Reacher 101 - 6th Pre Production Studio Draft - 1-12-21

REACHER - PILOT

Written by

Nick Santora

Based on KILLING FLOOR by Lee Child and his character, JACK REACHER

6th Pre-Production Studio Draft - January 12, 2021

All Rights Reserved No portion of this script may be performed, or reproduced by any means, or quoted, or published in any medium, including online, digitally, or otherwise, without prior written consent of SKYDANCE PRODUCTIONS, LLC. * 2900 Olympic Blvd. * Santa Monica, CA 90404*

EXT. DESOLATE GEORGIA RURAL HIGHWAY - DAY

FADE IN TO: DOWNPOUR . Gray, sticky summer weather. RAIN angrily hammers asphalt. In the distance, BUS HEADLIGHTS cut through, approach camera as credits roll. The GREYHOUND (destination flickers ATLANTA) stops close to lens. HISS OF BUS BRAKES as the door opens. A pair of sturdy, bench-made BLACK SHOE/BOOT HYBRIDS step down onto the road. * PAN UP TO REVEAL: JACK REACHER (35). 6’ 5”, 250 lbs. of muscle. A body stronger than a reinforced brick shit-house. A mind * sharper than porcupine ass. No watch, never wears one. * He’s our hero. Do yourself a favor - don’t fuck with him. No one else exits the bus. The bus groans off into the distance, leaving Reacher alone in the middle of nowhere. Rain pelts him. He doesn’t seem to notice. No bag. No knapsack. No suitcase. No umbrella. Beat, then crosses the highway toward a desolate COUNTY ROAD. TIME CUT TO:

EXT. COUNTY ROAD - DAY - LATER

CLOSE PAN along the road’s profile. The RAIN falls only in sporadic drips into the water-filled potholes/pockmarks of a neglected municipal road. The camera finds Reacher’s shoes, walking. We follow until they stop at a DEMARCATION LINE - nothing official - just a change from sun-baked, faded and cracked pavement to smooth, perfectly-maintained blacktop . It happens ABRUPTLY. Reacher looks down, notes the shift in condition, then continues to follow the road into town, passing a quaint, wooden sign: WELCOME TO MARGRAVE, GEORGIA. EST. 1794 . The bottom of the sign reads: Courtesy of the Kliner Foundation. EXT. MARGRAVE - MOMENTS LATER * 2A Reacher walks through main street: quaint shops, clean, nice. * An elderly, Black man cleans the insides of his BARBERSHOP * WINDOW with a SQUEEGE and a RAG. He watches Reacher. * * 3 BOYFRIEND (late 20s, strong) moves to his VAN agitated. He * holds GIRLFRIEND (20s) roughly by her forearm as he berates. * GIRLFRIEND (nervous) I’m sorry, I’m not good at math-- EXT. DINER PARKING LOT - A BIT LATER

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BOYFRIEND No shit. That was like a 40% tip-- GIRLFRIEND I messed up ok--

Boyfriend SLAMS his PALM hard into the van, right next to her head (her back is to the van). Girlfriend starts at the impact. BOYFRIEND How’m I s’posed to get ahead when you’re wasting my goddam money?!... Just get your ass in the van... She moves off. Boyfriend turns to get into the driver’s side. REVEAL: Reacher standing 15’ away. Staring at him. BOYFRIEND (CONT'D) (full of adrenaline) What the hell you want, asshole? Reacher says nothing. Just stares at the guy. Beat, then-- BOYFRIEND (CONT'D) I’m talking to you, stupid... Reacher says nothing. Just stares. A longer beat, as Boyfriend sees a seriousness and danger in Reacher’s eyes that he hasn’t ever seen before. He swallows, a bit uneasy-- BOYFRIEND (CONT'D) (a bit more plaintive) Listen man, I’m just having a bad day... Reacher says nothing. ON: his tight jaw, his focused eyes, his balled fists. Boyfriend gets it now - he has made a serious miscalculation - all he can do is plead for mercy. BOYFRIEND (CONT'D) (repentant, softly...) It won’t happen again. Reacher says nothing. Boyfriend slowly opens the door, gets in. Reacher turns his head slightly, so his eye-line never * leaves the bastard. The van moves off. OFF Reacher, watching.

INT. DINER - MOMENTS LATER

ON: a PLATE OF PIE and a COFFEE placed on a booth table.

* * * * *

REVEAL it’s in front of Reacher.

WAITRESS

Coffee black and peach pie - best you’re gonna find in Georgia.

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She winks, moves off. He lifts the cup, swallows coffee as he * watches a WALL-MOUNTED HD TV play the NATIONAL NEWS: story of * a COAST GUARD BLOCKADE off Florida that had been stopping * smuggled drugs, illegal guns, etc. - but it’s now ending due * to budget cuts. * Reacher isn’t interested. He turns to scan the MUSIC * SELECTION on an I-PAD EMBEDDED IN THE WALL . A small sign * reads: Free Tunes - Courtesy of The Margrave Diner. * As we get a look at the diner, we see, strangely, that it’s * kind of nice. Shiny chrome counter trim, stools with tan leather seats with no rips. Pristine. Empty save for an OLD COUPLE in a CORNER BOOTH and two 11 OR * 12 YEAR OLDS SHARING AN IPHONE, PLAYING GAMES at the COUNTER. * Reacher lands on SMOKESTACK LIGHTNIN ’ by HOWLIN’ WOLF . A * small glint in his eye - he likes this song. Presses select. The song plays softly over CEILING EMBEDDED SPEAKERS as * Reacher digs his fork into the PIE, he lifts the fork and is * about to taste heaven when: TWO COP CARS ENTER THE DINER PARKING LOT WITH PURPOSE... Reacher watches through the window as two COPS exit with HIGH- IMPACT REVOLVERS and TACTICAL MOSSBERG PUMP-ACTION SHOTGUNS! One motions to the other to take the side door - this is serious business. Reacher calmly turns and looks at the old couple eating in the corner. Nope - cops ain’t here for them. He looks at the kids at the counter. Nope - cops ain’t here for them either. As the cops RUN toward the diner, Reacher sighs, resigned, and puts down his fork; he didn’t even get to taste the pie. He casually puts down a $10 bill (no wallet) for the * Waitress, pushes the plate away, puts his hands palm-down on * the table... and waits. THEN, THE COPS BURST IN ! One ( STEVENSON , fresh faced, small town, white) from a side exit! One from the front door! Guns pointed at Reacher! The head cop, BAKER (white, veteran cop, 40) shouts orders... * BAKER Don’tmovedon’tmovedon’tmove!!! He BEELINES for Reacher, aiming a SHOTGUN at him, just 12 feet away! Stevenson’s gun is aimed at Reacher as well - tense -- ready to fire if needed. BAKER (CONT'D) Now you’re gonna s lide out from behind that booth, nice ‘n slow!... (Reacher doesn’t move) Do it.

