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Lethal Weapon (1997) movie script

by Shane Black.

More info about this movie on IMDb.com
						FADE IN:
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
as we:
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.
			GIRL
	Red car.
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
plant.
			GIRL
	Green car.
She drops it. Green Dodge. Ten stories below, BAM Impact
city. Scratch one paint job. Grabs the final plant and
holds it out, saying:
			GIRL
	Blue car.
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 --
			GIRL
	Yellow car.
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.
						 CUT TO:
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
their guard.
			RIGGS (FIGURE)
	Happy holidays.  Mind if I join you?
			PUNK  #1
	Yes.
			PUNK  #2
	Fuck off.
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.
			RIGGS
	I need help drinking this. Cool?
The dock workers exchange glances. There seems to be no
harm in this. One of them frowns:
			PUNK  #1
	You a homo?
			RIGGS
	Do I look like a homo?
			PUNK  #1
	You got long hair.  Homos got long
	hair.
			PUNK #3
	I hate homos.  Arrggh.
Riggs shakes his head, laughs.
			RIGGS
	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.
			RIGGS
	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.
			RIGGS
	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 --
			PUNK #1
	Oh, he does ... ?
		(beat)
	Well, mister, why don.t you ask him
	what he likes...?
The others snicker. Riggs simply nods.
			RIGGS
	Okay.
And once again, begins to confer with the dog.  Listens
intently, piecing together what he is hearing.
			RIGGS
	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:
			RIGGS
		(chuckling)
	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:
			RIGGS
	Whatís that ... ?  The one ... in the
	middle...  .is a stupid fat duck....
	What ... ?
		(listens again)
	Oh ... Oh!  A ístupid fat fuck!. Right.
He looks up, shakes his head.
			RIGGS
	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.
			PUNK #1
	Buddy, you.re shortening your life
	span.
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.
			RIGGS
		(to the collie)
	Whatís that ... ? You want me to take
	the knife away... and break his
	elbow... ?
Circling ... Riggs, watching them, his eyes beginning to
dance ... Breathing slow and even...
			RIGGS
	But that would be excruciatingly
	painful ...
Something inside Riggs is gearing up ... the others can
perhaps sense it, their smiles falter a bit, they  crouch,
combat-ready... Riggs, eyes blazing ...
			RIGGS
	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,
seated. Frowns:
			RIGGS
	Okay, skeezix.  Go on.  Get outta here.
He begins to walk away. The dog remains close at his heels.
Following him.
			RIGGS
	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.
			RIGGS
	Aw, shit.
He signals the dog.
			RIGGS
	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.
voice.
			RIGGS (V.O.)
	So.  You live in the area?  Whatís your
	major ... ?
And so on as we ...
						 CUT TO:
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.
						 CUT TO:
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
Robbery/Homicide.
ANOTHER ANGLE
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.
			CARRIE
	Make a wish, Daddy.
			RIANNE
	Go for it, Dad.
			MURTAUGH
		(smiles)
	Go for it, huh...?  Okay, I.ll go for
	it.
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.
						CUT  TO:
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.
ANOTHER ANGLE
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.
			RIGGS
	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 ...
						 CUT TO:
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:
			MURTAUGH
	Honey, whatís this on my tie?
She looks.
			TRISH
	An  ugly spot?
			MURTAUGH
	Thanks. Sharp as a pin.
			TRISH
	I.m thinking of going on .Jeopardy..
			MURTAUGH
	Don.t take any questions on cooking.
			TRISH
	Thanks.  I love you, too.
Carrie is still shrieking. Tears stream down her face.
			MURTAUGH
	Hey, kid, turn off the waterworks,
	okay?
			CARRIE
		(points to Nick)
	Daddy, he changed the channel!
			MURTAUGH
	NOOOOOO.
			NICK
	Sheís a crybaby, Dad.
			MURTAUGH
	Mind your own busines.
		(nods toward the TV)
	Thatís illegal.
			NICK
	Whatís illegal?
			MURTAUGH
	Can.t put a dead body in an ambulance.
	This .Kojak.?
			NICK
	ístarsky and  Hutch..
			MURTAUGH
	Huh.  Itís illegal.  Never put a dead
	body in an ambulance, son, you got
	that?
			NICK
	Sure, Dad.
			MURTAUGH
	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.
			MURTAUGH
	Thatís it. I.m gonna give you something
	to cry about. He grabs a copy of
	Newsweek and hands it to her.
			MURTAUGH
	Starving children. See? They haven.t
	eaten, itís very sad. Cry.
He moves away.
			CARRIE
	Daddy, you.re weird ...
			MURTAUGH
	Thank you, Carrie.  Hear that, honey,
	the children think I.m weird.
			TRISH
	They.re bright children.
		(hangs up the) telephone)
	Honey, you know a man named Dick Lloyd?
	Don.t step in the egg.
			MURTAUGH
	Whereís my thinking? I should.ve
	checked the floor for egg. Dick Lloyd
	... ?
		(beat)
	Jesus, Dick Lloyd.  Whatís he want?
			TRISH
	The office called. Heís been trying to
	reach you for three days now.
			MURTAUGH
	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.
			TRISH
		(smiles)
	You.re not getting older, you.re
	getting better.
			MURTAUGH
	Inform the children of this.
		(kisses her; heads for the
		 door)
	Forget the eggs, I.ll eat later.
			TRISH
	Whatever.
		(beat)
	Honey?
		(as he stops)
	How come I never heard of Dick Lloyd?
			MURTAUGH
	I never talked about him.
			TRISH
	Oh.
		(beat)
	Vietnam buddy?
			MURTAUGH
	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.
			MURTAUGH
	Hey.
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.
			RIANNE
	.Bye, Daddy.
He waves.
			MURTAUGH
		(shakes his head)
	Goddamn heartbreaker.  Sheís a
	heartbreaker.
						 CUT TO:
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.
						 CUT TO:
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
himself:
			MURTAUGH
	Happy birthday to me ...
						 CUT TO:
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
hears:
			DISPATCHER  (V.0.)
	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
	three.
Riggs hits the gas pedal and PEELS OUT.
						 CUT TO:
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
not happy.
			DIXIE
	Can I stay in the car?
			COP #1
	No.
			DIXIE
	Aw, cut me a break.  I  told  you
	already: she came  out  on  the balcony
	--
			COP #1
		(points)
	That balcony ... ?
			DIXIE
	-- 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?
			COP #1
	Not .til you talk to the Sarge.
			DIXIE
	Terrific.  Where the hell is he?
INT. MURTAUGHís CAR
The sarge drives up and gets out. A BEAT COP Toes by.
			BEAT COP
	Happy 50th, Rog.
			MURTAUGH
	Fuck you.
He crosses to the two Cops and Dixie.
			COP #2
	Hey,  Sarge.
			MURTAUGH
	.Morning, Phil. Get some rain, looks
	like.
		(beat)
	Hey, Dixie. Nice threads.
			DIXIE
	Hey, Murtaugh. Tell these bozos to lay
	Off.
			MURTAUGH
	You. Bozos. Lay off.
			COP #1
	Had a jumper last night, Sarge. Dixie
	here was walking by, saw the whole
	thing.
			MURTAUGH
	You got a statement?  Send her home.
			DIXIE
	Thanks, Rog. I.m beat, you know how it
	is.
			MURTAUGH
	Sure.
		(points to her outfit)
	All dressed up and no one to blow.
			DIXIE
	You.re hilarious.
She exits. Cop #2 escorts Murtaugh across the parking lot.
			COP #2
	Nice wholesome girl. She got a new job,
	you know.
			MURTAUGH
	Whatís that?
			COP #2
	County ceiling inspector.
		(beat)
	So. Fifty years old, huh?
			MURTAUGH
	Eat me.
They stop next to the Porsche. Murtaugh grimaces.
			COP #2
	Name is Amanda Lloyd, age twenty-two,
	prostitute, one arrest, no convictions.
	Born Tennessee, parents --
			MURTAUGH
	What was the name?
			COP #2.
	Lloyd. Amanda Lloyd. You know her...?
Murtaugh looks stunned.  He speaks very slowly:
			MURTAUGH
	I knew her dad.
			COP #2
	Jesus.
		(an awkward pause)
	Vehicle is registered to her. She
	landed right on top of her own car.
			MURTAUGH
	Find out who bought it for her. Her
	sugar daddy.
			COP #2
	Take some looking into.
			MURTAUGH
	So look.
						 CUT TO:
OMITTED
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.
			MURTAUGH
	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.
			RIGGS
	Good stuff.
			DRUG DEALER ONE
	You better fuckin. believe it.
			RIGGS
	Okay. Letís do it. How much?
			DRUG DEALER TWO
	How much for how much?
			RIGGS
	For all of it.
			DRUG DEALER THREE
	You want it all?
			RIGGS
	Yeah.
		(glances at the trees)
	And maybe a nice big six-footer to put
	it under.
			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.
			RIGGS
	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.
			RIGGS
	Twenty, forty, sixty --
The Drug Dealers exchange dumbfounded expressions.
			DRUG DEALER ONE
	Hey, man. Hey!
			RIGGS
	Wait, wait ... shutup. I.m losin
	count.  Where was I?  Oh, yeah...
		(continues to peel off the
		 bills)
	... Eight, ninety, ninety-five, ninety-
	six, ninety-seven...
		(digs into his pocket for loose
		 change)
	... 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.
			RIGGS
	C.mon. I.m almost there. Gimme a minute
	to  --
			DRUG DEALER ONE
	One hundred thousand, you stupid fuck!
	One hundred thousand!
Riggs is floored. He can.t believe his ears.
			RIGGS
	Oh, Jesus ... I can.t afford that. Not
	on my salary.
		(beat)
	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
disbelieving.
			RIGGS
	I could read you  your  rights, but ...
	nah. You guys know what your rights
	are.
			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.
			RIGGS
	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.
			RIGGS
	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.

