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| 日期：2006-8-8 11:48:37 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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THE INSIDER
written by
ERIC ROTH & MICHAEL MANN
11/5/99
FADE IN:
All we can see is black filling the screen... Black on
black...
INT. A JEEP, LEBANON - DAY
And we're in a speeding SOVIET JEEP... Two men in front,
shouldering assault rifles. HEZBOLLAH SOLDIERS... And there
are three MEN in the back. A middle-aged Man wearing a tired
suit and tinted sunglasses trying to hold on. And on either
side of him, two Men, blindfolded. The man on one side is in
his forties, hands pressed in the pockets of a well-travelled
black-leather jacket... A stocky man, with the edge of a
J.D. Salinger character, he's seen everything at least once.
But even he has lost some of his self-confidence, here,
turning his head, sensing the wind, a blast of Arabic music
that disappears behind him... He's LOWELL BERGMAN. On the
other side of the man in the tired suit is a lanky Man with a
voltmeter around his neck, NORMAN.
EXT. THE BEQA'A VALLEY, BAALBEK, LEBANON - DAY
The Jeep races up narrow winding streets of a Lebanese
village. It's shadowed by a Jeep in front, and in back, each
carrying personnel armed with AK's and a few RPG's... And in
the third Jeep are two blindfolded, not very threatening
Lebanese soldiers. And as the speeding convoy passes a
captured Israeli Armored Personnel Carrier covered with
Arabic graffiti, looking down on them from huge murals are
the stern visages of the Ayatollah Khomeini, and a Hezbollah
religious leader, the Sheikh Fadlallah... And, suddenly the
convoy skids to a stop... And blindfolded Lowell and Norman
are roughly taken out, and pushed, stumbling, through the
cloud of dust without sight... The lanky cameraman is
stopped, told to wait, while Lowell is pushed past armed men
guarding a small stone house, and inside...
INT. A HOUSE IN LEBANON - DAY
A round-faced Man in his mid-forties, with large-framed
glasses, black hair and a grey-black beard, wearing a
dullbend, a turban, sits informally at a kitchen table...
It's the Sheikh Fadlallah whose face stares out at us from
walls. A Gunman cradling an AK-47 sits in an incongruous
purple armchair in a corner. A torn poster of the Seychelles
is on one wall. Another Gunman stands by a window. Lowell
is sat down in a chair at the kitchen table...
THE SHEIKH
Coffee?
LOWELL
Yeah... Thank you.
THE SHEIKH
How have you liked your stay?
LOWELL
(droll)
What I've seen...I've liked.
The Sheikh smiles. And the smile passes as quickly as it
came. A steaming cup of coffee in a small Arabic demitasse
is put down.
THE SHEIKH
Please to explain, why I should agree to
interview...with pro-Zionist American
media?
LOWELL
Because I think Hezbollah is trying to
broaden into a political party right now.
So you care about what you're thought of
in America. And in America, at this
moment in time, Hezbollah does not have a
face.
(confident)
That's why.
And we've first realized this man is not a hostage; he's come
here voluntarily.
THE SHEIKH
Perhaps you prove journalism objectivity
and I see the questions first. Then I
decide if I grant the interview.
LOWELL
(blunt)
No. We don't do that.
(beat)
You've seen "60 Minutes" and Mike
Wallace. So you know our reputation for
integrity and objectivity. You also know
we are the highest-rated, most-respected,
TV-magazine news show in America.
The Sheikh quietly looks out his glasses at him, studying
him. And Lowell "closes":
LOWELL (cont'd)
So. Mr. Wallace. Should he get on a
plane or not?
The Sheikh thinks it over and then...
THE SHEIKH
Tell him I will see him day after
tomorrow.
LOWELL
That's good. That works.
(after a beat)
Uh, you know, I want to ask you
something...I know it sounds odd...but...
It's quiet...too quiet...
LOWELL (CONT'D)
Hello, Sheikh...?
(no answer)
Hello, Sheikh...?
Silence. He hesitates, starts to lift his blindfold... He
lifts it. And he sees the Sheikh, and his gunmen, are gone.
The house empty. Only his Cameraman, the lanky man, left
there, standing by the door still in his blindfold...
LOWELL (CONT'D)
Norman.
NORMAN
What? What?
LOWELL
Take your blindfold off.
The lanky man does and we see the cameraman is Asian-
American.
LOWELL (CONT'D)
(sarcastic)
Welcome to the world.
Norman gives Lowell an ironic look and tests the local
current at an electrical outlet.
NORMAN
Fluctuating all over the place. Anywhere
we shoot, here, it's gonna be portable
gennies and we'll run cable...
Lowell nods and opens the curtains from this commanding
height. Baalbek and the Beqa'a Valley below gold-domed
mosques. A moment of triumph. He dials his cell phone...
MIKE WALLACE'S VOICE (OVER)
Hello?
LOWELL
(into phone)
Mike, it's me. We're on...
AND WE HEAR PEOPLE LAUGHING AND ENCOURAGING "GO AHEAD...
OPEN IT..."
INT. A LABORATORY, BROWN & WILLIAMSON, LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY
- DAY
We're in a SCIENCE LABORATORY... OUT OF FOCUS LAB
TECHNICIANS, in white lab coats, celebrating a heavyset Black
woman's birthday... Half her presents are opened. Balloons,
incongruous, floating above the lab... And there's a sense
that somebody is watching... And from the waist up, a
disembodied figure comes into FOCUS behind a glass partition,
as if quarantined, isolated, an expressionless MAN in his
late forties, watching them...
INT. JEFFREY WIGAND'S OFFICE - DAY
The office soundproofed, he watches the people laughing,
their lips moving. His hair not yet settled on grey, his
face is changing, always interesting. Born in the Bronx,
educated in Upstate New York, he retains little of the accent
and much of the directness. He's JEFFREY WIGAND. He turns
to resume gathering things from his desk...some technical
books, a medical text on asthma...putting them in his
briefcase. And as he leaves the office, the silent party
like a bizarre mime behind him...
INT. LOBBY, BROWN & WILLIAMSON BUILDING - DAY
Briefcase in hand, Jeffrey appears from the elevator from
ABOVE, from WIDE and in FRONT, his eyes, frozen pools... And
like a bad dream, a broad-shouldered Man, leaning against the
wall near the reception island in a suit he's not comfortable
in, wearing an earphone, saying something into a lapel
microphone after Jeffrey's passed.
INT. WIGAND'S CAR, LOUSIVILLE - DAY
Light mottled through trees reflects off the car window...
Jeffrey's face goes in and out of the tunnel of light and
shadow...down this tasteful, suburban Louisville street of
neat houses and manicured lawns... He pulls into driveway
behind a 3 series BMW. It's a grey French provincial
replica...
INT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE, FOYER - DAY
Jeffrey comes in and a young Girl, six, is watching
television in the den...BARBARA.
WIGAND
Hi, honey.
BARBARA
Hi, Daddy.
WIGAND
What's new?
BARBARA
Ms. Laufer gave me a star today.
WIGAND
Yeah? What for?
BARBARA
For reading.
He pours himself a drink at a wet bar.
WIGAND
That's great... Little early for
cartoons, isn't it?
BARBARA
Okay.
Dutiful, she shuts off the TV, going upstairs.
BARBARA (cont'd)
Deborah? Debbie?
He looks outside. A Woman is sitting on the back porch
drinking wine, reading a paperback book, drinking wine.
There's something like a Hockney painting about her against
the manicured lawns. Right now the Woman comes in. She's
pretty, tall, languid, reserved, somebody it would be nice to
wear on your arm. LIANE WIGAND. She has an odd delay
between a thought and her speech...
LIANE
Oh, I didn't know you were home... It's
early... Isn't it?
He doesn't say anything...
LIANE (CONT'D)
Gotta take Debbie to ballet...
And it all feels suburban, familiar. Suddenly there's a
shout...
BARBARA'S VOICE (OVER)
Mommy!
Jeffrey goes quickly up the stairs into...
INT. WIGAND'S HOUSE - DEBORAH'S BEDROOM - DAY
And a little girl, eight, sitting on the floor in a ballet
leotard, her head back, wheezing, her neck muscles
contracting and bulging, her face pale, lips white, and her
eyes filled with fear as rapid, shallow breathing induces a
sense of suffocation. DEBORAH WIGAND is having a severe
asthmatic attack...
WIGAND
Sweetheart, c'mon. C'mon.
BARBARA
She was playing with my Pooh doll
again...
Jeffrey sits her on the side of her bed next to which is a
Nebulizer, an air compressor to deliver medication via a tube
into a circular mouthpiece.
