'TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY'

                                 a Screenplay

                                      by

                                 James Cameron

                                      and

                                 William Wisher




        Revised final shooting script

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


1       EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

        Downtown L.A.  Noon on a hot summer day.  On an EXTREME LONG LENS the
        lunchtime crowd stacks up into a wall of humanity.  In SLOW MOTION
        they move in herds among the glittering rows of cars jammed bumper to
        bumper.  Heat ripples distort the torrent of faces.  The image is
        surreal, dreamy... and like a dream it begins very slowly to

                                                DISSOLVE TO:

2       EXT. CITY RUINS - NIGHT

        Same spot as the last shot, but now it is a landscape in Hell.  The
        cars are stopped in rusted rows, still bumper to bumper.  The
        skyline of buildings beyond has been shattered by some
        unimaginable force like a row of kicked-down sandcastles.
        Wind blows through the desolation, keening with the sound of ten
        million dead souls.  It scurries the ashes into drifts, stark
        white in the moonlight against the charred rubble.
        A TITLE CARD FADES IN:

                        LOS ANGELES, July 11, 2029

3       ANGLE ON a heap of fire-blackened human bones.  Beyond the mound is a
        vast tundra of skulls and shattered concrete.  The rush hour crowd
        burned down in their tracks.

4       WE DISSOLVE TO a playground... where intense heat has half-melted the
        jungle gym, the blast has warped the swing set, the merry-go-round
        has sagged in the firestorm.  Small skulls look accusingly from the
        ash-drifts.  WE HEAR the distant echo of children's voices... playing
        and laughing in the sun.  A silly, sing-songy rhyme as WE TRACKS
        SLOWLY over seared asphalt where the faint hieroglyphs of hopscotch
        lines are still visible.

        CAMERA comes to rest on a burnt and rusted tricycle... next to the
        tiny skull of its owner.  HOLD ON THIS IMAGE as a female VOICE speaks:

                                VOICE
                3 billion human lives ended on August 29th, 1997.
                The survivors of the nuclear fire called the war
                Judgment Day.  They lived only to face a new
                nightmare, the war against the Machines...

        A metal foot crushes the skull like china.

        TILT UP, revealing a humanoid machine holding a massive battle rifle.
        It looks like a CHROME SKELETON... a high-tech Death figure.  It is
        the endoskeleton of a Series 800 terminator.  Its glowing red eyes
        compassionlessly sweep the dead terrain, hunting.

        The SOUNDS of ROARING TURBINES.  Searchlights blaze down as a
        formation of flying HK (Hunter-Killer) patrol machines passes
        overhead.  PAN WITH THEM toward the jagged horizon, beyond which we
        see flashes, and hear the distant thunder of a pitched battle in
        progress.

5       EXT. BATTLEFIELD - NIGHT

        THE BATTLE.  Human troops is desperate combat with the machines for
        possession of the dead Earth.  The humans are a ragtag guerrilla
        army.  Skynet's weapons consist of Ground HKs (tank-like robot
        gun-platforms), flying Aerial HKs, four-legged gun-pods called
        Centurions, and the humanoid terminators in various forms.

        SEQUENCE OF RAPID CUTS:
5A      Explosions!  Beam-weapons firing like searing strobe-light.
5B      A gunner is an armored personnel carrier fires a LAW rocket at a
        pursuing Aerial HK, bringing it down in a fiery explosion.
5C      Another APC is crushed under the treads of a massive Ground HK.

5D      A TEAM OF GUERRILLAS in a intense fire-fight with terminator
5E      endoskeletons in the ruins of a building.  Three terminator
5F      endoskeletons advance, firing rapidly.  Another (complete cyborg),
        with flesh ripped open and back broken, gropes for a rifle on the
        ground.

5G      A Centurion overruns a human firing position.  Soldiers are cut
        down as they run.  Fiery explosions light the ranks of advancing
        machines.

6       IN A BLASTED GUN EMPLACEMENT at the edge of battle, a man watches
        the combat with night-vision binoculars.  He wears the uniform of a
        guerrilla general, and a black beret.  He is still amid running,
        shouting techs and officers.

