass sonsabitches. Control freaks -- all the time gotta run the show. You watch. The other guys look to Russ, alarmed. Russ shrugs, sanguine. RUSS It’s just one guy, Font. God knows a little backup can’t hurt. Font’s not too sure. Commander Guziewicz appears behind them. GUZIEWICZ Russ? Fontanelle? Russ and Font follow after their boss, passing Holly -- she and Russ make eye contact, smile fleetingly at one another. Taking his star detectives aside, Guziewicz speaks privately. GUZIEWICZ Guess who just called -- our new neighbor. He’s requesting assistance from our drug interdiction squad. (dry) I guess that's you two, right? Off Russ and Font, intrigued: EXT, STRIP MALL - DAY We’re back at the place where Russ bought eclairs yesterday. The Dodge Omni putters into view and parks. Russ and Font climb out, glancing around. So, where. is this guy? A faint gets their attention. They turn to see: TV Calling - For educational purposes only

18. CONTINUED: THEIR POV - A CADILLAC ESCALADE Spanking-new, shiny and black, it’s parked in the distance, engine off. Milt sits at the wheel. He silently MOTIONS to us. Russ looks to Font. They cross to Milt. INT. ESCALADE -~ CONTINUQUS Russ climbs in front, Font in back. Font glances around distractedly at the beautiful interior of this truck -- Damn. MILT Hi. Agent Milton Bradley. Milt. RUSS . Detective Russ Agnew, Detective Fontanelle White. MILT (shakes their hands) Thank you guys for coming down. FONT What’s up? Milt points a finger out the windshield, directing our attention to a MINIVAN parked across the lot near the donut shop. We're loocking at it from the rear. A LONE FIGURE sits inside. MILT Drug activity. Guy in the minivan’s been working the lot for the past forty minutes, climbing in one car after another. I wrote down all the plates. Milt hands Russ a sheet of notepad papexr with four or five license plate numbers on it. Russ nods -~ good catch. RUSS You noticed this just driving by? MILT No, actually I was on my way to my new office and figured I'd pick something up for your squad. Milt thumbs over his shoulder into the back seat. Font sees what he’s pointing at -~ two BAKERY BOXES. He lifts the 1lid. FONT Oh, man. Eclairs. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

19. CONTINUED: Eclairs? Russ’s antennae go up -- he turns to lock over the seat. Milt shrugs, gives a sheepish smile. MILT Little... “get to know you” thing. FONT Russ, the man bought us eclairs! Russ gives a nod, fakes a smile -- not happy, but hiding it. Font is oblivious, his distrust of “smug-ass feds” melting away. MILT Anyway, this guy here... I hope I'm not wasting your time. RUSS No, not at all. We’ll grab him with his next customer. Milt nods, agreeing. Russ smiles, subdued ~- he can‘t help but glance back at the ECLAIRS once more. A beat of silence. FONT Dammit Milt, this is one sweet hooptie! I just wanna stick my face way down in all this fine leather, you know what I'm saying? MILT Thanks! It’s from the motorpool. FONT EBI gave you this?! Russ, you hear that? RUSS Yes I did, Font. Very impressive. FONT power heated seats... Northstar engine. Dammit. Russ SNAP-SNAPS his fingers, getting Font’s attention -- as seen through the windshield, the DEALER climbs out of his minivan. Our view now is clear. The dealer we’re watching is... TEDDY THE SNITCH! Russ groans, dismayed. RUSS Oh no. Look at the poor bastard. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