The compressor whirs. Deborah breathes in the medication.
Jeffrey brushes the hair back from her face and wipes
perspiration from her forehead as...
WIGAND
Slow down. Slow down. Slow down.
Breathe deep. Breathe deep. Slow down,
honey. Slow down. Slow down.
Liane rushes in with rolled-up towels, kneels in front of
Deborah, smiling to mask anxiety, and goes into the bathroom
with the towels and turns on full blast the bathtub's hot
water. We don't know why yet...
Deborah's chest heaves. She's scared. Jeffrey gets in front
of her and talks to her to arrest her attention.
WIGAND (cont'd)
Here we go. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
BARBARA
She was playing with the Pooh doll.
WIGAND
Pooh's dusty, sweetheart...he's dusty,
and you breathed him in, okay? So what's
- what's happening to you now is... cells
called mast cells told your lungs "don't
breathe any more of that dust in."
(beat)
...and the airways in your lungs are like
branches. And when the branches close
up, you get an asthmatic attack. And, we
give you medicine, and you get better.
Huh? Okay? You're better already,
aren't you?
And the medication's taking effect and she's calmer.
Liane, hands clutched in her lap, smiles at Deborah. Now she
takes Deborah's hand and exchanges a look with Jeffrey.
Jeffrey's a good father, a natural caregiver.
WIGAND (cont'd)
Okay, baby?
INT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - EVENING
Jeffrey, Liane and the two Girls silently eating dinner,
Deborah in a bathrobe.
DEBORAH
Can I go to dance tomorrow? I'm
better...
LIANE
...if you are, then I'll take Barbara to
soccer and take you to dance after...
WIGAND
I can take her.
LIANE
Don't you have to be at the office?
WIGAND
(instead, getting up)
Is there any more rice...?
LIANE
(nods)
Yes, it's on the stove...
He goes into the kitchen, to the stove, seeing...
LIANE (cont'd)
Do you want more rice?
DEBORAH
Maybe later.
LIANE
How about you?
BARBARA
I'll take some.
WIGAND
Instant rice...?
BARBARA
Can I go over to Janeane's house?
LIANE
I'm sorry, darling, have you seen my
coffee mug...?
WIGAND
Try the car.
And Liane going outside...
EXT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE - EVENING
She opens Jeffrey's car looking in the front seat at the cup
holders. She turns to leave and sees the backseat filled
with two boxes and the books we saw him take...
LIANE
Uh, what are those boxes?
WIGAND
I'm going to the store. You need
anything?
LIANE
What do you need at the store?
WIGAND
Soy sauce...
LIANE
Right now?
WIGAND
(meaning in the car)
That's my stuff from the office...
LIANE
Why did you take your stuff from the
office?
WIGAND
(simply)
I didn't want to leave it there...
LIANE
(confused)
I don't understand.
WIGAND
(matter of fact)
I got fired this morning... Where else
am I gonna take it?
LIANE
Why? Who said?
WIGAND
(specifically)
Thomas Sandefur...
LIANE
(stunned, fearful)
What are we supposed to do...? What
about our medical coverage; what about
our health? What about our car payments?
The payments on this house?
He looks at her. There's an unspoken moment when it seems
he's desperate for her to ask how he's feeling... But she
doesn't and now there's a wall up and the moment passes...
WIGAND
(a beat, specific)
There's a severance agreement... It
includes cash payouts over time and
continuing medical coverage...
(beat)
Sure you don't need anything?
LIANE
No, thank you.
She's stunned. He leaves. And as Liane's completely still,
her accessories seeming literally to weigh her down, she
wants to ask how he is, how he must be feeling, and she turns
into CAMERA towards him to do that. But he's driven off down
the street.
LIANE (cont'd)
Jeffrey...!
INT. ANOTHER HOUSE IN BAALBEK - DAY
The Sheikh, wearing a fresh white robe and skull cap, comes
into the room...
THE SHEIKH
I am very pleased to receive you as my
guest, Mr. Wallace.
MIKE WALLACE
Thank you for having us...
REVERSE: Norman's camera crew is setting up. MIKE WALLACE
is there. A dangerous combination of intelligence,
arrogance, and celebrity, there's a kinetic quality about
him.
Wallace sits across from the Sheikh on a dais of patterned
linoleum in incongruous armchairs against a wallpaper mural
of a French formal garden. A Sound Technician wires the
Sheikh and Mike with microphones. Norman says something to
Lowell and then goes out.
NORMAN
I think I've got a problem with the
gennie. I have to go outside.
LOWELL
(going outside)
Norman...?
Mike turns his chair to face and slides it closer to the
Sheikh's chair. The Head Bodyguard barks something in
Arabic. The Interpreter says something back in Arabic. The
Sheikh, absorbed in his notes for the upcoming interview,
ignores all of this.
INTERPRETER
He says you must not sit so close.
MIKE WALLACE
What?
(re: Bodyguard)
I can't conduct an interview from back
there.
The Bodyguard, bristling at Wallace's tone, barks more
confrontational Arabic.
INTERPRETER
You must move back your chair.
MIKE WALLACE
Will you tell him that when I conduct an
interview, I sit anywhere I damn please!
INTERPRETER
There is no interview.
As Mike leaps forward, moving inches from the Bodyguard's
face with such sudden ferocity, even the Bodyguard flinches.
MIKE WALLACE
You! I'm talking to you!
More armed men start to enter.
MIKE WALLACE (cont'd)
What the hell do you think I am? A 78-
year-old assassin? You think I'm gonna
karate him to death with this notepad?
(to Interpreter)
Are you interpreting what I'm saying?
INTERPRETER
Yes.
LOWELL
We're there.
MIKE WALLACE
Good, well ask him if Arabic is his
second language.
LOWELL
(to Interpreter)
Don't interpret that!
(to both)
Hold it. Hold it. Hold it! Slow,
slow!!
(to the Sheikh)
Sheikh, do you mind...if you would just
turn your chair a little bit to face Mr.
Wallace?
The Sheikh looks up from his notes, nods, fixes his chair,
goes back to his notes...
LOWELL (cont'd)
Is that okay?
INTERPRETER
Okay.
LOWELL
(Bodyguard assents; to Mike)
Are you ready? Or you want to keep
fucking around and warm up some more...?
MIKE WALLACE
No.
(wry)
...that's got my heart started.
They know each other well. Lowell smiles. Wallace sits
down.
LOWELL
Alright, Todd, give me the three-button
on Mike, please. Okay. We are rolling.
Okay, Mike.
They roll camera... "60 Minutes"... "Hezbollah"...
MIKE WALLACE
(charming)
Sheikh Fadlallah, thank you so much for
seeing us.
(changes)
Are you a terrorist?
The Sheikh didn't expect the Mike Wallace opening shot
between the eyes. He recovers...
THE SHEIKH
Mr. Wallace, I...am a servant of God.
That expression of incredulity...
MIKE WALLACE
A servant of God? Really...
Mike, tipping his glasses down while the hostile Gunmen,
cradling weapons, watch him through the doorway...
MIKE WALLACE (CONT'D)
Americans believe that you, as an Islamic
fundamentalist, that you are a leader who
contributed to the bombing of the U.S.
Embassy.
The ballsiness of Wallace, asking these questions in this
place, is impressive...
EXT. BERKELEY - LATE MORNING
It's still. A MAIL TRUCK is stopped at an odd angle in the
street outside an older brick house with a bold redwood Big
Sur-like fence on a hillside. Beyond the truck is a forever
view of the Bay. A handle turns. Mail truck door opens.
Mailman, carrying a box, going through the gate. Doorstep.
Box is deposited there. It's quiet again. The BOX sitting
nakedly by the front door...
INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, BEDROOM, BERKELEY - LATE MORNING
Lowell, in sweat pants and an old tee shirt now, is on the
telephone, still in bed... Newspapers, The New York Times,
The Wall Street Journal, San Francisco Chronicle, are spread
all over...home as refuge. A tray with large cups of coffee
is on a side table.
LOWELL
...everyone thinks Canadian Mounties
ride horses and rescue ladies from
rapids, Mike. They backed locals in Oka
in a fight with Mohawks over building a
golf course on their burial site. They
beat up protesters at Kanasake...
(pause)
Where'd you hear that?
The other phone on a nightstand rings... A Woman in her
forties, SHARON TILLER, enters, in a bathrobe, brushing her
teeth. She answers it...
LOWELL (cont'd)
(droll)
Oh, someone took a poll? "Are all things
Canadian boring...?"
SHARON
(to Lowell)
It's Stuart...he's in Mexico City...