			RIGGS
		(to officers)
	Shoot him! Shoot him!

			DRUG DEALER
		(to Riggs)
	Shut up!

			RIGGS
		(to Drug Dealer)
	Fuck you!
		(to officers)
	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
Dealerís escape.

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
head.

			RIGGS
		(to Drug Dealer)
	Do it, asshole. Pull the trigger. Pull
	the trigger.

			DRUG DEALER
	Shut the fuck up!

They move closer to the van. The narcotics officers have
their guns poised for action, but donít dare use them.

			DRUG DEALER
		(to officers)
	Guns down! Guns down!

			RIGGS
		(to officers)
	Shoot him!  Kill him!
		(to Dealer)
	Pull the trigger!
		(to officers)
	Waste him!
		(to Dealer)
	Shoot me!
		(to officers)
	Kill him!!

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.

OMITTED

thru
thru

25
25

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.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	I want Martin Riggs pulled from duty.

			MURPHY
	Um... no.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	No.  No???  Captain, he walked into the
	line of fire.

			MURPHY
	Very brave individual, donít you
	think... ?

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	This is utter bullshit.

			MURPHY
	Oh, is it? Forgive me.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	Martin Riggs is a cop with a death
	wish.

Murphy shoots her an incredulous look.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	You can quote me. It happens to be my
	professional opinion.

			MURPHY
	Um... good opinion. See you tomorrow.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	Captain...

			MURPHY
	Look, Doc, youíre  way  off.  Way off.
	Know what I think? I think Riggs is
	pulling for a psycho pension.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	Oh, do you?

			MURPHY
	Yeah.  I am sure youíre aware the
	department offers a disability stress
	pension --

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	Yes, Iím aware --

			MURPHY
	-- Except we donít offer  it  to
	everybody, only cops who seem to suffer
	from

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	-- From abnormal stress,  yes,  I know.
	Or suicidal tendencies.

			MURPHY
	Give the lady a cigar.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	You think Riggs is playing a game?

			MURPHY
	Sure. He wants the cash. Seen it a
	hundred times. Heíll come around.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	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

			MURPHY
	I know all about Riggs, Doc. Heís a
	tough bastard.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
		(intense)
	He is on the edge. He may be psychotic.

			MURPHY
	Bunch of psych bullshit- Look, can I
	pee now?

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	I think youíre making a mistake by
	leaving him in the field. Heís
	suicidal.

			MURPHY
	End of discussion.  Weíre gonna wait.
	And then, if he offs himself ... Well,
	then weíll know I was wrong.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	Yes, sir.  Then weíll know.

						 CUT TO:

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
cardboard box.

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.

			RIGGS
	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.

ANOTHER ANGLE

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.

EXT. TRAILER

The RAIN CONTINUES to hammer the lonely little pit which
Riggs calls home.

						 CUT TO:

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:

			MCCASKEY
	See, youíre behind the times, Sarge.
	Guys in the Eighties arenít tough.
	Theyíre sensitive people.  They show
	emotions around women and shit like
	that.
		(beat)
	I think Iím an Eighties man.

			MURTAUGH
	How you figure?

			MCCASKEY
	Last night:  I cried in bed, so howís
	that?

			MURTAUGH
	Were you with a  woman?

			MCCASKEY
	No, I was alone, why the fuck you think
	I was crying?

			MURTAUGH
	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:

			BURKE
	Got some news on the Lloyd case, Rog.

			MURTAUGH
	That was quick.

			BURKE
	So was the autopsy.
		(takes a deep breath)
	You ready for this? Theyíre not calling
	it suicide.

			MURTAUGH
	What?

			BURKE
	Surprise, surprise. First off, coroner
	found evidence she took barbiturates.

			MURTAUGH
	Brilliant. There was an open bottle on
	her table.

			BURKE
	Right, right. Thatís not the surprise.
	Surprise is someone doctored the pills.
		(beat)
	Every capsule was loaded with drain
	cleaner.

			MURTAUGH
	Jesus ...

			BURKE
	If she hadnít jumped, she woulda been
	dead inside fifteen minutes.

			MURTAUGH
		(sighs)
	This case blows.

ANOTHER ANGLE

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.

ACROSS ROOM

Murtaugh slings on a jacket. Turns to go. Notices Riggs.

MURTAUGHíS POV

Riggs resembles a bag person. Unshaven, limp dirty hair,
grimy leather jacket.

BACK TO SCENE

He frowns, says:

			MURTAUGH
	McCaskey, if my wife calls, tell her
	late dinner.

			BURKE
	Ho, Rog-  Iím not through yet. Iím
	supposed to tell you two more things.

			MURTAUGH
	Shoot.

He is still looking at Riggs, who is slowly wandering from
desk to desk, smoking -- Stopping near the desk with the
holstered gun.

			BURKE
	First, condition of the sheets and
	mattress indicate someone was in bed
	with Amanda Lloyd just before she died.
	Thatís A.

			MURTAUGH
	Whatís B?

			BURKE
	B is, Iím supposed to tell you youíre
	breaking in a new partner on this.

Now Murtaugh is eyeballing Riggs. Cautious.

			MURTAUGH
		(distracted)
	I donít work partners.

			BURKE
	You do now. C.I.T. transfer, some
	burnout they want you to keep on a
	leash.

			MURTAUGH
	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
breaks loose:

			MURTAUGH
	Gun !!

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:

			MCCASKEY
	What the shit is going on?

Burke sighs, shakes  his  head:

			BURKE
	Roger just met his new partner.

INT. OFFICE

Darkness.  A soft CLICK as a gun is cocked. The barrel
gleams faintly in the dim light. A voice:

			MAN (Oís.)
	There are three guns on you.

			VISITOR
	Easy.  Take it easy.
		(beat)
	Iím going to light a match.

He does. Holds it near his face.

			MAN (Oís.)
	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.

			LEADER
	If youíll follow me, please.

			MENDEZ
	Who the hell are you?

			LEADER
	Thatís hardly important.  If you like,
	you may call me Mr. Joshua.

			MENDEZ
	Swell.

They move toward a door in the rear wall.

			JOSHUA (LEADER)
	I trust youíre having a pleasant
	holiday season?

			MENDEZ
		(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.

			GENERAL
	Yes, Joshua... ?  Ah, Mr. Mendez.
	Please, have a seat.

Joshua stands off to one side. Mendez sits.

			MENDEZ
		(under his breath)
	Whereíd you get him?  Psychos ĎR.í Us?

			GENERAL
	Hardly.

Points to another merc.

			MENDEZ
	I like the sunglasses. Very Hollywood.

			GENERAL
	Mr. Larch is unfortunately missing an
	eye. For anonymityís sake, he chooses
	to forego wearing a patch.

			MENDEZ
	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.

			GENERAL
	I donít find you funny.

			MENDEZ
	I  donít find this goddamn setup funny.
		(beat)
	Youíre using mercenaries, for
	Chrissake.  Tell me Iím wrong.

			GENERAL
	No.  Youíre not wrong.

			MENDEZ
	And Iím  supposed to trust these bozos?

			GENERAL
	My people are loyal, Mr. Mendez. They
	are loyal to me.

			MENDEZ
	Bullshit.

			GENERAL
	Joshua. Hold out your hand.

Joshua steps up to the General and extends his arm.

			GENERAL
	Do you smoke, Mr. Mendez?

			MENDEZ
	Yeah.

			GENERAL
	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.

			GENERAL
	You wish to do business with us, yes?

			MENDEZ
	Jesus ...

			GENERAL
	Mr. Joshua is in a great deal of pain.
	You wish to make a purchase, yes?

			MENDEZ
	I ... yes. Sure. Jesus.

The General nods, hands the lighter back to Mendez.

			GENERAL
	Filthy habit, smoking.
		(beat)
	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.
		(beat)
	Merry Christmas.

OMITTED

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
pause.

			MURTAUGH
	Turn right.
		(beat)
	So.  They tell me youíre a good cop.

			RIGGS
	I try.

			MURTAUGH
	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?

			RIGGS
	Yes.

			MURTAUGH
	Assassin stuff?

			RIGGS
	Maybe.

			MURTAUGH
	And they gave you the Congressional
	Medal of Honor.

			RIGGS
	It was a lean year.

			MURTAUGH
	Itís over, you know.

			RIGGS
	What is?

			MURTAUGH
	The war.

			RIGGS
	Yes. I know.

			MURTAUGH
	Just thought Iíd remind you.
		(beat)
	Check out your piece?

He reaches across the get Riggsí gun.  At which point
Riggsí hand shoots out -- and stops him cold.

			RIGGS
	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.

			RIGGS
	Donít hurt yourself.

Murtaugh hefts the weapon, turning it over in his hand:
Beretta .9 millimeter. Smooth, well-oiled. Accurized.
Murtaugh frowns.

			MURTAUGH
	.9 millimeter  Beretta. Thatís some
	serious shit.

			RIGGS
	Military switched from Colt  to Beretta
	in 1985. Itís a better piece. Wide
	ejection  port, no feed jams, no
	stovepipes.

			MURTAUGH
	Whatís it take?

			RIGGS
	Fifteen in the mag, one up the pipe.
	You carry a wheelgun?

			MURTAUGH
	.38 Special.

			RIGGS
	Lot of old-timers carry that.

Murtaugh shoots him a look.  Replaces the gun.

			MURTAUGH
	File says youíre registered with Newark
	P.D. as a lethal weapon.

			RIGGS
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Guess what?

			RIGGS
	What?

			MURTAUGH
	I donít want to work with you.

			RIGGS
	Then donít.

			MURTAUGH
	Ainít got no choice.  Damn. Weíre both
	fucked.