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Reacher slides out from behind the booth, nice and slow. BAKER (CONT'D) Hands behind your head! Interlock your fingers! Reacher does what he’s told, slow and deliberate. Doesn’t drop a single bead of sweat. Cooler than Eskimo balls. Baker steps closer. Stevenson remains still, gun aimed. Baker no longer shouts. He speaks firmly, adrenaline still pumping. BAKER (CONT'D) Dessert’s gonna have to wait... ‘cause you’re under arrest for murder. ON: Reacher’s face. He takes in this information, unblinking. HARD CUT TO: TITLE CARD: REACHER .

EXT. STATION HOUSE - DAY - LATER

HIGH/WIDE OVERHEAD - The two cop cars from the diner arrive, stop. Doors open, Reacher is led out and toward the door.

INT. STATION HOUSE - BULLPEN - CONTINUOUS 5 Neat. Clean. For a small town station house, things are very high end: Each desk has a 27” MAC 5K DESKTOP COMPUTER MONITOR. A HIGH DEF SCREEN on the wall shows a DIGITAL MAP of the town. Every street. Every traffic light. Quite advanced. HOLDING CELL in the corner. CONFERENCE ROOM to the side. PRIVATE OFFICES off the bullpen. POLICE CHIEF MORRISON (50’s, husky, nasty) paces, checks his watch. He, like everyone in Margrave, has a Southern accent. But his ain’t sweet as molasses. It’s intimidating as hell. ROSCOE (28, smart, resilient, proud) does paperwork. They’re * the only 2 cops there. She peeks out the window... * ROSCOE They’re here-- (whistles) He’s a big one. As Roscoe calmly steps to the PROCESSING DESK, methodically * lays out an INTAKE FORM, HAND WIPES, a STATE OF THE ART * DIGITAL FINGERPRINT SCANNER, Reacher’s led inside by BAKER * and STEVENSON, who holds the door open as Baker gives Reacher a small shove.

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BAKER C’mon, you can move faster than that.

Reacher turns, stares down at Baker. He says nothing, but it’s intimidating. Baker swallows hard, just a bit. It’s tense. Reacher is huge. And he’s not moving. ROSCOE Sir, if you could step over here, I can process you. Reacher turns, sees Roscoe. Doesn’t move toward her. ROSCOE (CONT'D) (firm, calm, professional) I’m not asking, sir; I’m telling. But don’t worry, I won’t kick your ass unless you make me. Roscoe’s smart. She weighs 135 pounds less than Reacher, and without smiling, said just the right thing to ease the tension just a bit. Reacher takes her in a 1/2 beat, then steps up to her work station. ROSCOE (CONT'D) Thank you. I’ll be doing your intake. First things first - what’s your name? BAKER Sasquatch don’t talk. Had a passport on him, though... (holds up PASSPORT) Jack Reacher. No middle name. Morrison checks out the CIVILIAN PASSPORT as Roscoe fills in * a form. The PASSPORT has no stamps. * MORRISON No stamps. Newer than January * first. You plannin’ on leavin’ the * country soon? * Reacher says nothing. * BAKER Everything else he was carrying... Baker drops a TOOTHBRUSH, rubber-banded CASH FOLD and an OLD WAR MEDAL onto the desk. Morrison thumbs the cash. MORRISON What’s this? About two hundred? BAKER Two-twelve. (picks up the medal)

(MORE)

BAKER (CONT'D) Reacher Pilot 6th Pre-Production Studio Draft 1/12/2021 6. This looks like some kinda foreign deal... Tosses it onto the table. It clangs. Reacher takes note. ROSCOE (looks at it) World War Two medal. French. MORRISON (eyeballs Reacher a beat) You French or something? (Reacher says nothing) Where you from, son? Reacher doesn’t respond. Morrison steps closer, annoyed. MORRISON (CONT'D)

Boy, I asked you a question. Where you from?... Where you goin’?... (more pointed) What the hell’re you doin’ in my town? STEVENSON Maybe he doesn’t speak English. ROSCOE Please put your hands on the counter so I can print you.

Reacher does exactly that.

ROSCOE (CONT'D)

He speaks English. Roscoe looks down at Reacher’s wrists resting on the table. ROSCOE (CONT'D) Zip ties? BAKER Cuffs didn’t fit his wrists. Roscoe gently wipes off Reacher’s fingers prior to printing. MORRISON No one moves ‘round holding just this.

Where you keeping the rest of your shit? Got a friend in town? A girl? BAKER (thinks he’s smart/funny) Maybe he’s got a guy.

Morrison chuckles at the “joke”. But Reacher still says nothing as Roscoe rolls his fingers on the scanner.

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MORRISON Don’t wanna talk? Maybe we put ya in the holding cell, get you to

* *

change your mind...

FINLAY (O.S.) And how exactly would you do that? They turn to find CHIEF DETECTIVE FINLAY (41, Black, a Northerner, Harvard educated, 1/2 Reacher’s size, glasses, * erudite, uptight, doesn’t curse, and always wears a tweed suit with a moleskin vest.) FINLAY (CONT'D) (rhetorical, adjusts his cuffs) Explain to him his constitutional rights under the 5th and 14th amendments, then hope he waives them of his own free will? It’s clear Finlay doesn’t stand for going outside the law . A beat, then Morrison answers, a bit confused... MORRISON Yes? Morrison, and the other cops, don’t like Finlay. FINLAY No need. I’ve got it from here. (turns to Baker) Take him to the conference room. I’ll be in in a moment. Finlay heads toward his office. Baker prods Reacher. BAKER Move it, Bigfoot... Finlay stops, turns, looks to Baker. Finlay is firm/direct. FINLAY Officer Baker. I assume that’s not this gentleman’s name. Professionalism and Courtesy are not suggestions. BAKER (beat, hates Finlay ) Yessir. FINLAY Stevenson, take him in. Finlay walks into his private office, closes the door.