20. CONTINUED: (2) Teddy limps to an idling car, talks up the CUSTOMER behind the wheel. Teddy is BRUISED, BANDAGED and wears a CERVICAL COLLAR, souvenirs of the beating he received in the Teaser. FONT Leave it to Teddy to sell weed in front of a donut shop. to Milt) Genius there’s our regular snitch. MILT Ah. You want to leave him be? Russ sighs dispiritedly, looks to Font. They consider it. RUSS It’s just... I told him it’d go like clockwork, and it didn’t. Russ doesn’t have the heart to arrest Teddy. Font understands. FONT I’11 go run him off. Font heads out on foot, leaving Russ and Milt alone. Reading the. situation, Milt indicates Russ’s own black eye. MILT I take it you had some excitement. RUSS Little bit. big thing. They watch Font yvell at Teddy. Russ eyes Milt, subtly assessing him: great clothes, likeable. Trouble. RUSS 50... how long might a posting like this last for an agent such as yourself? MILT Hard to say ~~ I711 stay as long as I'm needed, certainly. I'm eager to help out. RUSS Huh. I'm afraid you’re gonna find Battle Creek very quiet. much ever happens here. Russ smiles -~ keeps it light and friendly. Off him: TV Calling - For educational purposes only

21. EXT. BRIEL HOUSE -~ EARLY MORNING Sunrise. We’re in a middle-~class neighborhood of old heuses. We favor one in particular -- the name on the mailbox is BRIEL. BRIEL HOUSE -~ BACKYARD An elderly woman, MARTHA BRIEL, totters about the back porch on her walker, watering her plants. Her adult son, MR. BRIEL, late 40s, stands on the lawn. He holds up a stick and WHISTLES. A beautiful GOLDEN RETRIEVER waits, raring to go. Mr. Briel tosses the stick into the trees bordering the back of the yard. The dog tears off after it, guickly brings it back. MR. BRIEL Good girl! Good girl! The quiet of the morning, the bucolic setting, all echo Russ’s last statement in the previous scene. Mr. Briel pats his dog, then throws the stick again, farther into the trees this time. WHOOSH! The dog goes running into the woods, out of sight. Long seconds go by. Mr. Briel gives a whistle. Nothing. No sign. Mr. Briel frowns and walks toward the treeline, glancing back at his mom. She calls the dog herself. MARTHA BRIEL Gidget! Gidget! Just as we’re beginning to think something terrible happened to Gidget, the underbrush rustles. Here comes the retriever, trotting happily into view with the stick in her mouth. MR. BRIEL There you are! Here, Gidget! Briel’s smile fades. His expression becomes confusion, then shock. Because the “stick” in Gidget’s mouth turns out to be... ... A SKELETAL HUMAN ARM. The elbow to the fingertips -- rattling as the dog proudly brings it to us. Off this image: END ACT ONE TV Calling - For educational purposes only

22. ACT TWO INT. DETECTIVE SQUAD - MORNING - ECLAIRS Fill frame, glistening -- only three left. A fat pink hand grabs one. It’s Funkhauser, who bites it in half, then licks icing off his thumb. It’s like we’re watching him have sex. FUNKHAUSER (mouth full) These are the best eclairs ever! We ADJUST off Funkhauser to find... Russ sitting at his desk, silently GLARING at the man. Reading Russ’s sour expression, sweet Holly gently speaks up on his behalf. HOLLY You know, Funkhauser ~- Russ brought us the exact same ones the day before yesterday. Funkhauser stares blankly, trying to remember. FUNKHAUSER No... these are different. Taking another bite, Funkhauser wanders over to the hall windows where the other guys are congregated. Holly smiles at Russ, returns to her work. Russ stares after her appreciatively. Over by the windows, Font, Guziewicz and the other detectives most of them eating eclairs -- gawk across the hall at: THEIR POV -~ THE RESIDENT AGENCY The little FBI office is complete. We’ve got a clear view into the outer office, which is so tasteful and rich it looks ready for the cover of “Architectural Digest.” The centerpiece of it all is Milt’s SECRETARY, seated at her desk. woman is the spitting image of Cindy Crawford. Font, Guziewicz and the guys stand staring at her, transfixed. Feeling their eyes on her, the Secretary looks up from her appointment book. She gives them a wave. INT. FBI RESIDENT AGENCY - CONTINUOUS As seen from this side of the hall, the guys all dumbly wave back. They quickly disband, acting like they’ve got work to do. The Secretary glances at her watch. She rises from her Aeron chair and heads for the door to the inner office. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