			RIGGS
	Terrific.

As they speak, Riggs has pulled to a stop in front of a
large downtown bank building.

			MURTAUGH
		(rubs  his  eyes)
	Iím very old ...
		(sighs)
	... God hates me, thatís what it is.

			RIGGS
	Hate him back.  Works for me.

He lights a cigarette.

						 CUT TO:

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.

			LLOYD
	Murder ...  But  I  thought  ...

			MURTAUGH
	Poisoned.  Even if she hadnít jumped
	... sheíd still be dead.

			LLOYD
	Jesus.
		(beat)
	Jesus,  I  canít  take -------.

He sits, staring out the window. A broken man.

			MURTAUGH
	Dick, why did you call me yesterday?

			LLOYD
		(very  far  away)
	Called you...? Yeah. Thatís right ... I
	heard you were working out here ... I
	wanted you to find her for me,  Roger.
	Take her

			MURTAUGH
	Out of what?

			LLOYD
	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-...!

			MURTAUGH
	Easy, Dick.

Lloyd turns, facing them.  Intense:

			LLOYD
	I want a promise.
		(beat)
	You owe me. You know you do.

			MURTAUGH
	Yes. I know that.

			LLOYD
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Iím a police officer, Dick.

			LLOYD
	Forget the law. Itís easy to do. You
	owe me.

			MURTAUGH
		(pause; then)
	We have to go now.

Lloyd does not look up. Riggs and Murtaugh head for the
door.

			LLOYD
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	You gonna smoke in the car?

			RIGGS
	Thinking about it.

			MURTAUGH
	Terrific.

He puts the top down. Riggs takes out a cigarette, starts
to put it in his mouth. Stops.

			RIGGS
	Whoops.  Shit.

He replaces it in the pack, takes another. Murtaugh looks
at him.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			RIGGS
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Brilliant. Get in the car.

			RIGGS
	Want me to drive?

			MURTAUGH
	Youíre suicidal, remember?

			RIGGS
	Anyone who drives in Los Angeles is
	suicidal.

They get in. Murtaugh heaves a sigh, stares bleakly out the
window. A moment, then Riggs says:

			RIGGS
	He said you owed him. What did he mean?

			MURTAUGH
	We served together in Ď65. He saved my
	life in the La Drang Valley. Took a
	bayonet in the lung.

			RIGGS
	That was nice of him.

			MURTAUGH
	I thought so.

The RADIO SQUAWKS. Murtaugh  TURNS  it  UP.

			DISPATCHER   (V.O.)
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Four King Sixty en route.

			RIGGS
	This is great. I love this job.

			MURTAUGH
	Stow it.

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
approaches.

			PATROL  COP
	Hey, Sarge, you wanna handle this?

			MURTAUGH
	Where“s the psychologist?

			PATROL  COP
	Sitting in traffic.

			MURTAUGH
	Swell.
		(beat)
	Who“s the guy?

			PATROL  COP
	Salesman name of MacCleary. Left the
	office party. Went upstairs and walked
	out on the ledge.

			MURTAUGH
	Think he“ll go?

			PATROL  COP
	Seems serious enough. Who knows?

Riggs clears his throat. Murtaugh turns.

			RIGGS
	I can handle this.

			MURTAUGH
	You qualified to talk to jumpers?

			RIGGS
	I“ve done it before.

			MURTAUGH
		(reluctant;  then)
	Okay. You“re elected.
		(as Riggs) turns to go)
	Hey.
		(as Riggs stops)
	No guns. No kung fu. Just ... bring him
	in.

			RIGGS
	Sure. Bring him in.

			MURTAUGH
	Right.

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
Jumper.

			MACCLEARY (JUMPER)
	Go away.

			RIGGS
	My name is Riggs.

			MACCLEARY
	Fuck off.

			RIGGS
	I can“t do that.
		(beat)
	What“s your name?

			MACCLEARY
	Look, I know all the psychology
	bullshit, it won“t work.

			RIGGS
	I“m not a psychologist.

			MACCLEARY
	Yeah?  What are you?

			RIGGS
	Homicide cop.

			MACCLEARY
	You“re early.  Hang on a couple
	minutes, you can go to work.

			RIGGS
	At least tell me your name.  Look, I
	gotta fill out the little piece of
	paper.  Okay?

			MACCLEARY
		(swallows)
	Len. Len MacCleary.

			RIGGS
	Thanks.   —Preciate it.
		(beat)
	That M -- C ... ?

			MACCLEARY
	M -- A -- C, now get outta here.

Riggs leans out farther, perches on the ledge.  Absolutely
calm.

			RIGGS
	Why are you doing this?

			MACCLEARY
	None of your goddamn business.

			RIGGS
	Fair enough.
		(pause; then)
	I“m coming out. Take it easy.

Riggs stands, steps out onto the narrow ledge. He seems
unconcerned.

			MACCLEARY
	Don“t come near me!

			RIGGS
	Ssshhh. Easy. I“m just going to talk.

			MACCLEARY
	Touch me and I“ll jump.

			RIGGS
	I understand.

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.

			RIGGS
	You“re not the first guy to think of
	this, you know. Everyone“s got
	problems.

			MACCLEARY
	You know shit.

			RIGGS
	Wrong. You“re wrong.
		(beat)
	I almost tried this once. Seriously.
	My wife. Got killed in a car crash.
	Only person I ever cared about. I never
	had kids.

MacCLEARY

You“re breaking my heart.

Riggs takes out his wallet, flashes it at MacCleary.

			RIGGS
	This is her picture.

			MACCLEARY
	Nice.  Fuck off.

			RIGGS
	I“m trying to tell you I understand,
	you dope.

He takes a step closer.

			MACCLEARY
	Don“t touch me. I“m not doing anything
	wrong.

			RIGGS
	I know that. Not like you“re murdering
	anyone.

			MACCLEARY
	Right. Only one hurt is me.

			RIGGS
	Same way I look at it. I“m gonna stand
	beside you, okay?

			MACCLEARY
	No!
		(beat)
	Dammit, keep away.

			RIGGS
	Please. This is scary stuff. Just ...
	let me stand next to you.

			MACCLEARY
	Don“t try nothing.

			RIGGS
	I try something, we both go.

			MACCLEARY
	Right.

Riggs slowly steps up to the man.  Shudders.

			RIGGS
	There. Fuckin“ cold,up here.
		(beat)
	Helluva day for both of us, huh?
		(looks  around  at the sea of
		 traffic far below)
	Here we are.
		(beat)
	God, this is really scary. I“m scared.

			MACCLEARY
	Me,  too.

			RIGGS
	You wanna smoke?
		(pulls out cigarettes)
	Let“s smoke, okay?

			MACCLEARY
	Sure.

Riggs offers a smoke. MacCleary reaches for it. And Riggs
snaps a handcuff on his wrist. Snaps the other end onto his
own wrist.

			MACCLEARY
	Hey ...

			RIGGS
	Sorry.
		(beat)
	See  this  key?

He holds up the key to the cuffs. Flings it out into space.

			RIGGS
	We“re together on this. You can go if
	you want. But you take me with  you.
	Makes you a murderer.

			MACCLEARY
	You bastard.

			RIGGS
	You“ll be killing a cop.

Silence.

			RIGGS
	I“m going inside.  What say you come
	with me?

He turns, starts to ease along the ledge.  MacCleary
swallows hard, says:

			MACCLEARY
	Fuck you, I“m jumping.

And suddenly Riggs turns on him. Eyes like steel.

			RIGGS
	You wanna jump ... ? You really want to
	... ?
		(long  pause; then)
	Fine. Let“s do it.

He steps to the edge.

			MACCLEARY
	Hey, what the fuck ...

			RIGGS
	You asked for it.

			MACCLEARY
	Hey, wait a minute ... !

Riggs does something very drastic. He jerks them both off
the ledge. Holy shit. The crowd gasps.

			RIGGS
	Geronimoooooo ...

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.

			MACCLEARY
	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
other“s eyes.

			RIGGS
	Don“t ... touch me.

Murtaugh will not back down.

			MURTAUGH
	What the fuck did you just do???

			RIGGS
	I controlled the jump. You wanted him
	down. He“s down.

			MURTAUGH
	C“mere.

He yanks Riggs around the corner, away from the other cops.

			MURTAUGH
	Okay, turkey, no bullshit. Do you want
	to kill yourself?

			RIGGS
	Aw, for Chrissake ...

			MURTAUGH
	Shut up. Just yes or no, do you want to
	die? Huh? Yes or no?

			RIGGS
	I got the job done.

			MURTAUGH
	You“re not answering the question!!!

			RIGGS
		(angry)
	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:

			MURTAUGH
	You want to die.

			RIGGS
	I“m not afraid of it.

			MURTAUGH
	Here.
		(unholsters his gun)
	Pills are too slow. Use a gun.Use my
	gun. Go ahead, pal.

A pause. Riggs looks at the gun.

			MURTAUGH
	Be my guest.

He offers the gun to Riggs.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			RIGGS
	You shouldn“t tempt me, Roger.

			MURTAUGH
	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
his chin.

			RIGGS
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Jesus. You“re not trying to draw a
	psycho pension.
		(beat)
	You“re really crazy ...

			RIGGS
		(smiles coldly)
	So now you know.

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah. Now I know.

INT. POLICE  LINEUP  -  DAY

The Police Psychologist we met earlier  is talking on the
telephone:

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	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
	helping?

							   INTERCUT:

ROGER MURTAUGH

Standing at a pay phone, listening.  He nods:

			MURTAUGH
	Terrific.  So you“re saying I should
	worry.

			PSYCHOLOGIST
	Are you kidding?  The guy“s a time
	bomb.  When he goes... stand back.

			MURTAUGH
	Thank you, Doctor.  You“ve been very
	helpful.