        C.U. MAN, pushing slowly in as the battle rages O.S.  He lowers the
        binoculars.  He is forty-five years old.  Features severe.  The left
        side of his face is heavily scarred.  A patch covers that eye.  An
        impressive man, forged in the furnace of a lifetime of war.  The name
        stitched on the band of his beret is CONNOR.  We push in until his
        eyes fill frame, then...

                                                DISSOLVE TO:

        FIRE.  SLOW, BOILING, ENORMOUS.  FILLING FRAME.

                                VOICE (SARAH CONNOR)
                Skynet, the computer which controlled the machines,
                sent two terminators back through time.  Their
                mission: to destroy the leader of the human
                Resistance... John Connor.  My son.

                The first terminator was programmed to strike at
                me, in the year 1984... before John was born.
                It failed.

                The second was set to strike at John himself,
                when he was still a child.  As before, the
                Resistance was able to send a lone warrior.  A
                protector for John.  It was just a question of
                which one of them would reach him first...

                                                DISSOLVE TO:

7       EXT. TRUCKSTOP - NIGHT

        Wild fingers of BLUE-WHITE ELECTRIC ARCS dance in a steel canyon
        formed by two TRACTOR TRAILERS, parked side by side in the back lot
        of an all-night truck stop.  Then...

        The strange lightning forms a circular opening in mid-air, and in
        the sudden flare of light we see a FIGURE in a SPHERE OF ENERGY.
        Then the FRAME WHITES OUT with an explosive THUNDERCLAP!

        Through the clearing vapor we see the figure clearly... a naked man.
        TERMINATOR has come through.  Physique: massive, perfect.  Face:
        devoid of emotion.  Terminator stands and impassively surveys its
        surroundings.

8       INT. TRUCK STOP DINER - NIGHT

        On a back route to north L.A.  A handful of local TRUCKERS hunch over
        chili-sizes, CAT hats pushed back on their heads.  Three BIKERS are
        playing a game of pool in the back, their Miller empties lining the
        table's rail.  The dive's owner, LLOYD, a fat, aging biker-type in a
        soiled apron, stands behind the bar.  Nothing much going on...

        Then the front door opens and a big naked guy strolls in -- that
        doesn't happen every night.  All eyes simultaneously swivel toward
        Terminator.  Its emotionless gaze passes over the customers as it
        walks calmly through the room.  Everyone frozen, not sure how to
        react.

8A      TERMINATOR POV.  A digitized electronic scan of the room, overlaid
        with alphanumeric readouts which change faster than the human eye
        can follow.  In POV we move past the staring truckers, past the
        owner and the awestruck WAITRESS, and approach a large nasty-looking
        biker puffing on a cigar.  His body is outlined, or 'selected', and
        thousands of estimated measurements appear.  His clothing has been
        analyzed and deemed suitable...

8B                              TERMINATOR
                I need your clothes, your boots, and your
                motorcycle.

        The big biker's eyes narrow.  He takes a long draw on this cigar,
        the tip cherry-red hot.

                                CIGAR BIKER
                You forgot to say please.

        He grinds the cigar out on Terminator's chest.  Which produces not
        the slight reaction of pain.  Terminator calmly, and without
        expression, grabs Cigar by his meaty upper arm...
        Cigar screams from the hydraulic grip.

        Terminator doesn't see Cigar's friend, behind him, holding his pool
        cue by the narrow end like a Louisville Slugger.  The heavy send
        whistles in a powerful swing and CRACKS IN TWO across the back of
        Terminator's head.

        Terminator seems not to notice.  Doesn't even blink.  Without
        releasing his grip on Cigar, he snaps his arm straight back and grabs
        Pool Cue by the front of his jacket.  Suddenly the heavyset biker
        finds himself flying through the nearest window.  CRAASSH!

        Terminator hurls Cigar, all 230 pounds of him, clear over the bar,
        through the serving window into the kitchen, where he lands on the
        big flat GRILL.  We hear a SOUND like SIZZLING BACON as Cigar
        screams, flopping jerking.  He rolls off in a smoking heap.

        The third biker whips out a knife with a eight-inch blade and slashes
        at Terminator's face.

        Terminator grabs the arcing blade with his bare hand.  Holding it by
        the razor-sharp blade he jerks is from the guy's hand.
        Ultra-fast here: He flips it.  Grabs the handle like you're supposed
        to hold a knife.  Grabs the biker and slams him face-down over the
        bar.  Then brings the knife whistling down, pinning the biker's
        shoulder to the bar top with his own steel.

