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Lethal Weapon (1997) movie script
by Shane Black.
More info about this movie on IMDb.com
CITY OF ANGELS
lies spread out beneath us in all its splendor, like a
bargain basement Promised Land. CAMERA SOARS, DIPS, WINDS
its way SLOWLY DOWN, DOWN, bringing us IN OVER the city
SUPER MAIN TITLES.
TITLES END, as we --
SPIRAL DOWN TOWARD a lush, high-rise apartment complex. The
moon reflected in glass.
CAMERA CONTINUES TO MOVE IN THROUGH billowing curtains,
INTO the inner sanctum of a penthouse apartment, and here,
boys and girls, is where we lose our breath, because --
spread-eagled on a sumptuous designer sofa lies the single
most beautiful GIRL in the city. Blonde hair. A satin
nightgown that positively glows. Sam Cooke MUSIC, crooning
from five hundred dollar SPEAKERS.
PASTEL colors. Window walls. New wave furniture tor- tured
into weird shapes. It looks like robots live here. On the
table next to the sleeping Venus lies an open bottle of
pills ... next to that, a mirror dusted with cocaine. She
rouses herself to smear some powder on her gums. As she
does, we see from her eyes that she is thoroughly,
completely whacked out of her mind... She stands, stumbles
across the room, pausing to glance at a photograph on the
wall: Two men. Soldiers. Young, rough-hewn, arms around
each other. The Girl throws open the glass doors ... steps
out onto a balcony, and there, beneath her, lies all of
nighttime L.A. Panoramic splendor. Her hair flies, her
expression. rapt, as she stands against this sea of
technology. She is beautiful. On the balcony railing beside
her stand three potted plants. The Girl sees them, picks
one up. Looks over the balcony railing ... It is ten
stories down to the parking lot. she squints, holds the
plant over the edge.
Drops the plant. Down it goes, spiralling end over end --
until, finally ... BAM -- ! SHATTERS. Dirt flies. A red
Chevy is now minus a WINDSHIELD. The Girl takes another
She drops it. Green Dodge. Ten stories below, BAM Impact
city. Scratch one paint job. Grabs the final plant and
holds it out, saying:
POW. GLASS SHATTERS. Dirt sprays. A blue BMW this time.
The Girl loves this game ... her expression is slightly
crazed. She reaches for another plant -- There aren.t any.
Her smile fades -- And for a moment, just a moment, the
dullness leaves her eyes and she is suddenly, incredibly
sober. And tears fill her eyes as she looks over the edge --
And jumps the railing. Plummets, head over heels like a
rag doll. Hits the yellow car spot on. She lies, dead, like
an extinguished dream. Still beautiful.
EXT. BENEATH THE PIER NIGHT
FOUR TOUGH-LOOKING DOCK WORKERS are camped out under the
pier, warming themselves around a small bonfire, laughing
loudly. Christmas decorations dangle above them from the
pier, and empty beer cans litter the sand around them.
CAMERA PUSHES IN to discover an old collie tied to one of
the pilings. Then we realize that the dog is being tor-
mented by the dock workers. They flick lighted matches at
him. Shake their beers and spray him in the face. These
guys are not rocket scientists. The dog cowers, tugging bn
the rope. Tries to get away. All to the great amusement of
its tormentors. One of them turns, laughing -- As a shadowy
FIGURE strides calmly up to the fire: Long hair. Cigarette
dangling from-lower lip. Shirt-tails hanging loose below
the waist. Nothing threatening in his manner as he plops
down beside the men, smiling. They are immediately on
Happy holidays. Mind if I join you?
Riggs smiles at him innocently. Strokes the collieís fur
with one hand.
With the other, he reaches intb a paper sack and produces,
a spanking new bottle of Jack Daniels, possibly the finest
drink mankind has yet produced.
I need help drinking this. Cool?
The dock workers exchange glances. There seems to be no
harm in this. One of them frowns:
You a homo?
Do I look like a homo?
You got long hair. Homos got long
I hate homos. Arrggh.
Riggs shakes his head, laughs.
Boy, you guys are terrific. You make
me laugh, you just do.
At which point, appropriately enough, Punk #4 shakes a beer
and sprays it in the old collieís face. The DOG pulls away,
WHINING. Riggs leans forward.
This your dog? Nice dog.
And then, he proceeds to do a peculiar thing: He starts to
talk to the dog -- in what seems to be the dogís own
language. Very weird, folks... He coos, snuffles, barks
softly, then withdraws, listening, his ear to the dogís
muzzle. Riggs nods. Frowns. The others look on, puzzled.
Then Riggs looks at each of the four dock workers.
Huh- You know what? He says he
doesn.t want you to spray beer in his
face. He says he just hates that.
A pause. Uncomfortable. Then --
Oh, he does ... ?
Well, mister, why don.t you ask him
what he likes...?
The others snicker. Riggs simply nods.
And once again, begins to confer with the dog. Listens
intently, piecing together what he is hearing.
What ... ? You want ... oh. Oh, hell
no, I couldn.t do that ... Nossirree
bob, you little nut.
He ruffles the dogís hair. The men are more puzzled than
ever as Riggs turns and says:
Get this: He wants me to beat the
shit out of you guys.
Everything stops. A cloud passes over the assembled faces
and a pin-dropping silence ensues. Riggs, completely
heedless, once again attends to the dog:
Whatís that ... ? The one ... in the
middle... .is a stupid fat duck....
What ... ?
Oh ... Oh! A ístupid fat fuck!. Right.
He looks up, shakes his head.
Boy, this dog is pissed.
The one in the middle grabs Riggs by the collar. Hoists him
to his feet. Gulp. Stands, staring down at Riggs, whose
eyes are completely neutral, like a snakeís.
Buddy, you.re shortening your life
He flicks open a mean-looking switchblade. Riggs is dead
meat. So why then, does he choose this moment to execute a
Three Stooges. routine, consisting of nose tweak, eye
gouge, and rotating fist that bobs the dock worker on the
head... ? Heís nuts or something ... Riggs steps back and
adopts a neutral fighting stance.
The others begin to circle. The DOG BARKS. Riggs turns to
the dog, but his eyes never leave his grinning attackers.
(to the collie)
Whatís that ... ? You want me to take
the knife away... and break his
Circling ... Riggs, watching them, his eyes beginning to
dance ... Breathing slow and even...
But that would be excruciatingly
Something inside Riggs is gearing up ... the others can
perhaps sense it, their smiles falter a bit, they crouch,
combat-ready... Riggs, eyes blazing ...
And if I separated the fat oneís
shoulder... he.d probably scream... No
doubt about it.
We know from the look in Riggs. eyes heís nuts. He wants
the fight, badly, all four of them at once ...
And then Punk #1 springs... Big mistake. Needless to say,
mincemeat is made of the four meddlesome dog-torturers.
The beach is littered with their writhing forms as Riggs
does, finally, what he set out to do: Unties the dog.
Starts to go. As he does, he pats his shirt ... Pats his
jeans ... Realizes his wallet has flown free during the
fracas. Scoops to retrieve it from its resting place on the
sand, where it lies open, and as it lies open, yes, folks,
that is a badge we see. Riggs, we realize, is an officer of
the law. He lights a cigarette and notices the collie,
Okay, skeezix. Go on. Get outta here.
He begins to walk away. The dog remains close at his heels.
No, no. Don.t follow me. I.m an
asshole. Go away.
The dog sits obediently and Riggs walks away. He can.t help
it, looks back over his shoulder... Sees the dog watching
him with a beseeching expression. Pitiful.
He signals the dog.
Awright. Move it. Letís go.
The COLLIE BARKS happily and dashes toward him through the
surf, kicking up sand and water. As they shuffle off
against the palm-lined skyline, we hear, supered, Riggs.
So. You live in the area? Whatís your
major ... ?
And so on as we ...
EXT. MURTAUGHís HOUSE - PRE-DAWN
Palm trees cast shadows on the lawn. Toys, lots of them,
littered across the lawn. A Big Wheel, a G.I. Joe figure.
Christmas lights are strung across the eaves.
INT. HOUSE - BATHROOM SAME
A real gun, a .38 Police Special, dangling in its hol-
ster from the back of a chair. Next to it -- A real badge,
gleaming in the light. It identifies its owner as LAPD
A birthday cake comes INTO FRAME. A set of matronly hands
places it directly in front of --
DETECTIVE ROGER MURTAUGH
Seated in the bathtub. He groans, throws a towel over
himself, and mutters in mock indignation: Roger is tough:
An old-fashioned fighter, wears his past like a scar.
Piercing eyes; cynical. He is surrounded by his family;
wife and three children, names and ages as follows: TRISH:
Roughly thirty-eight. She used to be a stunner. NICK: Ten
years old. Precocious. CARRIE: Age seven. Eyes like
saucers. Adorable. RIANNE: Heartbreaker stuff, Seventeen.
Takes your breath away folks. The cake is a real beauty.
Make a wish, Daddy.
Go for it, Dad.
Go for it, huh...? Okay, I.ll go for
He blows out the candles. Applause. His gaze lingers on --
the cake. Or rather, the message scrawled atop it in icing:
WELCOME TO THE BIG 50 The presents arrive.
EXT. SIMI VALLEY - MORNING
The scorched landscape stretches out beneath a lattice-
work of high-tension power lines. Only scrub grass grows
here. Rusted railroad tracks wander into the distance, and
nestled beside them, like the last stop before death --
sits a lonely trailer home. Battered TV antenna. A dirt
yard which houses a beat-up pickup truck. Dead garden
sprouting weeds. The ground begins to tremble ... like an
earthquake, RATTLING the POWER POLES, as, without warning --
An express TRAIN BLASTS BY CAMEPA and streaks past the
trailer at seventy miles an hour.
INT. TRAILER HOME
Now we are inside, the RUMBLING FAINTER ... And we are
looking at a tired, chiseled face. Etched with line and
shadow. Eyes closed, as the shadows from the speeding train
strobe across DETECTIVE SERGEANT MARTIN RIGGS. Morning is
not a good time for Riggs. The CLOCK RADIO suddenly BLARES
to life: ísilver Belllls ... Itís Christmas Tiiime in the
City.... Riggs snaps awake instantly. Alert. Tense. Face
bathed in sweat.
He is not alone. In the doorway sits a thoroughly loveable
black Labrador. Sitting stock still. Staring at Riggs,
watching him sleep. Tail going thump-thump-thump on the
carpet. Riggs sits up. Stares at the dog.
Sam, today is the first day ... of the
rest of my life.
He lights a cigarette. Inhales. Coughs and hacks.
The TRAIN THROBS by outside, rattling his skull ...
INT. MURTAUGH HOME - SAME TIME
And it is a typical morning for Detective Roger Murtaugh.
Chaos. The TELEVISION BLARES. Young Carrie Murtaugh wails
like a banshee. Her brother Nick tells her to shut up.
Trish Murtaugh is burning eggs in the kitchen. Roger
Murtaugh enters then, fixing his tie. The following
dialogue is fast and furious, tossed over the shoulder as
Murtaugh scurries to and fro, getting dressed:
Honey, whatís this on my tie?
An ugly spot?
Thanks. Sharp as a pin.
I.m thinking of going on .Jeopardy..
Don.t take any questions on cooking.
Thanks. I love you, too.
Carrie is still shrieking. Tears stream down her face.
Hey, kid, turn off the waterworks,
(points to Nick)
Daddy, he changed the channel!
Sheís a crybaby, Dad.
Mind your own busines.
(nods toward the TV)
Can.t put a dead body in an ambulance.
ístarsky and Hutch..
Huh. Itís illegal. Never put a dead
body in an ambulance, son, you got
Honey, whereís the spot remover?
(turns to Carrie)
Young lady, stop crying or I.ll give
you something to cry about. Damn.
He dabs at his tie. Carrie screams. In the kitchen Trish
drops the eggs, swears. The PHONE RINGS. Carrie screams.
Thatís it. I.m gonna give you something
to cry about. He grabs a copy of
Newsweek and hands it to her.
Starving children. See? They haven.t
eaten, itís very sad. Cry.
He moves away.
Daddy, you.re weird ...
Thank you, Carrie. Hear that, honey,
the children think I.m weird.
They.re bright children.
(hangs up the) telephone)
Honey, you know a man named Dick Lloyd?
Don.t step in the egg.
Whereís my thinking? I should.ve
checked the floor for egg. Dick Lloyd
Jesus, Dick Lloyd. Whatís he want?
The office called. Heís been trying to
reach you for three days now.
I haven.t talked to him in... shit,
twelve years? No, wait a minute, that
would make me fifty years old, that
can.t be right.
You.re not getting older, you.re
Inform the children of this.
(kisses her; heads for the
Forget the eggs, I.ll eat later.
(as he stops)
How come I never heard of Dick Lloyd?
I never talked about him.
Yeah. Vietnam buddy.
He exits the kitchen, crosses the entrance hall. Stops,
noticing Rickles the cat, who is happily munching on the
remains of Rogerís birthday cake.
He swats it aside. Pauses, his gaze lingering on the silent
message which gnaws at his guts.
THE BIG 50 ...
He comes out the front door. Flicks off the Christmas
lights, crosses to the car. Looks up, and sees -- his
oldest daughter Rianne. Jogging past. She wears an adorable
pair of dolphin shorts. Walkman headphones. She waves.
(shakes his head)
Goddamn heartbreaker. Sheís a
SERIES OF SHOTS - RIGGS GETTING DRESSED
Riggs enters the living room, naked. Scars on his back, the
kind you get from knives. Runs a hand through limp hair.
Turns on the lamp. As he does -- the TELEVISION also
springs to life; hooked to the same circuit. Pops three
aspirin from a bottle. Chews them. Opens a bag of peanuts,
throws it to the big Lab, who gobbles them down. Eats a
sandwich, standing in the middle of his apartment. .Looking
at the floor. What a lonely fucking guy ... Straps on his
gun. .9 millimeter Beretta, if it matters. Throws on a
jacket. Downs a shot of whiskey. Pauses, looking at a
photograph on the wall. Riggs, much younger, along with a
pretty and vivacious woman in a wedding gown: his wife.
Stares at the photograph. His fingers twirl the whiskey
glass with completely unconscious skill. Tense. Tense ...
twirling the glass ... RICHARD DAWSON DRONES from the TV
(our survey says -- !). Riggs slings the shotglass. Dead
center, SHATTERING the TV SCREEN.
INT. POLICE FIRING PANGE - MORNING
Targets: Human silhouettes with kill zones numbered.
Murtaugh enters. Sheds his coat, unholsters the .38. Steps
to the red line. Shifts. Stretches. Cracks his neck. This
is a ritual for him.
He stops to examine his right hand, holding it steady
before his eyes. Except there is a slight tremble. Tiny,
but itís there. He frowns. Braces himself: Cross-draws
with lightning swiftness. -- BAM! -- The sound is DEAFENING
in the closed room. A neat round hole appears in the
target. Perfect shot: a neat third eye. Murtaugh smiles.
Holsters his gun. Puts on his coat -- and sings softly to
Happy birthday to me ...
INT. CAR - DAY
Sergeant Martin Riggs is driving. He looks like he hasn.t
slept. He certainly hasn.t shaved. The DISPATCH RADIO
SQUAWKS. He turns down the MUSIC from the car radio and
All units in the vicinity and Fourteen
X-ray thirty-one, shooting in progress
at Venice Beach, Washington and Navy.
Three victims down, PA en route
Fourteen X-ray thirty-one, handle code
Riggs hits the gas pedal and PEELS OUT.
EXT. CENTURY CITY PARKING LOT - MORNING
The sky threatens rain. Cars buzz by as the city awakens. A
section of the parking lot is cordoned off by yellow
streamers which read: POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS, and as we
watch, a black and white patrol car pulls up, admitting two
beat COPS and a young hooker. Her name is DIXIE, and she is
Can I stay in the car?