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BAKER (seethes, under breath)

Beantown bitch. Stevenson takes Reacher by the arm, leads him to...

INT. CONFERENCE (I.E. “INTERROGATION”) ROOM - CONTINUOUS 6 Cherry-wood table. High end leather chairs. Nice. Only the * soft, almost comforting rattle of an air conditioner vent * high up on the wall. Stevenson and Reacher enter. Stevenson * pulls out a chair... STEVENSON Have a seat. He’ll be in soon. Stevenson leaves. Reacher looks around, exhales. How the fuck did this happen? The air conditioner hum continues... * He sees out the window, two KIDS run toward the STATION HOUSE. They mischievously climb through the bushes, peer into the window. They’re the kids from the counter at the diner. They stare at the mysterious stranger in their town. He holds up his zip-tied right hand, gives a small wave to the boys. One boy, stunned, unsurely holds up his hand in return - just as Finlay enters. The boys run off. FINLAY

Mr. Reacher, I’m Chief Detective Oscar Finlay; I’ll be asking you some questions. I was informed you were read your rights, so you know you don’t have to answer... do you

* * * *

understand you’ve been brought in under suspicion of murder? Said as Finlay sits. Reacher is silent. So Finlay continues. FINLAY (CONT'D)

Body was found by the highway embankment, near an overpass, partially covered by flattened out cardboard boxes -- two 9MM, 95- grain close-range shots to the back

of the head. No casings found. Victim was male, 30’s, big guy - not as big as you but who is? Nothing from Reacher. Just air conditioner hum. So...

FINLAY (CONT'D) He was beaten badly post-mortem. No ID yet - problem getting prints off the body’s swollen fingertips.

(MORE)

FINLAY (CONT'D) Reacher Pilot 6th Pre-Production Studio Draft 1/12/2021 9.

You know who this man was? How he wound up dead? Anything you wanna share besides your riveting company? (silence from Reacher) Ok then. We’ll I’m not about to waste the rest of my afternoon here on Easter Island.

As he stands and heads for the door... FINLAY (CONT'D) ...maybe your court-appointed

attorney will get you to open up-- REACHER I don’t need a lawyer. Finlay stops at the door. Turns back toward Reacher. FINLAY He speaks. REACHER When he wants to. As Finlay moves back to his chair, sits down... FINLAY And why don’t you need a lawyer? REACHER

Because I didn’t kill anybody. At least not recently... and not in this town.

OFF Reacher, very matter-of-fact.

INT. STATION HOUSE - BULLPEN - SAME

Roscoe types away at her computer, a bit flummoxed. ROSCOE (almost to herself) This is kinda impossible... MORRISON What’s that? ROSCOE (still typing) Reacher fella. Nothing comes up on him. No facebook, snapchat, instagram. No online profile at all.

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MORRISON So? I don’t have any of that shit. ROSCOE Respectfully, sir, you’re a dinosaur. He’s 35 . But you do have a driver’s license, a mortgage, insurance claim you’ve made or been made against you. Reacher’s got none of that either. Only proof Jack Reacher exists is the fact he’s sitting in that room.

OFF Morrison, considering this.

INT. CONFERENCE (I.E. “INTERROGATION”) ROOM - SAME 8 Finlay looks at his pad, full of notes, continues questions-- * FINLAY And you were honorably discharged? * REACHER * That’s why I get my pension. * FINLAY * (looks at notes, runs down * the facts he’s learned) * Jack Reacher. Parents deceased. One

brother, Joe, older by 2 years. Retired Army. Commanded the 110th Special Investigations Unit of the Military Police. Took out a few men in the course of your duties. All ruled good kills. (looks up to Reacher) Taking someone’s life, how did that make you feel? REACHER Same as when I finish paperwork. Like I completed an assignment. FINLAY So killing is transactional to you? REACHER I was paid to be military police. If I was required to kill someone in the line of duty, I did my job. FINLAY So I should trust you ‘cause you’re a cop?

(MORE)

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FINLAY (CONT'D)

What if I’m thinking I’m sitting across from a man who doesn’t mind killing, and who has the knowledge and training to murder someone and cover it up so he doesn’t get caught? REACHER You’d be right. Finlay is a bit taken-aback by Reacher’s honesty. Beat, then: REACHER (CONT'D) But not this murder. Three men dropped this body. Finlay is amused by Reacher’s straight forward confidence. FINLAY Really? Enlighten me. REACHER Shooter was someone who knows

firearms well. Bullets were small caliber, 9MM - 95 grain, that’s subsonic - silencer was used. Also knew enough to pick up his brass. This wasn’t a first-timer. It was someone who knew how to conduct a quiet, effective kill. FINLAY Ok. Go on. REACHER

You’re also looking for a psycho who’d beat up a body post-mortem. Someone completely unhinged. Totally different profile from your professional shooter. Finlay takes this in, stares at Reacher who has a point. Reacher looks down at his zip tied hands resting on the * table, calculating something we don’t know yet, then he looks * up to Finlay... * REACHER (CONT'D) Something wrong? FINLAY (plays it off) No... you said there were three. REACHER *

The psycho isn’t suddenly going to be rational enough to know he has to hide the body.

(MORE)

REACHER (CONT'D) Reacher Pilot 6th Pre-Production Studio Draft 1/12/2021 12. And a meticulous shooter isn’t

gonna do a sloppy job with roadside cardboard. No, the 3rd guy is so worried about getting outta there,

he grabs nearby debris and just lays it over the corpse. You say the victim was big, so most likely his feet were sticking out. That’s how he got spotted. (knows from experience) Tall people never have room for their feet. The argument has merit, but Finlay can’t let him know that. FINLAY Interesting theory. But you still

match the description of someone seen walking the highway, earlier today, near where the body was found. REACHER That’s ‘cause it was me. I got off the Greyhound from Tampa and walked into town. FINLAY Greyhound doesn’t have a stop in Margrave. REACHER Never said it did. FINLAY (getting frustrated) You just said you got off in Margrave. REACHER Asked the driver to do me a favor. FINLAY Why? REACHER On account of Blind Blake. FINLAY (more frustrated) Ok. Who’s that ? REACHER Blues singer. Legend has it he died in Margrave long time ago. Figured I’d do some research, learn a bit about him. I like music.