He hangs up.  Rubs his eyes tiredly and says:

			MURTAUGH
	I“m too old for this shit.

						 CUT TO:

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:

			MURTAUGH
		(pounding his fist against the
		 wheel)
	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!

			RIGGS
	Roger --

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			RIGGS
	I didn“t know  that.

			MURTAUGH
	Know what?!

			RIGGS
	That today was your birthday.
		(beat)
	Happy Birthday, Roger.  I mean that
	sincerely.

Murtaugh looks taken aback by the genuine sound of affec-
tion in Riggs“ voice.

			RIGGS
	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.

			RIGGS
	Where we going?

			MURTAUGH
	Beverly Hills.
		(beat)
	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
sex.

INT. SOLARIUM

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.

			RICH GUY
	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.

						 CUT TO:

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
enter.

53     EXT. HOUSE WINDOW - SAME TIME					53

Riggs“ face comes INTO FRAME, peering cautiously through a
plate glass window. He whistles softly.

			RIGGS
	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.

			RIGGS
	I“m thinking probable cause.

			MURTAUGH
	Jesus. Maybe I should call for backup.

			RIGGS
	What am I, chopped liver?

Murtaugh looks at him. Sighs.

			MURTAUGH
	No killing.

			RIGGS
	No killing.

He grins cheesily-

EXT. SOLARIUM

Riggs and Murtaugh approach the frosted glass door.  They
draw their guns.

			MURTAUGH
	Nice and easy.

			RIGGS
	Nice and easy.

Murtaugh takes a deep breath. Kicks open the door.

			MURTAUGH
	Police.  Hold it right there.

INT. SOLARIUM

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:

			MURTAUGH
	See how easy that was?  Boom. Still
	alive. Now we take the gun away ...
		(he does)
	... 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.

			RIGGS
	No fair, the building guy lived.

			MURTAUGH
	Whatever. The point is, no killing.

			RIGGS
	No killing.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			RIGGS
	Oops.

Murtaugh stares daggers at him.

			MURTAUGH
	Have you ... ever... met someone you
	didn“t kill... ?

			RIGGS
	Haven“t killed you yet.

			MURTAUGH
	Terrific, you want a little  gold star?
		(lie pulls out a soaked pack of
		 cigarettes)
	Shit.

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
stops:

			MURTAUGH
	Look, I“ m sorry I said that shit back
	there.
		(beat)
	You saved my life. Thank you.

			RIGGS
	I bet that hurt to say.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			CARRIE
	Hi, Daddy. Is that a crook?

			MURTAUGH
	No, honey, this is Martin, my partner.
		(scoops her up; hugs her)
	Tell Martin what you think of crooks.

			CARRIE
	Buttheads.
		(giggles)
	They“re buttheads.

			RIGGS
	Kid“s no dummy.

			CARRIE
	Daddy, Mommy says you hate her cooking.

			MURTAUGH
	Tell Mommy hate is a mild word.

INT. KITCHEN

Trish is cooking as the two cops enter.

			MURTAUGH
	Hi, honey.
		(he  looks  in the oven)
	We“re having something brown... A
	largish brown object  ...

			TRISH
	It“s roast.

			MURTAUGH
	Dammit, I wanted to guess. Honey, this
	is Martin, my new partner. He“ll be
	joining us tonight, okay?

			TRISH
	Sure. Roast okay with you, Martin?

			RIGGS
	Fine.

			MURTAUGH
	How about brown, roast-like substance?

			TRISH
	Roger, you“re being an asshole.
		(kisses his ear)
	Don“t forget to compliment Rianne on
	her shoes.

			MURTAUGH
	Got it. Drink, Martin?

			RIGGS
	Bourbon, if you have it.

Murtaugh exits. Riggs stands awkwardly as Trish removes the
roast from the oven.

			RIGGS
	My wife could burn water.

			TRISH
	You“re married?

			RIGGS
	I was. She“s dead now.

			TRISH
	Oh. I“m sorry.

			RIGGS
	No problem.

He reaches for a stray piece of roast.  Trish slaps his
hand.

			TRISH
	Don“t pick.-

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.

			RIANNE
	Hello, Father.

			MURTAUGH
	Hello, daughter. Nice shoes.

			RIANNE
	Oh, Daddy, aren“t they great?

			MURTAUGH
	Absolutely.  How much they cost?

			RIANNE
	A hundred and ten dollars.  Do you
	really like them?

			MURTAUGH
	A hundred and --
		(frowns)
	-- They“re shoes.

			RIANNE
	Right.

			MURTAUGH
	You wear them on your feet.

			RIANNE
	Right.

			MURTAUGH
	And that“s all they do ... ? There“s
	not, like a TV inside?

			RIANNE
	Nope.

			MURTAUGH
		(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:

			RIGGS
	This is good. I like this.

Nick looks at him very strangely. Okay, so the guy likes
cartoons ...

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.

MURTAUGH

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.

			TRISH
		(sarcastically)
	That“s okay, honey. I“ll take out the
	garbage.

Boat. Murtaugh“s head appears sheepishly from within.

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah.  Thanks, honey.

On board boat, Murtaugh is working on the engine. Riggs
sitting on driver“s seat.

			MURTAUGH
	Whaddaya think?

			RIGGS
	You know anything about boats, Roger?

			MURTAUGH
	Know how much they cost.

			RIGGS
	I mean, can you sail this thing?

			MURTAUGH
	What“s wrong with you? This ain“t a
	sail boat.

			RIGGS
		(smiling)
	That“s what I thought.

			MURTAUGH
	No trick to it. That“s the front.
	That“s the back. Water all around. Why
	you gotta make things so complicated?

			RIGGS
	I don“t. That“s just how they are.

Murtaugh opens an ice chest, takes a beer for himself and
tosses one to Riggs.

			MURTAUGH
	Oh, yeah. You mean Amanda Hunsacker“s
	murder?

			RIGGS
	Now, did I mention that?

			MURTAUGH
	You don“t have to. I can read your
	mind.

Riggs makes no reply. He just looks at Murtaugh over the
rim of his beer can.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	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.
		(beat)
	That“s why he came at us today with a
	shotgun.

			RIGGS
	I don“t  know. Sounds a little too neat
	to me.

			MURTAUGH
	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
leaps up.

			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
to flip.

			RIGGS
	Lookin“ for this?

He silences the engine. Murtaugh glares at him.

			MURTAUGH
	You asshole.

			RIANNE
	Hi, Dad...

Murtaugh jumps, startled by his daughter“s arrival. Rianne
and Riggs exchange a glance.

			MURTAUGH
	What is it, Rianne?

			RIANNE
	Mark wants to take me  out  to  a club
	tomorrow night.

			MURTAUGH
	You“re grounded -- you know that.

			RIANNE
	Please, Daddy ...

			MURTAUGH
	Which one is Mark, anyway?

			RIANNE
	The blond one.

			MURTAUGH
	Oh, yeah. The one with pits in his
	face.

			RIANNE
	Those are dimples.

			MURTAUGH
	Those are pits. When he smiles, I can
	see through his head.
		(beat)
	The answer is no. End of story.

			RIGGS
	C“mon, Rog. Have a heart.

Murtaugh looks at Riggs -- not appreciative of his
intervention.

			MURTAUGH
	The girl was smoking pot in the house.
	She“s grounded!

			RIANNE
	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,
	Dad.

Murtaugh looks down sheepishly at the can of beer in his
hand. Riggs grins to himself.

			MURTAUGH
	—Cause right now, beer“s legal and
	grass ain“t. Right or wrong.

			RIANNE
	Wrong.

			RIGGS
	Right.

She stalks off.  After a moment, Murtaugh looks over to
Riggs.

			MURTAUGH
	I“ve lost track... did we resolve
	anything  here  tonight?

Riggs shakes his head, smiles and starts to climb off the
boat.

			RIGGS
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Thanks.

			RIGGS
	Enjoyed the meal.

			MURTAUGH
	Bullshit, but thanks anyway.

A pause.  Riggs stands there. Then:

			RIGGS
	You don“t trust me at all, do you?

			MURTAUGH
	Tell you what. Make it through tomorrow
	without killing anybody. Especially
	me. Or  yourself. Then I“ll start
	trusting you.

			RIGGS
	Fair enough.

He walks toward his truck.  Stops.

			RIGGS
	I do it real good, you know.

			MURTAUGH
	Do what?

			RIGGS
	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.
		(beat)
	Ten guys in the world coulda made that
	shot. Huh. Only thing I was ever good
	at.
		(pause;  then)
	Well, see you tomorrow.

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah. See  you  then.

Riggs drives away. Murtaugh watches him. Turns. On the way
back inside, he flicks on the Christmas lights.

OMITTED

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.

			HOOKER
	Hi, handsome.  Looking for something?

			RIGGS
	Aren“t we all?

			HOOKER
		(nods)
	Are you affiliated with any law
	enforcement organization?

			RIGGS
		(pause;  then)
	No. Get in the car.

She does. Closes the door.

			RIGGS
	How old are you?

			HOOKER
	Twenty-two.

			RIGGS
	Bullshit.

			HOOKER
	Why, you like —em young?

			RIGGS
	Younger the better.  How old are you?

			HOOKER
		(almost shyly)
	Sixteen.

Riggs nods. Takes out a hundred-dollar bill and sets it in
her lap.

			HOOKER
	Wow.
		(beat)
	So, what do you want?

			RIGGS
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Hey.

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.

			HOOKER
		(turning to him)
	You“re not having a very good time,
	are you?

Riggs puts down the photo.

			RIGGS
		(sweetly)
	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
	life.

			HOOKER
		(after a beat)
	Are you?

Riggs doesn“t answer.

			HOOKER
	I know... sing me something.

			RIGGS
	I don“t sing.

