Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri Page 5
ABERCROMBIE
(to the others)
None o’ you cracker motherfuckers got no work to do?
Cops go back to work.
DIXON
(quietly)
Ain’t that racialist?
Abercrombie sits on Dixon’s desk.
ABERCROMBIE
What happened to your hands there, Officer Dixon?
DIXON
Oh, I just kinda banged ’em up a little bit while I was throwing some guy out of a fucking window. Y’know, the usual.
ABERCROMBIE
Oh yeah? They never taught me that one at the Academy.
DIXON
Which fucking Academy you go to?
Abercrombie looks over Dixon’s cluttered desk; his momma’s photo, toy figurines, Angela Hayes’ case file, a comic book.
ABERCROMBIE
How’s things coming along on the Angela Hayes case?
DIXON
How’s things coming along on the ‘Mind your own fucking business’ case?
ABERCROMBIE
How’s things coming along on the hand me your gun and your badge?
Dixon snorts, then, as he realises he means it, is sickened.
DIXON
Huh?
ABERCROMBIE
Hand me your gun and your badge.
Dixon’s eyes well up. Abercrombie just stares right past him. Dixon gives Abercrombie his gun, then checks himself for his badge. He can’t find it. He goes through all his pockets, embarrassed, as Abercrombie waits. Still can’t find it.
DIXON
I can’t find my badge. No, seriously. Maybe I dropped it when I was doing the window guy?
ABERCROMBIE
Just get the fuck out of my station house, man.
Dixon rises, sadly. Looks to his fellow cops. Who look away. Abercrombie enters Willoughby’s office, slams the door behind him. Dixon shuffles up to the Desk Sergeant.
DIXON
I think I just got fired. Fired or suspended, I’m not sure which …
DESK SERGEANT
Fired.
Dixon looks at him, eyes welling up. He nods, and leaves before he starts crying.
INT. GIFT SHOP – DAY
A pick-up truck pulls up outside. Mildred, reading a magazine, watches as a well-built, Crop-Haired Guy, late twenties, enters, kinda stares straight at her a moment, then ambles around the shop, looking at knick-knacks he obviously has no use for.
MILDRED
Anything I can help you with, just gimme a holler.
CROP-HAIRED GUY
(pause)
Give you a what?
MILDRED
A holler?
He stares at her again, then continues with the knick-knacks.
CROP-HAIRED GUY
A holler, huh? (Pause.) Give Mildred Hayes a holler. Okay.
MILDRED
You know me?
CROP-HAIRED GUY
Only from the TV, and the radio. How much these here ‘Welcome to Missouri’ rabbits go for?
MILDRED
Seven bucks. It’s writ right on ’em.
Guy tosses a glass rabbit against a distant shelf, where it, and the things on the shelf, shatter, startling Mildred.
CROP-HAIRED GUY
Guess he ain’t seven bucks now.
MILDRED
What the hell was it you come in here for?
CROP-HAIRED GUY
What did I come in here for? Well, maybe I’m a good friend of Willoughby’s, how about that?
MILDRED
Are you?
CROP-HAIRED GUY
Or, y’know … maybe I was a friend of your daughter’s or something. How about that?
MILDRED
(pause)
Were you?
CROP-HAIRED GUY
Or, uh, y’know, maybe I was the guy who fucked her while she was dying? How about that?
They stare at each other a while.
MILDRED
Were you?
CROP-HAIRED GUY
Oh … Naw. I would’ve liked to. I saw her picture in the paper there.
Doorbell tinkles, as Anne enters, dressed in black.
CROP-HAIRED GUY
Saved by the bell, huh?
Guy turns to leave.
MILDRED
You owe me seven fucking dollars for the rabbit.
CROP-HAIRED GUY
Guess you’ll have to get it off me next time I’m passing through, huh, Mildred?
MILDRED
I guess I will.
Guy exits. Anne, who she’s never seen before, comes up.
You don’t know how glad I am to see you.
ANNE
What?!
MILDRED
That guy was scaring me.
ANNE
I wouldn’t have said you scare easy.
MILDRED
I ain’t the worst. What can I do for you, ma’am?
ANNE
My husband left this for you before he shot himself in the head last night.
Anne hands her the letter, as Mildred just stares at her.
MILDRED
I’m sorry, Mrs Willoughby …
ANNE
Are you? Are you really?
MILDRED
Of course …
ANNE
Surely it’s the perfect ending for you, isn’t it? It’s proof that they’ve been successful, these billboards of yours, isn’t it, a dead policeman? It’s quantifiable now.
MILDRED
Are you blaming this on me?
ANNE
No, I’m not blaming this on you. I just came to give you the letter. Now, my two little girls are out in the car, so I’d better not stay and chat. I’m not sure what we’re going to do for the rest of the day. It’s hard to know what to do the day your husband kills himself. It’s hard to know what to do.
Anne leaves. Mildred looks out as she drives away – and sees Polly and Jane looking back at her through the rear window.
Mildred rests her head on the glass door a second, the broken ‘Welcome to Missouri’ rabbit on the shelf beside her, its head split in two. She opens the letter in her hand and starts reading, as dusk falls on the street outside.