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FINLAY ( are you kidding me? ) So you have no home, no phone. You get on a bus in Tampa with 212 dollars, a toothbrush and a French War Medal and travel over 500 miles so you could read up on a dead blues musician? That sum up your past 24 hours? REACHER

No. I also went to a diner, ordered peach pie and never got to eat it because I was arrested for murder. Reacher is on Finlay’s last nerve. Always an answer, always a remark that is factual but frustrating. FINLAY

Ok. Enough of this. Medical Examiner put the victim’s time of death at around midnight last night-- REACHER This morning . It’s last night until 11:59 and 59 seconds. Then it becomes this morning . In an investigation, details matter. FINLAY ( wants to kill Reacher ) 12 A.M. this morning is the time of death. So if I can confirm you were on a Greyhound bus at that time, you’re cleared. Until then, you’re in the holding cell. REACHER For how long? FINLAY

Long as it takes. We’re running down a phone number found in the dead guy’s shoe - was on a scrap of paper with Pluribus written on it. Wanna clear that up too before we let you go? That mean anything to you, that piece of paper? Finlay takes the scrap of paper, shows it to Reacher. REACHER

Means I’m gonna be locked up for a while. Phone companies are slow responding to warrants.

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FINLAY (as he stands) Too bad. Law says we need a warrant. C’mon, you’re in the hold.

ON Reacher, fucked, as we PRE-LAP:

JOSEPHINE (PRE-LAP) Reacher, why does trouble always seems to find you?

INT. MILITARY BASE FAMILY HOUSING - OKINAWA - AFTERNOON 9 ON CARDBOARD MOVING BOX (a section blackened) in a sink being * hosed down (with an extending sink hose). Reveal JOSEPHINE * REACHER (42, French Accent, strong, boss of the family) at * the helm as YOUNG REACHER (11) watches. SUPRA: 1997. * JOSEPHINE * My lord, Reacher, the whole moving * truck could’ve burned down... * REACHER * Sorry. * JOSEPHINE * What were you thinking? You can’t * pack fireworks. * REACHER * They’re from the 4th of July. * They’re still good... * STAN (40s, Marine, Dad) enters carrying a BOX, puts it down * at a table where Reacher’s brother JOE (13) has been * unpacking. Home is full of boxes everywhere. Move-In day. * STAN * This is the last of it. * JOSEPHINE * Next transfer, I want half the * boxes. I don’t know how 4 people accumulate all of this. STAN Ma’am, yes Ma’am. Mom takes in the huge mess/undertaking. JOSEPHINE Ok. Father and I will unpack. You two, go out and meet the base kids. Reacher and Joe share a look. Josephine picks up on it.

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JOSEPHINE (CONT'D) This is home now - hopefully for a while - so put on jackets and go make friends.

Resigned, the kids grab their jackets, put ‘em on. The sleeves ride up Reacher’s forearms. He stands there like a pre-teen mannequin dressed in elementary school clothes. JOSEPHINE (CONT'D) My lord , Reacher. You grow out of

* * * *

clothes before you’ve worn them twice. You and Joe come back when the street lights are on. Allez, du

balais.

The boys move out.

EXT. OKINAWA MILITARY BASE - AFTERNOON - MOMENTS LATER

Reacher and Joe walk along... REACHER

Think we’ll like it here? JOE

School lessons’ll be the same. Army issued furniture’ll be the same. Stuff we can buy in the PX is all the same. It’ll be just like Cameroon and Belgium and Spain.

A few more steps and they come upon FIVE 13-YEAR-OLD KIDS by * a FENCE that gives access to a BEACH PATH. Their leader is * CURTIS BISHOP - a real piece-of-shit BULLY. * JOE * (CONT'D) Hey. * CURTIS * Hey... you the new guys that were * moving in today? * (Joe nods) * The ones with the French maman? * Some of the kids laugh a little. Joe points to the path. * JOE * This the way to the beach? * CURTIS (O.S.) Yeah... but it’s five bucks.

* *

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REACHER

What’s 5 bucks? CURTIS From the looks of it, your jacket. REACHER I’m big for my age. Just like you’re ugly for your age.

Joe just shakes his head - here we go. CURTIS New guys think they’re funny.

Reacher takes a step toward Curtis but Joe stops him. JOE Let’s just go home. * Reacher wants to kick Curtis’ ass, but he nods. They move to go, but Curtis shoves Reacher hard. He falls. * CURTIS I said, five dollars. Reacher, from the ground, looks up and sighs, resigned - just * like he did when cops arrived at the Margrave diner. REACHER Have it your way. Reacher moves to a tree, takes off his jacket, hangs it on a branch. He sees Joe, next to him, hanging his jacket too. REACHER (CONT'D) You don’t have to. It’s my fight. JOE It’s never just your fight... (as they roll up their sleeves to fight) Mom was right. Trouble does kinda seem to find you. Reacher gives Joe a small smile. Appreciates him. Loves him. HARD CUT FLASHOUT TO:

INT. HOLDING CELL - DAY - LATER (BACK TO PRESENT DAY)

Reacher lies on his back on the bench, his head propped up by zip-tied wrists behind him, resting them on the arm-rest; he observes the cops in the bullpen. His feet hang off the end of the bench.

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Morrison eyeballs Reacher from his desk. Roscoe pours coffee at a coffee station. Reacher watches her. She’s interesting. Reacher catches her eye. He points to the coffee station, makes a gesture that says “How ‘bout it?”. She considers, then pours a second cup, then heads over with a mug. REACHER Thanks. ROSCOE Could probably use a pick me up, been in there a while now. REACHER Not my fault. Trouble just kinda seems to find me. She hands him the coffee through the bars. As he takes it-- REACHER (CONT'D) What I could really use is getting these ties off. ROSCOE Chief Morrison says they stay on. As Reacher sips the coffee... ROSCOE (CONT'D) Assumed you liked it black. REACHER How do you figure? ROSCOE Seem like a no nonsense guy. Cream and sugar are nonsense. REACHER (takes another sip) So you know I’m innocent. ROSCOE (throws his line back at him) How do you figure? REACHER Doubt it’s procedure to bring coffee to the guilty. ROSCOE Well, if you are guilty of

something, can’t be much ‘cause a preliminary run on your prints turned up nothing. Bad guys set off bells and whistles right away...