Aw, cut me a break. I told you
already: she came out on the balcony
That balcony ... ?
-- No, the Chandler fucking Pavillion,
of course that fucking balcony, and
then she jumped, and then I puked in a
trash can. Can I go now?
Not .til you talk to the Sarge.
Terrific. Where the hell is he?
INT. MURTAUGHís CAR
The sarge drives up and gets out. A BEAT COP Toes by.
Happy 50th, Rog.
He crosses to the two Cops and Dixie.
.Morning, Phil. Get some rain, looks
Hey, Dixie. Nice threads.
Hey, Murtaugh. Tell these bozos to lay
You. Bozos. Lay off.
Had a jumper last night, Sarge. Dixie
here was walking by, saw the whole
You got a statement? Send her home.
Thanks, Rog. I.m beat, you know how it
(points to her outfit)
All dressed up and no one to blow.
She exits. Cop #2 escorts Murtaugh across the parking lot.
Nice wholesome girl. She got a new job,
County ceiling inspector.
So. Fifty years old, huh?
They stop next to the Porsche. Murtaugh grimaces.
Name is Amanda Lloyd, age twenty-two,
prostitute, one arrest, no convictions.
Born Tennessee, parents --
What was the name?
Lloyd. Amanda Lloyd. You know her...?
Murtaugh looks stunned. He speaks very slowly:
I knew her dad.
(an awkward pause)
Vehicle is registered to her. She
landed right on top of her own car.
Find out who bought it for her. Her
Take some looking into.
INT. AMANDA LLOYDís APARTMENT - DAY
Murtaugh stares at the photograph we saw earlier. The two
soldiers. One, we can assume, is Dick Lloyd. The other is
Murtaugh. Younger, trimmer. He speaks into the phone.
Hello, honey ... ? Give me the number
for Dick Lloyd. What ... ? Yes, the man
who called me this morning. His
daughter just took a dive out a window.
EXT. CHRISTMAS TREE LOT - DAY
Martin Riggs and three lot employees are gathered around
the liftgate of a truck bearing a load of Christmas trees.
The truck shields them from the view of customers picking
out trees in the lot. The lot employees are actually DRUG
DEALERS. They look around nervously in all directions as
Riggs tastes a sample of their wares.
DRUG DEALER ONE
You better fuckin. believe it.
Okay. Letís do it. How much?
DRUG DEALER TWO
How much for how much?
For all of it.
DRUG DEALER THREE
You want it all?
(glances at the trees)
And maybe a nice big six-footer to put
DRUG DEALER ONE
The tree you can have for nuthin.. But
the shit is gonna run you a hundred.
Riggs lets out a soft whistle at the amount.
That much, huh?
(digs into his pocket)
Okay. Letís see what I got.
He pulls out a roll of money and begins to count it out in
twenties and small bills.
Twenty, forty, sixty --
The Drug Dealers exchange dumbfounded expressions.
DRUG DEALER ONE
Hey, man. Hey!
Wait, wait ... shutup. I.m losin
count. Where was I? Oh, yeah...
(continues to peel off the
... Eight, ninety, ninety-five, ninety-
(digs into his pocket for loose
... Ninety-seven-fifty. Sixty. Seventy-
five. Okay, thereís ninety-eight
dollars and twenty cents...
He is about to check his other pocket for change when Drug
Dealer One stops him.
DRUG DEALER ONE
Forget it, dumbshit.
C.mon. I.m almost there. Gimme a minute
DRUG DEALER ONE
One hundred thousand, you stupid fuck!
One hundred thousand!
Riggs is floored. He can.t believe his ears.
Oh, Jesus ... I can.t afford that. Not
on my salary.
Look... letís do this instead ...
(pulls out his wallet)
I take your complete stash, okay? I
take it all. For free. And you assholes
go to jail.
As he says this, he flips open his wallet and shows his
badge. The Drug Dealers at first look startled, then
I could read you your rights, but ...
nah. You guys know what your rights
DRUG DEALER ONE
Fuck you, man. That badge ain.t real.
And you ain.t real.
DRUG DEALER TWO
But you.re sure as hell one crazy fuck!
Riggs. eyes begin to blaze. His nostrils flare. Like a
maniac, he lunges at Drug Dealer Two.
You callin. me crazy!? You think I.m
crazy! You, wanna see crazy? I.ll show
you crazy! This is crazy!
Riggs then proceeds to slap and pummel the Drug Dealer in
the manner of the .Three Stooges.... complete with .WOO-
WOO. sound effects. But he ends the routine by pulling a
nine-millimeter Baretta from behind his back and pressing
it against the neck of Drug Dealer Two.
Thatís a real badge. I.m a real cop.
And this is a real gun.
(to the other two Drug Dealers)
Face down on the ground. Arms and legs
out. Do it now!
Dealer One and Three begin to follow orders but Riggs sees
a flicker in their eyes that him to trouble. He spins
around -- a FOURTH DRUG DEALER is behind him with a
shotgun. The SHOTGUN EXPLODES. Riggs ducks, allowing Drug
Dealer Two to take the full force of the .blast in the
face. Riggs rolls in the sawdust
FIRING his BERETTA. Dealer Four takes a bullet between the
eyes. Dealer Two now has an AUTOMATIC RIFLE in his hand. It
CHATTERS in Riggs. direction. Sawdust and pine needles fly
in the air -- but Riggs is able to blow him away.
One more Drug Dealer left. Riggs can.t find him. His eyes
dart in all directions. Where is he?! Behind Riggs, thatís
where! He presses a revolver to the back of Riggs. head,
taking Riggs. Baretta from him and tucking it into his
belt. Thats when:
FIVE NARCOTICS OFFICERS
come running from their stakeout positions around the lot.
But they stop short when they see that Riggs is being held
with a gun pointed to his head. The Drug Dealer begins to
move with Riggs toward a van parked nearby.
Shoot him! Shoot him!
(to Drug Dealer)
Shoot him! Shoot him!
The narcotics officers donít know what to do. They are
frustrated. Helpless. Immobilized. Riggs sees the van
looming up. The van means defeat. The van means disgrace.
The van means victory for the bad guys, and we know that
Riggs would rather die than be the instrument of the
CLOSE ON RIGGS AND DRUG DEALER
The veins are popping out in Riggsí neck. The Drug Dealer
is getting nervous and panicky. His gun hand is trembling.
The barrel of the gun jiggles against the back of Riggsí
(to Drug Dealer)
Do it, asshole. Pull the trigger. Pull
Shut the fuck up!
They move closer to the van. The narcotics officers have
their guns poised for action, but donít dare use them.
Guns down! Guns down!
Shoot him! Kill him!
Pull the trigger!
The Dealer is so freaked now that his grip on Riggs slips
momentarily -- and Riggs sees his opening. He spins. Kicks
the Dealer in the groin. Dislocates his arm -- sending the
gun flying. Riggs retrieves his Baretta from the Dealerís
belt and shoves the barrel into the Dealerís face. Riggsí
entire body quakes with rage. His finger begins to squeeze
back on the trigger. He wants to kill the guy so bad he can
taste it... and yet, he doesnít do it. The other officers
arrive and step between Riggs and the Dealer. Riggs turns
away. Breatliing hard. Adrenalin pumping. He tucks the
Baretta into his belt, then notices that his hand is
covered with the spilled blood of one of the Drug Dealers.
It gives Riggs pause. For a moment, he just looks at it.
HOLD ON Riggs. VERY CLOSE. And the look in his eyes.
INT. METRO SQUAD ROOM - MORNING
Police have seldom looked this busy. Yes, there are RINGING
PHONES. Yes, there are CLATTERING TYPEWRITERS. Yes, it
looks like a circus. And here comes Captain of Detectives
ED MURPHY, moving like an after-breakfast juggernaut.
Behind him, a young woman rushes to keep up. The POLICE
PSYCHOLOGIST, no less.
I want Martin Riggs pulled from duty.
No. No??? Captain, he walked into the
line of fire.
Very brave individual, donít you
This is utter bullshit.
Oh, is it? Forgive me.
Martin Riggs is a cop with a death
Murphy shoots her an incredulous look.
You can quote me. It happens to be my
Um... good opinion. See you tomorrow.
Look, Doc, youíre way off. Way off.
Know what I think? I think Riggs is
pulling for a psycho pension.
Oh, do you?
Yeah. I am sure youíre aware the
department offers a disability stress
Yes, Iím aware --
-- Except we donít offer it to
everybody, only cops who seem to suffer
-- From abnormal stress, yes, I know.
Or suicidal tendencies.
Give the lady a cigar.
You think Riggs is playing a game?
Sure. He wants the cash. Seen it a
hundred times. Heíll come around.
Sir, with all due respect ... I think
thatís a dangerous attitude to take.
May I remind you that his wife of
eleven years was recently killed in a
car accident, and
I know all about Riggs, Doc. Heís a
He is on the edge. He may be psychotic.
Bunch of psych bullshit- Look, can I
I think youíre making a mistake by
leaving him in the field. Heís
End of discussion. Weíre gonna wait.
And then, if he offs himself ... Well,
then weíll know I was wrong.
Yes, sir. Then weíll know.
EXT. SIMI VALLEY - NIGHT
Rain sweeps in off the desert. Cold. Drenching. Riggs walks
slowly toward his trailer home, head down. The RAIN BEATS
on him. He doesnít notice. Under his arm he carries a large
INT. RIGGSí TRAILER - SAME TIME
Riggs enters, soaking wet. Switches on the lamp.
Depressing. Jake appears, tail a-thump. Tongue wagging
doggishly. Riggs reaches atop the refrigerator, grabs a bag
of peanuts. Opens it, tosses it to the dog.
Sam, every day ... in every way ... Iím
getting better and better.
Opens the box and removes its contents. Brand new color
TELEVISION. Plugs it in. Switches it ON. Sits down with a
bottle of whiskey. Drinks. On the screen, the Grinch steals
Christmas from the residents of Whoville.
Riggs opens a drawer beside him, and takes out a bottle of
sleeping pills. Picks it up. As he does -- the sound
of the TELEVISION FADES OUT -- silence, dead silence... As
Riggs rolls the bottle in his fingers. Slowly,
thoughtfully, unscrews the cap ... dumps them on the table.
Runs his fingers through them. CLICK... CLICK... Stares.
Mesmerized. RAIN BEATS on the window.
The RAIN CONTINUES to hammer the lonely little pit which
Riggs calls home.
L.A.P.D. - MORNING
A zoo. A sign reads METRO ROBBERY/HOMICIDE. Roger Murtaugh
sits at his desk, lost in thought. Behind him, McCASKEY,
Class Three Detective. He talks to Murtaugh:
See, youíre behind the times, Sarge.
Guys in the Eighties arenít tough.
Theyíre sensitive people. They show
emotions around women and shit like
I think Iím an Eighties man.
How you figure?
Last night: I cried in bed, so howís
Were you with a woman?
No, I was alone, why the fuck you think
I was crying?
Sounds like an Eighties man to me.
Another detective enters. Rail-thin, nose like a beak. His
name is BURKE.
Behind him in the door frame we see a fat cop pass by down
the hall, walking backwards; a beat, and then he is
followed by four more cops singing the worldís shittiest
rendition of ďIt Came Upon a Midnight Clear.Ē It sounds
like pigs mating. Burke approaches Murtaugh:
Got some news on the Lloyd case, Rog.
That was quick.
So was the autopsy.
(takes a deep breath)
You ready for this? Theyíre not calling
Surprise, surprise. First off, coroner
found evidence she took barbiturates.
Brilliant. There was an open bottle on
Right, right. Thatís not the surprise.
Surprise is someone doctored the pills.
Every capsule was loaded with drain
If she hadnít jumped, she woulda been
dead inside fifteen minutes.
This case blows.
ACROSS the room, a detective takes off his gun and slings
the holster across his chair. As he EXITS FRAME -- PAN to
reveal: Martin Riggs as he enters the squad room. Shuffles
from foot to foot, looking lost. Lights a smoke.
Murtaugh slings on a jacket. Turns to go. Notices Riggs.
Riggs resembles a bag person. Unshaven, limp dirty hair,
grimy leather jacket.
BACK TO SCENE
He frowns, says:
McCaskey, if my wife calls, tell her
Ho, Rog- Iím not through yet. Iím
supposed to tell you two more things.
He is still looking at Riggs, who is slowly wandering from
desk to desk, smoking -- Stopping near the desk with the
First, condition of the sheets and
mattress indicate someone was in bed
with Amanda Lloyd just before she died.
B is, Iím supposed to tell you youíre
breaking in a new partner on this.
Now Murtaugh is eyeballing Riggs. Cautious.
I donít work partners.
You do now. C.I.T. transfer, some
burnout they want you to keep on a
Oh, perfect. Can I trade in my life for
a new one?
At which point, across the room, Riggs removes the hol-
stered gun and hefts it, curiously. Suddenly all hell
He bolts like a cheetah. Cops dive for cover, a secretary
shrieks, and Murtaugh goes plowing through the squad room
like an express train, blowing people out of the way --
Cops grabbing for their holsters -- Riggs, meanwhile,
looking around frantically, heís trying to find the guy
with the gun who is, of course, himself.
Murtaugh takes a flying leap sails across the desk, going
for the glory And Riggs, in the blink of an eye, simply
ducks and flips Murtaugh neatly over one shoulder. There is
a hideous crash of BREAKING GLASS and OVERTURNING
FURNITURE. Ouch... McCaskey, meanwhile, screams to Burke:
What the shit is going on?
Burke sighs, shakes his head:
Roger just met his new partner.
Darkness. A soft CLICK as a gun is cocked. The barrel
gleams faintly in the dim light. A voice:
There are three guns on you.
Easy. Take it easy.
Iím going to light a match.
He does. Holds it near his face.
Thank you, Mr. Mendez.
The lights come on. Dazzling. Mendez covers his eyes. Three
men. Seated in chairs. Shirt sleeves and shoulder holsters.
The LEADER speaks.
If youíll follow me, please.
Who the hell are you?
Thatís hardly important. If you like,
you may call me Mr. Joshua.
They move toward a door in the rear wall.
I trust youíre having a pleasant
(looks at him)
Yeah. Itís a fucking joy, thank you.
INT. BACK OFFICE - SAME TIME
The door opens into a dimly-lit office. Stained carpet.
Rotten wood. A desk. Behind the desk sits a large, rugged
man with eyes like chips of stone. This is the GENERAL.
Yes, Joshua... ? Ah, Mr. Mendez.
Please, have a seat.
Joshua stands off to one side. Mendez sits.
(under his breath)
Whereíd you get him? Psychos ĎR.í Us?
Points to another merc.
I like the sunglasses. Very Hollywood.
Mr. Larch is unfortunately missing an
eye. For anonymityís sake, he chooses
to forego wearing a patch.
Swell. Blind people with guns. This is
a class act. Maybe we can run over to
the V.A. and pick up a couple amputees.
Bargain rates after six.
I donít find you funny.
I donít find this goddamn setup funny.
Youíre using mercenaries, for
Chrissake. Tell me Iím wrong.
No. Youíre not wrong.
And Iím supposed to trust these bozos?
My people are loyal, Mr. Mendez. They
are loyal to me.
Joshua. Hold out your hand.
Joshua steps up to the General and extends his arm.
Do you smoke, Mr. Mendez?
Give me your lighter.
Mendez frowns, cautiously hands a silver cigarette lighter
to the General. Who promptly pulls an old G. Gordon Liddy
maneuver: He holds the flame right under Joshuaís hand.
Searing it. Mendez looks on, a trifle pale. As for Joshua,
he makes no sound at all. Simply stands, trance-like.
You wish to do business with us, yes?
Mr. Joshua is in a great deal of pain.
You wish to make a purchase, yes?