23. INT. MILI’S OFFICE ~ CONTINUOUS Milt stands in f.g., fists on his hips, staring into space. Behind him, his Secretary raps on his open door, SECRETARY Milt? almost nine-thirty. MILT I'm going. She heads back to her desk. Milt remains here alone for another beat or two, studying his very stylish, very tasteful new office. There’s not one thing wrong with it that we can see. Except Milt is clearly dissatisfied. With what, we’re not sure. His lips move, silently at first. We CREEP IN on him. He seems to be PSYCHING HIMSELF UP, giving himself a pep talk. We hear: MILT Big smile, big laugh, ycu love it here. Big smile, big laugh, you love it here. Big smile, big -- INT. DETECTIVE SQUAD -~ MINUTES LATER -~ Milt LAUGHS heartily. MILT I love it here! You kidding? WIDE ON THE ROOM - EVERYBODY listening as Milt holds the floor. Guziewicz, Russ, Font, the other detectives and Holly —- all are present. MILT I was brought up in a small town. This is Jjust like coming home! RUSS You grew up in Michigan? MILT Well, Monaco. But same deal. GUZIEWICZ Well gosh, we are certainly glad to have you. Guess I should introduce you around, huh? Russ and Fontanelle you’ve met... {more) TV Calling - For educational purposes only

24. CONTINUED: GUZIEWICZ {cont'd) then there’s our two “Jims” -~ Jim Funkhauser, Jim Jacocks... Milt shakes their hands in turn. MILT Nice to meet you, Jim. Jim, Milt gets to Niblet, who eagerly sticks out his hand. NIBLET I'm Niblet. Welcome aboard. MILT Hi. FONT We call him that on accounta he got short little teeth like niblet corn. Show the man. Niblet smiles wide, showing his tiny teeth and huge, pink gums. MILT Ah. BHuh. NIBLET It doesn’t hurt or nothing. GUZIEWICZ (moving on) This is Holly, our office manager. MILT Good to meet you, Holly. HOLLY Likewise. Nice to meet you. It’s not lost on Holly that this man is breathtakingly handsome. It’s not lost on Russ that it’s not lost on Holly. Russ grows uneasy. Milt, however, is relazed and friendly. MILT Folks, I am at your disposal. I'm ready to roll up my sleeves and go to work. GUZIEWICZ Fantastic. Welcome, Milt! Everyone enthusiastically CLABS for him. Russ has to, as well. A PHONE RINGS -~ Russ’s desk. Russ checks the time and sighs. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

25. CONTINUED: (2) GUZIEWICZ Russ, you gonna get that? RUSS It’s crazy old Mrs. Seymour. She calls every day at ten -- “Magnum, P.I.” is on and she thinks it’s real. (off his blank look) It’s complicated. MILT {a beat) 111 take it. FONT She gonna talk your ear off about Tom Selleck and his short shorts. Milt grins, moves to answer the phone. Russ shrugs happily. RUSS Hey, alright -- but answering that phone makes you the primary. Milt gives a good-natured ned and picks up. MILT Detective Squad, Bradley speaking. Milt listens for a beat, then frowns. Grabbing a pad and a pen, he quickly scribbles an address. Russ watches, confused. Clearly... it’s not Mrs. Seymour on the other end of the line. MILT We’ll be right there. He hangs up, turns to the others. Everyone is waiting to hear. MILT A body was found in the woods. Sounds 1like a homicide. Say what? Off Russ, stunned: EXT. BRIEL HOUSE - BACKYARD - DAY We’re in the woods behind the house, which we glimpse through the trees. Mr. Briel looks shaken. He points the way. MILT Thank you, Mr. Briel. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