9       INT. KITCHEN

        The doors BANGS OPEN and Terminator strides in.
        The Mexican cook does a fast fade as Terminator walks toward Cigar,
        who is cursing in pain on the floor.

        With his deep-fried fingers he struggles to get out the .45 auto
        tucked under his leather jacket.  But he can't even hold onto it.
        Terminator takes it from him.  Instead of pointing it at him,
        Terminator carefully examines weapon, analyzing its caliber and
        operating condition.  Terminator never threatens... that's a human
        thing.  He just takes.

        Cigar senses what he must do when the emotionless eyes come back to
        him.  He slides the keys to his bike across the floor to Terminator's
        foot.  Then painfully starts getting out of his jacket.

10      INT. TRUCK STOP

        Terminator strides from the kitchen, fully clothed now in a black
        leather jacket, leather riding pants, and heavy, clean boots.  He
        moves toward the moaning biker pinned to the pool table.  Without
        slowing his stride he jerks the knife out.  The guy slumps to the
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        Terminator continues toward the front of the diner, passing Lloyd,
        the owner.  At the door, he comes abreast of two truckers who sit
        frozen like a snapshot in mid-bite.  One of the truckers finally
        nods.

                                TRUCKER
                Evening...

        Terminator impassively stares back.  Then moves on out the door.

11      EXT. TRUCK STOP

        Terminator walks out, surveying the parked Harleys.  Sticks the .45
        in his belt and swings one leg over a massive CUSTOM ELECTRO-GLIDE.
        He slips the dagger in his boot and the key in the ignition.  Kicks
        over the engine.  It catches with a roar and he slams the heavy iron
        into gear with a KLUNK.

        Lloyd appears at the diner's door with a sawed-off 10-GAUGE
        WINCHESTER LEVER-ACTION SHOTGUN.  He fires into the air and jacks
        around round in fast, aiming at Terminator's back.

                                LLOYD
                I can't let you take the man's wheels, son.
                Now get off or I'll put you down.

        Terminator turns and considers by coldly.  He eases the shifter up
        into neutral.  Rocks the bike onto its kickstand.  Swings him leg
        over and walks calmly toward the guy.

        Terminator strides right up to Lloyd, staring straight into the
        shotgun's muzzle.  Lloyd starts sweating, trying to decide is he's
        going to kill a man in cold blood.  He's still trying to decide when
        Terminator's hand blurs out like a striking cobra and is somehow
        suddenly holding the shotgun.

        Lloyd gapes, knowing he's screwed.  Then...
        Terminator reaches toward him.  Oh shit...
        And slips the sunglasses out of Lloyd's shirt pocket.  Puts them on.
        Strides back to the Harley and roars off in a shower of gravel.

12      EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT

        Terminator roars down the freeway, heading for L.A.  Cold neon flares
        across the chrome of the big bike.  The 10-gauge is jammed through
        the clutch and brake cables, across the handlebars.  The lights flow
        over Terminator's wrap-around sunglasses like the tracks of tracer
        rounds.

                                                CUT TO:

13      EXT. OVERPASS - NIGHT

        The First Street Bridge.  Rusting chain-link fence and graffiti-
        covered walls.  An L.A.P.D. BLACK-AND-WHITE cruises the empty street.

        A TREMENDOUS BLUE-WHITE GLARE suddenly spills out between the columns
        of the overpass.  The young UNIFORMED COP in the car whips his head
        around at the source of the light.  He pulls over quickly, in time
        to see...

13A     The powerfully arcing electrical discharge reaches its peak between
        the columns.  Lightning climbs the chain-link fence and light
        standards, lighting up the night, and papers swirl in a blasting
        whirlwind.

13B     The cop climbs from his cruiser as the glow fades.
        He sees vapor dissipating as he approaches the spot where he saw the
        strange light.  He draws his revolver and cautiously moves into the
        shadows between the rows of pillars.

        A NAKED MAN glides from a shadowed doorway behind the cop.  Nothing
        special about him.  Certainly not built like a terminator.  The flash
        of light and fact that he is naked are pretty good clues that he
        just arrived from the future.  His features are handsome bordering
        on severe.  His eyes are gray ice.  Penetrating.  Intelligent.