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REACHER No bells or whistles? ROSCOE Quiet as church on Saturday... FINLAY (O.S.) Roscoe! She turns to find Finlay moving quickly from his office. FINLAY (CONT'D) We’re takin’ a ride. Got a hit on the phone number. Roscoe nods, puts her hand back in through the bars for the mug to be handed over. Reacher looks at her. She explains. ROSCOE Sorry. Ceramic. REACHER What about church on Saturday? ROSCOE (not taking any chances) Sometimes there’s a sermon on Saturday. And they can get loud. She takes the mug, moves off. Reacher watches her walk out with Finlay, intrigued by her. Then, as Baker passes by... REACHER Hey. I have to use the bathroom. BAKER Hold it. REACHER Haven’t used the head in 12 hours. Now when it comes to that kind of thing, some claim distance and some claim accuracy. I can claim both... (looks to Baker’s desk) Notice your desk’s only 8’ away. Baker looks at Reacher, then begrudgingly opens the cell. BAKER Make it fast. REACHER (surprised) You don’t want to come in with me? BAKER Hold your own dick, sweetheart.

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Reacher, confused by the casualness, crosses to the bathroom.

INT. FINLAY'S CAR - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Finlay drives (Roscoe shotgun) through the NORMAN ROCKWELL- esque town. Green parks. White picket fences. A banner strung between lamp posts reads: THE KLINER FOUNDATION PRESENTS: THE FALL FESTIVAL! - Sept 17th - TEALE PARK. ROSCOE So what do you make of this guy? FINLAY no bills, no house, no car - one town to the next, one state to the next. I mean, who in their right mind lives like that? Roscoe stares out the window, thinking a beat, then... ROSCOE Apparently Jack Reacher. OFF Roscoe, staring ahead, thinking about the stranger she’s recently encountered. Total weirdo. Since his retirement, he just wanders ‘round the country -

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Finlay’s car drives through pristine countryside. Turns up a road toward PRICEY MANSIONS. These are multi-million dollar homes just outside Margrave -- 8-figure homes in L.A or N.Y.

EXT. HUBBLE'S HOUSE - DAY - LATER 14 They pull into a BIG CIRCULAR DRIVEWAY, exit, move to the door. FINLAY ( look at this place ) LUCY (10) and TALLY (8, barefoot) [Despite their ages, THEY’RE NEARLY IDENTICAL . Tally WEARS GLASSES ] race out the DOOR, past the cops, to their car. CHARLIE (30’s, refined former debutante, Country Club life but tougher than she looks) hurries after, carrying a big BAG she’s packing with TOWELS/SUNSCREEN/ETC. as she walks... CHARLIE Maybe the number in the victim’s shoe was this guy’s net worth...

Tally, you get your shoes on before your back porch touches that car seat!

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She drops a SPRAY CAN OF SUNSCREEN. Finlay picks it up. CHARLIE (CONT'D) Oh, hello, I’m sorry -- my children are just heathens today... FINLAY That’s alright, Mrs. Hubble. I’m-- CHARLIE

--Chief Detective Finlay. My husband said you were coming. (gossipy whisper) Y’all really think someone’s embezzlin’ the bank? Finlay and Roscoe share a look, but cover... FINLAY (technically the truth)

At this stage, we’re just investigating a matter. PAUL HUBBLE (30’s, soft, glasses, think “accountant”) steps outside, a bit frazzled, but trying to hide it... HUBBLE

‘Mon, now, Charlie. These folks can’t talk about a pending case. (shakes hands) Detective. Officer. ROSCOE Good to see you again. (off Paul’s look) Think the last time was the Church bake sale- CHARLIE (remembers Roscoe made--) Butterfinger cake! ROSCOE Me-ma’s own recipe. CHARLIE Still dream about it. Well, you gotta come by one day for a swim and you can bring dessert! Well, Kelly Mill’s pool party awaits-- HUBBLE (peck on the lips) Have fun... and we’ll all go out to Jolene’s tonight?

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CHARLIE Road-side barbecue? He does know how to woo me. Nice seein’ y’all. FINLAY/ROSCOE Ma’am. And Charlie is off. As soon as she’s out of earshot... FINLAY Embezzlement? HUBBLE (worried sick) What’cha want me to tell ‘er? That

you found my number at a crime scene? C’mon in. I got sweet tea.

INT. HUBBLE’S HOUSE - KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER

ON: Glass of TEA on a HUGE KITCHEN ISLAND. RACK to Finlay, slowly stirs his drink, clatters the ice. This unnerves Hubble who’s already nervous. That’s Finlay’s goal. NOTE: This house is SICK. From the marble to the smart- fridge, it reeks of modern convenience/expensive. FINLAY

So, Paul, when I called, I informed you your cell number was found at the situs of a crime. You invited me over to chat, but you never asked what crime? Found that strange. HUBBLE You scared the shit outta me. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get you over here so we could talk. FINLAY About what? HUBBLE You tell me. ROSCOE You have no idea what crime we might be referring to? HUBBLE No. FINLAY (matter of fact, challenging) Murder.

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That hangs out there. Hubble swallows, begins to pace a bit. Finlay deliberately stirs the ice cubes some more. Then... FINLAY (CONT'D) You know anything about that? Hubble doesn’t answer, paces. Finlay and Roscoe share a look. FINLAY (CONT'D) Unidentified male, shot to death... Hubble stops, eyes landing on something outside the front window. A BLACK SEDAN idles in front of his house. It’s ominous; it unnerves Hubble further. The cops don’t see it. FINLAY (CONT'D) He was found near a highway Hubble can’t say the words fast enough. No one speaks. Finlay stops stirring the cubes. Silence. Stunned Roscoe puts her iphone on the island, presses RECORD. ROSCOE Mr. Hubble for your protection, and ours, I’m going to record you gettin’ your rights-- HUBBLE --I know my rights. I understand I don’t have to talk or anything and that I get a lawyer and all that, but I did it, ok? - I killed the guy, by the highway. I was the one. Finlay takes in Hubble. Isn’t quite sure about him. FINLAY Ok. So this man you killed? What was his name? HUBBLE I don’t know. FINLAY You killed a man you don’t know? HUBBLE That’s right. FINLAY Why? overpass with your number written on a paper scrap in his shoe-- HUBBLE --I did it. I killed the guy. It was me.