			HOOKER
	Come on. Sing me a song.

			RIGGS
	I don“t know any songs.

			HOOKER
	Not even a Christmas song? Everybody
	knows a Christmas song.

Riggs shrugs and makes a half-hearted attempt:

			RIGGS
	Something through the snow, in a one-
	horse open sleigh ...

			HOOKER
	Good. That“s good.
		(helps him out)
	Over the hills we go, laughing all the
	way.

			RIGGS
	Something something ring, making
	something bright ...

			HOOKER
	Oh, what fun it is to ride ...

			RIGGS
	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.

			RIGGS
	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
his face.

						 CUT TO:

INT. HALLWAY

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:

			RIANNIE
	... 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
frowns.

			MURTAUGH
	... Martin...  ?

			RIGGS
	Good morning, Roger. I“ve been doing a
	little thinking.

Murtaugh just stares at him.

			RIGGS
	About the night Amanda Hunsaker died.

Murtaugh grimaces.

			MURTAUGH
	Do you know what time it is ... ?

			RIGGS
	Day time?

			MURTAUGH
	I“ll get dressed.

						 CUT TO:

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
opposite Murtaugh.

			RIGGS
	You“re seriously using ketchup?

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah.

			RIGGS
	On eggs.

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah.
		(beat)
	Who made the ketchup?

			RIGGS
	Heinz.

			MURTAUGH
	Who made the eggs?

Riggs looks to Trish.

			TRISH
		(across the room)
	You two are so hilarious I could bust.

Riggs leans forward.

			RIGGS
	Roger.

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah.

			RIGGS
	That hooker who witnessed the jump the
	other night. What was her name?

			MURTAUGH
	Dixie.

			CARRIE
	What“s a hooker?

			MURTAUGH
	Shh, quiet, I“m combatting crime.

			NICK
	A hooker is a ...

			RIGGS
		(interrupts)
	Right, and she“s in Century City
	witnessing Amanda Hunsaker“s suicide

			MURTAUGH
	or murder --

			RIGGS
	right, or murder, and my question is...
	what is she doing there?  I called
	Wilshire Vice, that“s not her usual
	turf.

			MURTAUGH
	Wow.
		(beat)
	Wow. That“s really reaching.

			RIGGS
	Cut me a break, it“s a hunch, Roger.
	I“m having a hunch.

			MURTAUGH
	You couldn“t have it at home, you had
	to come here at 7:30 A.M. and have it.

			RIGGS
	7:35, and yes, I thought you“d be
	excited.

			MURTAUGH
	I“m thrilled.
		(pause)
	Okay.

			RIGGS
	Okay, what?

			MURTAUGH
	Okay, go for it.  I“m listening.

						 CUT TO:

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:

			MURTAUGH
	We know someone was in bed with Amanda
	Lloyd the night she died.

			RIGGS
	Right. —Til now we assumed it was a
	man.

			MURTAUGH
	Okay. Let“s say it was Dixie.

			RIGGS
	Okay. Disgusting, but okay: Let“s say
	Dixie slipped the drain cleaner into
	the pills.

			MURTAUGH
	Say someone paid her to do it.

			RIGGS
	Sure. She  thinks, terrific, Amanda
	swallows a couple downers and boom,
	she“s dead. Then Dixie --

			MURTAUGH
	If it was her --

			RIGGS
	Right, right, then Dixie has plenty of
	time to spritz the place up, get out,
	whatever.

			MURTAUGH
	Except Amanda jumps out the window.

			RIGGS
	Or Dixie pushes her. Either way

			MURTAUGH
	Either way, she“s gotta make a fast
	getaway, —cause now the body“s public.
	She hauls ass downstairs.

			RIGGS
	People are coming out to see what
	happened.

			MURTAUGH
	Someone spots her. She says —shit.“

			RIGGS
	Right. She actually stops and says,
	—Shit.“

			MURTAUGH
	Or, —Damn.“

			RIGGS
	Or —Golly, I“ve been spotted.“ The
	point being --

			MURTAUGH
	The point being, now she has to cover
	her ass.

			RIGGS
	Right. So she says, —Officer, officer,
	I saw the whole thing.“

			MURTAUGH
	Right.

			RIGGS
	Right.

			MURTAUGH
		(sighs)
	That“s pretty fucking thin.

			RIGGS
	Very thin.

			MURTAUGH
		(smiles)
	Hell with it. Thin“s my middle name.

			RIGGS
	Your wife“s cooking, I“m not surprised.

			MURTAUGH
	Would you lay off the cooking?

			RIGGS
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	You sleep with that thing under your
	pillow?

			RIGGS
	I would if I slept.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah, yeah.  Eat me. He stalks away,
	pissed off.

OMITTED

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.

			RIGGS
	Hey, kid. What“cha doing?

The Kid grins, obviously pleased with himself.

			LITTLE KID
	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.

			RIGGS
	Good thinking.

They keep walking. Toward the cottage.

			MURTAUGH
	Very thin.

			RIGGS
	Probably nothing.

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,
but unhurt.

			MURTAUGH
	Hey.

Riggs turns.

			MURTAUGH
	You“re on fire.

Riggs looks. The back of his coat is completely ablaze.

			RIGGS
	Shit.

He takes it off, flings it aside. Goes up to Murtaugh-
Lights a cigarette.

			RIGGS
	Probably nothing.

			MURTAUGH
	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
it.

			MURTAUGH
	Ho.
		(he  looks  under the sheet)
	Jesus.

			ATTENDANT
	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 --

			MURTAUGH
	Okay, okay.

The stretcher continues toward the waiting truck. Murtaugh
looks off, whispers:

			MURTAUGH
	Bye-bye


ANOTHER ANGLE

Martin Riggs is examining a twisted hunk of metal as
Murtaugh walks up beside  him.

			MURTAUGH
	Whatícha got?

			RIGGS
	Part of the  device.
		(beat)
	Holy cow.

			MURTAUGH
	What?

			RIGGS
	Artwork.  This is goddamn artwork.

			MURTAUGH
	Swell.  Iím glad you liked it.

			RIGGS
	You donít understand. This is real pro
	stuff. Havenít seen this since ...
	well, since the war.

			MURTAUGH
	Come again?

			RIGGS
	C.I.A. used to hire mercs who used this
	same setup. Mercury switches.

Murtaugh frowns. A PATROL COP taps him on the shoulder.

			PATROL COP
	Sir, I think youíd better come with me.

Riggs-and Murtaugh exchange glances. They move off, across
the street.

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 ...

			COP
	Okay, here it is. The little  kid says
	he saw someone working on the meter
	this morning.

			MURTAUGH
	Where?

			COP
	Across the street at  Dixieís.  He was
	playiní some kind of game, hidiní under
	the stairs. Says he saw the guy pretty
	good.

			MURTAUGH
	Jesus. This could be a break.

			RIGGS
	You kidding? The kidís six years old.

			COP
	If that.

			MURTAUGH
	You call the gas company?

			COP
	Sure did. No one supposed to check that
	meter for at least another   month.

			MURTAUGH
		(nods)
	Let me handle this.

			COP
	Be my guest.

			RIGGS
	Wanna wear the chicken suit? I got some
	clown makeup.

			MURTAUGH
	Stow it.

He crosses to the boy.

			MURTAUGH
	Hi. Iím Detective Murtaugh. Whatís your
	name?

			ALFRED (LITTLE KID)
	Alfred.

He stares at Murtaugh with eyes like saucers.

			MURTAUGH
	How old are you, Alfred?

			ALFRED
	Six.

			MURTAUGH
	Wow.  Six.
		(beat)
	Bet you like the Gobots, huh?

Alfred nods.

			MURTAUGH
	Me, Iím a G.I. Joe man.

			ALFRED
		(points)
	Is that a real gun?

			MURTAUGH
	Yes, it is.

			ALFRED
	Do you kill people?

			MURTAUGH
	No. If a guy is hurting someone, I try
	to shoot him in the arm or something.
	Just to stop him.

			ALFRED
	Momma says policeman shoot black
	people.

Murtaugh grimaces. Alfredís mother looks away quickly.

			MURTAUGH
	Alfred, this man you saw. The meter man
	... ?
		(beat)
	You get a good look at him?

			ALFRED
	I saw him.

			MURTAUGH
	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
		 chest)
	If you want, you can be a junior
	detective. If you want.

The kid looks at him. Distrust.

			MURTAUGH
	Keep it, itís yours. Official
	detective.

Alfred nods, grins.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	I want you to draw him for me.

			ALFRED
	Iím a good drawer.

			MURTAUGH
	Try to draw the man.

Riggs clears his throat. Rolls his eyes.

			RIGGS
	Oh, brother. This is good. I like this.

			MURTAUGH
	Can it, Martin.

			RIGGS
	Weíre gonna put out an A.P.B. on Big
	Bird.

			MURTAUGH
	Very funny.

			RIGGS
		(laughs)
	Attention all units. Large yellow bird.
	Silly voice.

			MURTAUGH
	Youíre hilarious. Alfred, draw the man,
	okay?

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.

			RIGGS
	Brilliant police work? I think so.

							   TIME CUT:

ANOTHER ANGLE

Minutes have passed.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			RIGGS
	Oh, my ...
		(begins to laugh)
	... Oh, my...

He laughs even harder now.  Murtaugh scowls, snatches the
picture away.

			MURTAUGH
	Terrific. Very professional.

Riggs is hooting. Murtaugh shows the picture to Alfred.

			ALFRED
	He laugh at my picture.

			MURTAUGH
	Shhh. Donít mind him. Heís crazy.

			ALFRED
	Iím a good drawer.

			MURTAUGH
	You bet.
		(points)
	Alfred. This is ... the manís arm,
	right?

			ALFRED
	Yeah.

