The Fugitive

The Fugitive 

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FADE IN: EXT. CHICAGO - AERIAL - NIGHT
CREDITS BEGIN OVER: Snow swirls around the tall buildings of downtown Chicago.

EXT. CHICAGO HOTEL - NIGHT
Cars, taxis, limos line the street. A cab pulls up and MAN in tuxedo moves into:

INT. CHICAGO HOTEL - BALLROOM - NIGHT
THROUGH arriving guests we PICK UP the Man climbing stairs to the ballroom.
ANGLE - COAT CHECK
The Man hands his coat to coat check woman and thanks her. When he turns we get our first view of DR. RICHARD KIMBLE, a tall, athletic man, with a trim beard.
He moves from the outer lobby into a fabulously decorated ballroom where a fashion show is taking place as a medical fundraiser. Doctors and their spouses, hospital brass and sponsers mingle. Women sit near the runway watching the models. Men talk by the bar. The room is packed.
A banner over the rostrum says: CHILDREN'S RESEARCH AND AID FOUNDATION.
Kimble is handed a glass of champagne, which he promptly sets on another waiter's passing tray.
ROBERTS (V.O.): Richard...
DR. ROBERTS, a large surgeon, pulls Kimble over to a group of surgeons gathered around a bar. Smoking cigars.
ROBERTS: Cancun. Nat just talked everybody into it...
A hospital equipment rep, NAT, is buying drinks.
KIMBLE: So, what's the deal? If the hospital buys ten new -
NAT: No, no, no, no strings attached, Dr. Kimble. Industrial Hospital Supply has no ulterior motives.
KIMBLE: On the house, huh? (to bartender) Tonic water with lime.
Everyone agrees.
KIMBLE: Never get me to sell my soul for one of those trips...
His tone silences the group. Kimble takes his drink.
KIMBLE: (to Nat) ... But if you get any more Bulls tickets, Nat, give me a call.
The group laughs, Kimble extracts himself and CREDITS CONTINUE OVER -
CUT TO: KIMBLE moving through the crowd.
CUT TO: KIMBLE nearly gets hit in the follow-through of an imaginary golf swing.
KIMBLE: You're slicing, Dave. Don't turn your hip.
He keeps moving.
GOLFING MAN: Thanks, Richard...
CUT TO: ANGLE - TOUGH-LOOKING LAB RAT
KATHY WAHLUND, totally out of her element amid the formal elegance around her. She wears a leather jacket over Tshirt and stares at the action on the fashion runway.
DR. WAHLUND: (dripping sarcasm) I'm so glad you talked me into coming, Richard... I can pick my cruise wardrobe.
RICHARD: It's for a good cause, Kath... Besides you need to get out of the lab more. Your electron microscope is starting to give you a tan.
She smiles. He moves on.
ANGLE - PARTY
Kimble continues down the bar when he spots a friend...
KIMBLE: Hey, Jim.
DR. JAMES NICHOLS turns, smiles. Mid-40s, head of the University Hospital. He is a fit contemporary.
NICHOLS: Richard, I just saw someone who wanted to meet you...
Just then Kimble spots an attractive WOMAN, late thirties, wearing a drop-dead, simple black gown. She's surrounded by a group of men hanging on her every word. She and Kimble catch a look and hold it.
NICHOLS (V.O.): Richard Kimble... Alex Lentz. Alex is working on the RDU90 trials for Devlin-Macgregor.
Kimble turns to meet DR. ALEXANDER LENTZ, late 30s, tan, smiling. Lentz extends his hand...
LENTZ: Dr. Kimble... Sorry, we've been trading phone calls last few days ... something about a biopsy report I returned to you?
KIMBLE: (suddenly attentive) Yeah... Three. Livers appeared hepatetic to me.
LENTZ: I'll be in my office in the morning and I'll pull up the samples. Is that a good time for you?
KIMBLE: Sure.
LENTZ: (holds Kimble's look, then to Nich ffb ols) See you, Jim.
Lentz moves on. Kimble looks after him a beat, then focuses on relocating the Woman he just saw. She's gone. He and Nichols move together through the party.
NICHOLS: (digs in his pocket) Before I forget, I went by the garage this afternoon and picked up the Ferrari. Thanks for the loaner again.
He hands Kimble a valet ticket.
KIMBLE: They fix it this time?
NICHOLS: We'll see.
They reach the woman Kimble saw, his wife, HELEN KIMBLE. Kimble kisses her.
NICHOLS: You look fabulous, Helen.
He kisses Helen.
HELEN (WOMAN): Hello, Jim.
NICHOLS: (to Kimble) We've got a court tomorrow at three.
Nichols leaves. Kimble looks at his wife.
KIMBLE: Well, I've seen everyone, can we leave?
HELEN: That would be a little abrupt, don't you think?
CUT TO: ANGLE - KIMBLE'S TABLE - NIGHT
A table for ten. Kimble and Helen introduce themselves to others at table ant sit across from each other.
Kimble sits between two doctors' wives. One, NOW EAU WIFE, mid-thirties, bedecked in jewels and loud dress, the other OLDER WIFE.
Helen sits between their husbands who are trying to impress her with the details of their boring studies as CREDITS CONTINUE...
INTERCUTTING WITH the fashion, catches of dialog and course changes, Kimble and Helen demonstrate an oft-used exchange of glances: Kimble, while gracious to his dinner partners, catches Helen's eye and makes smiling, subtle movements to his watch or a look to the door to indicate he's clearly ready to leave. On the receiving end, Helen, the gatekeeper of their social propriety, indicates with equal subtlety: "not yet."
As we MOVE AROUND the table we hear:
"Where's your husband on staff?" "My husband's an orthopod at Northwestern." "I'm working on a new technique..." "That's fascinating..." "That's quite a marvelous dress you're wearing." "Do you like it? My husband says it's a 'four-fracture number."' "Honey." (A look from her husband.)
Kimble shares a look with Helen. He subtly motions to his watch: time go to, and mouths the word: "now." She shakes her head.
NOW EAU WIFE: (to table) I told my husband that he was going to kill us if he didn't stop operating. What with this AIDS thing, he's putting us all at risk.
Helen and Kimble absorb this comment without reaction, share a look. Helen mouths the word: "Now."
HELEN: (to her dinner partners) I'm sorry, I have to get my husband home.
They say their goodbyes and pass Nichols' table. Nichols shakes his friend's hand in passing. From across the room we see Lentz watching.