I ... yes. Sure. Jesus.
The General nods, hands the lighter back to Mendez.
Filthy habit, smoking.
The bulk of the heroin will arrive
Friday night. We will make delivery at
that time. Please have the money ready,
and no tricks. If you try to cross us,
Iíll have Joshua cut out your eyes.
38 39 39 38
EXT. UNMARKED POLICE CAR - DAY
Riggs and Murtaugh cruise through downtown Los Angeles.
Riggs drives, while Murtaugh scowls. There is an awk- ward
So. They tell me youíre a good cop.
Heard about your little stunt
yesterday. Pretty heroic stuff.
(as Riggs does not reply)
File says you worked for the Phoenix
Project in Vietnam, that right?
And they gave you the Congressional
Medal of Honor.
It was a lean year.
Itís over, you know.
Yes. I know.
Just thought Iíd remind you.
Check out your piece?
He reaches across the get Riggsí gun. At which point
Riggsí hand shoots out -- and stops him cold.
Bad manners, man.
Riggs removes the gun himself. Steers with his knees.
Drops the chambered bullet. Slips out the magazine, works
the slide, KA-CHIK
Hands the gun to Murtaugh.
Donít hurt yourself.
Murtaugh hefts the weapon, turning it over in his hand:
Beretta .9 millimeter. Smooth, well-oiled. Accurized.
.9 millimeter Beretta. Thatís some
Military switched from Colt to Beretta
in 1985. Itís a better piece. Wide
ejection port, no feed jams, no
Whatís it take?
Fifteen in the mag, one up the pipe.
You carry a wheelgun?
Lot of old-timers carry that.
Murtaugh shoots him a look. Replaces the gun.
File says youíre registered with Newark
P.D. as a lethal weapon.
File donít lie. Look, friend, letís cut
the shit. We both know why I was
transferred. Everyone thinks Iím
suicidal, in which case Iím fucked and
no one wants to work with me. Or they
think Iím faking to draw a psycho
pension, in which case Iím fucked and
no one wants to work with me.
Basically, Iím fucked.
I donít want to work with you.
Ainít got no choice. Damn. Weíre both
As they speak, Riggs has pulled to a stop in front of a
large downtown bank building.
(rubs his eyes)
Iím very old ...
... God hates me, thatís what it is.
Hate him back. Works for me.
He lights a cigarette.
41 INT. BANK BUILDING - DAY 41
Dick Lloydís office: everything about it looks starched and
perfect. In the b.g., bank employees shuttle between
desks, building and toppling empires. DICK LLOYD paces
back and forth. He is the man we saw earlier in Amandaís
photograph, standing next to Murtaugh.
Now he looks like shit. He addresses Riggs and Murtaugh,
who are seated in the office.
Murder ... But I thought ...
Poisoned. Even if she hadnít jumped
... sheíd still be dead.
Jesus, I canít take -------.
He sits, staring out the window. A broken man.
Dick, why did you call me yesterday?
(very far away)
Called you...? Yeah. Thatís right ... I
heard you were working out here ... I
wanted you to find her for me, Roger.
Out of what?
She did movies, Roger ... Naked movies
... Saw one of them...... saw my
little baby ... smiling...... She did
it ... with a woman. She was on top
of a woman, Roger-...!
Lloyd turns, facing them. Intense:
I want a promise.
You owe me. You know you do.
Yes. I know that.
When you find who did it, I want you to
kill them. If itís more than one, I
want you to kill all of them.
Make them squirm first, take your time
... and fucking kill them.
Iím a police officer, Dick.
Forget the law. Itís easy to do. You
We have to go now.
Lloyd does not look up. Riggs and Murtaugh head for the
I know you can, Roger. You kill them.
You do that.
The cops exit. The door shuts.
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY
Riggs and Murtaugh head ior the car. Riggs takes out a
pack of cigarettes.
You gonna smoke in the car?
Thinking about it.
He puts the top down. Riggs takes out a cigarette, starts
to put it in his mouth. Stops.
He replaces it in the pack, takes another. Murtaugh looks
What was wrong with that one?
Riggs points to the tip of the replaced cigarette. We
notice two things: a) It looks like itís about fifty years
old; and b) There is a tiny red mark, circling the filter.
This one is the last cigarette Iíll
ever smoke. Trick I learned from my
dad. I smoke all I want, but when I
smoke this one ... Iím through.
Brilliant. Get in the car.
Want me to drive?
Youíre suicidal, remember?
Anyone who drives in Los Angeles is
They get in. Murtaugh heaves a sigh, stares bleakly out the
window. A moment, then Riggs says:
He said you owed him. What did he mean?
We served together in Ď65. He saved my
life in the La Drang Valley. Took a
bayonet in the lung.
That was nice of him.
I thought so.
The RADIO SQUAWKS. Murtaugh TURNS it UP.
All units and seven eight twenty-one,
possible jumper at the corner of Santa
Monica and La Cienega, seven eight
twenty-one handle code two.
Murtaugh keys the hand mike.
Four King Sixty en route.
This is great. I love this job.
EXT. CITY INTERSECTION - DAY
A building, ten stories high. On the ledge, a lone man
poised high above the street. Beneath him, a crowd has
gathered. A police car. A searchlight. A crowd of office
workers, rubber-necking to beat the band. One or two kids
yell, ”Jump, jump.‘ Murtaugh“s car glides to the curb. The
doors burst open and the two partners emerge. A PATROL COP
Hey, Sarge, you wanna handle this?
Where“s the psychologist?
Sitting in traffic.
Who“s the guy?
Salesman name of MacCleary. Left the
office party. Went upstairs and walked
out on the ledge.
Think he“ll go?
Seems serious enough. Who knows?
Riggs clears his throat. Murtaugh turns.
I can handle this.
You qualified to talk to jumpers?
I“ve done it before.
Okay. You“re elected.
(as Riggs) turns to go)
(as Riggs stops)
No guns. No kung fu. Just ... bring him
Sure. Bring him in.
Riggs moves off toward the building. Murtaugh looks after
him. Was this a mistake ... ?
EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY
Riggs appears on the roof. There, about five yards away,
stands the JUMPER. Agitated. Breathing hard. Below is ten
stories of open space. The wind blows. Riggs nods to the
My name is Riggs.
I can“t do that.
What“s your name?
Look, I know all the psychology
bullshit, it won“t work.
I“m not a psychologist.
Yeah? What are you?
You“re early. Hang on a couple
minutes, you can go to work.
At least tell me your name. Look, I
gotta fill out the little piece of
Len. Len MacCleary.
Thanks. —Preciate it.
That M -- C ... ?
M -- A -- C, now get outta here.
Riggs leans out farther, perches on the ledge. Absolutely
Why are you doing this?
None of your goddamn business.
I“m coming out. Take it easy.
Riggs stands, steps out onto the narrow ledge. He seems
Don“t come near me!
Ssshhh. Easy. I“m just going to talk.
Touch me and I“ll jump.
EXT. BUILDING - DAY
On the ground below, Roger Murtaugh reacts with disbelief.
His partner is taking an insane risk. Up above, Riggs
pauses. Around him the WIND BLOWS treacherously.
You“re not the first guy to think of
this, you know. Everyone“s got
You know shit.
Wrong. You“re wrong.
I almost tried this once. Seriously.
My wife. Got killed in a car crash.
Only person I ever cared about. I never
You“re breaking my heart.
Riggs takes out his wallet, flashes it at MacCleary.
This is her picture.
Nice. Fuck off.
I“m trying to tell you I understand,
He takes a step closer.
Don“t touch me. I“m not doing anything
I know that. Not like you“re murdering
Right. Only one hurt is me.
Same way I look at it. I“m gonna stand
beside you, okay?
Dammit, keep away.
Please. This is scary stuff. Just ...
let me stand next to you.
Don“t try nothing.
I try something, we both go.
Riggs slowly steps up to the man. Shudders.
There. Fuckin“ cold,up here.
Helluva day for both of us, huh?
(looks around at the sea of
traffic far below)
Here we are.
God, this is really scary. I“m scared.
You wanna smoke?
(pulls out cigarettes)
Let“s smoke, okay?
Riggs offers a smoke. MacCleary reaches for it. And Riggs
snaps a handcuff on his wrist. Snaps the other end onto his
See this key?
He holds up the key to the cuffs. Flings it out into space.
We“re together on this. You can go if
you want. But you take me with you.
Makes you a murderer.
You“ll be killing a cop.
I“m going inside. What say you come
He turns, starts to ease along the ledge. MacCleary
swallows hard, says:
Fuck you, I“m jumping.
And suddenly Riggs turns on him. Eyes like steel.
You wanna jump ... ? You really want to
(long pause; then)
Fine. Let“s do it.
He steps to the edge.
Hey, what the fuck ...
You asked for it.
Hey, wait a minute ... !
Riggs does something very drastic. He jerks them both off
the ledge. Holy shit. The crowd gasps.
As down they plunge, all ten stories -- Tumbling and
falling -- MacCleary shrieking like a lunatic ... And
suddenly, BAM -- ! They land in a fireman“s net. Bounce a
few times. Come to rest, safe and unharmed ...
Riggs rolls over with a sour look on his face. Cops
surround them. MacCleary is a trifle upset.
Get him away from me!! Cut me loose!!
Crazy fucker tried to kill me!! Did you
see that?? He tried to kill me!!!
And so on, screaming and ranting -- As a uniformed cop
cuts Riggs free with a set of clippers. Riggs stands
shakily. Steps away from the net. And there is Roger
Murtaugh. Visibly upset. Did I say upset? I meant enraged.
He grabs Riggs, slams him against the wall. Tries to grab
his collar. Riggs“ hand shoots out. Lightning fast. Stops
Murtaugh“s hand. Stops it cold. They stare into each
Don“t ... touch me.
Murtaugh will not back down.
What the fuck did you just do???
I controlled the jump. You wanted him
down. He“s down.
He yanks Riggs around the corner, away from the other cops.
Okay, turkey, no bullshit. Do you want
to kill yourself?
Aw, for Chrissake ...
Shut up. Just yes or no, do you want to
die? Huh? Yes or no?
I got the job done.
You“re not answering the question!!!
What do you wanna hear, man?
You wanna hear that I got a bottle of
pills in my room? I do. Every day I
wake up, I look for a reason not to
take them. Doing the job, that“s ...
that“s the reason.
Murtaugh looks at him. Nods. A moment, then:
You want to die.
I“m not afraid of it.
(unholsters his gun)
Pills are too slow. Use a gun.Use my
gun. Go ahead, pal.
A pause. Riggs looks at the gun.
Be my guest.
He offers the gun to Riggs.
Go ahead. If you“re serious.
Riggs smiles, takes the gun without missing a beat. Puts it
to his head. CLICK -- ! The hammer is cocked. Murtaugh and
Riggs stare each other down. Tense. Reading each other.
You shouldn“t tempt me, Roger.
Put it in your mouth. Bullet goes in
your ear, might not kill you.
Meanwhile, in the b.g., pedestrians are diving for cover.
Murtaugh and Riggs are oblivious. Riggs puts the gun under
Under the chin“s just as good.
They stare at each other. Riggs“ finger begins to tighten
on the trigger. Turns white with pressure. It looks like
he“s going to do it. At the last second, Murtaugh jams his
thumb in front of the hammer, and CLICK Jesus ...
The hammer thuds against his thumb. Murtaugh grabs the gun.
Stares at Riggs, wild-eyed.
Jesus. You“re not trying to draw a
You“re really crazy ...
So now you know.
Yeah. Now I know.
INT. POLICE LINEUP - DAY
The Police Psychologist we met earlier is talking on the
You“re asking me if he“s stable and I“m
telling you no. We“re talking about a
man who carves notches in his gun
barrel. One for each kill. He blew a
man to Pieces yesterday. Is this
Standing at a pay phone, listening. He nods:
Terrific. So you“re saying I should
Are you kidding? The guy“s a time
bomb. When he goes... stand back.
Thank you, Doctor. You“ve been very
He hangs up. Rubs his eyes tiredly and says:
I“m too old for this shit.
INT. MURTAUGH“S CAR - TRAVELING - DAY
Silence. Murtaugh fumes. Riggs keeps his mouth shut.
Murtaugh takes his anger out on the road: SLAMMING the
BRAKES; SQUEALING around corners, etc. But he can“t hold it
in. He explodes:
(pounding his fist against the
It“s my birthday, damnit! Fifty years
old today! Fifty goddamn years old!
Thirty years on the force! Not a
scratch on me! Not a scar! I got a
wife! Kids! House! Fishing boat! But I
can kiss all that goodbye, —cause my
new partner“s got a death wish! My
fuckin“ life is over!
Shut up! Why you talkin“ to me?! I“m
not here anymore! I“m gone! I“m dead!
You“re gonna see to that! You wanna die
-- and you“re gonna take me with you!
Silence again. Murtaugh gnashes his teeth. Riggs looks at
him with a very serious expression.
I didn“t know that.
That today was your birthday.
Happy Birthday, Roger. I mean that
Murtaugh looks taken aback by the genuine sound of affec-
tion in Riggs“ voice.
I just hope we stay alive long enough
for me to buy you a present.
Riggs says this with a straight face -- but there is a
playful glint in his eye that Murtaugh doesn“t miss.
And he laughs out loud in spite of himself. It breaks the
tension, and Riggs knows it.
Where we going?
Got an address on Amanda Hunsecker“s
meal ticket. But remember ... this guy
isn“t a suspect yet. We“re gonna
question him; not damage him.
Riggs raises his hands -- as if to say, I“ll be on my best
behavior. Murtaugh swings the car onto Sunset Blvd.
49 EXT. POSH BEVERLY HILLS HOME - TWILIGHT 49
The kind of house that I“ll buy if this movie is a huge
hit. Chrome. Glass. Carved wood. Plus an outdoor solarium:
A glass structure, like a greenhouse only there“s a big
swimming pool inside. This is a really great place to have
The swimming pool is covered by a vinyl tarpaulin.
Surrounded by a jungle of plants.
AT POOLSIDE TABLE
Sits a very rich person. He is wearing an $800 designer
ensemble. Beside him, an elegantly-appointed shotgun leans
against the table. He is on the phone.
Listens asshole, you gotta tell me
these things ... Yeah, we got a
problem. My margin is completely fucked
up, and we got athletes snorting the
shit and pitching over dead, how“s that
for a problem... ? Yes, I“m holding
two keys now. Terrific, call me back.
EXT. WOODEN GATE - SAME TIME
Riggs and Murtaugh approach the gate. Riggs tosses out a
cigarette. Suddenly -- There is an ELECTRIC HUM and the
gate glides softly open, admitting a red Honda scooter, a
dashing blonde behind the wheel.
She ROARS off down the street. Riggs and Murtaugh exchange
glances. The GATE CLICKS, starts to glide shut. The cops
53 EXT. HOUSE WINDOW - SAME TIME 53
Riggs“ face comes INTO FRAME, peering cautiously through a
plate glass window. He whistles softly.
Take a look.
Murtaugh steps to the window, looks in.
MURTAUGH“S POV - THROUGH THE WINDOW
Enough cocaine to service the third tier at Yankee Stadium.
A BLONDE, BIKINI-CLAD WONDER sits on the couch, happily
snorting. She sees Murtaugh and waves hilariously. Makes
come-hither gestures. Murtaugh scowls, turns to Riggs.
I“m thinking probable cause.
Jesus. Maybe I should call for backup.
What am I, chopped liver?
Murtaugh looks at him. Sighs.
He grins cheesily-
Riggs and Murtaugh approach the frosted glass door. They
draw their guns.
Nice and easy.
Nice and easy.
Murtaugh takes a deep breath. Kicks open the door.
Police. Hold it right there.