LOWELL
Let me call you back...
He takes up the line...listening...
LOWELL (CONT'D)
Yeah, Stuart... What New York bank?
A young Man in his early twenties wanders in...
JAKE
Hey Dad...Sharon...
Lowell waves at JAKE, his son.
SHARON
(to Jake)
No classes this morning?
LOWELL
Will he go on-camera and talk about the
Mexico City branch?
JAKE
I don't have to be there until ten-
thirty.
Lowell's son sits on the bed looking at part of a newspaper.
And another young Man, in his early twenties, with long hair
comes strolling in, Sharon's son, JOSIAH.
JOSIAH
Hi Mom, Lowell...
Lowell, still on the phone, waves to him.
SHARON
Hi, sweetheart...
Josiah sits on the bed too, reading the back of the sports
section Jake is reading... Another line rings, Sharon
getting it. The Boys, used to them, get up, and leave...
LOWELL
(into phone)
Will independent sources corroborate
that?
SHARON
Hello? Yeah...
EXT. THE BERKELEY HOUSE - MORNING
The Boys coming out of the house together... And seeing the
BOX by the door...
LOWELL'S SON
(shouts back inside)
Dad, you got a box out here...
And they go out the gate, talking, walking off along the
Berkeley street. The box left waiting by the door.
LOWELL
(looking at her itinerary)
Let me see this... No, 'cause I gotta
know where you're going at all times.
INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, BEDROOM, BERKELEY - MORNING
SHARON
(into phone)
I can't... I've got to fly to Boston
tomorrow.
Lowell comes with the box back to bed. He's already
unwrapped it. Inside are stacks of papers... He looks at
the box cover. No return address. An anonymous sender; not
unusual for him. He casually looks through the papers.
SHARON (CONT'D)
Two p.m. Great. Bye-bye.
(hangs up)
LOWELL
(reading)
..."ignition propensity?"
(to Sharon)
...you understand any of this...?
He gives her some papers. We see formulas...scientific data
in tables...
SHARON
...no...this looks like a table of
temperatures... Who's this from?
LOWELL
(shrugs)
...it's anonymous. References to "P.M."
(motions)
It's got to be Philip Morris, huh?
SHARON
I have to take a shower.
As he looks at the papers, Sharon goes into the bathroom...
INT. THE FEDERAL DRUG ADMINISTRATION AGENCY, CAFETERIA,
WASHINGTON - DAY
We see a MAN in his forties, eating a late lunch, getting
paged in a crowded cafeteria. An old 1930's WPA mural on the
wall... His pager goes off...
Doug Oliver walks across the cafeteria to a bank of pay
phones and dials.
INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, DEN - BERKELEY - MORNING
The phone rings. Lowell picks it up...
LOWELL
Yeah.
DOUG OLIVER
(into phone)
Hi, this is Doug Oliver...
LOWELL
Oh, hi, Doug...it's Lowell. I'm doing
this story on fire safety... People
burning up from falling asleep smoking.
I received a shitload of scientific
papers from inside Philip Morris...
Anonymous. You or anybody in FDA know
someone who can translate this stuff into
English for me?
DOUG OLIVER
(beat)
...uh, yeah...
EXT. A BERKELEY CAFE - CLOSE: PAY PHONE
There's the sound of a phone ringing. PULL BACK to reveal
Lowell outside a cafe with dry cleaning he collected over one
shoulder. A LITTLE GIRL'S VOICE OVER (Deborah's) answers.
"Hello."
LOWELL
Mr. Wigand, please.
There's a whisper..."Someone's calling for Daddy, Mom."
Behind Lowell is a humming Berkeley street. He gestures
familiarly to a Server, who brings out his two take-out
cappuccinos. Lowell nods his thanks, pays...
LOWELL (cont'd)
Thank you, Bob.
LIANE'S VOICE (OVER)
Who's calling?
LOWELL
My name's Lowell Bergman... I'm --
LIANE'S VOICE (OVER)
Did you say Berman?
LOWELL
No, Bergman...B.E.R.G.M.A.N.... I'm a
producer with "60 Minutes"...
LIANE'S VOICE (OVER)
"60 Minutes"?
LOWELL
Yeah.
LIANE'S VOICE (OVER)
"60 Minutes," the television show?
LOWELL
Yes.
Lowell waits for some moments, and...
INT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - DAY
LIANE
(on phone)
He doesn't want to talk to you.
EXT./INT. BERKELEY CAFE - DAY
LOWELL
How does he know he doesn't want to talk
to me? He doesn't know what I'm calling
him about...
LIANE'S VOICE (OVER)
He doesn't care to know.
And she hangs up. Lowell's motionless... And his interest
piqued, he sets down his cleaning. He calls back... The
phone rings and rings... A MACHINE picks it up... Jeffrey
Wigand's Voice: "This is the Wigands'... If you'd like to
leave a message or send a fax, start now..."
INT. THE WIGAND HOUSE, JEFFREY'S OFFICE, LOUISVILLE - DAY
And we see Jeffrey Wigand, sitting at his desk in his office,
working on his computer, hearing Lowell...
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
(on the machine)
This is Lowell Bergman with "60
Minutes"... I'm doing a story on fire
safety and cigarettes... I have
scientific documents from a tobacco
company, and I could use your help as a
consultant explaining these documents to
me... My number is area code 510-555-
0199... I'll be there, at this number,
in 10 minutes.
He hangs up. Jeffrey doesn't react, quietly working on his
computer.
INT. LOWELL'S OFFICE, BERKELEY - DAY
Lowell's restless, waiting... And not getting a call back,
he tries another tact. He writes a FAX, "Please call me
at..." He writes his number down. He sends the Fax. He's
still. It's quiet. And not getting an answer he gets up,
starting to leave the room. And suddenly the fax machine
RINGS... He turns. He reads a message emerging from the
machine..."I can't talk to you..." He's quiet. He writes on
a piece of paper..."Can't talk to me?" "Won't talk to me?"
"Don't want to talk to me...?" As he faxes it back...
INT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE, OFFICE, LOUISVILLE - DAY
Wigand reading the return fax from Lowell...
INT. LOWELL'S OFFICE, BERKELEY - DAY
Lowell, waiting... The fax machine rings again... He reads
Jeffrey's answer. "Can't." "Won't." "Don't want to..."
He's quiet, more than just interested, now. There's
something beyond intriguing here. He turns. He looks
through a stack of phone books for something...a nationwide
800 directory. He looks through it and dials Wigand's phone
number again...
LOWELL
If you're curious to meet me...
INT. WIGANDS' HOUSE, OFFICE, LOUISVILLE - DAY
Wigand working on his computer... Lowell's VOICE on his
answering machine...
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
(on machine)
...I'm gonna be in the lobby of the
Seelbach Hotel in Louisville, reading The
New York Times, tomorrow, at five
o'clock...
Lowell clicks off. And as Wigand sits at his computer,
giving no indication what he might do...
INT. THE SEELBACH HOTEL LOBBY, LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY - EARLY
EVENING
An old hotel with faded carpets. Lowell in the lobby reading
a New York Times, waiting... And instead of looking up every
time somebody passes, he looks down at people's shoes. A
pair of black wing tips walking by... A woman's high
heels... A pair of men's tasseled loafers. A lace-up brown.
A pair of tennis shoes. A cordovan wing tip. The pair of
tasseled loafers walking by again... And Lowell looks up...
And the Man in the tasseled loafers, turns away... It's
Jeffrey Wigand in a suit and a tie with a Fortune 500,
corporate-executive bearing... Lowell crosses to the
elevators. Wigand looks around the lobby and follows Lowell
in, and as the doors close...
INT. A HOTEL ROOM, LOUISVILLE - EARLY EVENING
LOWELL (OVER)
Have you always lived in Louisville?
Brilliant late afternoon sunlight. We PULL BACK to see
Jeffrey, standing by a window, silently looking outside to
the left... Lowell, cool, waiting, hands in his pockets, in
the middle of the large room...
WIGAND
Mr. Bergman? What did you want me to
consult about?
A sudden KNOCK on the door...
WIGAND (CONT'D)
(turns, suspicious)
Who's that?
LOWELL
(wry)
That's room service. They usually knock
first.
(calls)
Come on in... Over here, please.
Room Service brings in a tray with coffee. As Lowell signs
the bill, the Room Service Waiter waiting, looks at Wigand...
Their eyes meet... The Waiter looks away.
LOWELL (cont'd)
Thank you.
And the Waiter leaves...
LOWELL (CONT'D)
(pouring)
How do you like your coffee? Black?
WIGAND
Black, black...