			MURTAUGH
	Okay. Now this mark. Is this ... What
	is this?

			ALFRED
	He had it on his arm.

Riggs stops laughing. Moves in closer.

			RIGGS
	Whoa. What was on his arm?

			MURTAUGH
	Was it a birthmark?
		(points to his arm)
	Was it like this?

			ALFRED
	No. It was pained.

			MURTAUGH
	Pained.

			RIGGS
	Pained, pained.  Whatís he saying?

			MURTAUGH
	Sssshh.
		(beat)
	It was ... painted?

			ALFRED
	Yeah.

			MURTAUGH
	Like a tattoo?
		(beat)
	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
some such.

			RIGGS
	This is a tattoo.

The boyís eyes go wide once again. He points at Riggsí arm.

			ALFRED
	It was that.

The cops stop, puzzled.

			MURTAUGH
	It was that? You mean...just like
	that...?

			ALFRED
	Yeah. Man had the same thing.

			RIGGS
	Youíre sure?

Alfred nods. The cops exchange glances:

			RIGGS
	Special Forces tattoo ... ?

			MURTAUGH
	Martin.

			RIGGS
	Yeah.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

NEARBY --

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.

ANOTHER ANGLE

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.

			MURTAUGH
	Hi, guy.

			LLOYD
	Roger...What...Whatís up, buddy?

			MURTAUGH
	Not much.
		(beat)
	Wanna tell me about it?

			LLOYD
	Tell you about what?

			MURTAUGH
	Donít bullshit me. Thatís over.
		(beat)
	Your daughter wasnít killed because of
	something she was into. She was killed
	because of something youíre into.  Stop
	me if Iím wrong.

			LLOYD
	I donít know what youíre talking about.
	Roger, I ...

			MURTAUGH
	Keep your hands in front.

			LLOYD
		(stops; startled)
	Hey. Take it easy, man.

			MURTAUGH
	Fuck easy.
		(beat)
	When you called me the other day, you
	were gonna blow the whistle, werenít
	you?

			LLOYD
	Blow the whistle on what?

			MURTAUGH
	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
eyes.

			MURTAUGH
	Talk to me.

			LLOYD
	Canít ... canít do that ...

			MURTAUGH
	They killed your daughter.

			LLOYD
	I...

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			LLOYD
	Dammit, Roger, Iíve... Iíve got another
	daughter!

			MURTAUH
	Sheíll be protected.
		(beat)
	Itís over, pal.

			LLOYD
	Protected. Thatís a laugh... You donít
	know these people.

			MURTAUGH
	Acquaint me.

							   TIME CUT:

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:

			LLOYD
	It goes all the way back to the war.

			MURTAUGH
	Iím listening.

			LLOYD
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Keep talking.

			LLOYD
	Couple of years ago, Shadow Company got
	together again. The war was over, but
	we still had a list of sources.  In
	Asia.

			MURTAUGH
	And ... ?

			LLOYD
	And weíve been bringing it in ever
	since.

			MURTAUGH
	Bringing what in?

			LLOYD
	Think real hard.

			MURTAUGH
	Heroin.

			LLOYD
		(nods)
	Two shipments a year. Run by ex-C.I.A.
	Soldiers, mercs. No one knows.

			MURTAUGH
	You son of a bitch.

Lloyd does not reply. A pause, then:

			MURTAUGH
	If you were getting cold feet, whyíd
	they kill Amanda? Why not just kill
	you?

			LLOYD
	They canít. They need me.

			MURTAUGH
	Why?

			LLOYD
	My bank. Itís the front. Makes
	everything look good on the tax report.

			MURTAUGH
	The tax report ... ?

			LLOYD
	This is big business, Roger.

			MURTAUGH
		(ice cold)
	Not any more. Iím gonna burn it down.

			LLOYD
	You canít. Itís  too  big. These guys
	are trained killers.

			MURTAUGH
	Tell me about the next shipment.

			LLOYD
	No.  No way.

Murtaugh grabs a framed picture of Amanda, slams it down on
a wooden butcher block. GLASS SHATTERS. Lloyd stares.

			MURTAUGH
	Tell me!!!

Lloyd flinches.  Leans back, a dreamy look in his eyes.
Speaks from very far away ...

			LLOYD
		(softly)
	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
Murtaugh.

			LLOYD
	Back off.

			MURTAUGH
	Oh, swell. Good move.

			LLOYD
	Iím not kidding. Iím in too far now.

Murtaugh does not budge. Lloyd cocks the hammer.

			LLOYD
	The gun is silenced, Roger.

Murtaugh stares him down. Eyes like fire.

			MURTAUGH
	Whatís it gonna be, buddy ...? You
	gonna save my life, just so you can
	snuff me twenty years later...?

			LLOYD
	Things are different now.

			MURTAUGH
	I guess.

A moment. Lloyd stares intently. Finger sweating on the
trigger.

			MURTAUGH
	If you can do it, do it. I donít
	fucking care anymore.

LLoyd blinks. Swallows. Another  moment. Finally -- He
lowers the gun. Sighs.

			LLOYD
	... 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.

			LLOYD
	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:

			MURTAUGH
	Riggs!!!

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.

BACK INSIDE

Murtaugh is at the window. Gun pointed.

			MURTAUGH
	Riggs!!!

MURTAUGHíS POV

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.

MURTAUGH

diving out the window. Hits. Rolls, comes up. Scream- ing,
waving at Riggs ...

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 --

JOSHUA

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:

			RIGGS
	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

			MURTAUGH
	You through?

Riggs looks up at him. His eyes look like a demonís.

			RIGGS
	I havenít even started.

						 CUT TO:

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.

			JOSHUA
	Yes, sir ... Yes, sir, Mr. Lloyd is
	dead. Iím afraid, however, that another
	problem exists.

INTERCUT - THE GENERAL

In his van, speaking on mobile phone.

			GENERAL
	Define.

			JOSHUA
	Lloyd spoke to the cops, sir.

			GENERAL
	Are the cops dead?

			JOSHUA
	No, sir. I missed.

There is a significant pause. Joshua licks his lips. Then:

			GENERAL
	Thatís very disappointing. The police
	may know everything. The whole
	operation,  yes?

			JOSHUA
	Yes.  Awaiting orders, sir.

			GENERAL
	Joshua, I think itís time to turn up
	the heat.

EXT. VIEWSITE - NIGHT

A black Camaro is parked at the side of the road. The city
twinkles beyond.

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:

			RIANNE
	Mark, I gotta get home.

			MARK
	Would you quit worrying? Your mom
	thinks youíre asleep and your dadís
	busy shooting crooks.

			RIANNE
	He said heíll shoot you if we have sex.

			MARK
	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.

			RIANNE
	Wait.

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
--  *

						 CUT TO:

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
the wind...

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.

			RIGGS
	Iím pissed, Roger.  Now Iím pissed.

EXT.  STORE

The cops exit and cross the street toward their car.

			RIGGS
	Roger. Quit looking so damn worried.
	Iím  fine.

			MURTAUGH
	Two inches higher, they wouldíve got
	your head.

			RIGGS
	Fuck that. Two inches to the left, they
	wouldíve got my smokes.

He takes out a pack, lights one up.

			RIGGS
	Oh, by the way: Guy who shot me?

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah.

			RIGGS
	Same guy who shot Lloyd.

			MURTAUGH
	Jesus ... You sure?

			RIGGS
	I never forget an asshole.

			MURTAUGH
		(sighs)
	So okay, ace: What do we do now?

			RIGGS
	Give up? Flee? Go far away?

			MURTAUGH
	Hilarious.  What do we really do?

			RIGGS
	What else? We bury the fuckers. You
	know, we solve this, we could get
	famous, do shaving ads and shit.

			MURTAUGH
	Do goddamn Forest Lawn ads, weíre not
	careful.

			RIGGS
	Heh. Donít be a killjoy. Itís Friday
	night. Letís go kick ass.

			MURTAUGH
	You just got shot, man.

			RIGGS
	Exactly.

			MURTAUGH
	What do you mean, exactly?

			RIGGS
	Gives us the edge, Cochise.
		(smiles)
	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.

			DISPATCHER   (V.0.)
	Four King sixty, meet four king ninety
	on tach two.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Four king sixty, negative.
		(beat)
	Give it to Burke.

			PATROL COP (V.0.)
	Sorry, sixty. Captain says give it to
	you. Male Caucasian, age seventeen.

			MURTAUGH
	Swell. Did he have blond hair and big
	dimples?

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
block capitals.

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.

			MURTAUGH
	Bastards ... bastards ...

Riggs looks on, stunned.  The TELEPHONE RINGS.  RINGS
again.

			RIGGS
	Roger.

Murtaugh looks up. Snaps out of  it. Down the hall, his
wife Trish moves to answer the phone.

			MURTAUGH
	Donít answer that!!

He rushes down the hall, scoops up the receiver:

			MURTAUGH
	Murtaugh.

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
on, terrified.

			MURTAUGH
	They took my kid... Bastards took my
	kid ...

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.

			SINGING COPS
	ĎDon we now our gay apparel...í

			MCCASKEY
	McCaskey, Homicide -- just a moment,
	please -- Hey, will you guys for
	Chrissakes shut up?? ... Yes, can I
	help you?

99     INTERCUT - MCCASKEY AND MR. JOSHUA			        99

Joshua is on the other end.  Beside him the General looks
on intently.

			JOSHUA
	Hello, Iím calling from the K.T.L.A.
	News department. We heard that Sergeant
	... um, Riggs, is it ... ? had some
	trouble tonight, and ...

			MCCASKEY
		(interrupting)
	Yes, Sergeant Riggs has been killed.
	Shot through the chest by unknown
	assailants.

			JOSHUA
	My God. Iím sorry.

			MCCASKEY
	Itís a bad day for all of us. And what
	is your name, sir?