The rich guy does not hold it right there. In fact, he has
already snatched up the SHOTGUN. He triggers a BLAST, BLOWS
OUT GLASS next to Murtaugh. Murtaugh dives, rolls, comes
up in a combat crouch. BAM --- The rich guy takes it in
the shoulder. Spins around. The gun clatters to the ground.
Riggs and Murtaugh approach, guns drawn. The rich guy
writhes on the ground, clutching his shoulder. Murtaugh
says to Riggs:
See how easy that was? Boom. Still
alive. Now we take the gun away ...
... And we question him. Know why we
can question him? Because I got him in
the shoulder. I didn“t blow him up or
jump off a building with him.
No fair, the building guy lived.
Whatever. The point is, no killing.
Right. Piece of cake. I“m very
happy. Read the man his rights, I“ll
be over here being happy.
Unfortunately ... as Murtaugh speaks, he does not see the
man on the ground has a hideaway gun tucked into his
waistband. As Murtaugh talks, oblivious ... The guy takes
out the gun with his good arm -- and aims dead center-at
Murtaugh“s back. Riggs, however, notices. And springs into
action. Before the rich guy can fire ... Riggs“ foot
flashes out like a pile driver. CRACK! The guy flies
backward. Lands on top of the pool tarpaulin. Oops. It
promptly surrounds him in a sucking, vice-like grip.
Murtaugh dives forward and extends his hand. Too late. The
vinyl surrounds the screaming rich guy, sucks him below the
surface. Smothers him. Drags him to the bottom. Murtaugh
looks on, wild-eyed. On the bottom of the pool is a vinyl
tomb. Murtaugh dives in. Swims to the bottom. Yanks, and
strains, but we all know it“s no fucking use. The vinyl
stops moving. Murtaugh stares... and then he gives up.
Surfaces at the side of the pool, gasping and wheezing.
Riggs kneels down beside him.
Murtaugh stares daggers at him.
Have you ... ever... met someone you
didn“t kill... ?
Haven“t killed you yet.
Terrific, you want a little gold star?
(lie pulls out a soaked pack of
EXT. POSH BEVERLY HILLS HOME - LATER
Behind Riggs and Murtaugh, crime scene cops scurry back and
forth. Flashing lights. Cameras. Murtaugh makes his way to
the car. Riggs beside him. As they reach the car, Murtaugh
Look, I“ m sorry I said that shit back
You saved my life. Thank you.
I bet that hurt to say.
You have no idea.
INT. MURTAUGH HOME - LATER THAT NIGHT
The two detectives come through the front door, shedding
their jackets. Young Carrie appears, nursing a Popsicle.
Hi, Daddy. Is that a crook?
No, honey, this is Martin, my partner.
(scoops her up; hugs her)
Tell Martin what you think of crooks.
Kid“s no dummy.
Daddy, Mommy says you hate her cooking.
Tell Mommy hate is a mild word.
Trish is cooking as the two cops enter.
(he looks in the oven)
We“re having something brown... A
largish brown object ...
Dammit, I wanted to guess. Honey, this
is Martin, my new partner. He“ll be
joining us tonight, okay?
Sure. Roast okay with you, Martin?
How about brown, roast-like substance?
Roger, you“re being an asshole.
(kisses his ear)
Don“t forget to compliment Rianne on
Got it. Drink, Martin?
Bourbon, if you have it.
Murtaugh exits. Riggs stands awkwardly as Trish removes the
roast from the oven.
My wife could burn water.
I was. She“s dead now.
Oh. I“m sorry.
He reaches for a stray piece of roast. Trish slaps his
Riggs smiles. A genuine smile, the first we“ve seen.
INT. LIVING ROOM - SAME
Murtaugh is fixing drinks as RIANNE enters. We all heave a
sigh. She is strictly to perish for.
Hello, daughter. Nice shoes.
Oh, Daddy, aren“t they great?
Absolutely. How much they cost?
A hundred and ten dollars. Do you
really like them?
A hundred and --
-- They“re shoes.
You wear them on your feet.
And that“s all they do ... ? There“s
not, like a TV inside?
(shakes his head)
I“m very old.
INT. MURTAUGH“S DEN
Young Nick Murtaugh is sitting in front of the TELE-
VISION, watching a ”Charley Brown Christmas‘ and coloring
a picture with a big box of crayons. He stops. Frowns.
Looks up -- At Martin Riggs, who is peeking his head around
the corner, watching with rapt fascination. Riggs
chuckles, points to the screen:
This is good. I like this.
Nick looks at him very strangely. Okay, so the guy likes
INT. DINING ROOM - MEALTIME
Everyone is gathered, eating. Incredibly homey and domestic-
looking. For Riggs, who eats ravenously, it is the first
taste of warmth in many a long year.
ACROSS THE TABLE
We notice something kind of neat: Rianne simply cannot take
her eyes off Riggs. She stares at him, in a trance. Her
brother NICK nudges her in the ribs. She pulls a face.
Has also noticed his daughter“s attentions, and you can bet
he“s not all that happy about it.
63. EXT. MURTAUGH“S HOUSE - DRIVEWAY - BOAT - NIGHT 63.
Trish Murtaugh wheeling garbage pail to curbside.
That“s okay, honey. I“ll take out the
Boat. Murtaugh“s head appears sheepishly from within.
Yeah. Thanks, honey.
On board boat, Murtaugh is working on the engine. Riggs
sitting on driver“s seat.
You know anything about boats, Roger?
Know how much they cost.
I mean, can you sail this thing?
What“s wrong with you? This ain“t a
That“s what I thought.
No trick to it. That“s the front.
That“s the back. Water all around. Why
you gotta make things so complicated?
I don“t. That“s just how they are.
Murtaugh opens an ice chest, takes a beer for himself and
tosses one to Riggs.
Oh, yeah. You mean Amanda Hunsacker“s
Now, did I mention that?
You don“t have to. I can read your
Riggs makes no reply. He just looks at Murtaugh over the
rim of his beer can.
I don“t get you, Riggs. What“s the
problem? We got one dead girl and one
dead guy. Dead guy killed the dead girl
and we killed the dead guy —cause he
wanted us to be dead guys. Seems pretty
easy to me.
Riggs has wandered over to the instrument panel. He in-
spects the switches and gauges.
Look, her sugar daddy was dealin“
drugs. She said somethin“... or did
somethin“... or saw somethin“ she
shouldn“t have, and he pitched her off
the balcony into the sweet by-an“-by.
That“s why he came at us today with a
I don“t know. Sounds a little too neat
Of course it“s neat. And what“s wrong
with neat? I like neat.
Riggs flips a switch and the MOTOR ROARS to life. Murtaugh
Hey! Watch what you“re doin“!
Murtaugh fumbles with the switches in a futile effort to
turn off the engine. But Riggs knows exactly which switch
Lookin“ for this?
He silences the engine. Murtaugh glares at him.
Murtaugh jumps, startled by his daughter“s arrival. Rianne
and Riggs exchange a glance.
What is it, Rianne?
Mark wants to take me out to a club
You“re grounded -- you know that.
Please, Daddy ...
Which one is Mark, anyway?
The blond one.
Oh, yeah. The one with pits in his
Those are dimples.
Those are pits. When he smiles, I can
see through his head.
The answer is no. End of story.
C“mon, Rog. Have a heart.
Murtaugh looks at Riggs -- not appreciative of his
The girl was smoking pot in the house.
Next time I“ll just take a beer
instead. Why can I have a beer and not
a joint? It“s not coke, you know,
Murtaugh looks down sheepishly at the can of beer in his
hand. Riggs grins to himself.
—Cause right now, beer“s legal and
grass ain“t. Right or wrong.
She stalks off. After a moment, Murtaugh looks over to
I“ve lost track... did we resolve
anything here tonight?
Riggs shakes his head, smiles and starts to climb off the
Yeah. We resolved that your wife takes
out the garbage. Your daughter smokes
pot, which is illegal but shouldn“t be -
- that you don“t know from boats, and
you got one hell of a family, guy.
Walking towards truck together.
Enjoyed the meal.
Bullshit, but thanks anyway.
A pause. Riggs stands there. Then:
You don“t trust me at all, do you?
Tell you what. Make it through tomorrow
without killing anybody. Especially
me. Or yourself. Then I“ll start
He walks toward his truck. Stops.
I do it real good, you know.
Kill people ... Only thing I ever did
good. When I was nineteen, I did a guy
in Laos from a thousand yards out.
Rifle shot in high wind.
Ten guys in the world coulda made that
shot. Huh. Only thing I was ever good
Well, see you tomorrow.
Yeah. See you then.
Riggs drives away. Murtaugh watches him. Turns. On the way
back inside, he flicks on the Christmas lights.
EXT. SUNSET STRIP - NIGHT
Martin Riggs cruises along in his battered pickup truck
past all-night dives and porno houses. The streets are
nearly deserted. Except for a young HOOKER on the cor- ner.
Real young, maybe seventeen. Riggs sees her and pulls over
to the curb. The Hooker approaches.
Hi, handsome. Looking for something?
Aren“t we all?
Are you affiliated with any law
No. Get in the car.
She does. Closes the door.
How old are you?
Why, you like —em young?
Younger the better. How old are you?
Riggs nods. Takes out a hundred-dollar bill and sets it in
So, what do you want?
I want you to come home and watch
television with me.
He drives away from the curb.
INT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT
The house is dark and quiet at this hour. Roger Murtaugh
fixes a sandwich in the kitchen. Rickles the CAT PURRS,
rubs against his leg.
He kicks it aside. Notices a package on the counter,
together with a scribbled crayon note:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SERGEANT MURTAUGH
The gift is a 99c special, right off the rack at Pic N“
Save: The TUFF N“ READY Police Action Playset; Tiny
plastic gun, made in Taiwan. Tiny plastic badge. Murtaugh
smiles. Notices another package next to it. Frowns. Its
label reads: ROGER MURTAUGH: POLICE EVIDENCE.
INT. LIVING ROOM
He opens the package. Two things: a high school year-
book; also a videocassette. Takes it, slides it into a VCR
machine. Turns on the television.
TIME CUT TO:
INT./EXT. RIGGS“ TRAILER - NIGHT
The Hooker watches TV -- really enjoying the Three Stooges.
Riggs stands apart from her. He“s not watch- ing TV; he“s
watching her watching TV. He wears a melancholy expression.
The world is full of happy families like Murtaugh“s, but he
has to get by like this. His eyes shift to a photo of his
wife. He picks it up and views it sadly.
(turning to him)
You“re not having a very good time,
Riggs puts down the photo.
You don“t know that. Maybe this is how
I look when I“m having a good time.
Maybe I“m having the best time of my
(after a beat)
Riggs doesn“t answer.
I know... sing me something.
I don“t sing.
Come on. Sing me a song.
I don“t know any songs.
Not even a Christmas song? Everybody
knows a Christmas song.
Riggs shrugs and makes a half-hearted attempt:
Something through the snow, in a one-
horse open sleigh ...
Good. That“s good.
(helps him out)
Over the hills we go, laughing all the
Something something ring, making
something bright ...
Oh, what fun it is to ride ...
To grandma“s house tonight!
They know they got it wrong, but they“re pleased with
themselves just the same. The Hooker hugs Riggs impul-
sively. Riggs looks uncomfortable. He“d like to show her
some platonic affection, but he knows that“s impossible.
He gently unwraps her arms from around his neck.
I better take you back now.
SAME PLACE - LITTLE BIT LATER
Murtaugh is in front of the TV. On his lap is a high
school yearbook. Open to the middle. He glances down, sees -
- a photograph of Amanda Lloyd. Senior picture. Smiling.
Young. The girl most likely to. He looks up up at the
television. On the screen Amanda Lloyd is writhing in
ecstasy. Smiling. Murtaugh continues to watch.
Lights another cigarette. There is a sad, faraway look on
Very late now. Murtaugh walks down the hall to a bedroom
door. Opens it a fraction. Inside -- His daughter Rianne is
asleep. A shaft of moonlight falls across the bed. She is
more beautiful than we“ve ever seen her. Murtaugh crosses
to the bed, leans down, and kisses her forehead. She stirs
in her sleep, smiles like a cat, and whispers:
... Mark ...
Murtaugh recoils. Stands up. We realize that up until this
moment, see, he thought she was maybe a virgin ...
INT. MURTAUGH“S BEDROOM
He takes off his robe, drapes it on a chair. Gets into bed
silently next to his sleeping wife. Lies awake, staring up
at the ceiling. The RAIN BEATS on the window, throwing odd
shadows across his face. He drifts toward sleep. As he
does, we ever so slowly ...
CROSS FADE TO:
INT. MURTAUGH BEDROOM
Sunlight streams through the windows, Murtaugh stirs
groggily, forces open his eyes. Staring him in the face is
Martin Riggs“ scruffy, early morning face. Murtaugh
... Martin... ?
Good morning, Roger. I“ve been doing a
Murtaugh just stares at him.
About the night Amanda Hunsaker died.
Do you know what time it is ... ?
I“ll get dressed.
INT. MURTAUGH KITCHEN
In the kitchen Trish is singing something bluesy, fixing
coffee. At the table Nick is drinking milk. Murtaugh sits.
Riggs takes off his shoulder holster, and with meticulous
care drapes it delicately over the back of his chair. Sits
You“re seriously using ketchup?
Who made the ketchup?
Who made the eggs?
Riggs looks to Trish.
(across the room)
You two are so hilarious I could bust.
Riggs leans forward.
That hooker who witnessed the jump the
other night. What was her name?
What“s a hooker?
Shh, quiet, I“m combatting crime.
A hooker is a ...
Right, and she“s in Century City
witnessing Amanda Hunsaker“s suicide
or murder --
right, or murder, and my question is...
what is she doing there? I called
Wilshire Vice, that“s not her usual
Wow. That“s really reaching.
Cut me a break, it“s a hunch, Roger.
I“m having a hunch.
You couldn“t have it at home, you had
to come here at 7:30 A.M. and have it.
7:35, and yes, I thought you“d be
Okay, go for it. I“m listening.
INT. OUTDOOR FIRING PANGE - DAY
Riggs and Murtaugh stand on line at the range. Around them
the echoing BOOM of gunshots fills the morning air. They
struggle to be heard over the tumult:
We know someone was in bed with Amanda
Lloyd the night she died.
Right. —Til now we assumed it was a
Okay. Let“s say it was Dixie.
Okay. Disgusting, but okay: Let“s say
Dixie slipped the drain cleaner into
Say someone paid her to do it.
Sure. She thinks, terrific, Amanda
swallows a couple downers and boom,
she“s dead. Then Dixie --
If it was her --
Right, right, then Dixie has plenty of
time to spritz the place up, get out,
Except Amanda jumps out the window.
Or Dixie pushes her. Either way
Either way, she“s gotta make a fast
getaway, —cause now the body“s public.
She hauls ass downstairs.
People are coming out to see what
Someone spots her. She says —shit.“
Right. She actually stops and says,
Or —Golly, I“ve been spotted.“ The
point being --
The point being, now she has to cover
Right. So she says, —Officer, officer,
I saw the whole thing.“
That“s pretty fucking thin.
Hell with it. Thin“s my middle name.
Your wife“s cooking, I“m not surprised.
Would you lay off the cooking?
Tell her that.
Riggs steps to the line. Draws the Beretta, fires off a
full clip. Three-shot rhythms, two in the chest, one in the
head, two in the chest, one in the head. Removes the
magazines lovingly snaps in a new one.
You sleep with that thing under your
I would if I slept.
Here, stand back.
Murtaugh steps to the red line. Stretches. Cracks his neck.
Shifts from foot to foot. Finally steadies him- self. A
moment then: He cross-draws with lightning swiftness. --
BANG -- ! The REPORT is DEAFENING. The target grows a neat
third eye. Perfect shot. Dead center. Murtaugh grins,
holsters his gun.