        THE COP spins at a sound.  Too late.  Mr. X is already on him.  The
        blow is lighting fast and the cop drops like a bag of sand.

        LOW ANGLE as the unconscious cop hits the deck, his BERETTA 9mm
        AUTOMATIC clattering next to him.  A hand ENTERS FRAME and picks up
        this pistol.

                                                CUT TO:

13C     HIGHLY POLISHED BLACK SHOES rounding the rear tire of the police
        cruiser.  FOLLOW THE SHOES to the cruiser's door then MOVE UP as
        Mr. X, dressed now in LAPD blue, climbs behind the wheel.  He
        looks and acts exactly like a cop.  Cool, alert, confident in his
        power, his expression emotionless and judgmental.
        Mr. X, now Officer X, puts the car in gear and drives into the night.

                                                CUT TO:

14      INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE/GARAGE - DAY

        TIGHT ON YOUNG JOHN CONNOR, who at his moment is ten years old and
        busy reassembling the carburetor on his Honda 125 dirtbike.  He has
        ripped Levi's and long stringy hair.  A sullen mouth.  Eyes which
        reveal an intelligence as sharp as a scalpel.  The Ramones' 'I Wanna
        Be Sedated' blasts from a boom box next to him.

        A WOMAN, JANELLA VOIGHT, stands in the doorway of the garage,
        yelling over the music.

                                WOMAN
                ...John?  John!  Get in here right now and
                clean up that pigsty of yours.

        John's friend TIM, a thirteen-year-old Hispanic kid, watches as John
        replies by turning up the volume on the boom box.
        Janelle gives up with a SLAM of the house's back door.

                                TIM
                Your foster parents are kinda dicks, right?

                                JOHN
                Gimme that Phillips right there.

15      INT. HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

        Janelle storms into the room.  TOD VOIGHT, her husband, watches
        sports on the TV.  They're both in their thirties.  Middle-class
        working stiffs.

                                JANELLE
                I swear I've had it with that goddamn kid.
                He won't even answer me.
                        (neither does he)
                Todd?  Are you gonna sit there or are you gonna
                do something?

        He sighs.  Throws down the TV's remote and heads for the garage.

16      INT. GARAGE

        John hops on the bike.  Kick-starts it.  Tim picks up John's nylon
        bag, then climbs on the back.  Todd ENTERS and shouts over the
        engine, which John revs louder and louder.

                                TODD
                John!  Get your ass inside right now and do
                what your mother says!

        John pins Todd with a defiant glare.

                                JOHN
                She's not my mother, Todd!

        He revs the engine and peels out of the garage, with Tim almost
        falling off the back.  They take off down the street.

17      EXT. VACANT LOT/DRAINAGE CANAL

        John cuts through a vacant lot to a trail running beside a fenced-in
        drainage canal.  He guns the bike through a hole in the retaining
        fence.  Tim's eyes go wide as they roar down the concrete embankment.

17A     IN THE DRAINAGE CANAL John zig-zags along, throwing up a
        roostertail of muddy water.  Tim shouts, pretending he didn't just
        see his life flash before his eyes.  He slaps John on the back.

                                TIM
                Major moves, homes!  So... where is your
                real mom, anyway?
                        (John doesn't answer)
                She dead or something?

        It's hard to read John's expression.

                                JOHN
                She might as well be.

        John twists the throttle angrily and the bike lunges forward.

                                                CUT TO:

18      EXT. PESCADERO STATE HOSPITAL - DAY

        A SIGN on a chain link fence topped with concertina wire reads:
        PESCADERO STATE HOSPITAL FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE.  Beyond it
        squats an imposing four-story building.  Institutional brick.
        Barred windows.  About as inviting as KGB headquarters.  Security
        guards patrol the manicured grass.

19      INT. HOSPITAL - MAXIMUM SECURITY WING

        Sunlight is a barred slash on the bare institutional wall.  The room
        is empty of all furnishings save the bed, a stainless steel sink,
        toilet, and a dented metal mirror.  WE HEAR a rhythmic grunting,
        small explosions of breath in perfectly-metered time.

        PAN TO a bedframe leaned upright against the wall, legs facing
        outward.  A pair of sweaty hands grip one leg.  Tendons knot and
        release as SOMEONE does pull-ups.  A man of tangled hair hides the
        face that comes INTO FRAME, dips out, comes back.