Lowell gives him his cup of coffee.
WIGAND (CONT'D)
Look, I really don't have that much
time...
LOWELL
(nods)
Is there anything you want to know about
me, Mr. Wigand...?
WIGAND
Like what? Your sign?
Lowell smiles.
WIGAND (CONT'D)
I know what I have to know.
LOWELL
Just so I know you know, when I talk to
people in confidence, it stays that way.
WIGAND
(abruptly)
How did a radical journalist from
Ramparts Magazine end up at CBS?
Lowell looks at him, he does his homework...
LOWELL
I still do the tough stories. "60
Minutes" reaches a lot of people.
Wigand's quiet, measuring him.
WIGAND
(after a beat)
Let me see the documents...
Lowell gives him the box of papers... Wigand sits down, the
box on his lap, quietly looking through them...flips to a
different heading, consults a chart...
WIGAND (CONT'D)
...this is a Fire-Safety Product Study
for Philip Morris. Burn rates...ignition
propensity...things of this nature.
(after a beat)
I could very easily explain this to you
in layman's terms, because it's from
another company...
He puts the papers down...
WIGAND (cont'd)
...but that's as far as I go...
LOWELL
Far as you go where?
WIGAND
(a beat)
This issue is a drop in the bucket. I
can talk to you about what's in here.
But I can't talk to you about anything
else.
And Lowell knows something else is going on here...
WIGAND (CONT'D)
(meaning Philip Morris
documents)
I signed a confidentiality agreement. I
honor agreements...
A lot more is going on here... Lowell nods, a good
reporter...
WIGAND (CONT'D)
Doesn't CBS have confidentiality
agreements, Mr. Bergman?
LOWELL
Between journalists and management, yes,
I believe they do...but I don't take that
seriously.
(after a beat)
Where do you work?
WIGAND
Did work.
LOWELL
(fast)
Did work.
WIGAND
(the bottom line)
How much would I get paid?
LOWELL
That, you have to discuss with CBS
Business Affairs. But, for something
like this, I would say anywhere between
10, 12 thousand.
Wigand nods "Okay."
WIGAND
Should I just take the documents now?
LOWELL
If you want to do it.
He turns to leave... Lowell gets the door for him... Wigand
momentarily slows...
WIGAND
I worked as the head of Research and
Development for Brown & Williamson
Tobacco Company. I was a Corporate Vice
President. Mr. Bergman...
And he goes out the door... Lowell's still. Wigand's job
title resonates. Lowell turns to the window, casually
looking into the early evening...and he comes face to face
with what Wigand was staring at, The Brown & Williamson
Tobacco Company Headquarters Building, lit up right across
the street...
INT. CBS, A SCREENING ROOM - DAY
MIKE WALLACE
(on screen)
"President Assad of Syria said that
difficult obstacles remain but that his
country, quote, 'looks forward to a
great, long peace with Israel.'"
TAIL LEADER. THEN BLACK. Suddenly lights come on.
Executive Producer DON HEWITT is suddenly on his feet. A
veritable dervish, in constant motion...
DON HEWITT
(kissing Mike)
It's a Peabody, Mike. When you're dead
and buried, Hezbollah is the one they're
gonna remember you for...
Mike, used to him, ignores him, getting up, turning to leave,
Hewitt on his tail...while...
LOWELL
(to his Editor)
...come in earlier on Mike's Marine
barracks line when he's talking to Sheikh
Mussawi...
MIKE WALLACE
You eating with us?
LOWELL
Yeah.
MIKE WALLACE
Bring a tie so they'll let us in the
front door...
And Lowell gestures for an olive-skinned Woman in her late
thirties, Lowell's assistant, DEBBIE DELUCA, to join them.
The eye contact on the way out says there's something
important he needs to tell her...
EXT. CBS - DAY
There's a blast of NOISE. The City. Lowell, Wallace,
Hewitt, Debbie, enter from the CBS lobby, moving through the
reflections. Lowell is about to say something to Debbie, but
BILL FELLING, Evening News' Assignment Editor, coming the
other way...
LOWELL
Debbie...
FELLING
Hey, Lowell.
Midstream, fast:
LOWELL
Oh, Bill... Main Justice is
investigating a major New York bank.
Laundering narco dollars out of their
Mexico City branch. You want it for the
Evening News?
FELLING
What about you, you got a crew already?
LOWELL
I'm gonna do a follow-up.
FELLING
Okay.
(leaves)
LOWELL
Catch ya' later.
EXT. 53RD STREET, NEW YORK - DAY
Lowell, crossing...
LOWELL
Debbie...
And, now, as they cross Madison...
LOWELL (CONT'D)
(to Debbie; finally)
I want you to get legal onto CORPORATE
CONFIDENTIALITY AGREEMENTS. Boundaries
of their constraint. Kentucky state law
about. I want you to drop everything.
DEBBIE DELUCA
(cuts in)
Okay.
Hewitt stops to buy a newspaper. He doesn't have change,
Debbie does.
EXT. 55TH STREET (WESTBOUND), NEW YORK - DAY
And Mike, Lowell and Don bang into Michael's restaurant. We
SEE them through the glass, being greeted, people shaking
their hands, escorted by the maitre d' to their table as...
INT. THE BROWN & WILLIAMSON BUILDING, MAIN LOBBY,
LOUISVILLE - DAY
Meanwhile, it's static. Still, frozen. Jeffrey sits in the
RECEPTION AREA of The Brown & Williamson Tobacco Company
headquarters. Complimentary cigarettes are arranged on
tables. A dark quiet. The hush of big business. Standing
in the background by a wall next to the banks of elevators,
is an ever-present Man, another one, with an earphone and
lapel microphone...
UNIFORMED SECURITY
(to Wigand)
Mr. Wigand, you can go up now...
He gets up, crossing to an elevator.
INT. THOMAS SANDEFUR'S OFFICE, BROWN & WILLIAMSON - DAY
THOMAS SANDEFUR
(re: his distraction)
Sorry. I'm accepting an award from the
Retinitis Pigmentosa Foundation. It's
going to kill the rest of my day.
THOMAS SANDEFUR is absorbed in spreadsheets of regional sales
figures. Dark pouches are under his eyes. He doesn't look
up. He doesn't look healthy. We're in a luxurious office
with a view of Louisville. Jeffrey is waiting in a chair.
Sandefur is Brown & Williamson's CEO. Two LAWYERS, their
briefcases, like weapons, close at hand, sit on a couch.
Their jackets are off. They wear expensive shirts.
THOMAS SANDEFUR (cont'd)
(finishing; looking up at
Jeffrey)
So. You had a chance to play golf?
Surprisingly affable, Sandefur prides himself on his
salesman's sunny manners. He has a mellifluous Georgia
accent...
THOMAS SANDEFUR (CONT'D)
(to the Lawyers)
Jeff's a premiere golfer... What are
you, a two handicap?
WIGAND
(precise)
Seven...
THOMAS SANDEFUR
(to lawyer)
And, he gets out there and he has five
strokes on us. He has more concentration
than anybody I've ever met. It's spooky
how he can concentrate.
WIGAND
I'd rather play than talk about it.
(beat)
What did you want to see me about? I
don't like being back here.
Sandefur smiles, used to him.
THOMAS SANDEFUR
Jeffrey says exactly what's on his mind.
Most people consider what they're
saying...social skills... Jeffrey just
charges right ahead.
(smiles, after a beat)
Now, I know you understood the nature of
the confidentiality portion of your
severance agreement with Brown &
Williamson, Jeff...
WIGAND
Chapter and verse.
THOMAS SANDEFUR
(nods)
Yeah, I know you do...
(beat)
You know, I came up through sales. One
of the reasons I was a great salesman,
was I never made a promise I couldn't
keep.
(beat)
I knew that if I ever broke my promise
I'd suffer the consequence...
And there's a warning behind it...
WIGAND
(contained)
Is that a threat?
THOMAS SANDEFUR
...we worked together for, what was it,
three years...?
Now, the work we did here is
confidential, not for public
scrutiny...any more than are one's family
matters...
WIGAND
(quietly)
You threatening my family, now, too?
THOMAS SANDEFUR
Now, don't be paranoid, Jeff.
(a beat)
About the direction of research here, we
may have had our differences of
opinion...
WIGAND
"Research..."
(smile + scorn)
You declare, as a badge of honor, you
don't even know what makes water boil...
THOMAS SANDEFUR
That's why we hire scientists...
WIGAND
(interrupts, direct)
Okay.