Hey-hey. Would“ja look at that? Pretty
good for an old man.
Riggs shrugs. Draws. FIRES. He isn“t even looking.
Nonetheless. -- He puts a magnum round right through the
hole made by Murtaugh“s .38. The hole gets .60 inches
wider. Murtaugh scowls.
Yeah, yeah. Eat me. He stalks away,
75 EXT. WEST L.A. STREET - MORNING 75
Murtaugh“s car glides up to the curb. In front of a row of
neat frame houses. Old neighborhood. Late model cars. A
LITTLE black KID playing on the sidewalk. The two cops get
out, stride toward a cottage set back from the street. They
pass the Little Kid who is playing with a plastic bucket
and a headless Star Wars figure.
Hey, kid. What“cha doing?
The Kid grins, obviously pleased with himself.
I put this on top and it fall down.
He demonstrates. He puts it on top. It falls down. He grins
happily. Riggs shakes his head.
They keep walking. Toward the cottage.
They mount the steps to the walk. As they do -- The HOUSE
suddenly EXPLODES. It BLOWS APART concussively. There is a
flash of light, a loud, flat BANG --! And the thing tears
to pieces. Glass blows out. Wood sprays. Flying shrapnel. A
wall of flame. Riggs hits the dirt, smothering the Little
black Kid. Murtaugh dives for cover behind a telephone
pole. A piece of shrapnel imbeds itself; right next to his
head. Carnage. Noise. The tumult slowly begins to fade.
Echoes. Flames rage to the sky. Smoke rolls. Beams
collapse. The cottage is no more. Murtaugh climbs to his
feet, dazed; stares at the rubble. Looks over toward
Riggs, who is getting up off the Kid. The Kid is shaken,
You“re on fire.
Riggs looks. The back of his coat is completely ablaze.
He takes it off, flings it aside. Goes up to Murtaugh-
Lights a cigarette.
Thin. Very thin.
EXT. BURNED-OUT COTTAGE - LATER
Cops prowl through the gutted remains. Charred and black.
Nothing left. A body goes by on a stretcher. MURTAUGH stops
(he looks under the sheet)
We“re hoping to find some teeth. in
there. Otherwise, could be anybody.
Black, white ... Could be a fuckin“
bowl of soup, for all we --
The stretcher continues toward the waiting truck. Murtaugh
looks off, whispers:
Martin Riggs is examining a twisted hunk of metal as
Murtaugh walks up beside him.
Part of the device.
Artwork. This is goddamn artwork.
Swell. Iím glad you liked it.
You donít understand. This is real pro
stuff. Havenít seen this since ...
well, since the war.
C.I.A. used to hire mercs who used this
same setup. Mercury switches.
Murtaugh frowns. A PATROL COP taps him on the shoulder.
Sir, I think youíd better come with me.
Riggs-and Murtaugh exchange glances. They move off, across
EXT. STREET - BACK OF FIRE TRUCK
Riggs and Murtaugh stand by the rear of the truck. A
CONSTRUCTION CREW watches from behind, heavy equipment
idling softly. Next to them sits the little black kid from
earlier, coloring with crayons. His mother hovers ...
Okay, here it is. The little kid says
he saw someone working on the meter
Across the street at Dixieís. He was
playiní some kind of game, hidiní under
the stairs. Says he saw the guy pretty
Jesus. This could be a break.
You kidding? The kidís six years old.
You call the gas company?
Sure did. No one supposed to check that
meter for at least another month.
Let me handle this.
Be my guest.
Wanna wear the chicken suit? I got some
He crosses to the boy.
Hi. Iím Detective Murtaugh. Whatís your
ALFRED (LITTLE KID)
He stares at Murtaugh with eyes like saucers.
How old are you, Alfred?
Bet you like the Gobots, huh?
Me, Iím a G.I. Joe man.
Is that a real gun?
Yes, it is.
Do you kill people?
No. If a guy is hurting someone, I try
to shoot him in the arm or something.
Just to stop him.
Momma says policeman shoot black
Murtaugh grimaces. Alfredís mother looks away quickly.
Alfred, this man you saw. The meter man
You get a good look at him?
I saw him.
Great. Listen, you ever watch ĎStarsky
and Hutchí? ĎCause the police,
sometimes they need help. They need
police helpers. Detectives.
(he takes out a plastic
badge, puts it on Alfredís
If you want, you can be a junior
detective. If you want.
The kid looks at him. Distrust.
Keep it, itís yours. Official
Alfred nods, grins.
The man at the meter. Can you ...
picture him in your head? Think about
what he looked like. Got it ?
Alfred nods. Murtaugh picks up Alfredís box of crayons.
Hands it to the little boy.
I want you to draw him for me.
Iím a good drawer.
Try to draw the man.
Riggs clears his throat. Rolls his eyes.
Oh, brother. This is good. I like this.
Can it, Martin.
Weíre gonna put out an A.P.B. on Big
Attention all units. Large yellow bird.
Youíre hilarious. Alfred, draw the man,
Alfred nods, takes the crayons, and carefully selects a
bunch of colors. Lays them out like Da Vinci fixing his
palette. Riggs shakes his head.
Brilliant police work? I think so.
Minutes have passed.
Martin, have a look at this.
Riggs crosses. Alfred has finished his drawing, and guess
what? Itís hilariously bad. Like a six-year-old drew it or
something. Riggs rubs his eyes.
Oh, my ...
(begins to laugh)
... Oh, my...
He laughs even harder now. Murtaugh scowls, snatches the
Terrific. Very professional.
Riggs is hooting. Murtaugh shows the picture to Alfred.
He laugh at my picture.
Shhh. Donít mind him. Heís crazy.
Iím a good drawer.
Alfred. This is ... the manís arm,
Okay. Now this mark. Is this ... What
He had it on his arm.
Riggs stops laughing. Moves in closer.
Whoa. What was on his arm?
Was it a birthmark?
(points to his arm)
Was it like this?
No. It was pained.
Pained, pained. Whatís he saying?
It was ... painted?
Like a tattoo?
Do you watch Popeye? Was it a tattoo
like Popeye has?
Riggs rolls up his sleeve, exposes his Marine tattoo.
Youíve seen the type: A Tweety Bird with a machine gun, or
This is a tattoo.
The boyís eyes go wide once again. He points at Riggsí arm.
It was that.
The cops stop, puzzled.
It was that? You mean...just like
Yeah. Man had the same thing.
Alfred nods. The cops exchange glances:
Special Forces tattoo ... ?
What the hell are we into here ... ?
EXT. CLIFFSIDE HOUSE - DAY
A sprawling, expensive villa nestled on the side of a
bluff overlooking the ocean. Terraces, verandahs, gazebos.
Architecture that merits three syllables. The ocean looks
cheap by comparison. A memorial service is in progress. A
group of people, mostly young, friends of Amanda Lloyd; all
are dressed in funeral black.
Martin Riggs is collapsed in a lawn chair, smoking and
looking thoroughly out of place. Seeing the girl, he frowns
... puffs on his cigarette, and rolls a quarter over his
knuckles like a stage magician. Nimble, trained fingers. A
thoroughly unconscious habit.
Dick Lloyd looks worse than ever. He stands, staring out
over the ocean -- as a hand comes out of nowhere ... grabs
his shoulder, and spins him roughly around: Face- to-face
with Roger Murtaugh. Eyes burning like cold fire.
Roger...What...Whatís up, buddy?
Wanna tell me about it?
Tell you about what?
Donít bullshit me. Thatís over.
Your daughter wasnít killed because of
something she was into. She was killed
because of something youíre into. Stop
me if Iím wrong.
I donít know what youíre talking about.
Roger, I ...
Keep your hands in front.
Hey. Take it easy, man.
When you called me the other day, you
were gonna blow the whistle, werenít
Blow the whistle on what?
You tell me. You were gonna spill your
guts. So they killed your daughter.
Tell me Iím wrong.
Lloyd swallows hard, flustered. He canít meet Murtaughís
Talk to me.
Canít ... canít do that ...
They killed your daughter.
They paid off a hooker to poison your
daughter. Talk to me!
Lloyd shoots a desperate glance across the lawn. At his
other daughter, Amandaís twin.
Dammit, Roger, Iíve... Iíve got another
Sheíll be protected.
Itís over, pal.
Protected. Thatís a laugh... You donít
know these people.
INT. LLOYDíS HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
The two men are inside now. The sunlight filters in through
a large picture window from the lawn. Lloyd is pacing back
and forth. He touches his stomach in the classic gesture of
ulcer-carriers everywhere. Opens the fridge, removes a
carton of milk. There must be three cases of the stuff.
Drinks, turns to Murtaugh. A man at the end of his rope:
It goes all the way back to the war.
I ended up working for a group called
Air America. C.I.A. front, secretly ran
the entire war out of Laos. I was part
of a special unit called Shadow
Company. Mercs. Trained killers. When
Charley was bringing in heroin to
finance the V.C. government, Shadow
Company went in and burned it all down.
We killed everybody. But we also ...
formed a plan.
Couple of years ago, Shadow Company got
together again. The war was over, but
we still had a list of sources. In
And ... ?
And weíve been bringing it in ever
Bringing what in?
Think real hard.
Two shipments a year. Run by ex-C.I.A.
Soldiers, mercs. No one knows.
You son of a bitch.
Lloyd does not reply. A pause, then:
If you were getting cold feet, whyíd
they kill Amanda? Why not just kill
They canít. They need me.
My bank. Itís the front. Makes
everything look good on the tax report.
The tax report ... ?
This is big business, Roger.
Not any more. Iím gonna burn it down.
You canít. Itís too big. These guys
are trained killers.
Tell me about the next shipment.
No. No way.
Murtaugh grabs a framed picture of Amanda, slams it down on
a wooden butcher block. GLASS SHATTERS. Lloyd stares.
Lloyd flinches. Leans back, a dreamy look in his eyes.
Speaks from very far away ...
Nothing ... wrong with the kids, Roger.
Weíre all fucked up. Us old bastards
... Weíre killing them.
And suddenly there is a gun in his hand. Aimed at
Oh, swell. Good move.
Iím not kidding. Iím in too far now.
Murtaugh does not budge. Lloyd cocks the hammer.
The gun is silenced, Roger.
Murtaugh stares him down. Eyes like fire.
Whatís it gonna be, buddy ...? You
gonna save my life, just so you can
snuff me twenty years later...?
Things are different now.
A moment. Lloyd stares intently. Finger sweating on the
If you can do it, do it. I donít
fucking care anymore.
LLoyd blinks. Swallows. Another moment. Finally -- He
lowers the gun. Sighs.
... What do you want to know... ?
Murtaugh relaxes visibly. And thatís when two things
happen. The picture WINDOW GLASS suddenly COLLAPSES. Falls
TINKLING into a million shards. And the carton of milk in
Lloydís hand pops, spurting milk all over the front of his
black suit. He frowns. Stares at the dribbling milk.
Blinks. And his eyes snap open wide, as blood seeps out of
his shirt, spattering the floor.
Roger -- !
With his dying breath, he leaps in front of Murtaugh. Takes
the SECOND BULLET. The one meant for Murtaugh. It blows him
into Roger, takes them both to the floor in a breath-
crushing impact. More BULLETS CHOP thkitchen. China PLATES
BURST into a glassy spray. Food spatters and gushes,
staining the walls. Murtaugh rolls free, then, a man
possessed: Screams out the window:
84 EXT. LAWN 84
Murtaughís voice is far away. Riggs looks up from his lawn
chair. Notices two things: One: Everything seems normal.
Nobody has heard the shots. Two: The glass in the kitchen
window... something strange, what the hell is it ... oh,
yeah, itís broken, someone broke the glass ... And Riggs
is on his feet in the blink of an eye.
Murtaugh is at the window. Gun pointed.
reveals a crowd of people, milling back and forth, he has
no idea where the sniper is, and suddenly BAM -- ! The wood
blows out not two inches from his head and he ducks, and
meanwhile -- back outside ...
87 MARTIN RIGGS 87
Heís on the move. He jogs ... trots ... runs ... Noticing
a lone man in black, striding quickly across the lawn,
striding into the crowd ... toward the edge of the bluff
... Things happen fast now, pay attention, as -- The man
turns, sees Riggs ... Riggs sees him... and the man is none
other than Mr. Joshua. Crew cut. Sunglasses. Moving fast.
diving out the window. Hits. Rolls, comes up. Scream- ing,
waving at Riggs ...
Gun out ... moving fast, shoving through the crowd,
people screaming now, ďJesus, heís got a gun -- !Ē Running
across the lawn, Murtaugh thirty yards behind, moving,
hard and fast, both guns drawn, pushing/shoving, knocking
people ass over teacups and meanwhile let us not forget --
moving at a dead run, now, gun out ... at the edge of the
cliff. People all around him, confused, I mean Jesus, what
the hell is all this shooting about, and Riggs canít get a
clear shot ... Heís sweeping the gun, back and forth,
bodies crossing in front of him...all the wrong bodies,
Goddammit...! Moving forward, shouting:
Lie down!!! Down!!!
Murtaugh, springing hell bent for leather -- and folks,
grab your hats ... because just then, a BELL COBPA HELI-
COPTER crests the edge of the bluff. An explosion of
sound... As it rises like an avenging angel ... Hovers,
shattering the air with turbo-throb, sandblasting the
hillside with a roto-wash of loose dirt, tables, chairs,
everything thatís not nailed down ... Screaming, chaos,
frenzy. Three words that apply to this scene. And in the
midst of all this -- Joshua steps onto the chopper and is
hauled inside. No expression.
The total professional. And then, my friends, itís bye-bye
time. The CHOPPER ROARS like a behemoth, tilts -- slips
over the side and plummets away ... Slick. Very slick.
Except Martin Riggs it not impressed. Heís still running,
you see ... Dives flat at the edge of the cliff, nearly
flings himself over the damn edge ... GUN extended like
itís part of his arm... Finger flat on the trigger
...Blowing SHOT after SHOT at the retreating chopper ...
BAM-BAM-BAM His face contorted in a rictus of animal
concentration...And he wings the chopper, even. POP spray
of fiberglass, but nossir, no cigar... cause the damn
chopper flies away. And Riggs dumps his magazine, stuffs in
a new one ... and Jesus Christ he keeps FIRING. As Murtaugh
walks up beside him. Stares down. Gun held loose at his
side. Riggs still FIRES, BAM-BAM-BAM doesnít know it yet
... Until his MAGAZINE CLICKS empty. He lies flat. Stares.
People screaming, running away.
Murtaugh standing over him, staring down at this animal
with a gun, who even now refuses to look away from the
retreating chopper, whose gun even now continues to follow
its course out over the sea. Hands, clutching the barrel.
Finally, they relax. Riggs shuts his eyes. Murtaugh stares,
and a silent Itís over, but he
Riggs looks up at him. His eyes look like a demonís.
I havenít even started.
INT. HELICOPTER - SAME TIME
Joshua and his pilot are cruising over the surf at break-
neck speed, the rotor stirring tiny geysers of water.
Joshua speaks into a radio microphone.
Yes, sir ... Yes, sir, Mr. Lloyd is
dead. Iím afraid, however, that another
INTERCUT - THE GENERAL
In his van, speaking on mobile phone.
Lloyd spoke to the cops, sir.
Are the cops dead?
No, sir. I missed.
There is a significant pause. Joshua licks his lips. Then:
Thatís very disappointing. The police
may know everything. The whole
Yes. Awaiting orders, sir.
Joshua, I think itís time to turn up
EXT. VIEWSITE - NIGHT
A black Camaro is parked at the side of the road. The city
INT. CAR - SAME
Two teenagers, engaged in a first-rate makeout session. One
of them is Roger Murtaughís daughter Rianne. The other is
MARK, he of the hilarious dimples. They are kissing when
Rianne suddenly pulls away:
Mark, I gotta get home.