INT. KIMBLE'S MERCEDES - NIGHT
Kimble and Helen driving home. She runs her fingers through his hair as he drives.
HELEN: You looked handsome tonight...
KIMBLE: Thank you...
He smiles to himself, seems to enjoy the compliment too much for Helen. Her smile becomes playful, mischievous.
HELEN: Uh, huh... most men in a tuxedo look like waiters...
KIMBLE: But me?
HELEN: You looked more like... a band director.
He stops at red light, leans over and kisses her. Light changes and neither notice. Slowly their kiss breaks.
HELEN: Are we home yet?...

CUT TO: EXT. KIMBLE'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Kimble pulls up in front of his house. Suddenly both his PAGER and CAR PHONE RING at the same time.
KIMBLE: (to phone) Dr. Kimble (suddenly attentive) When? Okay, tell them I'll be there in ten minutes.
He hangs up.
KIMBLE: Tim's got a problem.
Helen kisses him again, opens the door.
HELEN: Call me on your way home.

CREDITS END as we - CUT TO: INT. UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL - HALLWAY/SCRUB ROOM - NIGHT
Kimble, wearing scrubs but without head gear, moves down stairs to the OR hall. He sticks his head into the operating room.
KIMBLE: Cavalry's here.
Two harried surgeons look up, glad to see him.
S ffb CRUB ROOM
Kimble begins scrubbing as the RESIDENT comes out to bring him up to speed.
RESIDENT: Patient is a male, forty-three. We pulled his gall bladder and the bleeding started.
KIMBLE: What's his pro time?
RESIDENT: (concerned) He's at 36 seconds. We got a major bleeder in here.
KIMBLE: You talk to the family?
RESIDENT: None. He's off the street.

CUT TO: INT. UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO - OPERATING ROOM - NIGHT
Operation in progress. Top medical facility filled with trained professionals and state of the art equipment. Kimble is assisted across the table by the chief Resident. Both working so intently they never look at each other as they talk...
KIMBLE: (to Anesthesiologist) Okay... I'm clamping. Can he tolerate it?
ANESTHESIOLOGIST: He's a very sick guy.
KIMBLE: Do we have a choice?
ANESTHESIOLOGIST: Go for it.
KIMBLE: Marie, give me a clamp...
MARIE, the scrub nurse, passes him the instrument and Kimble and the other SURGEON continue to work with the Resident assisting.
KIMBLE: (never looking up) Your husband know you're here tonight, Marie?... What about this liver?
RESIDENT: History's sketchy. Could be an alcoholic.
KIMBLE: Who referred him?
RESIDENT: He's on a drug protocol. RDU90.
Kimble looks up and shares a look with the chief Resident over their masks, then back to work.
KIMBLE: The wave of the future... Marie, you told Frank yet? Frank is so jealous of this late night thing we've got going here... This should hold him. Bleeding's stopped. Let's get a biopsy... (to circulating nurse) Send it downstairs and make sure you get Kath her slice.
SURGEON: You staying for the closing, Rich?
Kimble moves away and sheds his gloves and gown.
KIMBLE: No. I got a date.