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HUBBLE I don’t know. I didn’t like him. FINLAY Well why didn’t you like him? HUBBLE I don’t know. Finlay rubs his face - he’s at the end of his rope. FINLAY

Alright. You’re my second annoying interrogation today. Now you’ve agreed to talk so I want real answers to my questions. You understand? (off Hubble’s nod) Good. So you expect me to believe that you - a man with no criminal record - ‘cause I ran you down before you got here - you expect me to

believe you just blew a man away? A double-barrel shotgun blast right to the face? Then burnt the body? You did that? Roscoe looks to Finlay - knows he’s lying, setting up Hubble. HUBBLE (affected by the details) Yes. I did. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it. Said as Hubble sneaks a peek of the BLACK SEDAN driving away. Finlay stares at Hubble who just admitted to shit that didn’t happen. Then he methodically stands, drinks his tea until it is done, puts it down, looks at Hubble. FINLAY Your life’s about to get very complicated, Mr. Hubble.

INT. STATION HOUSE - HOLDING CELL - AFTERNOON - LATER

* 16

Reacher sits on the bench by the cell’s back wall, drums his fingers on the wood. A rhythm . Over and over. BAKER Hey. Knock off that shit. REACHER (stops his fingers) It’s not shit. It’s Chicago Breakdown by Dr. Ross.

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BAKER Don’t care if it’s the Chicago Blackhawks by Dr. Seuss. Cut it out.

A stare down, then Baker returns to his work. A beat, then Reacher starts drumming his fingers again. Baker SLAMS down his pen, stands aggravated - this might escalate, except... Everyone’s attention is drawn to Finlay/Roscoe bringing Hubble in, cuffed. Stevenson shares a worried look with Hubble (Reacher notices this) as Finlay leads Hubble to the cell. Finlay opens the cell, looks to unmoving Hubble. FINLAY I’m not demonstrating how the hinges work. Get in. Hubble looks at massive Reacher, who just stares at him. Hubble hesitantly enters. One step. Gets nowhere near Reacher. FINLAY (CONT'D) Reacher, come with me. REACHER No. FINLAY Excuse me? Reacher stands, walks to Finlay by the open door. Hubble scurries out of the way, moves to the back. REACHER Not until you let the zip ties come Roscoe hears this - a small smile/laugh from the slight dig at Finlay’s size. No one else notices. Finlay acquiesces... FINLAY I’ll get the box cutter-- REACHER --That’s ok. I got it. He presses his wrists together, bears down a 1/4 beat and POPS his wrists apart, SNAPPING the ties. Plastic falls to the ground. Everyone’s stunned. Reacher picks ‘em up casually. REACHER (CONT'D) You guys recycle? off. We both know I didn’t kill anyone and they’re uncomfortable. Too small for me. Most things are too small for me. (takes in Finlay’s size) You wouldn’t understand.

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Reacher has made his points: 1) He’s clearly not a bad guy ‘cause he could’ve done this a while ago and 2) He could’ve done this a while ago. Finlay is in no mood. FINLAY Just follow me. (NOTE: let’s try a take where Finlay doesn’t say “Just follow me.” ... i.e., his annoyance is all done in a look.) Reacher steps out. Finlay closes the cell door on a worried Hubble. Reacher, towering over Finlay, follows him outside. Reacher gives Roscoe a respectful nod in passing.

EXT. STATION HOUSE - PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS

* 17

Finlay and Reacher exit. Just them. As they walk... REACHER

Outside. Uncuffed. Treating me like a person instead of a perp. I’ve done the same thing a million times with a suspect - when I want ‘em to trust me even when they shouldn’t.

They stop by a cruiser.

FINLAY I have no ulterior motives. Just information. That other guy? Paul Hubble. Banker. Lives in Margrave. Works in Atlanta. No priors. He just confessed to the murder. REACHER (starts to move off...) Thanks for the hospitality... (but Finlay grabs his arm) Hey , I was just cleared. FINLAY One guy lied about killing another guy. That doesn’t clear you. Reacher stares down at small Finlay grabbing his arm. Finlay notices. FINLAY (CONT'D)

You wanna run? Go for it. But I doubt you’re that fast or that bulletproof.

Reacher stares at Finlay who doesn’t blink. Then, Reacher reluctantly leans against a police cruiser, resigned.

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REACHER Good town to murder in. Even if you confess, nothing happens to you. FINLAY You saw Hubble. He’s a citizen . He can’t shoot pool let alone shoot a guy . He admitted to things that didn’t even happen; he just wants me to think he did it and not look into the matter any further... REACHER Why are you telling me all this? FINLAY Just making conversation. REACHER Or maybe you think I’m working with him? And now that he implicated himself I’m worried he might implicate me ? So maybe I cut a deal? No ulterior motives? Bullshit. FINLAY (gestures to Reacher) Maybe I’m just thinking the guy who was seen near the murder site, guilty or not, might still have information to share. REACHER I don’t. But Stevenson does. He and Hubble were lookin’ at each other. FINLAY They looked at each other? REACHER They held eye contact for a full 2 Mississippi. Either they’re trying to communicate information or they want to have sex, and Hubble doesn’t seem Stevenson’s type. FINLAY Stevenson’s married to Hubble’s cousin - he’s worried about family. REACHER It’s more than that. FINLAY You always so confident in your theories?

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REACHER As confident as I am that you went to Harvard, you’re recently divorced and you quit smoking the past 6 months. Finlay thrown by Reacher’s accuracy, but tries to hide it. FINLAY How’d you come up with that? REACHER My friend in there? Baker? He

called you a Beantown Bitch. And from all appearances you’re well- educated but you took a job in the middle of nowhere surrounded by people who look nothing like you. You’re stubborn, chip on your shoulder, don’t care if co-workers like you. Guy like that doesn’t go to B.U. - he goes to Harvard , to show those blue-blood assholes what he’s capable of. Am I right? FINLAY About going to Harvard? Yes. REACHER You’re also about 40. Means you did your 20 in Boston PD and got your pension. So you can afford a proper Southern Suit but you still look like Black Sherlock Holmes. Means no woman in your life making sure you dress right. Death or divorce. At your age divorce is a higher probability. But you still wear the ring - from the wear on it, you play with it, obsess over it - like

I said, you’re stubborn. Still hoping to reconcile with your old lady. FINLAY (a bit pointed) Her name’s Sharon. Finlay just stares back, doesn’t say anything. REACHER Lovely name. As for smoking, when I broke down the 3 murderers, you started to think you had the wrong guy. Stressed you out. I felt the table vibrating just a little bit.