Would you quit worrying? Your mom
thinks youíre asleep and your dadís
busy shooting crooks.
He said heíll shoot you if we have sex.
Some things are worth dying for.
He leans in and kisses her. Passion, horniness. Some-
thing. He runs a hand inside her sweater. She starts to
resist. Gives in.
She takes out her gum and sticks it to the steering wheel.
* Leans over to kiss him again*
94A FACE 94A
comes INTO FRAME. Right outside the window. Crewcut. *
Shirt and tie. No less than Mr. Joshua himself, as we
EXT. THIRD STREET - NIGHT
Martin Riggs walks slowly down the boulevard. In one hand
he carries a snapshot of Amanda Lloyd. Male prostitutes
take one look at him and flee.
He stops to light a cigarette. As he does -- He notices a
reflection in the silver lighter. Two pinpoints of light.
Moving. He throws away the cigarette. Spins, drawing his
gun. HEADLIGHTS, as a car comes barreling out of the
darkness. Bearing down on Riggs at fifty miles an hour.
Riggs FIRES. The WIND-SHIELD SPLINTERS. No dice. The car
keeps coming. Riggs FIRES again, sprints for cover -- As a
mercenary leans out of the car window with a pump SHOTGUN.
Triggers THREE BLASTS at Riggs. The first two blow out
chunks of scenery. The third takes Riggs in the chest.
Blows him backward through a store window. GLASS SHATTERS.
He hits the ground in a heap. The CAR SHRIEKS off into the
night, LAYING RUBBER. The ECHO of gunfire slowly FADES on
INSIDE DARKENED STORE
Riggs lies crumpled in a pool of broken glass. Murtaugh
charges from across the street. He throws himself down
beside the dead Riggs. Rips open Riggsí shirt revealing --
A bulletproof vest. Riggs opens his eyes.
Iím pissed, Roger. Now Iím pissed.
The cops exit and cross the street toward their car.
Roger. Quit looking so damn worried.
Two inches higher, they wouldíve got
Fuck that. Two inches to the left, they
wouldíve got my smokes.
He takes out a pack, lights one up.
Oh, by the way: Guy who shot me?
Same guy who shot Lloyd.
Jesus ... You sure?
I never forget an asshole.
So okay, ace: What do we do now?
Give up? Flee? Go far away?
Hilarious. What do we really do?
What else? We bury the fuckers. You
know, we solve this, we could get
famous, do shaving ads and shit.
Do goddamn Forest Lawn ads, weíre not
Heh. Donít be a killjoy. Itís Friday
night. Letís go kick ass.
You just got shot, man.
What do you mean, exactly?
Gives us the edge, Cochise.
They think Iím dead, Roger. Iím a
corpse. And arenít they just gonna
shit when I nail their butts ... ?
They look at each other. Suddenly the police RADIO SQUAWKS.
Murtaugh answers it.
Four King sixty, meet four king ninety
on tach two.
King sixty, roger.
He adjusts the frequency on the radio.
PATROL COP (V.0.)
Four king ninety, four king sixty. Got
a homicide, Mulholland Drive.
Four king sixty, negative.
Give it to Burke.
PATROL COP (V.0.)
Sorry, sixty. Captain says give it to
you. Male Caucasian, age seventeen.
Swell. Did he have blond hair and big
There is a long pause-. Then:
PATROL COP (V.0.)
Howíd you know... ?
Suddenly, Murtaugh goes completely pale. So does Riggs.
Murtaugh hits the gas ...
97 EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT 97
Murtaughís CAR SCREECHES to the curb. Hops the sidewalk,
jolts to a stop. The two cops are out and running in a dead
heat toward the front door. Murtaugh flings open the door.
Stops. On the carpet beneath the mail slot is a tiny
envelope with SEASONS GREETINGS emblazoned across the
front. A note is attached with a paper clip. One side reads
DETECTIVE ROGER MURTAUGH. On the other side is a message in
YOUR DAUGHTER LOOKS REALLY PRETTY NAKED
Murtaugh tears open the envelope, afraid to breathe. Inside
is a Polaroid snapshot. The audience may get a glimpse of
it, or they may not. Either way, the effect it has on
Murtaugh is devastating. He drops the snapshot like a live
snake. Backs away, stumbles into the wall. Shakes his head.
Bastards ... bastards ...
Riggs looks on, stunned. The TELEPHONE RINGS. RINGS
Murtaugh looks up. Snaps out of it. Down the hall, his
wife Trish moves to answer the phone.
Donít answer that!!
He rushes down the hall, scoops up the receiver:
He listens intently, a look of pure dread on his face.
Hangs up slowly, stares straight ahead. On the table, a
stuffed bear stares back impassively. Trish Murtaugh looks
They took my kid... Bastards took my
Beside him, Riggsí face contorts into a look of sheer,
brutal hatred ... Get ready for World War Three.
INT. MIDTOWN HOMICIDE - NIGHT
McCaskey is seated next to a bank of telephones, smoking
and reading a comic book. Behind him the fat cop we saw
earlier is conducting his choir in a thoroughly hideous
version of ďDeck the Halls.Ē The PHONE RINGS.
ĎDon we now our gay apparel...í
McCaskey, Homicide -- just a moment,
please -- Hey, will you guys for
Chrissakes shut up?? ... Yes, can I
99 INTERCUT - MCCASKEY AND MR. JOSHUA 99
Joshua is on the other end. Beside him the General looks
Hello, Iím calling from the K.T.L.A.
News department. We heard that Sergeant
... um, Riggs, is it ... ? had some
trouble tonight, and ...
Yes, Sergeant Riggs has been killed.
Shot through the chest by unknown
My God. Iím sorry.
Itís a bad day for all of us. And what
is your name, sir?
He hangs up. Turns to the General.
Bingo. Riggs is out of the picture.
I want Murtaugh taken alive.
He may not talk.
We have his little girl. Heíll talk.
100 OMITTED * 100
101 INT. RIANNEíS BEDROOM - NIGHT * 101
Trish Murtaugh looks like she could come apart at any
* moment. She walks around the bedroom, slowly. Touching
things. Touching her daughterís possessions. Murtaugh
enters. They look at each other. He hands her the .22.
Take this. Until itís over, I donít
want you to let it out of your sight.
His wife nods. Runs a hand through her hair. Shifts from
one foot to the other.
Theyíre not going to hurt her. If I do
exactly what they say... theyíll let
Sheís coming home.
A moment. Then:
What about you ... ?
Murtaugh says nothing.
INT. LIVING ROOM - SAME TIME
Riggs has his shirt off, and is carefully removing slivers
of glass from his shoulder. Cigarette dangling from his
lips. He hears a noise And spins, startled.
RIGGSí POV - SIX-YEAR-OLD CARRIE MURTAUGH
Adorable in a blue nightgown, Rickles the cat cradled
lovingly in her arms. Riggs relaxes. Smiles. Carrie walks
over to him.
I canít sleep.
Uh-oh. Not good.
He scoops her up.
Whoís your friend?
Rickles the cat.
Huh. He is a cutie.
Carrie looks at him then. And she does a peculiar thing.
Slowly, she reaches out ... Riggs looking on... And touches
his back. Runs her tiny hand over the knife scar beneath
his shoulder. Fascinated by it.
Riggs looks at her. Smiles, and whispers softly:
And he suddenly hugs the little girl for all heís worth.
Closes his eyes tight. In that moment, every single year
catches up to Riggs, and he looks, for a moment, incredibly
old, and so very, very tired ...
INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER
Carrie is asleep on the couch, snuggled beneath a knitted
afghan. Riggs and Murtaugh stand across the room, con-
ferring in hushed tones.
You know theyíre going to kill her.
You want her back, youíve got to take
her away from them.
Good. We do this my way.
You shoot, you shoot to kill. Get as
many as you can. Donít miss.
I wonít miss.
A pause. Riggs studies Murtaugh. Then:
Weíre gonna get bloody on this one.
Youíre going to have to trust me.
Murtaugh stares at him for a moment. Then, he finally
... How... good are you... ?
Are you... only crazy ... or are you...
as good as you say you are... ?
There is a pause. Then:
No one can touch me.
Good. Kill every fucking one of them.
Okay ... ?
At which point, my friends, a light flickers on behind
Riggsí eyes. We see grim determination, sure ... But we
also sense something else, oddly enough: Anticipation.
Riggs is a machine ... and the machine is, well ... revving
up. He looks at Murtaugh:
Get half. Iíll kill the other half.
A moment passes between them. This will be the most
devastating night of their lives. They will probably die. A
RINGING PHONE shatters the stillness.
Here we go.
INT. MARTIN RIGGSí TRAILER - DAY
The apartment is dark, illuminated only by a tiny lamp.
Riggs crosses to the window, peers out through slatted
blinds. On TELEVISION a group of carolers sings ďTIDINGS OF
COMFORT AND JOY.Ē Riggs looks at the wall calendar:
December 22. The CLOCK TICKS. The REFRIGERATOR HUMS. He
goes to the closet. Opens it. A cloud of dust billows out.
Reaches in, removes a weathered cardboard box. Sits in the
center of the room, takes a shot of bourbon. Opens the box.
Inside is a set of desert fatigues. He takes them out.
Underneath a wicked-looking hunting knife. He takes that,
too. Holds it up near his face, and it positively sparkles
in the dim light ...
Riggs stands, fully dressed. Colt .22 in an ankle holster.
Combat webbing. Desert boots. Beretta .9 millimeter, riding
the right-hand thigh. Scans his appearance in the mirror.
Breathes: in, out...in, out... Glances at the photograph
of his wife on the wall. Wedding gown. White lace-and-satin
ruffles. Beautiful. His face is craggy. Weathered.
Covered with desert paint. Surely he was never married
... not this demon...
There is a KNOCK at the door. Riggs spins. Lightning quick.
Gun in hand.
Come in slow.
The door opens and Roger Murtaugh enters, carrying a
briefcase. He looks briefly at Riggsí combat get-up.
Shrugs. Sets the briefcase on the bed, opens it. It is
filled with round upon round of ammunition.
Hollow points. Armor piercing.
You werenít followed?
Riggs begins scooping up handfuls of ammo.
INT. RIGGSí TRAILER - FEW MINUTES LATER
Murtaugh is hooking a wire in place under his collar.
Testing, one, two, three...
He straps on his hunting knife.
Itís twelve-thirty. Letís move.
Donít get too close. Theyíll spot you.
Riggs hoists a long-range sniper rifle. Infra-red scope.
Thousand yards okay ... ?
EXT. LOW DESERT - DAY
The desert floor shimmers with stored heat, bathed in
relentless sunlight. A lone car, plowing along toward the
horizon. Looking lost and utterly alone beneath the clear
INT. CAR - ROGER MURTAUGH
Driving. Relentlessly onward, his face locked in a mask of
contained fury. Dust billows past the windows. Wind. He
keeps driving, straining his eyes ahead, focusing through
the hundred-degree shimmer... Noticing, finally a series of
shapes...dim mirages... silhouettes maybe, possibly
men...possibly the men...The mirage resolves. Mercs.
Standing next to a black sedan. Murtaugh stiffens. Leans
forward, punches the cigarette lighter, and as he does --
he whispers into his hidden microphone.
EXT. CAR - DAY
It happens in the blink of an eye: The trunk pops open, and
out rolls Martin Riggs. Yanks a rope. The trunk slams shut.
Riggs hits. Rolls. Comes up, combat- crouched, hunkers off
at a dead heat. He is clad in his desert fatigues. Magnum
sniper rifle slung over one shoulder.
EXT. MURTAUGH - DESERT
Murtaugh rolls to a halt and steps from his car. Facing
three armed mercs. Murtaugh simply stands there, reading
the odds. Scanning ...
Hands up. Come with us.
Show me the girl.
Sheís not here.
Bullshit. Let me see her. Then I come
The Merc nods.
comes AT US from across the desert.
Inside, Rianne is gagged, helpless. She looks terrified.
Next to her, Mr. Joshua holds a cocked pistol. Merc #1
He wants to see the girl.
Murtaugh waits. Sweating. Hands in pockets. And out comes
Rianne, followed by the vicious Merc. He holds a knife
squarely at her throat. Murtaughís eyes fill with tears.
Relief that sheís alive..
Simple exchange. You come with us, the
girl takes a walk.
Let her go now.
No. Take your hands out of your
Sure thing, pal...
He slowly raises his hands. In his left hand, he clutches
a shiny metal sphere. A grenade. Murtaughís grip is the
only thing keeping it dead. The Merc swears violently.
This fuckerís alive.
Let her go or we all die.
And thatís when Mr.Joshua steps out of the car. Deadly
calm. All heads turn. Crewcut-Mirrored sunglasses.
But sir ...
Heís bluffing, itís a dud. He wouldnít
risk killing his daughter.
Donít push me.
EXT. HILLTOP - MEANWHILE
Far away. The car and the surrounding figures are tiny. A
lone soldier crouches. Riggs. The rifle is on his shoulder.
His eye is glued to the scope.
117 INFRA-RED IMAGE SHOWS RIANNE AND HER CAPTOR 117
Riggsí concentration is absolutely perfect. Like a statue.
He licks a finger. Raises it, testing the wind.
Come on...Come on...
BACK WITH MURTAUGH
As he and Joshua stare each other down. Tense. Tense. His
hand clutches the grenade. Merc #1 pushes the knife into
Put the pin back in. Do it.
Murtaugh sweats. Mr. Joshua begins to walk forward, gun
extended. Cool as ice. Another step. Smiling ...
Riggs sits dead still, focusing through the sniper scope.
Come on... Move away from the girl ...
Joshua stops in front of Murtaugh. Cocks the gun.
Drop the fucking grenade.
I do and we die.
No. I donít think so.
He sights down the gun and pulls the trigger: All hell
breaks loose. Hereís what happens: BAM -- ! The bullet
catches Murtaugh in the shoulder. He drops the grenade. It
rolls, and Mercs dive for cover. The Merc holding Rianne
takes a step back. Bingo.
Riggs grunts. FIRES.
The Merc drops. Joshuaís head snaps around. He stares off
at the distance and hisses:
Riggs ... !
Meanwhile, Murtaugh rolls, comes up, gun in hand. FIRES,
Rianne, the car!
Rianne bolts. Meanwhile --
Riggs swivels the barrel, half an inch. Grunts. FIRES.
The black sedanís WINDSHIELD SPLINTERS. The car rocks with
the impact as the driver is killed instantly.
chooses that moment to EXPLODE, poof ... into a cloud of
orange smoke. A shower of confetti.
Dud! Itís a dud!
is running for the car as Joshua swivels in her direction,
lining up the UZI, FIRING a BURST -- Until a bullet from
Riggs parts his hair, sends him diving to the sand, the
Uzi sprouting flame -- As Rianne flings open the car door,
screams -- at the blood-spattered corpse which rolls off
the steering wheel. BULLETS BLAST the car. METAL POPS and
BURSTS. She jumps in.
is flat on the sand, FIRING like crazy, shot after shot --
As Rianne floors the gas, the CAR PEELING out in aí storm
of flying sand and dirt. Door open. One leg hanging out.
Plows into an armed merc. He flies up onto the hood, spins,
still conscious, and takes aim through the windshield,
right at her ...
Riggs swivels, lightning quick.
MERC ON HOOD
is blown off the car.
screams, the dead driver sprawled against one shoulder, her
foot nailed to the gas pedal ... as the car leaps like a
kicked dog and careens off into the desert.
Riggs lines up for another shot -- And there is a soft
CLICK -- ! He whirls. The General has arrived. Stand- ing
at the top of the hill. His M-16 is cocked and locked.
Youíre not that fast, son.
Drop the rifle.
He speaks into a walkie-talkie.
I got Riggs.