N 26, CONTINUED: The man heads back to the house, passing Milt, Russ and Font, Funkhauser, Jacocks and Niblet. The whole gang is here: Milt takes point. He carries a cardboard dispenser box, sets it down and reaches inside for a pair of one-size-fits-all, POWDER BLUE TYVEK BOOTIES. He pulls them on over his Cole Haan shoes. MILT Guys, you’re welcome to wear these... they’ll help us keep the site uncentaminated. The big detectives step forward to take a pair. Font, too. JACOCKS Check these out. High-tech! The big guys all agree, murmuring their approval as they struggle to balance on one foot, hopping in place as they pull on their booties. Russ watches warily, but does not partake. FONT Feel like I'm with NASA! Niblet loses his balance -- CRASH! Russ winces and exits frame, NEW ANGLE - ON THE DECK Russ walks our way, taking his time, scanning the before him for evidence. We PULL BACK to reveal a dry wash, eroded by decades of rain runoff. Poking up from it is... A SKELETON, half buried. What’s left of & rotting suit and tie is sguooshed down around it, hardly distinguishable from the clay. One forearm is missing -~ the one the dog got. A bit of desiccated skin and hair clings to the skull. This should all look as realistic and grisly as the stuff on “CSI.” Russ squats by the body. Milt joins him. They look but don’t touch. Font and the others stand bshind them, observing. RUSS Male., He’s been here for years. MILT Decades maybe. the others) I’ve got a camera in that bag there if someone wants to grab it. Funkhauser finds Milt’s DIGITAL CAMERA -~ expensive, just as we’d expect. Russ pats his own suit coat, checks the pockets. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

27. CONTINUED: (2} RUSS Who’s got the latex glove? The other Battle Creek guys all check their pockets. MILT You need a latex glove? RUSS No, we’ve got one. We just, uh. Share it. Russ gets self-conscious, realizing how ridiculous that sounds. Not trying to embarrass Russ, Milt offers him a fresh pair. Embarrassed nonetheless, Russ nods thanks and pulls them on. MILT I’ve called my crime scene people in Detroit -- I figured we’d leave it to them to exhume the body. This is gently directed at Russ, who is already probing the skeleton with his gloved finger. Russ shrugs. RUSS You’re the primary. Russ keeps right on probing. Behind them, Funkhauser has Milt'’s digital camera turned on. He stares in amazement at the screen. FUNKHAUSER Milt..? 1Is this you with George Bush?! Milt smiles and nods sheepishly. The guys crowd around to see. FONT Damn, Milt! What are you, like, baling hay, the two of you? MILT Yeah, down in Crawford. Nice guy. Russ grits his teeth and bears this, keeps probking the body. He comes up with a moldy old WALLET. He WHISTLES to the others. RUSS Cver here. Dead man’s wallet. This gets the attention of the Battle Creek guys -- mostly. Milt, however, is watching as Russ gently pries open the ancient leather. It’s like a lump of black clay. Russ eases loose a DRIVER’S LICENSE, Black and green mold has made it ILLEGIBLE. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

CONTINUED: (3} - RUSS Ah, hell. cCan’t make it out. MILT FBI lab should be able to pull that up, nc sweat. Milt smiles at Russ. Russ stares at him a beat, nods slowly -- his expression inscrutable. Russ hands over the wallet. RUSS Milt, you’ve got all the manpower you need here. You mind if Font and I take off for awhile? Milt tries to read Russ, can’t. Friendly as always, he shrugs. Off Russ, smiling back at him: EXT. BRIEL HOUSE =~ FRONT YARD - DAY Russ steams into frame around the side of the house, walking fast and muttering to himself. Font chases after him. RUSS {chirpy voice) FBI lab should be able to pull that up, no sweat! No sweat! (normal voice) Ugh. You smug-ass son of a... FONT Russ, what is the problem? RUSS What’s the problem? What do we get in this town, three murders a year? Four if we're lucky? Guy’s on the job two hours and he catches one! Primary on a murder! PONT You shoulda answered your phone. RUSS {ignoring him} This one’s a juicy one, too I can tell. Get in the car. FONT Where we going? TV Calling - For educational purposes only