(a beat, honest)
I don't believe you can maintain
corporate integrity without
confidentiality agreements. I was paid
well for my work. The health and welfare
benefits are good. The severance package
is fair. I have no intention of
violating my confidentiality agreement
and disclosing that which I said I
wouldn't.
THOMAS SANDEFUR
I appreciate all that, Jeff. But, upon
reflection...we've decided to expand our
zone of comfort with you.
And there's a seriousness that weighs heavily on the room...
THOMAS SANDEFUR (CONT'D)
So we've drafted a supplement to your
agreement...it broadly defines and
expands in more detail what is
"confidential." Nobody will be able to
say, "Well, hell's bells, Margaret, I
didn't know that was a secret..."
(beat)
We're very serious about protecting our
interests.
(a beat)
We'd like you to sign it.
And he's acutely aware of the threat behind it...
WIGAND
(a beat)
And if I don't?
A LAWYER
(speaking for Sandefur)
If we "arrive" at the conclusion you're
acting in bad faith? We would terminate,
right now, payouts under your severance
package. You and your family's medical
benefits. And initiate litigation
against you, Mr. Wigand.
WIGAND
Dr. Wigand.
A LAWYER
(a beat)
Dr. Wigand...after you've examined the
document, you will see it is in your own
best interest and you'll sign it.
Jeffrey slowly turns to face the attorney. And we see on his
face the true nature of this man.
WIGAND
So, what you are saying is: it isn't
enough that you fired me. For no good
reason! Now you question my integrity?
On top of the humiliation of being fired?
You threaten me?! You threaten my
family?!
(beat)
It never crossed my mind not to honor my
agreement...
(turning, to Sandefur)
But I will tell you, Mr. Sandefur, and
Brown & Williamson, too... Fuck me?
(a beat)
Well, fuck you!!
And with that he gets up, and leaves... And it's quiet...
A LAWYER
I'm not sure he got the message...
THOMAS SANDEFUR
(with total confidence)
Oh, I think he did.
EXT. A PHONE BOOTH, LOUISVILLE - DAY
Wigand picks up the phone and dials.
INT. THE NEW YORK RESTAURANT - DAY
They've finished lunch. Wallace and Hewitt are turned to
talk to Sam Cohn and an older writer as suddenly Lowell's
cell phone rings.
LOWELL
(answering)
Yeah...
WIGAND'S VOICE (OVER)
...you fucked me!
LOWELL
Who is this?
EXT. A PHONE BOOTH, LOUISVILLE - DAY
WIGAND
(crazed)
...protect your sources...! You screwed
me! You sold me out!
INT. THE NEW YORK RESTAURANT - DAY
LOWELL
What are you talking about? Where are
you?
EXT. THE PHONE BOOTH, LOUISVILLE - DAY
WIGAND
Fuck you, too!
And he slams down the phone.
INT. THE RESTAURANT, NEW YORK - DAY
Lowell, holding the dead phone in his hand...
EXT. A GOLF DRIVING RANGE, LOUISVILLE - NIGHT
We see a brightly lit, golf driving range, empty, the wet
grass under the lights vibrant, emerald green... A caged
cart, with one big yellow headlight, like some kind of
strange insect, drives across the range, picking up golf
balls. And we see Jeffrey hitting golf balls, driving one
after another, after another... His swing is powerful,
angry, a lone golfer, trying to chill out. He pauses, spent.
Settling down, he exhales. Then, he looks down the way...
And he slows... He sees in the far distance, spot-lit, one
other lone golfer, a Stocky Man, incongruously in a suit and
tie, watching him... And the Man in the suit right then,
with great power and a tremendous follow through drives a
golf ball... The ball slamming into the steel net. And the
lights SUDDENLY go out. The range closing for the night.
The "insect" comes to a stop. And it's quiet, dark. Jeffrey
gathers up his clubs. He crosses, his golf shoes, the metal
cleats, clicking on the pavement, toward the PARKING LOT.
And there's the sound of the clicking of golf shoes behind
him. He turns. And the stocky Man in the suit, carrying a
golf bag walking some distance behind him, staring at him.
Jeffrey comes to the parking lot. It's empty. Just
Jeffrey's car, and despite all the empty spaces, another car,
purposely or otherwise, parked right next to his. He crosses
to his car, getting in...
INT. WIGAND'S CAR - NIGHT
He drops the three clubs in the rear seat and settles behind
the wheel. He turns. And he sees the Man in the suit has
gotten in the car next to his. They look at each other. The
Man, in no hurry, lights a cigarette, relaxes. It's
malevolent as hell. And Jeffrey, suddenly, grabbing a golf
club, jumps out of his car...
EXT. THE PARKING LOT, DRIVING RANGE, LOUISVILLE - NIGHT
Golf club in hand at the driver side window...
WIGAND
(motioning with the club,
threatening)
Stay away from me! You stay away from
me!
The Man starts his car, and drives off nonplussed. It's
still. And as Jeffrey with the golf club stands in the empty
parking lot, not knowing what's threatening him, something
real, something imaginary...
EXT. THE WIGAND HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - WIDE SHOT: WIGANDS'
HOUSE - EARLY MORNING
A violent rain's falling. And we see Jeffrey coming out of
the house holding an umbrella over his little Girls. They
start towards the car. There's the sound of a car door
shutting. Liane, carrying lunch boxes, comes after them...
LIANE
Jeffrey, you forgot their lunches --
She slows, seeing someone. Jeffrey turns: it's Lowell.
He's surprised.
LOWELL
Mrs. Wigand, how do you do?
WIGAND
(to the girls, protectively)
Jump in, quick, c'mon...
LOWELL
I'm Lowell Bergman. We spoke on the
phone, remember?
The Girls climb in the car. Lowell crosses behind the Audi
around the far side.
LOWELL (CONT'D)
C'mere. I want to talk to you.
WIGAND
Good. I want to talk to you.
Jeff closes the door on his daughters and joins Lowell around
the far side of the car.
WIGAND (CONT'D)
(confronting him)
What do...
LOWELL
(running over)
I did not burn you. I did not give you
up to anyone!
WIGAND
(continuing)
This is my house... In front of my wife,
my kids?! What business do we have?
LOWELL
To straighten something out with you.
Right here. Right now.
WIGAND
So, you didn't mention my name? You
haven't talked to anybody about me?
LOWELL
Why am I gonna mention your name?
WIGAND
How did Brown & Williamson know I spoke
to you...?
LOWELL
How the hell do I know about Brown &
Williamson?
WIGAND
It happened after I talked to you. I do
not like coincidences!
LOWELL
And I don't like paranoid accusations!
I'm a journalist. Think. Use your head.
How do I operate as a journalist by
screwing the people who could provide me
with information before they provided me
with it?
WIGAND
(skeptical)
You came all the way down here to tell me
that?
LOWELL
No. I did not. Big Tobacco is a big
story. And you got something important
to say. I can tell.
(a beat, personal)
But, yes. I did.
I came all the way down here to tell you:
story, no story, fuck your story, I don't
burn people.
It starts to rain harder. They look at each other. Jeffrey,
without saying a word, gets in the Car. He backs out.
Lowell, left standing in the driveway with Liane in the rain.
Liane goes back into the house. And Lowell starts back
across the street to his car. There's a sound. He turns.
Jeffrey's car, having gone around the corner, has come back
and stopped in the street.
WIGAND
(after a beat)
Ride with me while I take the girls to
school...
Lowell hesitates, then gets into the car in the back seat.
INT. WIGAND'S CAR - MORNING
They drive away. Lowell, incongruously sitting in the back
seat with Barbara. Jeffrey and Deborah in the front seat.
And it's quiet, just the sound of the wipers on the window.
And as Lowell rides with them...
EXT. A RIVERSIDE PARKING LOT IN LOUISVILLE - WIDE REAR SHOT
- MORNING
We see the Car's parked in a weed-strewn empty lot. Rain,
pounding on it and the surface of the river beyond...
WIGAND'S VOICE (OVER)
...and my little girl has acute asthma...
Deborah. My eldest daughter.
INT. WIGAND'S CAR, LOUISVILLE - REAR TWO SHOT - MORNING
The Girls are gone. We enter mid-scene. Lowell's still in
the back seat...
WIGAND (CONT'D)
And, I'm unemployed. So I have to
protect my medical coverage.
(the bottom line; turning to
look at Lowell in the rear
seat)
...so I left them a message this morning.
Their expanded confidentiality agreement?
I will sign it.
LOWELL
They're afraid of you, aren't they?
WIGAND
They should be.
The sound of the rain...
LOWELL
(after a beat, trying to make
it easier for him)
Talk to me outside the zone of your
agreement?
WIGAND
(guarded)
Like what?