INT. SCRUB ROOM - NIGHT
Kimble throws away his hat and mask. The door opens behind him; it is the other Surgeon.
SURGEON: Hey, Richard...
Kimble turns.
SURGEON: Thanks.

CUT TO: INT. KIMBLE'S CAR - NIGHT
Kimble driving through empty Chicago streets toward home. He is on phone, waits for answer.
KIMBLE: Hi. I'm five minutes away...

INTERCUT WITH: INT. KIMBLE'S TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT
Helen on the phone, downstairs. She is still in her gown with an afghan around her shoulders. She's been reading.
HELEN: I'm glad it went well. I'll see you in a minute.
Helen hangs up phone, turns out the light and starts up the stairs.

CUT TO: EXT. CHICAGO STREET - NIGHT
Kimble driving.

INT. KIMBLE-S TOWNHOUSE - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT
Helen moves down the hall toward the dressing room/closet. Opens the door to large closet dressing room and turns on the light. Nothing. She starts to leave and decides to close one of the interior closet doors. She starts to slide the door closed when -- wham! A hand reaches out and clutches her by the neck. Helen claws and scratches to get free and in her struggle her string of pearls bursts... and a single pearl bounces out of the bedroom... rolls across the landing to the stairs, stopping three steps from the top.

CUT TO: EXT. KIMBLE'S TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT
Snow swirls around the street as Kimble's car pulls into the driveway. On the third floor, we see a bedroom light still on.

INT. KIMBLE'S TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT
A GRANDFATHER CLOCK TICKS softly. Kimble tosses his keys on the entry table, picks up a stack of mail on the table and calls up the stairs.
KIMBLE: I'm home. Did you hear who won the Bulls game?
No answer. He steps into the: KITCHEN
The wall phone shows a line in use. Kimble notices it. The WASHER BUZZES, he switches the clothes from washer to dryer, and STARTS the MACHINE. Takes a bottle of wine and two glasses and leaves the kitchen.

INT. BEDROOM - CLOSE ON .38 SMITH AND WESS ffb ON - NIGHT
lies on the floor, beside Helen's legs and the receiver of phone, off the hook. A man's rubber-gloved hand picks up the gun.

INTERCUT WITH: INT. DOWNSTAIRS - STAIRS - NIGHT
Kimble starts up the stairs to the bedroom...

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
Helen's hand reaches out presses the cradle down, dials 911.
ON KIMBLE climbing the stairs... suddenly stops.
A small white ball on the stairs. He bends down and picks it up... a pearl.
KIMBLE: Helen?
Silence. He can see directly into the bedroom. It's quiet. Too quiet. He notices a lampshade on the floor.
UPSTAIRS HALL - NIGHT
Kimble moves slowly to the opened doorway. And just before he enters he sees a large form in the crack behind the door. Adrenal surge.
Kimble slams the door back on the figure knocking the gun free. Before Kimble can move to it a forearm flattens him. The attacker immediately goes for the gun. Kimble grabs a leg and twists him down, the man's fingers hit the gun, sending it skittering across the hardwood floor of the landing and over the edge -- three flights to the entry hall below.
SIRENS can be heard. Distant but APPROACHING. The man kicks free and tries to flee. This time Kimble catches an arm and twists it at an unnatural angle. To his shock, the limb detaches between the shoulder and elbow. Kimble looks at the arm in his hands -- it's hollow. Electrodes are visible inside -- then to the man's unreadable face...
The SIRENS are LOUDER... Before Kimble can recover, the One-Armed Man knocks Kimble down and grabs back his arm. He runs down the stairs.
Kimble pulls himself up and starts to follow but is stopped by a VOICE behind him in the bedroom...
HELEN (O.S.): He's here... still in the house...

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
Lying by the bed, Helen Kimble, clutches the phone with one hand, her head with the other.
911 (V.O.): Did I hear you right? Your attacker is still in the house? Ma'am?
HELEN: He's trying to kill me...
Kimble appears. Helen drops the phone when she sees him.
911 (V.O.): Will you repeat that please -- ?
HELEN: (to Kimble) Richard... He's trying to kill me... my head.