ON DESERT FLOOR
Murtaugh makes a break for it, FIRING blind -- Until the
ground before him literally EXPLODES with GUNFIRE. The
earth is chopped to tatters. Dirt flies. He stops. Puffing
for breath. Raises his hands. As the smoke clears, Mr.
Joshua approaches like a demon through fog. He is flanked
by two mercs with Uzis-
A very nice try.
(speaks into walkie-talkie)
Kendo. Get the girl.
Riggs stands, hands over head. The General studies him
Martin Riggs. Your combat record is the
stuff of legend.
So is yours. General Peter McAllister,
commander of Shadow Company.
I see weíve heard of each other.
Yeah. Itíll almost be a shame when I
I donít think so, son.
Mr. Joshua says to Murtaugh:
Youíre about to have a fun evening.
Joshua slams him in the head with a karate blow. He falls.
EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY
Rianne is driving to save her life. Screaming at the top of
her lungs, the needle touching 90 as she struggles to shove
the mercís dead body into the corner. Swerving. Screaming.
At which point the sand explodes in front of her. She
shrieks. A HOWL of noise, a veritable eruption of sand and
dirt, and itís one of two things, itís either aliens from
space, descending -- or itís a Bell Cobra helicopter.
Rianne swerves to a halt to avoid the DRONING CHOPPER,
which hovers like a behemoth, ROTORS THROBBING, as Rianne
stumbles from the car and collapses in a heap on the sand.
Lost, alone, her tears inaudible over the HIGH, CHURNING
WHINE as we
INT. BASEMENT ROOM - NIGHT
Riggs is naked. He is manacled hand and foot. Chained in a
bathtub full of water. Around him is a dingy concrete
basement. Joshua steps forward. Behind him is KENDO, an
Oriental mercenary. He is working on a mechanical device of
some kind. Connecting wires. Riggs grunts.
Well, well. Look whoís back from the
Riggs struggles against the manacles, slopping water.
Please save your strength. I believe
youíll need it.
Riggs stops moving. Scowls at Joshua and says nothing.
Youíre just in time for a lot of pain.
Oh, you will be. I daresay youíll be
Kendo snickers in the corner.
Whoís the chin?
Shhh. Donít make him mad.
My mistake. Whoís the pleasant Oriental
His name is Kendo, and he has forgotten
more about dispensing pain than you
will ever know.
Terrific. Listen, guys, can we get some
Mister Bubble in here ...
Please shut up.
My, my, look at all those scars.
See, Martin, we have a problem. Since
we have Murtaugh, we really donít even
need you. But I believe in being
Across the room, Kendo throws a switch. A mechanical
HUMMING fills the room.
Our problem -- and yours, too is that
we have some merchandise to deliver. A
rather large shipment, weíre all very
excited. It would be unfortunate,
however, if we showed up with the goods
and found ourselves surrounded by fifty
That would be a shame.
Indeed. So you see, Martin, it is
essential that we find out how much the
We donít know shit. You killed Lloyd
before he could talk.
I wish I could believe you.
Unfortunately, I donít. So, if youíll
be kind enough to tell us all you know,
I will kill you quickly.
Such a deal, I should worry.
Oh, indeed you should. See, Martin,
you donít talk to us ...
He gestures to Kendo, who approaches. He is carrying a very
ominous device: a sponge, attached to a portable dry-cell
battery casing ... Joshua frowns at Riggs.
Do you vomit?
Joshua nods. Sighs.
Back before prison reform, the staff at
Sing Sing invented a rather unusual
form of punishment. Itís know as the
hummingbird treatment. Are you
Please, no tickling. I hate tickling.
The Ďpatientí is chained naked in a
bathtub full of water. A bath is then
administered using a battery powered
sponge. The pain is said to be so
excruciating that after twenty minutes
most men are either insane or dead.
Riggs is silent.
I thought youíd like it. I can of
course, kill you now. Simply tell me
what you know.
Guess weíre in for a long night. ĎCause
I donít know scratch.
Weíll find out. Kendo ... ?
The Oriental moves forward. He brandishes the sponge/
battery hookup. Dips it into a bucket of water. Riggs is
Feel free to scream.
Havenít you guys...heard of yuletide
Kendo hits Riggs with the sponge. Riggs screams. A high,
lunatic scream. Thrashes in the water, splashing Kendo,
whipping from side to side as the room spirals back and
forth out of focus. Kids, donít try this at home. Kendo
removes the device. Riggs falls backward. Thumps against
the tub. Sucking air. Moaning.
My goodness. Now that was fun, wasnít
Riggs looks at him. Dripping hate.
Iím going to kill both of you.
Thatís very funny.
About the shipment ... ?
Kendo dunks the battery..Run it down Riggsí stomach. He
screams again, as we mercifully ...
INT. DINGY BACK ROOM - SAME
No windows. Hardwood floors. A single chair in the center
of the room. Roger Murtaugh is strapped tightly to the
chair. His face looks like something his wife makes for
dinner. Black eyes. Swollen jaw. His shirt is off, exposing
the gunshot wound in his arm.
The General stands facing him, flanked by three mercs.
They all wear holstered sidearms.
The shipment, Mr. Murtaugh?
I hope you enjoy saying that as much as
Mr. Larch enjoys punishing you for it.
MR. LARCH, a big redneck with no discernible compassion,
steps forward. Pours a big handful of baking salt from a
container. Packs it into Roger Murtaughís gunshot wound.
Murtaugh groans. Shouts. Struggles. The General looks on
Thatís it...if you guys think Iím
sending you a Christmas card youíre
Larch cuffs him, hard.
(shakes his) head)
This is going nowhere. Mr. Larch...?
Larch grins, leaves the room. A pause. Murtaugh sweats,
glaring out from swollen eyelids. The General nods, smiles.
INT. BASEMENT - BACK WITH RIGGS
as he groans and collapse back into the tub. Splash. Moans
feebly. Blood drips from his nose. Saliva drools from his
limp mouth. He looks half-dead, probably be- cause he is
just that. Kendo pulls away the battery sponge, says to
He knows shit. Weíre safe.
Believe me, heíd have told us.
(clucks in disgust)
Big, bad soldier ... my ass.
Iím going upstairs. Deal with him.
Deal with him?
(stops at the door)
Fry his nuts.
INT. DINGY BACK ROOM - SAME TIME
The General leans over Murtaugh. Murtaugh sweats.
Anytime, Roger. Anytime.
See, the thing of it is...We know where
In fact, Mr. Joshua has been known to
exterminate entire families, when he
gets in... one of his moods. Oh,
speaking of that --
Larch re-enters the dingy back room. This time heís got
Murtaughís daughter Rianne. She is clad only in a T-shirt
and bikini briefs.
Daddy ... please donít let them hurt me
Murtaugh goes nuts. Struggles, wrenches, bangs the chair up
and down against the floor. No use. He is completely
helpless. Snarls with rage:
Bastards ... Untie me and Iíll kill
every one of you.
Precisely why we would never think of
Larch shoves Rianne into the corner. She lands in a heap.
Murtaugh is sweating buckets. Eyes desperate. The General
leans in close:
If you know something, son, you better
play ball, Ďcause the stakes just went
INT. BASEMENT - SAME TIME
Kendo switches on the battery again. In the tub, Riggsí
head lolls back and forth. Listless. Dead. His eyes refuse
to focus. Kendo shows him the sponge.
No ... Please ...
You die now, Sergeant Riggs. Very slow.
Riggs does not respond. Stares into space. Kendo leans over
the tub, reaches in -- And thatís when we find out Riggs
has been faking. His eyes focus. No longer hazed. He snaps
his hand forward to the end of the chain. Grabs Kendo by
the hair. In the blink of an eye, he slams the manís head
down against the porcelain tub. Kendoís nose shatters. The
Oriental topples over into the tub. The battery drops to
the floor. Riggs is a fucking machine: he flips the chain
around Kendoís neck and wrenches. Hard. He goes limp. Riggs
is not through yet. He begins to heave and thrash,
thrusting against the chains -- Maneuvering the corpse on
top of him. Shifting it. Moving Kendoís pants pocket within
reach. He reaches in. Slowly, carefully, brings out a shiny
silver key ...
INT. DINGY BACK ROOM -- SAME TIME
A length of rope is pulled taut. RIANNEís bound hands are
stretched over her head. Larch hooks the rope around a peg
set into the wall. She is helpless. Murtaugh is out of his
mind. Struggling to break free.
Good Lord. Very wholesome-looking girl.
Goddammit, Iíve told you everything!!!!
Weíll soon know, wonít we?
Larch approaches Rianne. She squirms.
You touch her, youíre dead.
Oh, son, spare me.
Itís over, Sergeant. No heroes around
to save you ...
He picks up a baseball bat. Tosses it to Larch.
Mr. Larch... Sheís yours.
Rianne screams. Murtaugh shouts. Strains. The chair
thumps up and down, creating an insane, staccato rhythm.
The General laughs. Rianne shrieks. Harrowing. Terri- ble.
A scene out of Hell. And then the Devil comes in and kicks
the door off its hinges. Okay. Okay. Letís stop for a
moment. First off, to describe fully the mayhem which Riggs
now creates would not do it justice. Here, however, are a
few pointers: He is not flashy. He is not Chuck Norris.
Rather, he is like a sledge-hammer hitting an egg. He does
not knock people down. He does not injure them. He simply
kills them. The whole room. Everyone standing. Except for-
-the General, who ducks out a side door and escapes ...
Riggsí chain moves like a live thing. Snapping here.
Striking there. Mercs try to draw their guns -- And
suddenly their hands are shattered wrecks. One merc draws a
bead on Rianne, almost gets off a shot, because Riggs is
across the room. Without missing a beat -- Riggs throws the
chain. It wraps the guyís neck and kills him instantly.
Ouch ... He goes down, FIRING useless ROUNDS into the
ceiling. Plaster rains. Riggs spins, dives. Scoops up the
baseball bat. Comes up beside an armed merc -- Swings the
bat with hurricane force. A sickening impact. The bat
breaks in half. Riggs spins, combat-ready. Scans the room.
No one left to kill. Using only the element of surprise, he
has taken out an entire room in hand-to-hand combat. He
steps in front of Murtaugh without missing a beat. Cuts him
loose with a borrowed knife.
Work your circulation.
Crosses to Rianne, cuts her free. She collapses sobbing
into his arms.
Ssshhh- No time. Come on.
He scoops up handguns, throws them to Murtaugh. Takes for
himself a pump shotgun, possibly the same one used against
him earlier. Murtaugh stares dumbfounded at the body count.
Theyíre all dead. Letís get out of
143 EXT. HALLWAY - SAME TIME 143
The three of them. On the run, moving hard and fast. They
scramble down the hallway, Riggs in the lead, as -- a merc
ducks around the corner, sees them. Ducks back. Riggs
FIRES through the wall, BLAM -- ! A corpse falls into view.
They keep moving. Downstairs. Around another corner.
Moving, moving. The three of them keep moving. Rushing
headlong toward a sign marked EXIT. They may actually make
it...Or not. For at that moment, Mr. Joshua looms up
behind them and tosses something in their direction. Ducks
back out of sight. Itís a live grenade. The grenade hits
the floor. Clatters. Riggs stops instantly. He knows the
sound. Spins. Dives. Scoops up the GRENDADE and chucks it
with all his might. It bounces downstairs and EXPLODES at
the foot of the steps.
EXT. BUILDING - NIGHT
Joshua skids to a halt next to a sedan. He slams the door
and ROARS off down Hollywood Boulevard. The crowd parts
like the Red Sea. People are screaming. And suddenly, the
doors burst open--As Riggs, Murtaugh and Rianne come
skidding out onto the sidewalk in hot pursuit. Murtaugh
shoves his daughter back as Joshua FIRES out the window of
the car. BULLETS lash the pavement. The crowd shrieks. The
CAR SCREECHES away.
A beat cop comes running up, and Murtaugh shoves Rianne
in his direction. Flashes his badge.
Get her out of here.
ANOTHER ANGLE - MURTAUGH AND RIGGS
go running after the car. Side by side. Beaten. Bloody.
Naked from the waist up. Murtaugh FIRING his PISTOL. Shot
after blazing shot. Riggs unloading with the M-16 on three-
shot mode, the muzzle flash blinding, the noise DEAFENING--
Until pedestrians swarm suddenly into the line of fire.
Blocking them. Except Murtaugh wonít give up. He runs
after the car, shouting:
Out of the way. Move.
His GUN CLICKS empty. He tosses it aside. Pulls another
from his waistband. The car. Far away. FIRES FOUR more
SHOTS. Collapses in the street. Nearlyí unconscious. Crawls
forward after the car, blood streaming from his broken
nose...Going on sheer guts. Finally gives out. Slumps in a
heap. Riggs kneels beside him as a police CAR ROARS up to
them, flashers spinning. Riggs is a man possessed. We
PANA-GLIDE with him as he runs forward. M-16 in one hand.
Badge in the other.
Get an ambulance!!
He takes off after the Joshuaís car. On foot. Someone
better tell this guy to lighten up. The car is far ahead,
racing onto a freeway on-ramp. Riggs runs. Sweat pours off
him. Seeing the car on the ramp, he changes direction.
Starts running an intercept course. Leaps out into the
street--Spins, as a TRUCK BLARES out of nowhere, BRAKES
SQUEALING, HORN SHRIEKING. Somersaults over the
hood.Lands. Keeps moving. Barrels across the street.
Faster now. Even faster than before. Feet pounding. Gun
swinging. Dashing out onto the freeway overpass. Where,
without stopping, he promptly jumps the guardrail. Drops
through space ... And lands, thump -- ! Atop the big green
freeway sign. Swings like an acrobat. Dangles from the
sign, twenty feet above the ground. Levels the M-16 one-
handed, switches it to full auto. Waits ...
147 BENEATH HIM 147
Joshuaís CAR comes SCREAMING through the underpass, doing
eighty. Riggs unleashes the GUN. It BLAZES with cruel
FIRE. STRAFES the back of the car. Sure enough, BLOWS out
both TIRES -- Throwing the VEHICLE into a deadly SKID--
Slewing across the freeway--STRIKING the GUARDRAIL at
sixty-plus. It slides for a full hundred yards, sending up
a shower of sparks. The back tires disintegrate in a trail
of burning rubber. The CAR GRINDS to a halt. The door
opens and Joshua rolls out. Riggs FIRES. Kicks up a
cloud of cement near the merc. Joshua RETURNS FIRE.
Big chunks of the.freeway SIGN BLOW OUT next to Riggsí
head. He is showered with wooden debris. Riggs lowers the
gun. Lets go and drops twenty feet to the pavement. Lands,
rolls, comes up. A CAR swerves around him. CRASHES into
the guardrail. Riggs doesnít even look. Instead, he begins
to walk. He is a fucking juggernaut.
Joshua turns, sees Riggs--and stops.
Okay, you bastard, letís see whoís
They are separated by perhaps two hundred yards. Joshua
snaps his rifle to his shoulder. Eyes glued to the scope.
Riggs swings his own rifle into position -- and weíve got
the showdown at the O.K. Corral. A battle of wits. Each
one scanning through the scope. Looking for a clear shot,
as CARS SWERVE around and between them. The crosshairs
sweep the freeway. Perfect concentration. Riggs. Joshua.
Two soldiers. And suddenly, the shot is there: Joshua
sights in on Riggsí position. Only problem is, Riggsí rifle
is pointed right at the CAMERA. He is sighted in on
Joshua. Simultaneous. They FIRE at the exact same moment.
TWO SHOTS. Two distinct RIFLE CRACKS. Riggs takes it in
the shoulder. Blown backward. Joshua goes down, winged.
Riggs. Joshua. Each looks like shit. They struggle to
their feet ... And thatís when a car backs up into Riggs at
thirty miles an hour. Broadsides him. Sends him flying.