LOWELL
Like where'd you work before Brown &
Williamson?
WIGAND
(a beat)
Johnson & Johnson. Union Carbide in
Japan. I was general manager and
director of new products. I speak
Japanese. I was a director of corporate
development at Pfizer. All health-
related.
(wry)
What else? Outside the "zone"...?
LOWELL
I don't know...you think the Knicks are
gonna make it through the semi-finals?
Wigand smiles...as their eyes meet in the rear view mirror.
A subtle connection... It passes...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. WIGAND'S CAR - WIDE FRONTAL - DAY
Jeff's car in the field, the giant Colgate-Palmolive clock
behind. The rain stopped. Steam rises from the weed strewn
empty lot. Lowell's in the front seat. And we get the
feeling they've been talking for hours...
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
Just give me an example...
WIGAND
For example. James Burke, the CEO of
Johnson & Johnson...when he found out
that some lunatic had put poison in
Tylenol bottles, he didn't argue with the
FDA... He didn't even wait for the FDA
to tell him. He just pulled Tylenol off
every shelf of every store right across
America. Instantly. And then he
developed the safety cap... Because,
look, as a CEO, sure, he's gotta be a
great businessman, right? But he's also
a man of science. He's not going to
allow his company...to put on the
shelf...a product that might hurt people.
(sarcastic)
Not like the Seven Dwarfs...
LOWELL
Seven dwarfs?
WIGAND
The seven CEOs of Big Tobacco...they got
up in front of Congress that time...it
was on television...
LOWELL
...and swore under oath that they know
nothing about addiction, disease...
WIGAND
It was on C-SPAN. Yeah.
LOWELL
Okay, so, here you are...you go to work
for tobacco.
(after beat)
You come from corporate cultures where
research, really, creative thinking,
these are core values. You go to
tobacco... Tobacco is a sales culture.
Market and sell enormous volume. Go to a
lot of golf tournaments. The hell with
everything else.
(beat)
What are you doing? Why are you working
for "tobacco" in the first place?
WIGAND
(deadly honest)
I can't talk about it. The work I was
supposed to do...might have had some
positive effect. I don't know...it could
have been beneficial.
(bitterness there)
Mostly, I got paid a lot. I took the
money. My wife was happy. My kids had
good medical. Good schools. Got a
great house.
(simply)
I mean, what the hell is wrong with
that...?
He looks at Lowell, as if needing validation...
LOWELL
Nothing's wrong with that. That's it;
you're making money...you're providing
for your family? What could be wrong
with that?
It's quiet. After some moments...
WIGAND
I've always thought of myself...as a man
of science. That's what's wrong with it.
LOWELL
Then...you're in a state of conflict,
Jeff.
Jeffrey doesn't say anything.
LOWELL (CONT'D)
Because, look, here's how it lays out: if
you got vital, insider stuff the American
people for their welfare really do need
to know...and you feel impelled to
disclose it and violate your agreement in
doing so, that's one thing. On the other
hand, if you want to honor this
agreement, then that's simple. You do
so. You say nothing. You do nothing.
There's only one guy who can figure that
out for you. And that's you. All by
yourself.
Lowell's evenhanded...is it too evenhanded? As Wigand
contemplates the edge he's standing on, they're quiet. Then
Wigand sees the time...
WIGAND
I've got to go pick up the girls. They
only had half a day...
Lowell nods. Jeffrey starts the car. The windshield wipers
screech on a dry window. Their eyes meet. As they drive
off...we HOLD on the Colgate-Palmolive Clock.
INT. A KITCHEN AREA, CBS OFFICES, NEW YORK - DAY
We've entered mid-scene... A monitor on a cart plays a 1/2-
inch VCR of a C-SPAN broadcast. Seven CEOs of Big Tobacco...
in front of a bas relief of the American eagle. Each in turn
swears nicotine is not addictive or he doesn't know anything
about health risks, they're not sure, maybe, maybe not,
etc....
LOWELL (OVER)
He referred to this...the Seven Dwarfs...
MIKE WALLACE (OVER)
What "Seven Dwarfs?"
LOWELL (OVER)
The seven CEOs of Big Tobacco... Referred
to this... Said they should be afraid of
him... I assume, afraid of what he could
reveal.
(to Staff Lawyers)
Now, you tell me. What does this guy
have to say that threatens these people?
And, now, we see Lowell, Mike Wallace and Debbie DeLuca with
two staff Lawyers, MARK STERN and JOHN HARRIS, sitting around
a workstation used as an improvised eating area.
Beyond them are the "60 MINUTES" offices, workstations, piles
of material, television monitors hanging from the ceiling,
all tuned to CBS programming...
MIKE WALLACE
Well, it isn't "cigarettes are bad for
you"...
LOWELL
Hardly new news.
MIKE WALLACE
No shit.
LOWELL
What's this?
MARK STERN
(re: video)
What that is is tobacco's standard
defense. It's the "we don't know"
litany: "Addiction? We believe not.
Disease? We don't know. We take a bunch
of leaves, roll 'em together. You smoke
'em. After that? You're on your own.
We don't know."
(beat)
So...tells me nothing.
(beat)
Besides, you'll never get what he's got.
LOWELL
Why not?
JOHN HARRIS
Because of this guy's confidentiality
agreement, he is never gonna be able to
talk to you.
LOWELL
That's not good enough. This guy is the
top scientist in the number three tobacco
company in America. He's a corporate
officer. You never get whistle-blowers
from Fortune 500 companies. This guy is
the ultimate insider. He's got something
to say; he wants to say it; I want it on
"60 Minutes."
JOHN HARRIS
Doesn't matter what he wants.
MIKE WALLACE
Am I missing something here?
JOHN HARRIS
What do you mean, Mike?
MIKE WALLACE
He's got a corporate secrecy agreement?
Give me a break. This is a public-health
issue, like an unsafe airframe on a
passenger jet or...some company dumping
cyanide into the East River. Issues like
that? He can talk, we can air it.
They've got no right to hide behind a
corporate agreement.
(re: his coffee)
Pass the milk...
JOHN HARRIS
(does)
They don't need the right. They've got
the money.
MARK STERN
The unlimited checkbook. That's how Big
Tobacco wins every time. On everything.
They spend you to death. $600 million a
year in outside legal. Chadbourne-Parke.
Ken Starr's firm, Kirkland and Ellis.
Listen. GM and Ford, they get nailed
after 11 or 12 pick-ups blow up. Right?
These clowns have never...I mean ever...
JOHN HARRIS
Not even once...
MARK STERN
...not even with hundreds of thousands
dying each year from an illness related
to their product...have ever lost a
personal-injury lawsuit. On this case,
they'll issue gag orders, sue for breach,
anticipatory breach, enjoin him, you, us,
his pet dog, the dog's veterinarian...
Tie him up in litigation for ten of
fifteen years. I'm telling you, they bat
a thousand. Every time. He knows that.
That's why he's not gonna talk to you...
Lowell's been quiet, thinking about something else... Now...
LOWELL
Okay, let's look through the looking
glass the other way...
MIKE WALLACE
What do you mean?
LOWELL
We got a guy...who wants to talk but he's
constrained.
(beat)
What if he were "compelled"?
MIKE WALLACE
(eating)
Oh, torture? Great ratings.
MARK STERN
What do you mean compelled?
LOWELL
(seriously)
I mean compelled by a Justice Department,
state courts, be a witness. That would
cut through any confidentiality
agreement, wouldn't it?
MARK STERN
Yeah...
DEBBIE DELUCA
What does that do?
LOWELL
What do you mean, what's it do?
DEBBIE DELUCA
What I mean is, like, how does it cut
through the confidentiality agreement?
LOWELL
Because he has to reveal it in a court of
law. It's on record, it's out. It's no
secret anymore. So how can they restrain
his speech or retaliate? It's out in the
world...
MARK STERN
(nods)
If you could engineer it into the court
record, you might have something. They
would have a helluva time trying to
restrain his speech then, wouldn't they?
Pause.
JOHN HARRIS
(still skeptical)
Yeah, but what venue? And where does he
get - does he have killer attorneys?
LOWELL
I don't think he's got any attorneys.
MARK STERN
He's gonna need attorneys who aren't
afraid of risking years of litigation.
And millions of dollars of their own
dough in legal costs...
LOWELL
What do you say, Mike? What do you
think?
MIKE WALLACE
(pause)
Even if he gets the defense team, will he
go for it?
INT. A HIGH SCHOOL CAFETERIA, LOUISVILLE - DAY
MRS. WATSON
...you're awfully overqualified, Dr.
Wigand.