EXT. KIMBLE'S TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT
Two Chicago police cars wheel to the curb, COPS move quickly to the house.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
Kimble moves to her. Sees the necklace of bruises where she was held down and choked. And then a bullet wound in her leg. She's already going into shock. Her speech turns thick.
KIMBLE: Hang on, babe... going to be all right.
Her fingernails dig into Kimble's arm, trying to hold on.
HELEN: My head. Richard my hold me.
Her eyes slip away from his. He peels away the hand on her head -- and sees raw pummeled brain staring back and realizes she won't be all right.
CAMERA SWINGS DOWN TO the dropped phone.
911 (V.O.): ... Hello. You said his name is Richard? Ma'am, can you talk to me? Ma'am?

CUT TO: INT. KIMBLE'S HOUSE - NIGHT
The Cops enter the house. See the .38 lying on the floor. Covering each other, they move quickly up the stairs -- guns drawn.
ANGLE Third floor. The First Cop, gun drawn, turns the corner of Kimble's bedroom and finds: Kimble holding his dead wife. Blood on his hands.
COP #1: Move away from her.

CUT TO: INT. KIMBLE'S TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT
Kimble, numbed by the event, washes the blood off his hands in the kitchen sink. A cop takes his blood-stained tux jacket, and another hands him a parka.

EXT. KIMBLE'S TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT
The street is filled with Chicago police cars, curious neighbors, television news vans, etc.
Kimble is helped into a police car as the coroner's van arrives. He pauses a moment to watch as we hear.
DETECTIVE KELLY (V.O.): Can you give us a little more to go on besides the fact that he had an artificial arm? What kind of gun was it, Doc?

INT. llT ffb H STREET DISTRICT HOUSE - NIGHT
CAMERA FINDS Kimble in an interview room. He is in "why"-shock. "Why her." "Why me?" Says nothing. Two Detectives: KELLY and ROSETTI. Kelly, the questioner, is overweight, aggressive. He shifts his gun on his hip so he can sit down.
KIMBLE: It was .38... I think. I only saw it for a second. I knocked it out of his hand.
As Kimble is questioned we INTERCUT WITH flashes of the murder scene being processed:

FLASH - INT. KIMBLE'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Forensics technicians photograph the .38 at the base of the stairs.
DETECTIVE ROSETTI (V.O.): Do you own a gun, Dr. Kimble?
KIMBLE: Yes.
DETECTIVE ROSETTI (V.O.): What kind of gun?
KIMBLE: A .38 Smith.
FLASH - FORENSICS TECHNICIAN DUSTS CRYSTAL LAMP
DETECTIVE KELLY: Did you have your key with you tonight, Dr. Kimble?
FLASH - COPS CHECKING DOORS OF HOUSE FOR SIGNS OF FORCIBLE ENTRY
BACK TO SCENE
PHONE RINGS. Rosetti answers it. Kimble watches him write something down, he slides it to Kelly.
FLASH - MEASURE "NECKLACE" OF BRUISES ON HELEN'S NECK
DETECTIVE KELLY (V.O.): Your wife was loaded wasn't she? I mean, she was worth quite a bit of money
BACK TO SCENE Kimble looks up at the two cops. For the first time he seems to sense something aggressive in their questioning. They no longer seem on the same team.
KIMBLE: What's going on here? This guy was trying to rob us.
The two cops stare at Kimble.
KIMBLE: You guys have got to be out of your minds. I didn't kill my wife!
He gets up to go. A cop blocks his path. He turns and looks at Kelly.
DETECTIVE KELLY: Let's start over, Dr. Kimble. What'd you have for breakfast?

CUT TO: INT. llTH ST. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
Kimble in his tuxedo shirt and black tie holds a booking number plate in front of him as a mug shot is taken... front, then side.
MAN (V.O.): We're all adults here so I'll lay it out...

EXT. NEWSSTAND - DAY
Chicago Sun-Times has a photograph of Kimble spread across the front page.
MAN (V.O.): ... If you two come up with a deal, I'll listen, but let me make one thing perfectly clear.

INT. ELECTRONICS SUPERSTORE - DAY
Salesmen continue to hawk sets. Kimble's photograph comes up on a hundred TV monitors across the store.
NEWS REPORTER (V.O.): Police are revealing no details in the case against Chicago surgeon...

INT. KIMBLE'S CELL - DAY
Kimble lays on his bunk. Thinking...
MAN (V.O.): ... It's an election year...