Joshua rushes up to a stalled car. Throws open the door.
Yanks out the driver, hops behind the wheel. ROARS away.
EXT. BUILDING - SAME TIME
An ambulance shudders to a halt and two ORDERLIES hop out.
Uniformed COPS are struggling to hold back the crowd. One
of the Orderlies rushes up.
Where is he, Officer?
Right over there.
He points -- and suddenly frowns: There is no one there.
Murtaugh is gone. Nowhere to be seen.
EXT. BACK ALLEY - SAME TIME
A sleek black VAN careens around the corner.
A MERC is driving, foot glued to the pedal. THE GENERAL
sits sweating in the back seat.
The headlights flash wildly as the car roars down the
alley. The General stares ahead, and suddenly ------- ...
ĎCause wouldnít you know it, thereís ROGER MURTAUGH. Fifty
yards away. Standing in the middle of the street.
There is no reason for Murtaugh to be standing. He is a
walking testament to manís ability to bloody himself. And
heís pissed... The Merc sees him, snarls-- punches the gas.
Murtaugh holds his ground. He can barely stand. And then he
does a peculiar thing: He examines his hand. No question. A
definite tremble. Scowls. Stretches. Cracks his neck.
Shifts from foot to foot, steadying himself. He has one
shot. The numbers are falling, itís all coming down --
And heís ready. The van comes barreling in. Doing fifty.
Now or never...
No way you live. No way.
He cross-draws with lightning swiftness. BAM. The REPORT is
DEAFENING. The WINDSHIELD promptly SHATTERS. And the Merc
sprouts a neat third eye. Perfect shot. Dead center. The
van swerves. Murtaugh steps out of the way. Deadly calm. As
the van careens past -- He salutes the General. Watches,
expressionless...The CAR SLAMS into a telephone pole and
rolls over. GRINDING METAL. An ERUPTION of GLASS. It
continues to roll like some great beast, crumpling and
folding like an accordion... Comes to rest, upside down
in a sea of glass ...
The General is pinned beneath a crumpled door-frame,
struggling to break free, as FLAMES lick upward from the
ruptured gas tank... And then the General sees something
which ruins his whole day. The Mercís corpse, sprawled
over the steering column...*with a shiny metal GRENADE
attached to his belt.*Flames dance around the grenade*
153C ANOTHER ANGLE * 153C
The General squirms, strains, yanks for all heís worth...
*Fingers reaching out for the grenade....................
*Flames burning his outstretched hand....................
And it is, as they say, all she wrote.*
Murtaugh is walking like a zombie. Away from the VAN. Gun
held loosely at his side. Suddenly--It BLOWS sky high. A
tower of fire. Blows Murtaugh flat. Knocks him ass over
teacups. ECHOES down the street. Turns night into day for
one brief instant. And then--Then something truly
incredible happens. For the first time in nearly a century--
it begins to snow in Hollywood. Murtaugh looks up, a ďWhat
the hell ... ?Ē expression on his face. Sure enough --
is sifting down on the night air, ten million dollarsí
worth... A cloud over the entireí street. Swirling in the
gets slowly to his feet, checking for broken bones. If it
wasnít busted already, apparently itís okay now. Time
passes. A hand rests on his shoulder.
Stands next to him. Cops swarm behind them. The heroin snow
continues to fall. The wreck burns. Riggs looks at
Murtaugh. Murtaugh looks at Riggs. The two most physi-
cally abused men in film history.
Try not to breathe, youíll see pink
We ... gotta find him.
No dice. First thing we gotta do is get
you to a hospital.
Uh-huh First thing we gotta do is check
on my house.
I got a bad feeling...
He moves away. Riggs starts to follow. Goes to toss his
cigarette in the gutter, and stops: There is a tiny, red
mark at the tip of the filter: It is the cigarette. The
very last one ... He stares at it, a sudden glimmer in his
EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT
The Christmas lights shed a happy glow. The lawn is still
littered with toys. Two uniformed COPS are watch- ing over
the house, sitting in a police car across the street. One
of them munches on a sandwich. The other is doing a
crossword puzzle. A car pulls up next to them. The door
opens--out steps Mr. Joshua.
Excuse me, sir, may I see some
Joshua takes an UZI from beneath his coat. No hesi- tation.
BLOWS them apart. Walks forward, gun smoking. Crosses the
lawn to the front door. Kicks it to splinters.
EXT. CITY STREET - SAME TIME
A police CAR PEELS around the corner. Takes out a Salvation
Army BUCKET, which POPS like a clay duck. Coins shower
every which way.
Murtaugh is driving like a lunatic. Beside him, Riggs holds
a handkerchief to his gunshot wound.
INT. MURTAUGH HOMEí- SAME TIME
Joshua stalks down the hallway of Murtaughís house. Stops
in front of the bedroom door. Holy Jesus ...He kicks it
open. SPPAYS the interior with GUNFIRE. Shreds the
mattress, dices the pillows. Trashes everything in sight:
Star Wars posters. Stuffed animals. Stereo. Empties an
entire clip of .9 millimeter slugs. Except the bed is
empty. There is no one there. Joshua snarls. Turns.
SERIES OF SHOTS
Kicks open another door. TRIGGERS DESTRUCTION. Plaster and
wood fill the air in a cloud. Room to room. Search- ing.
Growing more and more enraged--because there is no one here
to kill. He is blowing the shit out of an empty Santa
Monica bungalow. He bursts into the only room he hasnít
visited. Living room. It too, is empty. There is a note,
however. Taped to the Christmas tree: Big letters.
NO ONE HERE BUT US COPS.
-- THE GOODGUYS
Joshua swears. Runs for the door. And a police CAR drives
through the front of the house. PLOWS into the living room,
shearing boards in half, BURSTING WINDOWS, GRINDING to a
halt in a sea of glass. Joshua spins, triggering the UZI.-
STRAFES the car. A withering FIRE. Empties an entire clip
at the front WINDSHIELD, dicing it to SMITHEREENS. Waves
the gun like a WAND, STRAFING X patterns, FIRING all the
while, completely EXTINGUISH- ING the car and all life
within. Stops. Silence. Floating debris. Joshua lowers the
gun. Breathing hard. Crosses the room, his boots crunching
through broken glass. Yanks on the driverís door. It
falls loose with a metal clang.
163 ANOTHER ANGLE 163
A copís nightstick has been jammed against the accel-
erator pedal. The car is empty. Joshua spins, startled
Stares across the room At MARTIN RIGGS, who sits calmly on
Ho, ho, ho.
He raises his gun and fires without blinking. Blows the gun
out of Joshuaís hands. Smiles a big shit-eating grin.
Joshua turns and dives through the hole in the wall, lands
outside, comes up running, but sorry, no dice because there
stands Roger Murtaugh. Drawing a bead on Joshuaís running
Joshua stops dead. Turns, growling low in his throat. A
fire hydrant, sheared off by the runaway car, sprays water
high into the nighttime air. The wind blows. Martin Riggs
steps out of the house. Pointing the .38 Special like a
finger of doom. Strolls toward Mr. Joshua...
the gun is rock steady. Riggsí eyes meet Murtaughís, and he
speaks with deadly purpose:
Iíll handle it.
He steps up to Joshua. Smiles. And then he does some- thing
very strange: he relaxes his grip on the gun--And throws
it away. Faces Joshua. Raises his arms, and carefully
places them behind his head. When he speaks, his voice
Come on, ace.
A moment. Then Joshua calmly plants himself in front of
Riggs. Around them, water showers down in a gentle cloud.
SIRENS APPROACH in the near distance. Joshua and Riggs. Two
soldiers. Their eyes lock. And you better hang onto your
popcorn, boys and girls, because itís about to get ugly.
Donít mind if I do.
And so it begins. They start to circle. Riggs and Joshua,
perfect concentration, round and round and never, never
once does their focus break, because, baby, these guys are
pros -- And hereís something funny: they arenít looking at
each otherís eyes at all. Rather -- Theyíre watching each
His fingers twitch. Flex. Wrist making slow, laborious-
Shifting from leg to leg, floating his balance.
looks on, sweating it out. Heís not happy, he wants to end
it ... And yet he waits.
RIGGS AND JOSHUA
All we see is their eyes, straining, focusing, scanning for
Concentrate, Martin...Donít give me an
opening..Wouldnít want to do that ...
Riggs shifts. Blinks. And:
springs ... Foot coming out like a shot, Riggs jerking
back, inches -- meanwhile, Riggs -- countermove, spins,
tries a back kick, no dice ... Joshua no longer there,
where is he ... ? Shit --! Comes up, darts a punch to
Riggsí neck -- Riggs fields it, snap the left. It comes
out of nowhere.
CRACK! The sound of Riggsí rib breaking carries clearly. He
grunts. Thrusts, inviting a countermove ... Joshua counters
-- And Riggs snags his hand, picture-fucking- perfect.
Breaks one of Joshuaís fingers. Ouch. Backs off. Joshua
backs off. The two of them. Wounded, they circle. Round
Meanwhile, is raising his gun, pointing it at Joshua.
Riggsí voice cuts like a knife:
Murtaugh lowers the gun. Stares, fascinated, at this
contest between two consummate professionals. In for the
kill. It is a dance of the forces. Riggs is on fire. Leaps,
avoiding a shot to the knee, spins, slams the knuckles of
his hand into Joshuaís nose. Busts it. Joshua snarls, drops
-- Catches Riggsí arm over one shoulder. And, ladies and
gentlemen... Riggs has just fucked up. CRACK -- ! His arm
breaks. He screams with pain. Screams with anger. Tosses
three shots at Joshua. SNAP. SNAP. SNAP. RIBS, SPLINTERING.
Joshua hissing with pain. Lets go. Back off (Riggs). Back
off (Joshua). In pain, they circle. Round three ...
Thatís it, Martin... your body wants to
go into shock... but you wonít let it,
will you ... ?
... Give it up ... Your breathingís
soís your left arm...
Lifeís tough that way ... Oh, by the
way: Fuck you.
He launches himself at Joshua. Joshua strikes, scores a
minor point, breaking Riggsí collarbone, except Riggs
doesnít care,nosirree Bob... ĎCause he just hit paydirt:
Joshuaís knee. Boot-strikes, BAM -- ! Shearing the knee,
maybe bursting the cap ... Joshua shrieks, but then again,
so would you. And he promptly jack-knives his fist right
into Riggsí broken arm. Three times. Riggs bellows.
Refuses to quit. Slams his head into Joshuaís busted nose.
Pop ... Does it again. Joshua, hammering the broken arm.
Pow.(Scream) Pow.(Scream) ... Until, son of a bitch... The
pain is simply too intense... nothing human can withstand
it, they fall away, staggering, wrenching to a shaky halt,
facing one another, standoff ... Exhausted, limping, hardly
able to speak...
Pulling up now, cops stumbling out, guns clearing their
holsters as Murtaugh waves frantically, screams:
No guns. Let it go! Goddammit, let it
spits, gazes straight at Joshua. Joshua stares back. Two
soldiers. This close to collapsing. Until, breaking the
silence -- comes Murtaughís voice:
Kill the motherfucker.
A moment...and then, my friends, Riggs does a peculiar
thing: He smiles then. Damned if he doesnít. And rises up
... Standing. Standing straight.
There is no way he should be able to do this. And then he
speaks, and itís like the voice of doom, and all of a
sudden we know that this guy is a fucking legend, we know
why the V.C. en- forcers whispered his name at night in the
foxholes ... He is Riggs. And no one can touch him. No one.
Last chance. Walk away.
He steps forward. Stands. Joshua springs -- thunders his
foot into Riggsí hip, separating the bone at the joint ...
And Riggs doesnít blink. His hand comes out. Lightning
quick. There is a sick-sounding CRACK -- And Joshua is dead
before he hits the ground. Riggs hovers over the corpse...
breathing spastic, saliva dripping from his lips... takes a
handkerchief, wipes his hand, and says:
At which point, he collapses like a sack of grain.
is running forward, tears in his eyes by this time, falls
to his knees, cradling Riggs in his arms, while the
assembled cops look on in thoroughly stunned silence, what
they have just seen is beyond their wildest imagining ...
Riggs looks at Murtaugh. Murtaugh looks at Riggs.
Take it easy, Martin...
... Right. Easy. You bet ...
Does it hurt ... ?
Riggs throws him a look.
What are you, an idiot?
I got good news and bad news.
Whatís the good news?
... Good news is, Iím not dead...
Whatís the bad news?
Riggs grimaces in pain-
... Bad news is, Iím still alive ...
He chuckles. Groans. Passes out. The water RAINS steadily
down. The night wears on...
EXT. LONG BEACH BAR - DAY
Christmas carolers sing outside at roadside. A big banner
screams MERRY CHRISTMAS to passing cars. Christmas lights.
Tinsel. Murtaugh and Riggs stand on the sidewalk, huddled
against the chill. Riggs stands, braced on one crutch. Arm
in a sling. Their breath plumes out in front of them.
There are worse things than a psych
Guess I wonít be seeing you around.
The Department thinks Iím wild. I donít
belong anymore. Not here.
Where do you belong?
Who knows ... ? Maybe I can get a job
on a remake of Cobra.
My son would come see you.
Heíd be the only one.
(a pause; then)
This ... is a bad old world, isnít it?
Yeah. Sometimes it really is.
Iím thinking of quitting.
Donít you dare.
Murtaugh looks at him.
Youíre too old to change now, Colchise.
You just hang in there.
Yeah. You, too.
Guess Iíll say goodbye.
Sure. Come over for dinner sometime.
Donít blame you. Iím thinking of
arresting my wife for cruelty to bacon.
Merry Christmas, Martin.
He walks off down the street. Murtaugh watches him go.
Pause. Turns up his collar against the chill, takes a few
steps ... And a man steps in front of him. The same Punk
who Riggs beat the shit out of at the very beginning of the
Hey, old man, got any money?
Murtaugh stops. Stares. Blinks. And proceeds to kick the
shit out of him. A kick. A punch. The Punk lies on the
sidewalk, semi-conscious. Murtaugh scowls and says:
Iím fifty. Thatís not old, dickless.
EXT. CEMETERY - DUSK (SAME DAY)
RAIN pours down. Martin Riggs stands over a lone grave.
There are dark hollows under his eyes. The wind tugs at his
hair. The tombstone reads:
VICTORIA LYNN RIGGS
He reaches beneath his overcoat and removes a bright green
Christmas wreath, which he places atop the grave. Kisses
his fingertips. Presses them to the moist earth.
I love you.
The rains starts to fall. Riggs is oblivious.
EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT
Carpenters are at work, patching and repairing. The
Christmas lights still shine defiantly. A car pulls up.
As a hand knocks softly: The door opens -- and there stands
young Rianne. Adorable. She looks up at the visitor... It
is Martin Riggs.
He hands something to her. She takes it. The bottle of
pills. It has a red ribbon tied around it.
Give that to your dad. Itís a present.
Tell him I wonít be needing them
Okay. You wanna come in? Weíre
Riggs thinks it over. Shakes his head:
No, thatís okay.
You have a Merry Christmas, Missy.
Riggs turns to go. Rianne stops him:
They say youíre the best.
Beat. He stops. Turns and looks at her.
(big smile; wild wink)
No one can touch me.
Riggs begins to walk away, into the rain... Until Roger
Murtaugh appears from inside the boat on the trailer hitch.
He stands on deck and looks down at Riggs. Riggs stops.
They stand there in the rain for a moment. Then Murtaugh
looks him square in the eye and says:
Sucker, if you think Iím gonna cut the
worldís lousiest Christmas turkey all
by my lonesome, youíre nuts.
Riggs nods. A moment passes. Then:
I think your daughter kinda likes me.
You touch her, Iíll kill you.
He smiles. Murtaugh smiles. The rain falls, as they enter
the house together, and we