The aftermath of a high school lunch. Tables, covered with
litter, as far as the eye can see. And we see Jeffrey
sitting with a formidable Black Woman in her mid-fifties, the
High School Principal, CYNTHIA WATSON, drinking cups of
coffee...
WIGAND
(after a beat, awkward)
I'm trying to...start a new career... I
believe I could be a good teacher...
She's quiet. She senses this applicant has a lot on his
mind.
MRS. WATSON
Let me give it some thought...
WIGAND
(selling)
...and not a lot of companies in the
health-care field hire ex-tobacco
scientists.
She nods, studying him. They get up.
INT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - DAY
The house is nearly empty. Liane, arms folded across her
chest, is quietly standing in the empty living room. Jeffrey
comes down the stairs...
WIGAND
That's it...
And it's quiet. And Liane holds herself, overcome...
LIANE
(beat)
That's where our babies were born...
Debbie took her first steps, right
there...in the grass.
And they're quiet.
LIANE (CONT'D)
I didn't plan on this...
Liane looks at him, afraid. And as he moves to hold her.
WIGAND
Hey, hey, hey, c'mon. C'mon. We can
make this work for us. Okay? It's
just...it's a smaller scale.
Simpler...easier...more time. More time
together. More time with the kids. More
time for us, okay? It's just... Can you
imagine me coming home from some job
feeling good at the end of the day? This
is gonna be better. This is gonna be
better.
And instead of this downturn turning them against each other,
it brings them closer together. And as they stand in the
empty house...
INT. THE WIGANDS' NEW HOUSE - DAY
We see unpacked boxes in the small 1970's kitchen. Country-
western music is playing on a radio. And we see Liane busily
putting things away in a cabinet. And, then, stops and looks
out the window. She tightens a knob on a cabinet. There's a
moment of domestic peace for her as she sees...
EXT. THE WIGANDS' NEW HOUSE, THE BACKYARD - DAY
Jeffrey with the Girls in a part of the backyard, kneeling in
the dirt, planting a vegetable garden, putting in some small
tomato trellises. We see the house, now. It's a small, one
story. Deborah sees her mom and waves. It's an image from
the 1950's post-war boom. Liane waves back from behind the
pane of glass...
INT. WIGANDS' HOUSE #2, BEDROOM - LATE NIGHT
Jeffrey's asleep on his side next to Liane, her back to him.
His arm is draped over her, protectively. There's a sound.
He turns. And he sees Barbara in her nightgown, standing in
the doorway...
WIGAND
Hey, baby. What's wrong?
BARBARA
(terrified, whispers)
What's that outside, Daddy?
WIGAND
Did you see somebody or did you hear
them?
BARBARA
I heard them.
WIGAND
Where?
BARBARA
In the backyard.
Fast, soundlessly, he's out of bed into old moccasins and
trousers...
INT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE, BASEMENT - LATE NIGHT
Jeffrey goes into a corner of the basement, around the corner
from the furnace, where his "office" is now. Unpacked boxes
are on the floor. He fumbles with the combination lock on a
small gun safe, lifts the lid, taking out a hand gun.
Barbara followed him.
WIGAND
Sit at Daddy's desk, okay? Why don't you
just sit up at the desk. Get out some
paper and draw me a picture, okay? What
are you gonna draw me, baby? An animal,
something like that? You stay down here
until Daddy gets back...alright, Barbara?
You stay down here.
He keeps it hidden from Barbara. He goes up the stairs.
EXT. WIGANDS' HOUSE #2, BACKYARD - LATE NIGHT
It's still. He steps further out onto the lawn with its dark
shrubs and small tree in the corner.
INT. WIGANDS' HOUSE #2, BASEMENT - LATE NIGHT
Meanwhile, Barbara in the basement, starts as the water
heater comes on, scaring her. She goes up the stairs to
follow after her father...
EXT. WIGANDS' HOUSE #2, BACKYARD - LATE NIGHT
Meanwhile, Jeffrey has crossed towards the darker back
corners. Sudden rustling. He spins, gun ready. And the
yellow eyes of a RACCOON stare at him.
WIGAND
(to himself)
You almost got your damn head blown
off...
The raccoon defiantly bares its teeth.
Jeffrey starts to go...but he sees something and stops...
Meanwhile, Barbara has come to the sliding glass door...
Jeffrey sees one of the tomato trellises is crushed, stepped
on...and in the vegetable garden's earth, are distinct,
fresh, deep FOOTPRINTS...
BARBARA'S VOICE (OVER)
Daddy...
Wigand steps between her and the garden, hiding it...
EXTREMELY CLOSE ON JEFFREY, as he covers, trying to keep from
his daughter the invasion, trying to control his emotions...
WIGAND
(reassuring her)
It's just a raccoon, baby...nothing.
He crosses to her, putting his arm, around her, walking her
back inside...
WIGAND (CONT'D)
They're nocturnal. You know what that
means? That means that they only come
out at nighttime.
He locks the sliding glass door, takes a last look outside.
INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE IN BERKELEY - LATE AT NIGHT
The Phone suddenly RINGS. Lowell asleep, alone... He gets
it...
LOWELL
(sleepy)
Yeah...
INT. WIGANDS' NEW HOUSE, HALLWAY - LATE AT NIGHT
It's dark, save a light from the living room. Liane, in bed,
seemingly sleeping. And we see Jeffrey, just outside their
door in the foyer, sitting on the floor against a curved
wall, a drink at his side on the telephone... A man with no
one to talk to...
WIGAND
(after a beat)
Lowell... Jeffrey Wigand...
INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, BERKELEY - LATE AT NIGHT
Lowell sits up...
WIGAND'S VOICE (OVER)
Is it too late?
LOWELL
No. No, it's okay... How's - how's the
new place?
INT. THE WIGANDS' NEW HOUSE - LATE AT NIGHT
WIGAND
The new place? New.
INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, BERKELEY - LATE AT NIGHT
LOWELL
(intuiting)
You okay?
WIGAND'S VOICE (OVER)
Sure.
Lowell knows he isn't...
LOWELL
You know, I was thinking of calling you
tomorrow, anyway.
(beat)
How are your kids handling the new house?
INT. WIGANDS' NEW HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - LATE AT NIGHT
WIGAND
Good.
(beat)
You have kids?
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
We have a couple. One's hers, one's
mine. Everybody uses a different name.
(wry)
Modern marriage.
(beat)
How's Liane?
WIGAND
She's okay.
He looks at Liane for beat. We SEE his POV in medium shot.
Then he moves and sits on the floor in the living room.
WIGAND (CONT'D)
Hold on a minute, Lowell...
(after a beat)
...somebody...may be following me. I
don't know. They came on the property...
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
What do you mean followed you? Did you
call the police?
WIGAND
I don't want to be paranoid... I mean,
maybe it's a game. Some kind of mind
game.
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
Well, what do you really think, though?
WIGAND
I don't know what the fuck I really
think! Are they doing it? Is some crank
doing it? Are they doing it to make me
feel paranoid? Are they doing it for
real and don't give a shit what I think?
I don't know! I don't fucking know.
And it's quiet again.
INT. LOWELL'S HOUSE, BERKELEY - LATE AT NIGHT
Lowell sitting in bed on the phone, alarmed, sharing Wigand's
fears.
LOWELL
Jeffrey, describe for me in detail what
happened.
INT. WIGANDS' HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - LATE NIGHT
And Jeffrey's emotions are back in check as...
WIGAND
Well, no, look...I mean, there was a
footprint. Forget it. It's probably not
important at all.
(beat)
You know, I got a job now. I'm teaching
high school. Japanese and Chemistry.
(beat)
So, what were you calling about?
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
You called me.
He takes another drink...
WIGAND
No, you said you were going to call me
tomorrow. So, what about?
LOWELL
(after a beat)
Oh, yes, yes, yes, I did...I wanted to
talk to you. I wanted to hook up and
talk to you. About what we were talking
about in your car.
WIGAND
...okay.
LOWELL
(after a beat)
Makes you feel good? Putting what you
know to use?
Jeffrey's impressed by Lowell's perceptivity...
WIGAND
How'd you know that, Lowell?
LOWELL
It's obvious, isn't it?
He looks at Liane in the next room, asleep.
LOWELL (CONT'D)
Hello. You there
WIGAND
Yeah... Look, thanks for talking. I'm
sorry I woke you up.
LOWELL
It's okay.
Jeffrey hesitates, holding the phone, then he hangs up...but
the phone RINGS right away.
WIGAND
Lowell...?
But there's thick silence.
WIGAND (CONT'D)
Who is this? Do not call here! Do
not...