WILLOUGHBY
Dear Mildred, Dead Man Willoughby here. Firstly I wanted to apologise for dying without catching your daughter’s killer. It’s a source of great pain to me, and it would break my heart to think you thought I didn’t care, cos I did care. There are just some cases …
EXT. BILLBOARD ROAD – DUSK
The billboards and surrounding landscape from various angles at sunset; including details like the half-eaten flowers and the insects thereon; the burnt patch of dirt; and the billboards themselves.
WILLOUGHBY
(voice-over)
… where you never catch a break, then five years down the line some guy hears some other guy bragging about it in a bar room or a jail cell and the whole thing is wrapped up through sheer stupidity. I hope that might be true for Angela, I really do. Second, I gotta admit, Mildred, the billboards were a great fucking idea. They were like a chess move. And although they had absolutely nothing to do with my dying, I’m sure that everyone in town will assume that they did, which is why, for Willoughby’s counter-move, I decided to pay the next month’s rent on ’em. I thought it’d be funny, you having to defend ’em a whole ’nother month after they’ve stuck me in the ground. The joke is on you, Mildred, ha ha, and I hope they do not kill you. So good luck with all that, and good luck with everything else too. I hope and I pray that you get him.
EXT. DIXON’S ROAD – DUSK
Dixon and Momma sitting on their porch at sunset, with beers.
MOMMA
Well, do you want me to go down and talk to them?
DIXON
No, I don’t want you to go down and talk to them. Jesus! Somebody sending their goddam mother down to talk to the goddam police, for Christ’s sakes. (Pause.) And say what?
MOMMA
>
And say to give you your job back. And to get rid of the black guy.
DIXON
They ain’t gonna listen to some guy’s mother, asking them to get rid of some black guy. Things have moved on in the South!
MOMMA
Well, it shouldn’t’ve! (Pause.) Will they give you any money for being laid off an’ all?
DIXON
I don’t know what the compensation scheme is for when you throw a guy out of a window, Mom. I guess I shoulda looked into that beforehand. Let me google that!
MOMMA
A couple grand, maybe? You’ve been there three years. Not counting the five years at the Academy. Six if you count the year you were held back.
Dixon gives her a look as he pulls on his jacket.
Where ya going?
DIXON
None of your business.
MOMMA
Off to see your fancy woman?
DIXON
I don’t got a fancy woman.
MOMMA
Yeah. I know!
He gives her another dirty look.
DIXON
You wanna watch yourself.
MOMMA
Or you’ll do what?
DIXON
Blow your goddam head off.
Momma laughs loudly. Dixon gets in his car and drives off.
EXT. ROAD APPROACHING BILLBOARDS – CONTINUOUS
Mildred and Robbie, driving a road adjacent to the billboard road, the billboards not yet in sight.
ROBBIE
Oh, did you hear the news?
MILDRED
What news?
ROBBIE
That Dixon guy threw that Welby guy out his window this morning.
MILDRED
You’re shitting me. Is Welby okay?
Robbie shrugs. Mildred is sick to her stomach, and just when it seems like things can’t get any worse, she turns on to the billboard road and suddenly sees …
You’re shitting me!
… all three of the billboards are on fire. Mildred speeds towards them.
EXT. BILLBOARD ROAD – NIGHT
We speed towards the fiery billboards; the third totally ablaze, the second half ablaze, words still legible, the first just getting going. Mildred grabs the car’s extinguisher …
MILDRED
Go get the one from the house!
ROBBIE
Shouldn’t I call the fire department?
MILDRED
Fuck the fire department! They probably started it!
ROBBIE
Well, don’t do anything stupid!
But Mildred’s already racing towards the first billboard, spraying it all over from close up. Robbie speeds off. Mildred keeps spraying like a madwoman …
MILDRED
(quietly)
Scumbags, scumbags, scumbags. Fucking scumbags.
… and finally gets the first billboard out, then sprints all the way to the second, starts in on that. It’s harder this time – the flames already halfway up.
She gets an idea, concentrates all her efforts on the left-side post alone and, as it starts going out, she starts climbing up it, putting out the fire bit by bit as she goes.
Finally, all the left-hand post is out and, though her hands are burnt, she gets to the top of the billboard and starts walking along it, spraying down along its length.
This starts to work, flames edging back, until, tsss tsss, the extinguisher runs out of stuff. She tosses it violently at the flames and stays standing there, staring at them, as the flames slowly start to rise towards her again.
Suddenly, Robbie pulls up, jumps out of the car and starts in on the flames below her.
ROBBIE
What the hell are you doing, Mom?!
The flames start to come under control as Mildred climbs back down. Robbie has the second billboard out by the time she’s down, but the distant third is still raging. Mildred starts marching off towards it …
MILDRED
Come on …
ROBBIE
Leave it, Ma. It’s too late.
Mildred storms back and tries to grab the extinguisher off him, but he won’t let it go. It’s paining her burnt hands terribly, but she keeps trying.
Mom, leave it, please!
Pause. Mildred makes one final effort. This time Robbie lets it be taken. She strides off to the third billboard, totally engulfed in massive flame and, exhausted, collapses to her knees in front of it. Robbie heads towards her, to see if he can help..