* * *

(MORE)

REACHER (CONT'D) Reacher Pilot 6th Pre-Production Studio Draft 1/12/2021 28. I wasn’t moving and you were pretty * still north of the border, so that * means your leg was bouncing under * the table. I assume nicotine * withdrawal when combined with the * slight aroma of cigarettes in your * suit - hard to remove from tweed. * Studies show it takes 4-6 months to fully break a habit. Keep up the good work, though - those things are killers. Reacher likes showing off. Finlay is stunned, tries not to show it. He marches toward the Station House... FINLAY Back inside. Reacher shakes his head, reluctantly follows him in.

INT. STATION HOUSE - BULLPEN - CONTINUOUS

Finlay and Reacher enter. FINLAY

Stevenson. My office. Stevenson shares a look with Hubble, follows Finlay into..

INT. STATION HOUSE - FINLAY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

* 19

Finlay enters, sits at his desk. Reacher follows. By habit, Finlay takes off his ring, pinches it between both pointers and thumbs and is about to spin it but looks up at Reacher who’s staring at the ring. Reacher looks to Finlay, raises his eyebrows. Finlay shoves the ring back on his finger. Man, he hates this Reacher guy. Stevenson enters. STEVENSON Yes, boss? FINLAY (gestures to Reacher)

This man seems to think you know something about Hubble that you aren’t sharing with me. That true? (as Stevenson looks down) Answer isn’t on your shoes. STEVENSON (looks up) Sir, there was a family party last night - my wife’s grandparents’ anniversary - their 50th--

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FINLAY --I don’t care.

STEVENSON Right. Well. Hubble was there. We stayed late, danced with our wives.

Way past 2. I drove ‘em home. I don’t know why his number was in that guy’s shoe and I don’t know why he confessed. All I know is that at midnight, he was nowhere near that highway. Finlay and Reacher share a look. Then... REACHER Hubble into drugs? STEVENSON No. REACHER He cheat on your cousin? STEVENSON No. He’s a family man. FINLAY Don’t answer his questions. He’s not your boss. STEVENSON Yessir. Sorry. REACHER He having money problems?

Stevenson starts to answer. Catches himself. Not sure if he should shit or play pinochle. So he just looks at Finlay. STEVENSON I... I don’t know what to do-- FINLAY (at rope’s end) -- Just answer the question. STEVENSON No. He’s rich. FINLAY Ok. Get outta here. Stevenson leaves.

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REACHER Drugs. Money. Infidelity. If Stevenson’s right, we’ve eliminated the big 3. Which means odds are high the only way you’ll know why Hubble confessed is if he tells you. FINLAY

Yeah, well, maybe a weekend in Lock- Up will motivate him. Let me know what he says. Said as Finlay stands. Reacher unfolds, rising...

REACHER What the hell does that mean? FINLAY

You figured out I quit smoking but can’t figure out what’s happening right now? Said as Finlay walks out of his office to...

INT. STATION HOUSE - BULLPEN - CONTINUOUS

Reacher follows on his heels. REACHER

This is bullshit. You have a confession; I’ve helped with the

investigation-- Finlay turns back to Reacher. Everyone watches the conflict. FINLAY You “helped” me? You seem to be confused about your role in this situation. You are my detainee and suspect, not my partner or equal. And you’re certainly not - by employment, appearance or lifestyle choice - a cop anymore. Finlay motions to Morrison who watches from the corner... FINLAY (CONT'D) Now Chief Morrison wants you in

custody ‘til we know for sure all 6 foot 4 of you was on that bus from Tampa. So that’s what’s gonna happen. Transpo’s being arranged; you’ll be there by tonight.

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REACHER (steps to Finlay, towers) 6 foot 5. In an investigation, details matter. FINLAY

Here’s a detail for you. We keep extra-large cuffs in our lock-box. Said as he pats Reacher’s shoulder and walks off. Reacher accepts he’s going to jail. Exhales resignation. REACHER All I wanted was to learn about Blind Blake. FINLAY (over his shoulder as he keeps walking off) Yeah, well maybe the prison library has a book on him.

EXT. STATION HOUSE - LATER - NIGHT

Hubble and Reacher are cuffed by Baker and Roscoe, respectively. Reacher looks to Baker. REACHER

Inventory his watch. They’ll steal it first 5 minutes he’s in there.

Baker looks to Morrison who nods approval. Baker removes the watch. Roscoe picks up on the act of decency from Reacher. REACHER (CONT'D) (to Roscoe, means it) It was nice talking to you. Then Hubble and Reacher get onto the bus.

INT. BUS - CONTINUOUS - NIGHT

They are the only two on the bus. Seated across from each other, cuffed to a bar on the seat in front of them. HUBBLE Thanks... for the watch thing. REACHER Shut up. You ruined my trip here. And the bus pulls out.

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EXT./INT. COUNTY ROAD/BUS - NIGHT

The bus rumbles through the rural south: peanut farms, shanties. Reacher stares out the window, into the dark - calmly waiting to go to jail for a murder he had nothing to do with.

EXT. WARBURTON COUNTY JAIL - NIGHT 24 Bus arrives. TANNER SPIVEY (guard/wiry/greasy, 30s) waits (lit by moonlight and floodlight) at a large FENCE ON ROLLERS. Bus door opens. Hubble exits, then Reacher, who has to duck to exit. Spivey looks Reacher up from ankles to eyebrows. SPIVEY ... Jesus ... My name’s Officer Spivey. You can call me Boss. Now follow the yellow brick road, inmates. Hubble/Reacher follow Spivey along a painted YELLOW LINE to the Fence. BUZZ . The Fence/Door slides open; the 3 men enter.

INT. WARBURTON COUNTY JAIL - PROCESSING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER Spivey enters, points to the line that continues in the room. SPIVEY Up over there, toe the line. The two men follow instructions, put their toes on the line, as Spivey gets a set of keys from a drawer. As he does... SPIVEY (CONT'D) I call you inmates instead of

convicts ‘cause y’all haven’t been convicted of nothin’; haven’t even got to see no judge yet, so y’aint gonna be treated like prisoners... (as he uncuffs the men) Y’all be housed on the top floor - far ‘way from the animal factory - ‘til they can line up a weekend arraignment for ya...