29. CONTINUED: RUSS To solve it! And we’re gonna do it the old-fashioned way, without FBI laser beams and photons and whatever the hell. Common sense. {off Font’s stare) Who buries a body in a backyard? Font awaits the answer, deadpan. RUSS3 The owner of that backyard. No stranger is gonna risk it. FONT Except that the owner called us. RUSS The current owner -- not the former owner. And that is exactly who I wanna look up. Font sighs and gives in. Except for: FONT Don’t call Milt a smug-ass, alright? Man bought us eclairs. Russ stares hard at his partner. He looks down at feet. WIDE - RUS3 AND FONT For the first time in this scene, we see both men full-length. Font is still wearing his POWDER BLUE TYVEK BOQOTIES. RUSS Take those off, please. Off this: INT. DETECTIVE SQUAD - DAY BAM! A big, dusty real estate DEED BOOK thuds atop Russ’s desk. He flips through it, searching intently while Font watches. RUSS 308 Belmont Avenue... 308. 3-0-8. Holly rounds into view behind them, shadowed by two ardent young women from payroll. Holly and these PAYROLL WOMEN keep their voices conspiratorially low, but we still overhear: TV Calling - For educational purposes only

30. CONTINUED: PIRST PAYROLL WOMAN Holly, come on! Is he wearing a ring or isn’t he? HOLLY {(uncomfortable} I seriously didn’t notice! Why ask me? You saw him, too. SECOND PAYROLL WOMAN Only from a distance. FIRST PAYROLL WOMAN But close enough! ©Oh. My. God. He is drop-dead... Holly glances at Russ, self-consciously SHUSHES the woman. SECOND PAYROLL WOMAN (whisper} You think the FBI could use two new payroll clerks? Russ is staring darkly into space now, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Behind him, the two payroll ladies giggle, oblivious. Holly hurriedly exits frame -- both women follow. FONT Russ, Russ. Russ snaps out of it, grimly keeps searching the book. RUSS 308 Belmont. Currently titled to one Martha Louise Briel, who bought the property in 1978. Social Security number 22514-2757. Font plops down at his own desk, quickly enters the information into his antediluvian computer. Soon: FONT No criminal record. Former librarian, 81 years old. It was her son who showed us the body. Russ nods -- it wasn’t them. He turns back to the deed book. RUSS | Mrs. Briel bought the house from one Kenneth R. Outlaw, who owned it from ‘69 to *78B. 14626-1433. Font types.it in. Seeing what comes up, he breaks a smile. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

S’ CONTINUED: (2) FONT Kenneth Outlaw the aptly named. He’s got a record, all right. Long one, baby. Check it. Russ rolls across in his desk chair, eagerly reads the screen. RUSS Narcotics possession, narcotics possession, DUI, receipt of stolen property... come on, come on, where’s the good stuff? FONT Oooh, there you go! Assault and battery. Times one, times two... RUSS Ho! Look at that. Russ points at the screen. They both clam up, delighted. They’re clearly onto something. What it is, we don’t know. RUSS {crooked smile) And... he still lives in town. EXT. SHITBALL APARTMENT HOUSE ~ LATE DAY We're in the same bad part of town we visited in the Teaser. We ADJUST off this shabby building to find... Russ and Font staked out in front of it, sitting in Russ’s parked car. Russ yawns, rubs his eyes. Font silently mouths along to some song that’s playing in his head. They’ve been here for hours. FONT That him? Russ checks a MUG SHOT against a MAN we see walking the street -- a rangy hombre with skin like beef jerky, and mean little eyes. Indeed it’s the aptly named KENNY OUTLAW, 60. Russ perks up, nods. Both detectives climb out of their car and intercept the man at the front door of his apartment house. They badge him,. RUSS Kenneth Outlaw? Battle Creek Police. Mind if we ask you a few questions? KENNY OUTLAW About what? TV Calling - For educational purposes only