        WIDER.  A WOMAN in a tank top and hospital pants in hanging from the
        top leg of the vertical bedframe.  Her body is straight and taut.
        Knees bent so the feet clear the ground.  The arms are lean and
        muscular.  The inmate, face hidden, pulls up, dips, pulls up.  Like
        a machine.  No change in rhythm.

20      INT. HOSPITAL/CORRIDOR

        FIGURES MOVE TOWARD US down a corridor of polished tile and two-
        tone walls.  DR. PETER SILBERMAN, a smug criminal psychologist,
        leads a group of young INTERNS.  Following laconically, are THREE
        BURLY ATTENDANTS.

                                SILBERMAN
                The next patient is a 29-year old female
                diagnosed as acute schizo-affective disorder.
                The usual indicators... depression, anxiety,
                violent acting-out, delusions of persecution.
                        (the interns nod judiciously)
                Here we are.

        Silberman stops at one of the SOUNDPROOF STEEL DOORS.  There is a two-
        way speaker beneath a tiny window.  Silberman flips the intercom
        switch.

21      INT. CELL

        Silberman's scrubbed and cheerful face at cell window.  HIS VOICE
        comes over the tinny speaker.

                                SILBERMAN
                'Morning, Sarah.

        REVERSE ANGLE as she turns slowly into CLOSE UP.
        SARAH CONNOR is not the same woman we remember from last time.  Her
        eyes peer out through a wild tangle of hair like those of a cornered
岸观影时2018年10月04日22:11刚刚结束的《中国相声小品》大赛,来自天津的杨仪、杨少华父子为我们奉献了一段相声,作为今晚大赛的压轴戏。正如在相声中杨仪所说,他已经十几年不说相声了。那这些年《相        animal.  Defiant and intense, but skittering around looking for
        escape at the same time.  Fight or flight.  Down one cheek is a long
        scar, from just below the eye to her upper lip.
        Her VOICE is a low and chilling monotone.

                                SARAH
                Good morning, Dr. Silberman.  How's the knee?

22      INT. CORRIDOR

        Silberman's smug composure drops a second.  Then returns.

                                SILBERMAN
                Fine, Sarah.
                        (he switches off, speaks to
                        the interns)
                She, uh... stabbed me in the kneecap with a
                screwdriver a few weeks ago.

        Sarah watches them talking about her through the glass, but can't
        hear them.  She feels like a lab animal.  The interns look in at her
        through the glass as Silberman talks.  With her face drawn, eyes
        haggard and hair wild, she looks like she belongs where she is.

                                SILBERMAN
                The delusional architecture is interesting.
                She believes a machine called a 'terminator',
                which looks human of course, was sent back
                though time to kill her.  And also that the
                father of her child was a soldier, sent to
                protect her... he was from the future too...
                        (he smiles)
                The year 2029, if I remember correctly.
                        (the interns chuckle)
                Let's move on, shall we?

        As the interns walk on, Silberman steps close to DOUGLAS, the head
        attendant, and speaks low.

                                SILBERMAN
                Douglas, I don't like seeing the patients
                disturbing their rooms like this.  See that she
                takes her thorazine, would you?

        DOUGLAS is 6'4', 250 pounds and warm-hearted at a rattlesnake.  He
        nods, catching Silberman's meaning, and gestures for the other
        attendants to hang back as Silberman moves on in his rounds.

23      INT. CELL

        Sarah looks up as the cell door opens.  Douglas walks in slowly,
        idly tapping his POLICE BATON against the door in a ominous rhythm.
        The other two orderlies ease in behind him.  One of them carries a
        STUN BATON (like a sawed-off cattle prod).  The other has a tray with
        cups of red liquid-thorazine.

                                DOUGLAS
                Time to take you meds, Connor.

        Sarah faces him, weight centered.  Feral eyes darting from one to the
        other.

                                SARAH
                You take it.

        Douglas grins, casual --

                                DOUGLAS
                Now you know you got to be good 'cause you up
                for review this afternoon...

                                SARAH
                I'm not taking it.  Now I don't want any
                trouble...

                                DOUGLAS
                Ain't no trouble at all --

        He whips the baton in a whistling backhand, which --
        WHAP!  Takes her square in the stomach.  She doubles over and drops
        to her knees, unable to breathe.  Douglas tips the bed and it slams
        down with a crash, right new to her.  He takes her stun wand from
        the other attendant and walks forward.