He searches cubbies, picks an ORANGE JUMPER, tosses it to Hubble. Hubble undresses while Spivey looks some more. SPIVEY (CONT'D) Ain’t nothing gonna fit you, big

boy. But a Samoan fella came through here last year - meth dealer - had this made special-- (finds jumps, tosses it over)

(MORE)

SPIVEY (CONT'D) Reacher Pilot 6th Pre-Production Studio Draft 1/12/2021 33. It’ll fit the shoulders but arms’ll be too short for sure. Spivey grabs a COKE CAN from the desk, spits chaw juice in it, grabs a CLIPBOARD. Looks to Hubble who’s about to step into his jumper. SPIVEY (CONT'D) Not so fast, son. Drop them drawers, bend over and spread. HUBBLE (aghast) What about not being treated like prisoners? SPIVEY

Guilty, Innocent or In-between - I gotta make sure you ain’t smugglin’. HUBBLE I assure you, I’m not. SPIVEY I assure you , one way or the other, your stink-hole is openin’ up. Now you can do it, or I can get the boys from Gen Pop to help ya out.

Hubble has no choice. He drops his boxers. Spreads ‘em. Spivey bends over, cursory look. Stands. Looks to Reacher. SPIVEY (CONT'D) Your turn. REACHER No. SPIVEY You just heard me say you gotta. REACHER (matter of fact) No I don’t. Blanket strip search policies are unconstitutional

unless there’s clear articulable suspicion of criminal activity. The victim I’m suspected of murdering was shot by a handgun that would measure 4 inches by 6. That weapon’s not fitting inside me or any other human being without sending them to a hospital. And since that’s the only contraband related to this crime, your request is unlawful.

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SPIVEY Not like I wanna do this. Regulations say-- REACHER

--Only thing up my ass right now is you. So I’ll simplify things: if you think you can perform the inspection without getting seriously injured, go for it. Otherwise, check the box on your clipboard.

Beat. Spivey takes in Reacher who clearly isn’t bluffing. So, fully intimidated, Spivey checks off the box on the clipboard.

INT. WARBURTON COUNTY JAIL - CELL - CONTINUOUS

Dark. Quiet. Spivey moves them along a 2nd floor CATWALK, * past cells, opens one. Reacher/Hubble enter. Spivey leaves. * Reacher gets on the top bunk, lays down, keeps his shoes on; * feet hang over the rail at the end of the bed. Hubble paces. * HUBBLE

Really sorry I got you into this. It wasn’t my intention to involve-- REACHER (eyes closed)

Remember when I said to shut up on the bus? Same rule goes for jail. OFF Reacher trying to sleep and Hubble pacing...

INT. WARBURTON COUNTY JAIL - MORNING

AUTOMATIC CEILING LIGHTS BLAST ON with a KA-CHUNK sound.

INT. WARBURTON COUNTY JAIL - CELL - SAME 28 THE CELL DOORS AUTOMATICALLY OPEN. Reacher wakes up, swings * his feet over the side of the bed. Looks down at Hubble who is awake, using the toilet as a chair - he clearly hasn’t slept. He looks like shit. Reacher hops down, steps to the * bars, looks down into the common area. We don’t see his POV. * REACHER Well, that’s not good. HUBBLE What’s going on? Reacher’s POV: SEVERAL TIERS OF CELLS and HUNDREDS OF INMATES * exiting their cells. Realization washes over him. *

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REACHER We’re not with guys waiting arraignment... we’re with the lifers.

Hubble stands, terrified.

* * * * * * * * * *

HUBBLE

What do you mean, lifers ?

As Reacher climbs back up on his bunk, casually lies down.

REACHER

Mean people who were sentenced to life. If I were you, I’d be less worried about their sentences and more concerned with their swaps.

HUBBLE

Swaps?

REACHER Guys swapping smokes, desserts, tv time, all for first crack at you. You’re not a human in here. You’re currency. So stop pacing and save your strength; gonna need it. Hubble’s shitting little green apples. ON CUE:

* *

VOICE (V.O.)

There she is. * Reveal: 4 LARGE BLACK GANGBANGERS in the doorway. The leader, * JD (30, tank top, round belly) takes in Hubble. * JD * She’s pretty too. Pretty hair. * Pretty mouth. Look, she even got * pretty little shoes on. * The others laugh a bit. JD points to Hubble’s shoes. * JD * (CONT'D) Hey, why you wearin’ my shoes? * Gimme my shoes back to me. * Hubble hesitates. Not sure what to do. Terrified. * JD * (CONT'D) C’mon now, you heard me. Gimme my * shoes like a good little bitch. * Hubble has no choice. He slowly undoes his shoes, steps to * JD, hands him his shoes. *

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JD (CONT'D) Good girl... I like them glasses too. Gimme my glasses.

* *

* Hubble looks to Reacher. Reacher stares back, expressionless. * So Hubble nervously gives up the glasses. JD drops them, * steps on them, grinds them into the floor. The others laugh. * JD * (CONT'D) Now there’s one more thing I want * from you. * (unzips his pants) * On your knees, girl. * Hubble doesn’t move, frozen with fear. That’s when Reacher * drops down from the top bunk. He approaches the gang the way * only Reacher can - confident, factual, honest. * JD * (CONT'D) Look at this Redwood motha-fucka. * What you want? * REACHER * To give you a choice. See, you’re * in my house, fatso. And you never * asked permission. So you and your * friends can leave now, or they can * carry your fat ass out in a bucket. * JD looks to his friends. They laugh at Reacher. * JD * Bitch, you know who you talkin’ to? * REACHER * A nobody. Now I’ll count to 3. One-- * Reacher HEADBUTTS JD , collapsing his nose! JD falls against * the wall; Reacher grabs his shirt and elbows him 3 more times * in the face! It’s over in 2 1/2 SECONDS! * JD’s pals are shocked. They don’t dare move a muscle. Reacher * firmly steps to Inmate #2, points to his SUNGLASSES. * REACHER * (CONT'D) You owe us a pair of glasses. * Inmate #2 - now a total Beta - takes them off, holds them * out. Reacher takes them. A beat, then... * REACHER * (CONT'D) Now get out of my cell. * The Inmates grab JD, quickly exit. Hubble is stunned silent * as Reacher climbs up onto the bunk, lies down, stares at the * ceiling. Hubble gathers himself... *

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