INT. JUDGE'S CHAMBERS - DAY
CAMERA MOVES THROUGH smoke-fillet room to find tough FEMALE PROSECUTOR, a man in late forties, WALTER GUTHERIE, and STOPS ON the source of the voice we've been hearing and the cigar: JUDGE BENNETT, late fifties. Fair but, no nonsense, political survivor.
JUDGE BENNETT: ... and this case is a heater. It will not end up a bench trial...

INT. COOK COUNTY JAIL - CORRIDOR - DAY
Richard Kimble in County lockup fatigues and a navy watch cap moves down long corridor, escorted by GUARD.
GUTHERIE (V.O.): We've had private investigators interview over a hundred amputees, Richard...

INT. PRISON INTERVIEW ROOM - DAY
Walter Gutherie, his attorney, stands by a window looking out at the yard. Another attorney, RANDOLPH, watches Gutherie.
GUTHERIE: ... We can't find this guy.
KIMBLE: I know what I saw, Walter.
GUTHERIE: I put you up on the stand to say what you saw without anything that remotely smells like proof and the State's attorney is going to take this one-armed man story and run it up our ass. (he holds Kimble's look) Look, Richard, you're paying us a lot of money to defend you... A plea to second degree -
KIMBLE: I didn't kill my wife.

INT. COOK COUNTY JAIL - DAY
Kimble being escorted back to the courtroom. A guard carr ffb ies his suit in a bag. He is taunted by other prisoners.
GUTHERIE (V.O.): You're a successful upper middle class white man charged in a violent crime...

INT. COOK COUNTY LOCKUP/CHANGE ROOM - DAY
On the other side of the door is the courtroom. A sheriff's deputy hands Kimble (now wearing his suit), a small plastic bag. In it we see his wedding band.
GUTHERIE (V.O.): It's a circumstantial case, but it's also a jury trial. We play 'em, they play 'em...

INT. CHICAGO COURTROOM - DAY
Richard Kimble sits at defense table... watches prosecutors chat with Helen's relatives. Media anchors glare at him.
GUTHERIE (V.O.): ... But if we lose, we lose big. Just remember, they're lined up a block long to have your hide.
HARD CUT TO: PHOTOGRAPH OF HELEN KIMBLE'S BODY
A crime scene photograph.
DETECTIVE KELLY On the stand.
DETECTIVE KELLY: No forcible entry was found. From the beginning of the investigation, it did not appear to be a break-in. Nothing was missing.
FORENSICS TECHNICIAN On the stand.
FORENSICS TECHNICIAN: The defendant's prints were found on the neck, gun, bullets, and lamp... no other sets were found other than the deceased.
FACES OF THE JURY impassive. Attentive. His "peers." They listen to the recording of the 911 tape.
911 (V.O. ): Did I hear you right? Your attacker is still in the house? Ma'am?
HELEN (V.O.): He's trying to kill me...
911 (V.O. ): Will you repeat that please? -
HELEN (V.O.): Richard... He's trying to kill me...
KIBLE'S POV - THE JURY A few members lean over to make notes. It's powerful taken out of context.
NICHOLS ON THE STAND
PROSECUTOR: Dr. Nichols. You are aware that Richard Kimble was the only beneficiary of Helen Kimble's estate. 12 million dollars roughly.
NICHOLS: I was aware of that. The money meant nothing to him.
PROSECUTOR: Yet in your presence, Richard Kimble once said that 'if he had Helen's money he could find plenty of uses.' Did he not?
NICHOLS: We were talking about -
PROSECUTOR: Yes or no?
Nichols' look tells us everything... Yes.
CORONER On the stand.
CORONER: The wound to the head caused a massive hemorrhage to the brain. It took from five to seven minutes for her to die...
A woman in the jury reacts. Kimble notices.
KIMBLE on the stand. He finishes his moving description of the events. We see some of the jury has been moved.
KIMBLE: ... And I was holding her when the officers came in.
Gutherie returns to his seat. The Prosecutor moves to the jury. He begins slowly but his questions pick up strength.
PROSECUTOR: How tall was this man, Dr. Kimble?
KIMBLE: I can't be sure. We were, mostly on the floor, fighting... I couldn't -
PROSECUTOR: Did that fight cause the scratches on your face and arms?
KIMBLE: No. As I explained -
PROSECUTOR: And how did this man enter your house?
KIMBLE: I don't know -
PROSECUTOR: And you probably don't know why your wife told the emergency operator You were her attacker?
KIMBLE: She didn't -
PROSECUTOR: Your name is Richard, isn it? Your gun id a .38, isn't it? Your prints were on the gun, the bullets, the lamp, her neck, weren't they?
KIMBLE: Look...
PROSECUTOR: Weren't they?