			JOSHUA
	Goodbye.

He hangs up. Turns to the General.

			JOSHUA
	Bingo. Riggs is out of the picture.

			GENERAL
		(nods)
	I want Murtaugh taken alive.

			JOSHUA
	He may not talk.

			GENERAL
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Theyíre not going to hurt her. If I do
	exactly what they say... theyíll let
	her go.
		(beat)
	Sheís coming home.

A moment. Then:

			TRISH
	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.

			RIGGS
	Hey, Missy.

			CARRIE
	I canít sleep.

			RIGGS
	Uh-oh.  Not good.

He scoops her up.

			RIGGS
	Whoís your friend?

			CARRIE
	Rickles the cat.

			RIGGS
	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.

			CARRIE
	Ouch.

Riggs looks at her.  Smiles, and whispers softly:

			RIGGS
	Yeah.
		(beat)
	Ouch...

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.

			RIGGS
	You know theyíre going to kill her.

			MURTAUGH
	Yes.

			RIGGS
	You want her back, youíve got to take
	her away from them.

			MURTAUGH
	I know.

			RIGGS
	Good. We do this my way.
		(beat)
	You shoot, you shoot to kill. Get as
	many as you can. Donít miss.

			MURTAUGH
	I wonít miss.

A pause. Riggs studies Murtaugh. Then:

			RIGGS
	Weíre gonna get bloody on this one.
		(beat)
	Youíre going to have to trust me.

Murtaugh stares at him for a moment. Then, he finally
speaks ...

			MURTAUGH
	... How... good are you... ?

			RIGGS
	What?

			MURTAUGH
	Are you... only crazy ... or are you...
	as good as you say you are... ?

There is a pause. Then:

			RIGGS
	No one can touch me.

			MURTAUGH
	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:

			RIGGS
	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.

			RIGGS
	Here we go.

OMITTED

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 ...

							  TIME  CUT:

ANOTHER ANGLE

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...

			RIGGS
	Forgive me.

There is a KNOCK at the door. Riggs spins. Lightning quick.
Gun in hand.

			VOICE (Oís.)
	Me.  Murtaugh.

			RIGGS
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	Hollow points.  Armor piercing.

			RIGGS
		(nods)
	You werenít followed?

			MURTAUGH
	No.

Riggs begins scooping up handfuls of ammo.

INT. RIGGSí TRAILER - FEW MINUTES LATER

Murtaugh is hooking a wire in place under his collar.

			MURTAUGH
	Testing, one, two, three...

			RIGGS
	Fine.

He straps on his hunting knife.

			RIGGS
	Itís twelve-thirty. Letís move.

			MURTAUGH
	Donít get too close. Theyíll spot you.

Riggs hoists a long-range sniper rifle. Infra-red scope.

			RIGGS
	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
December sky.

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.

			MURTAUGH
	Split.

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 ...

			MERC #1
	Murtaugh?

			MURTAUGH
	Yes.
		(beat)
	Iím alone.

			MERC  #1
	Hands up. Come with us.

			MURTAUGH
	Show me the girl.

			MERC  #1
	Sheís not here.

			MURTAUGH
	Bullshit. Let me see her. Then I come
	quietly.

The Merc nods.

VAN

comes AT US from across the desert.

INT. VAN

Inside, Rianne is gagged, helpless. She looks terrified.
Next to her, Mr. Joshua holds a cocked pistol. Merc #1
leans in:

			MERC #1
	He wants to see the girl.

BACK OUTSIDE

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..

			MERC  #1
	Simple exchange. You come with us, the
	girl takes a walk.

			MURTAUGH
	Let her go now.

			MERC  #1
	No. Take your hands out of your
	pockets.

			MURTAUGH
		(shrugs)
	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.

			MURTAUGH
	This fuckerís alive.
		(beat)
	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.

			MR. JOSHUA
	Take him.

			MERC #1
	But sir ...

			MR. JOSHUA
	Heís bluffing, itís a dud. He wouldnít
	risk killing his daughter.

			MURTAUGH
	Donít push me.

			MR. JOSHUA
	Take him.

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.

			RIGGS
	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
Rianneís throat.

			MERC #1
	Put the pin back in.  Do it.

Murtaugh sweats. Mr. Joshua begins to walk forward, gun
extended. Cool as ice. Another step. Smiling ...

ON  HILLTOP

Riggs sits dead still, focusing through the sniper scope.

			RIGGS
	Come on... Move away from the girl ...

MURTAUGH

Joshua stops in front of Murtaugh. Cocks the gun.

			MR. JOSHUA
	Drop the fucking grenade.

			MURTAUGH
	I do and we die.

			MR. JOSHUA
	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.

ON HILL

Riggs grunts. FIRES.

BELOW

The Merc drops. Joshuaís head snaps around. He stares off
at the distance and hisses:

			JOSHUA
	Riggs ... !

Meanwhile, Murtaugh rolls, comes  up, gun in hand.  FIRES,
BAM

			MURTAUGH
	Rianne, the car!

Rianne bolts.  Meanwhile --

ON HILLTOP

Riggs swivels the barrel, half an inch. Grunts. FIRES.

DOWN BELOW

The black sedanís WINDSHIELD SPLINTERS.  The car rocks with
the impact as the driver is killed instantly.

GRENADE

chooses that moment to EXPLODE, poof ... into a cloud of
orange smoke. A shower of confetti.

			JOSHUA
	Dud! Itís a dud!

RIANNE

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.

MURTAUGH

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 ...

ON HILL

Riggs swivels, lightning quick.

			RIGGS
	No.

Grunts. FIRES.

MERC ON HOOD

is blown off the car.

RIANNE

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.

ON  HILLTOP

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.

			GENERAL
	Youíre not that fast, son.
		(beat)
	Drop the rifle.

He speaks into a walkie-talkie.

			GENERAL
	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-

			JOSHUA
	A very nice try.
		(speaks into walkie-talkie)
	Kendo. Get the girl.

ON  HILLTOP

Riggs stands, hands over head. The General studies him
thoughtfully.

			GENERAL
	Martin Riggs. Your combat record is the
	stuff of legend.

			RIGGS
	So is yours. General Peter McAllister,
	commander of Shadow Company.

			GENERAL
	I see weíve heard of each other.

			RIGGS
	Yeah. Itíll almost be a shame when I
	kill you.

			GENERAL
		(laughs)
	I donít think so, son.

DESERT FLOOR

Mr. Joshua says to Murtaugh:

			MR. JOSHUA
	Youíre about to have a fun evening.

			MURTAUGH
	Go spit.

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

							   FADE OUT.

						FADE IN:

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.

			JOSHUA
	Well, well. Look whoís back from the
	dead.

Riggs struggles against the manacles, slopping water.

			JOSHUA
	Please save your strength. I believe
	youíll need it.

Riggs stops moving. Scowls at Joshua and says nothing.
Joshua smiles.

			JOSHUA
	Youíre just in time for a lot of pain.

			RIGGS
	Iím thrilled.

			JOSHUA
	Oh, you will be.  I daresay youíll be
	... shocked.

Kendo snickers in the corner.

			RIGGS
	Whoís the chin?

			JOSHUA
	Shhh. Donít make him mad.

			RIGGS
	My mistake. Whoís the pleasant Oriental
	psychopath?

			JOSHUA
	His name is Kendo, and he has forgotten
	more about dispensing pain than you
	will ever know.

			RIGGS
	Terrific. Listen, guys, can we get some
	Mister Bubble in here ...

			JOSHUA
	Please shut up.
		(studies Riggs)
	My, my, look at all those scars.
		(beat)
	See, Martin, we have a problem. Since
	we have Murtaugh, we really donít even
	need you.  But I believe in being
	thorough.

Across the room, Kendo throws a switch. A mechanical
HUMMING fills the room.

			JOSHUA
	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
	cops.

			RIGGS
	That would be a shame.

			JOSHUA
	Indeed. So you see, Martin, it is
	essential that we find out how much the
	police know.

			RIGGS
	We donít know shit. You killed Lloyd
	before he could talk.

			JOSHUA
	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.

			RIGGS
	Such a deal, I should  worry.

			JOSHUA
	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.

			JOSHUA
	Do you vomit?

			RIGGS
	Sometimes.

Joshua nods. Sighs.

			JOSHUA
	Back before prison reform, the staff at
	Sing Sing invented a rather unusual
	form of punishment. Itís know as the
	hummingbird treatment. Are you
	familiar?

			RIGGS
	Please, no tickling. I hate tickling.

			JOSHUA
	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.

			JOSHUA
	I thought youíd  like it. I can of
	course, kill you now. Simply tell me
	what you know.

			RIGGS
	Guess weíre in for a long night. ĎCause
	I donít know scratch.

			JOSHUA
	Weíll find out. Kendo ... ?

The Oriental moves forward. He brandishes the sponge/
battery hookup. Dips it into a bucket of water. Riggs is
sweating.

			JOSHUA
	Feel free to  scream.

			RIGGS
	Havenít you guys...heard of yuletide
	cheer...?

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.

			JOSHUA
	My goodness.  Now that was fun, wasnít
	it?

Riggs looks at him. Dripping hate.

			RIGGS
	Iím going to kill both of you.

			JOSHUA
		(laughs)
	Thatís very funny.
		(beat)
	About the shipment ... ?

			RIGGS
	Fuck yourself.

Kendo dunks the battery..Run it down Riggsí stomach. He
screams again, as we mercifully ...

						 CUT TO:
OMITTED

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.

			GENERAL
	The shipment, Mr. Murtaugh?

			MURTAUGH
	Go spit.

			GENERAL
		(sighs)
	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
without blinking.

			MURTAUGH
	Thatís it...if you guys think Iím
	sending you a Christmas card youíre
	nuts.