        TIGHT ON SARAH, grimacing and struggling to breathe.

                                SARAH
                You... son of a... AAARRGH!!

        The stun wand hits her between shoulder blades as she tries to rise.
        It drives her to the floor, pinning her like a bug.  Little
        ELECTRIC ARCS CRACKLE as the baton makes her writhe in pain.
        Douglas grabs her by the hair and jerks her up to her knees.  Holds
        the cup of thorazine in front of her lips.

                                DOUGLAS
                Last call, sugar.

        Gasping, she chokes the zombie juice down.

                                                CUT TO:

24      EXT. BANK PARKING LOT - DAY

        John furtively hunches before a Ready-Teller machine at the rear of
        a local bank while his friend Tim stands lookout.  John slips a
        stolen ATM card into the machine slot.  It is something he's rigged
        up, because trailing from the card is ribbon-wire which goes to
        some kind of black-box electronics unit he's got in his ever-present
        knapsack.  He holds the pack between his knees and pulls out a
        little lap-top keyboard, which is also connected to the black-box.

        John enters a few commands and the plasma-screen displays the PIN
        number for that account.  He quickly enters the number on the Ready-
        Teller's keypad and asks it for 300 bucks.  The machine whirs then
        begins dispensing twenty-dollar bills.  Tim looks back over his
        shoulder amazed.

                                JOHN
                Easy money!

                                TIM
                Where'd you learn all this stuff?

        John collects the twenties as the machine kicks them out.  A cool and
        professional electronic-age thief at ten years old.

                                JOHN
                From my mom.  My real mom, I mean.  Come on
                baby...
                        (he grabs the last bills)
                Let's go!

        They sprint around the corner to an --

25      EXT. ALLEY BEHIND BANK

        They huddle behind the building as John counts out Tim's share.
        He folds five twenties and palms them to the other kid.  When John
        opens his wallet to put in his money, Tim notices a picture in a
        plastic sleeve.

                                TIM
                That her?

        John reluctantly shows his friend the Polaroid.  It is a shot of
        Sarah.  Pregnant, in a jeep near the Mexican border.  John doesn't
        know it now, but he will carry the photo with him for over 30 years,
        and give it to a young man named Kyle Reese, who will travel back in
        time to become his father.  Yes, that photo.

                                TIM
                So she's pretty cool, huh?

                                JOHN
                Actually, no, she's a complete psycho.  That's
                why she's up at Pescedero.  She tries to blow up
                a computer factory, but she got shot and arrested.

                                TIM
                No shit?

                                JOHN
                Yeah, she's a total loser.  C'mon, let's check
                out the 7-Eleven, whatya say?

        John has tried to sound casual, but we see in his eyes that is really
        hurts.  He slaps Tim on the shoulder and they jump onto his Honda.
        John fires up and they whine off down the alley.

                                                CUT TO:

26      INT. POLICE CRUISER - DAY

        CLOSE ON COMPUTER TERMINAL, attached to the dash.  A Juvenile
        Division file.  Subject: John Connor.  Below his ARREST RECORD are
        his vital stats.  Mother: Sarah Connor.  Legal Guardians: Todd and
        Janelle Voight.  And below their names, an address: 523 S. Almond.
        Reseda, Ca.

        OFFICER X stares at the screen for a moment.  Then gets out the car.

27      INT./EXT. VOIGHT HOUSE - DAY

        TIGHT ON FRONT DOOR as Todd Voight opens it, revealing the unsmiling
        face of Officer X beyond the screen door.  Todd greets him with a
        weary sigh.

                                OFFICER X
                Are you the legal guardian of John Connor?

                                TODD
                That's right, officer.  What's he done now?

        Officer X ignores the question.  He casually scans the living room.

                                OFFICER X
                Could I speak with him, please?

        Todd shrugs, showing the cop he's past his patience with the boy.

                                TODD
                Well, you could if he was here.  Be he took off
                on his bike this morning.  Could be anywhere.
                You gonna tell me what his is about?

                                OFFICER X
                I just need to ask him a few questions.

        Janelle appears in the doorway behind Todd, concerned.

                                JANELLE
                There was a guy here this morning asking about
                him, too.

    &n
                                

                                
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