32. CONTINUED: RUSS Friend of yours named Scott Funt. Tough Kenny gets uncomfortable -- a fact not lost on our guys. FONT Two of you used to haul cars outta Motown for Ford, right? KENNY OUTLAW Yeah, about a million years ago. But we ain’t friends. RUSS I guess not. got picked up in V77 for assaulting him. ZTwice. FONT Beat the hell out of Mr. Funt, made bail... then drove straight to the man’s hospital room and beat his ass all over again. RUSS You musta been pissed. How come? KENNY OUTLAW You two were in knee pants when that happened. Why you asking about it? Russ eyeballs the big man, coolly sizing him up. RUSS Where would we find Scott Funt these days? KENNY OQUTLAW {reluctant) Arizona. Heard he moved. RUSS I don’t think so. We checked nationwide: Social Security, DMV. Scott Funt is nowhere to be found. No record of him since 1977. FONT Back in our knee pants days. like he dropped off the planet. RUSS Or into it. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

33. COWTINUED: (2) Kenny looks from one detective to the other. If he’s rattled, he’s been lying to cops too many years to let it show. KENNY OUTLAW Arizona, I heard. We done? Russ stares at him, gives the tiniest of nods -- as if to say “For now.” Kenny heads inside his building. Russ and Font glance at one another soberly, then exit frame toward their car. INT. DODGE OMNI - SECONDS LATER Russ and Font climb in, shut their doors. A beat of silence. Their professional demeanor instantly evaporates. They both break into shit-eating grins. FONT WHOOP! THERE IT IS! -- WHOOP! THERE IT They both do the “Crank” dance. They bump fists in victory. FONT He did it! did it! I could see it in his eyes! RUSS Without a doubt! (checks his watch} S0... in just under five hours, we not only that body, we figured out who killed him! FONT Not a bad day’s work, my brother. ecstatic, like a couple of kids. Calming himself, Russ pulls out his fat gray brick of a CELL PHONE. He dials. RUSS Let’s get a couple of uniforms out here -~ keep an eye on Mr. Outlaw in case he runs. And then... Russ trails off, frowning at his big cell phone. He baps it a couple of times with his palm. It’s broken, of course. RUSS Friggin’ piece of --. FONT I’1ll hit the payphone. TV Calling - For educational purposes only

34. CONTINUED: Font climbs out. Russ yells after him. RUSS And then we get to go tell Special Agent Rico Suavé! Font smirks and shakes his head. Russ will not be chastened, however -- for him, all’s right with the world. RUSS I get to tell him! == Russ smiles to himself, satisfied. Under his breath: RUSS This” 1l put us in the paper. EXT. BRIEL HOUSE ~ LATE DAY ANGLE CLOSE past the mailbox, with its name “Briel” -- we favor the street beyond it. this frame chugs Russ’s car, rolling to a stop in foreground. We see Russ and Font through the windshield. They’re staring out past us slack-jawed. At what? They slowly climb out. REVERSE - PAST RUSS AND FONT We get our first view of the house now... and it is a circus. Two or three SATELLITE TRUCKS are parked here, their uplink booms extended to the sky. Vans full of REPORTERS arrive as we watch., Guys carrying VIDEO CAMERAS hump i1t across the lawn, trailing cable. Everybody is hurrying to the backyard. Russ and Font look to one another —-- what the hell is this? Intending to find out, they follow. BRIEL HOUSE - BACKYARD Rounding into view, Russ and Font notice a white sun tent in the distance. Under it, holding court before at least TWO DOZEN REPORTERS and a thicket of cameras, is Milt. He’s ¢giving a PRESS CONFERENCE. Though we can’t hear what he’s saying from here, a natural. The reporters listen, rapt. Bewildered, Russ squints at this like it’s a mirage. Across the way, Niblet sees Russ, comes running. He’s fit to burst. NIBLET We’ve been trying to reach you for hours! Your phonefs not working! TV Calling - For educational purposes only