Larch cuffs him, hard.

			GENERAL
		(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
Joshua:

			KENDO
	He knows shit. Weíre safe.

			JOSHUA
	Youíre sure?

			KENDO
	Believe me, heíd have told us.

			JOSHUA
	Fine.
		(clucks in disgust)
	Big, bad soldier ... my ass.
		(beat)
	Iím going upstairs. Deal with him.

			KENDO
	Deal with him?

			JOSHUA
	Yeah.
		(stops at the door)
	Fry his nuts.

He exits.

						 CUT TO:

INT. DINGY BACK ROOM - SAME TIME

The General leans over Murtaugh. Murtaugh sweats.

			GENERAL
	Anytime, Roger. Anytime.
		(beat)
	See, the thing of it is...We know where
	you live.
		(frowns)
	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.

			RIANNE
	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:

			MURTAUGH
	Bastards ... Untie me and Iíll kill
	every one of you.

			GENERAL
	Precisely why we would never think of
	untying you.

Larch shoves Rianne into the corner. She lands in a heap.
Murtaugh is sweating buckets. Eyes desperate. The General
leans in close:

			GENEPAL
	If you know something, son, you better
	play ball, Ďcause the stakes just went
	up ...

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.

			RIGGS
		(slurred)
	No ... Please ...

			KENDO
	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.

			GENERAL
	Good Lord. Very wholesome-looking girl.
	Yessirreee.

			MURTAUGH
	Goddammit, Iíve told you everything!!!!

			GENERAL
	Weíll soon know, wonít we?

Larch approaches Rianne. She squirms.

			MURTAUGH
		(beat)
	You touch her, youíre dead.

			GENERAL
	Oh, son, spare me.
		(beat)
	Itís over, Sergeant. No heroes around
	to save you ...

He picks up a baseball bat. Tosses it to Larch.

			GENERAL
	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.

			RIGGS
	Work your circulation.

Crosses to Rianne, cuts her free. She collapses sobbing
into his arms.

			RIGGS
	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.

			RIGGS
	Theyíre all dead. Letís get out of
	here.

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.

ANOTHER ANGLE

A beat cop comes running up, and  Murtaugh  shoves  Rianne
in his direction. Flashes his badge.

			MURTAUGH
	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:

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			RIGGS
	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.

ANOTHER ANGLE

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.

UP AHEAD

Joshua turns, sees Riggs--and stops.

			JOSHUA
	Okay, you bastard, letís see whoís
	better.

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.

UP AHEAD

Joshua rushes up to a stalled car. Throws open the door.
Yanks out the driver, hops behind the wheel. ROARS away.

						 CUT TO:

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.

			ORDERLY
	Where is he, Officer?

			COP
	Right over there.

He points -- and suddenly frowns: There is no one there.
Murtaugh is gone. Nowhere to be seen.

						 CUT TO:

EXT. BACK ALLEY - SAME TIME

A sleek black VAN careens around the corner.

INT. VAN

A MERC is driving, foot glued to the pedal. THE GENERAL
sits sweating in the back seat.

ANOTHER ANGLE

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.

ANOTHER ANGLE

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...

			MURTAUGH
	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 ...

INT. VAN

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.*

EXT. ROADWAY

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 --

HEROIN

is sifting down on the night air, ten million dollarsí
worth... A cloud over the entireí street. Swirling in the
breeze.

MURTAUGH

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.

MARTIN RIGGS

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.

			MURTAUGH
	Well, shit.

			RIGGS
	Try not to breathe, youíll see pink
	elephants.

			MURTAUGH
	Joshua?

			RIGGS
	Got away.

			MURTAUGH
	We ... gotta find him.

			RIGGS
	No dice. First thing we gotta do is get
	you to a hospital.

			MURTAUGH
	Uh-huh First thing we gotta do is check
	on my house.
		(beat)
	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
eye.

						 CUT TO:

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.

			POLICE OFFICER
	Excuse me, sir, may I see some
	ID?

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.

INT. CAR

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.

DEAR BADGUYS

NO ONE HERE BUT US COPS.

SORRY.

-- 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
the windowsill.

			RIGGS
	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
figure.

			MURTAUGH
	Freeze, Joshua.

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:

			RIGGS
	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
drips menace:

			RIGGS
	Come on, ace.
		(beat)
	Try me.

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.

			JOSHUA
	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
otherís hands.

RIGGS

His fingers twitch. Flex. Wrist making  slow, laborious-
circles.

JOSHUA

Shifting from leg to leg, floating his balance.

MURTAUGH

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
an opening.

			JOSHUA
	Concentrate, Martin...Donít give me an
	opening..Wouldnít want to do that ...

Riggs shifts. Blinks. And:

JOSHUA

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
two ...

MURTAUGH

Meanwhile, is raising his gun, pointing it at Joshua.
Riggsí voice cuts like a knife:

			RIGGS
	No. Roger.
		(beat)
	No way.

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 ...

			JOSHUA
	Thatís it, Martin... your body wants to
	go into shock... but you wonít let it,
	will you ... ?

			RIGGS
	...  Give it up ... Your breathingís
	shot  ...

			JOSHUA
	soís your left arm...

			RIGGS
	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...

POLICE CARS

Pulling up now, cops stumbling out, guns clearing  their
holsters as Murtaugh waves frantically, screams:

			MURTAUGH
	No guns. Let it go! Goddammit, let it
	go!!

RIGGS

spits, gazes straight at Joshua. Joshua stares back. Two
soldiers. This close to collapsing. Until, breaking the
silence -- comes Murtaughís voice:

			MURTAUGH
	Martin.

			RIGGS
	Yeah.

			MURTAUGH
	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.

			RIGGS
	Last chance. Walk away.

			JOSHUA
	Fuck yourself.

			RIGGS
	Fine. Die.

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:

			RIGGS
	You lose.

At which point, he collapses like a sack of grain.

MURTAUGH

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 ...

ON GROUND

Riggs looks at Murtaugh. Murtaugh looks at Riggs.

			MURTAUGH
	Take it easy, Martin...

			RIGGS
	... Right. Easy. You bet ...

			MURTAUGH
	Does it hurt ... ?

Riggs throws him a look.

			RIGGS
	What are you, an idiot?

			MURTAUGH
	Sorry.

			RIGGS
	Síall right.
		(beat)
	I got good news and bad news.

			MURTAUGH
	Whatís the good news?

			RIGGS
	... Good news is, Iím not dead...

			MURTAUGH
	Whatís the bad news?

Riggs grimaces in pain-

			RIGGS
	... Bad news is, Iím still alive ...

He chuckles. Groans. Passes out. The water RAINS steadily
down. The night wears on...

						 CUT TO:

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.

			MURTAUGH
	So.

			RIGGS
	So.

			MURTAUGH
	There are worse things than a psych
	pension.

			RIGGS
		(shrugs)
	Probably.

			MURTAUGH
	Guess I wonít be seeing you around.

			RIGGS
	Guess not.
		(beat)
	The Department thinks Iím wild. I donít
	belong anymore. Not here.

			MURTAUGH
	Where do you belong?

			RIGGS
	Who knows ... ? Maybe I can get a job
	on a remake of Cobra.

			MURTAUGH
	My son would come see you.

			RIGGS
	Heíd be the only one.

			MURTAUGH
		(a pause; then)
	Riggs.

			RIGGS
	Yeah.

			MURTAUGH
	This ... is a bad old world, isnít it?

			RIGGS
		(sighs)
	Yeah. Sometimes it really is.

			MURTAUGH
	Hell.
		(beat)
	Iím thinking of quitting.

			RIGGS
	Donít you dare.

Murtaugh looks at him.

			RIGGS
	Youíre too old to change now, Colchise.

			MURTAUGH
	Me? Old...?

			RIGGS
	You just hang in there.

			MURTAUGH
	Yeah. You, too.

			RIGGS
	Guess Iíll say goodbye.

			MURTAUGH
	Sure. Come over for dinner sometime.

			RIGGS
	No, thanks.

			MURTAUGH
	Donít blame you. Iím thinking of
	arresting my wife for cruelty to bacon.
		(beat)
	Merry Christmas, Martin.

			RIGGS
	Merry Christmas.

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
film.

			PUNK
	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:

			MURTAUGH
	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

BORN:  1953

DIED:  1984

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.

			RIGGS
	Merry Christmas.
		(beat)
	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.

						 CUT TO:

FRONT  DOOR

As a hand knocks softly: The door opens -- and there stands
young Rianne. Adorable. She looks up at the visitor... It
is Martin Riggs.

			RIANNE
	Hi.

			RIGGS
	Hi.

He hands something to her. She takes it. The bottle of
pills.  It has a red ribbon tied around it.

			RIGGS
	Give that to your dad. Itís a present.
	Tell him I wonít be needing them
	anymore.

Rianne nods.

			RIANNE
	Okay. You wanna come in?  Weíre
	building.

Riggs thinks it over. Shakes his head:

			RIGGS
	No, thatís okay.
		(beat)
	You have a Merry Christmas, Missy.

			RIANNE
	Okay.

Riggs turns to go. Rianne stops him:

			RIANNE
	They say youíre the best.

Beat. He stops. Turns and looks at her.

			RIANNE
	Are you?

			RIGGS
		(big smile; wild wink)
	No one can touch me.

Rianne blushes.

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:

			MURTAUGH
	Sucker, if you think Iím gonna cut the
	worldís lousiest Christmas turkey all
	by my lonesome, youíre nuts.

Riggs nods. A moment passes. Then:

			RIGGS
	I think your daughter kinda likes me.

			MURTAUGH
	You touch her, Iíll kill you.

			RIGGS
	Youíll try.

He smiles. Murtaugh smiles. The rain falls, as they enter
the house together, and we

							   FADE OUT:

THE END


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