EXT. BILLBOARD ROAD – NIGHT
Later. The fires out, the billboards smouldering. Firemen and cops idling. Mildred’s hands are being treated by a medic, as Robbie looks on. Abercrombie comes over.
ABERCROMBIE
How are those hands?
She ignores him. The medic moves off.
Can I ask you a coupla questions?
MILDRED
You can ask me all the questions you want if you take me down and arrest me.
ABERCROMBIE
I’m not gonna arrest you, Mrs Hayes. I got nothing to arrest you for.
MILDRED
Not yet you ain’t.
She walks off towards the second billboard and the car.
ABERCROMBIE
(to Robbie)
We ain’t all the enemy, y’know?
INT. MILDRED’S HOUSE, HER BEDROOM – MORNING
Mildred lying awake, thinking. She slowly sits up, slips her feet into her fluffy bunny rabbit slippers at bedside, and sits there a while; worn out, angry, depressed.
MILDRED
(quietly)
I’ll crucify the motherfuckers. (Crying.) I’ll crucify the motherfuckers.
She flexes her toes in her bunny slippers, and the bunny noses look like they’re sniffing. It hits her how incongruous the image is in regard to what she’s saying. She smiles.
Mildred’s point-of-view: of rabbit slippers, noses sniffing again.
MILDRED
(rabbit voice)
What are you gonna do to ’em, Mildred? You’re gonna crucify ’em? (Normal voice.) That’s right, I’m gonna crucify ’em. (Rabbit voice.) Who you gonna crucify? The motherfuckers? (Normal voice.) That’s right, I’m gonna crucify the motherfuckers. (Rabbit voice.) Jeez! Well, I guess those motherfuckers better watch out then, huh? (Normal voice.) Fucking A!
INSIDE CAR, DRIVING BILLBOARD ROAD – DAY
Mildred and Robbie approaching the burnt-out, blackened billboards, and see Gabriella and her news crew at the second of them. They slow down to a crawl, to listen …
MILDRED
What’s this shit …?
EXT. BILLBOARD ROAD, SECOND BILLBOARD – CONTINUOUS
Gabriella continuing, doing a little walk past the billboard for the camera, which pans with her …
GABRIELLA
… and as sad as the spectacle of these burned-out billboards might be, in light of the death of Chief Willoughby, this reporter for one can’t help but wonder whether this finally puts an end to the strange saga of the three billboards outside of Eb—
Mildred calling from the car …
MILDRED
This don’t put an end to shit, you fucking retard, this is just the fucking start, so why don’t you put that on your ‘Good Morning Missouri fucking Wake-Up Broadcast’, bitch!
Mildred drives off at speed from the open-mouthed Gabriella, who finally gives the cameraman the sign to cut.
EXT. DIXON’S HOUSE – DAY
Dixon reading a comic book on the porch, beer in hand. Momma comes out, worried.
MOMMA
I see on the TV there was a buncha fires lit outside o’ town last night.
DIXON
Buncha fires, huh?
MOMMA
Out at those billboards.
DIXON
Yeah, well, back when I was a cop I woulda been interested in who set those fires cos, technically, that’s arson, but as I am no longer employed by those people I don’t really give a good god damn, n
ow do I?
Telephone rings, they look at each other. Dixon goes into the house and gets it.
DIXON
The Dixon residence. Oh, hey Sarge! How you doing? You got any news?
DESK SERGEANT
(off screen)
News about what?
DIXON
I dunno, about my job and stuff?
INT. POLICE STATION, MAIN ROOM – CONTINUOUS
Desk Sergeant at desk, squad room busy, Abercrombie talking to other cops in background.
DESK SERGEANT
No, no. What? No. Anne Willoughby just dropped in a letter that Bill wrote you before he died.
INT. DIXON’S HOUSE – CONTINUOUS
DIXON
Oh my God! What’s it say?
DESK SERGEANT
(off screen)
I haven’t read it, Dixon, it’s not my letter.
DIXON
Oh. Well, I’ll come right down …
INT. POLICE STATION, MAIN ROOM – CONTINUOUS
Desk Sergeant looks at the distant Abercrombie and the cops listening to him …
DESK SERGEANT
Well, uh … I don’t think that’d be such a great idea, as things stand, Jason. Uh, you’ve still got your keys to the station house though, right?
DIXON
(off screen)
Yeah.
DESK SERGEANT
Well, why don’t you just come pick it up when everyone’s gone home. I can leave it on your desk for ya.
INT. DIXON’S HOUSE – CONTINUOUS
DIXON
Oh. Okay.
DESK SERGEANT
(off screen)
Actually, yeah, then when you’re done you can just leave your keys, save us picking ’em up later.
Dixon nods, so he won’t have to cry.
EXT. POLICE STATION – NIGHT
The dark street at night. Inside the lowered blinds of the police station there’s the faint glow of a flashlight.
INT. POLICE STATION – NIGHT
Dixon in the dark, empty station with a flashlight, eating Doritos, headphones on, looks at the ‘Officer Jason Dixon’ envelope on his desk, beside Angela’s file. He opens it.