They hang up. And he realizes he's talking to a DIAL TONE.
He hangs up. And as he sits in the patch of light from a
street lamp, the gun in his hand on his lap, to be up all
night guarding his family...
INT. THEIR BEDROOM - LATE NIGHT
And past Liane's sleeping form down the hall into the living
room is her husband, his back to her, sitting in the
trapezoid of light. And as we DOLLY along her side, we come
upon her face and discover she's been up all along and her
eyes are pressed shut, her hands over her ears...her reaction
to his raging on the phone. She's far from "OKAY."
INT. A JAPANESE RESTAURANT, WASHINGTON D.C. - NIGHT
And we see Lowell and Wigand sitting in their stocking feet
at a traditional Japanese table in a private screened room...
A traditionally-dressed Japanese Waitress waiting to take
their order... Wigand conversing with her in Japanese...
The Waitress formally nods, and leaves...
LOWELL
What did you get us?
WIGAND
Tempura...
And Wigand drinks some more saki.
WIGAND (cont'd)
The internet said you did graduate work
in Wisconsin, then went to UC La Jolla
with Professor...Marcus?
LOWELL
Marcuse. Yeah. He was my mentor. He
had a major influence on the New Left in
the late '60s...and on me, personally.
WIGAND
Next to your father?
LOWELL
My father? What the hell's that got to
do with my father?
WIGAND
Is that why you became a journalist?
Then you get to ask all the questions?
LOWELL
You charge by the hour?
WIGAND
My father was a mechanical
engineer...most ingenious man I ever
knew.
LOWELL
Well, my father left us when I was five-
years old. He was not the most ingenious
man I ever knew... Let's get back to
Brown & Williamson. If you decide to go
on "60 Minutes," I got to know everything
about why you got fired.
WIGAND
Why?
LOWELL
They're gonna dig up stuff from your
past, they're gonna throw it at you. I
got to know what they're gonna throw.
You understand?
WIGAND
(concedes)
I drink. A couple of occasions more than
I should have.
(thinks)
I was cited for shoplifting once. But it
was a mistake...
(hesitant, after a beat)
I pushed Liane one time. We were both
stressed out because of the pressure.
She went to her mother's.
(out of the blue)
I got fired because when I get angry I
have difficulty censoring myself. And I
don't like to be pushed around!
LOWELL
I'm not pushing you around!
(after a beat)
I'm asking you questions.
WIGAND
I'm just a commodity to you, aren't I? I
could be anything. Right? Anything
worth putting on between commercials...
LOWELL
(honest)
...to a network, probably, we're all
commodities.
(beat)
To me? You are not a commodity. What
you are is important.
And he's begun to consciously or unconsciously "sell"...
LOWELL (cont'd)
You go public and thirty-million people
hear what you got to say, nothing, I mean
nothing, will ever be the same again.
Wigand doesn't react.
LOWELL (cont'd)
You believe that?
WIGAND
(skeptical)
No.
LOWELL
You should. Because when you're done, a
judgment is going to go down in the court
of public opinion, my friend. And that's
the power you have.
WIGAND
You believe that?
LOWELL
I believe that? Yes, I believe that.
WIGAND
You believe that because you get
information out to people...something
happens?
LOWELL
Yes.
WIGAND
Maybe that's just what you've been
telling yourself all these years to
justify having a good job? Having
status? And maybe for the audience, it's
just voyeurism? Something to do on a
Sunday night. And maybe it won't change
a fucking thing. And people like myself
and my family are left hung out to dry.
Used up! Broke, alone!
LOWELL
Are you talking to me or did somebody
else just walk in here?! I never
abandoned a source!
WIGAND
I don't think you really understand --
LOWELL
(running over)
No, don't evade a choice you gotta make
be questioning my reputation or "60
Minutes'" with this cheap skepticism!
WIGAND
I have to put my family's welfare on the
line here, my friend! And what are you
puttin' up? You're puttin' up words!
LOWELL
Words! While you've been dickin' around
at fucking company golf tournaments, I
been out in the world, giving my word and
backing it up with action.
Lowell is getting very close, in spite of the value of
Wigand, to telling Jeff to take his story and stick it up his
ass.
LOWELL (cont'd)
Now, are you going to go do this
thing, or not?
Wigand abruptly rises...
WIGAND
(surprisingly mild)
I said I'd call the kids before they went
to bed. Onisa...
And turning, he crosses the restaurant. And that's where it
hangs.
INT. A CBS EDITING SUITE, NEW YORK - DAY
And we see we're watching footage in an on-line editing bay
from what we will learn is Lowell's "N.O.P.D. Blue" on police
corruption in New Orleans.
Lowell, TONY BALDO (his editor), Debbie and an intense YOUNG
MAN wearing glasses, an Intern, looking at the cut. All the
police are on horseback, lots of cops on horses.
Lowell is waiting for a call to go through...
LOWELL
The stringer was supposed to be shooting
B-roll on street cops in New Orleans.
What's with all the horses?
TONY BALDO
Camera guy's got a thing about mounted
police.
LOWELL
(re: horses)
Don't any of these guys ride in cars or
walk?
TONY BALDO
How long did he stay on this?
LOWELL
What was he seeing?
DEBBIE DELUCA
(into phone)
Yes, hello... I'm trying to reach Mr.
Richard Scruggs...
INT. A LEAR JET - DAY
And we see the PILOT, a fit-looking, unassuming man, wearing
aviator glasses, in his late forties. A heavyset Man in his
forties, riding up in the co-pilot's seat we'll come to know
as RON MOTLEY. The Pilot's on a headset... He has a
distinctive Southern accent...
THE PILOT
This is Richard Scruggs...
DEBBIE DELUCA
Could you hold on one second, please?
(to Lowell)
Lowell, I got him on the phone.
LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
Hello, I'm Lowell Bergman.
RICHARD SCRUGGS
Hold on... Mobile approach...this is
Lear November 643. Over.
CONTROL OPERATOR'S VOICE (OVER)
Go ahead 643.
RICHARD SCRUGGS
(after a beat)
Request a flight level 220, on a heading
of 284 degrees. Over.
(after a beat)
Mr. Bergman?
LOWELL
Yes, I'm right here. Could you call me
back on a hard line?
RICHARD SCRUGGS
Alright.
LOWELL
Area code 212-555-0199.
RICHARD SCRUGGS
I'll call you then.
INT. A LOUNGE, PRIVATE AVIATION TERMINAL - DAY
Through the window, we see Scruggs' plane being refueled
while Scruggs and Motley in a run-down lounge are talking on
a SPEAKER PHONE with Lowell. They've taken over the
Secretary's office for privacy.
LOWELL
(re: footage)
What do we do with that?
The phone rings.
DEBBIE DELUCA
I don't know.
RICHARD SCRUGGS' VOICE (OVER)
Richard Scruggs...
LOWELL
...you filed a lawsuit against tobacco on
behalf of the State of Mississippi, did
you not?
RICHARD SCRUGGS
(nods)
That's right...
LOWELL
(after a beat)
Well, I'm working with someone, now, who
was the former head of research at Brown
& Williamson, a former corporate officer
there.
RICHARD SCRUGGS
What's your interest in this, Mr.
Bergman?
LOWELL
Well, he may tape an interview with us.
And, we believe if his testimony showed
up in a court record first, it would free
him up from his confidentiality agreement
and give him some protection.
MOTLEY
It could work. If it's public record,
it's public record.
LOWELL
Yeah, and he's going to need legal
representation.
MOTLEY
He sure as hell will.
RICHARD SCRUGGS
(a beat)
Has he decided to go public? Because
let me tell you, we've been doing this
for three years now, and we've worked
with a lot of corporate cases involving
whistle-blowers, so we know... Big
Tobacco will do everything in their power
to stop him. So, is your man truly
committed?
LOWELL
Well, actually, no. Well, he's on the
fence. That's the point.
Scruggs and Motley exchange a look... Motley shrugs...
RICHARD SCRUGGS
Well, we'd certainly be interested in
making his acquaintance, but without
knowing what he's going to do...
LOWELL
Well, would you want him to call you?
Or, you want to call him? How do you
want to do it?
RICHARD SCRUGGS
(no nonsense)
It would be better if he called us.
LOWELL
Yeah.
RICHARD SCRUGGS
Alright?
LOWELL
Okay. Thank you.
At this moment, these two attorneys are unsold on the
prospect of Jeffrey Wigand. Scruggs disconnects.
LOWELL (cont'd)
Shit...
INT. CBS EDITING SUITE, NEW YORK - DAY
LOWELL
(contemplating phone; to Debbie
re: show)
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