THE INSIDER

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
               Alright.

                         LOWELL
               Area code 212-555-0199.

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
               I'll call you then.

     INT. A LOUNGE, PRIVATE AVIATION TERMINAL - DAY

     Through the window, we see Scruggs' plane being refueled
     while Scruggs and Motley in a run-down lounge are talking on
     a SPEAKER PHONE with Lowell.  They've taken over the
     Secretary's office for privacy.

                         LOWELL
                   (re:  footage)
               What do we do with that?

     The phone rings.

                         DEBBIE DELUCA
               I don't know.

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS' VOICE (OVER)
               Richard Scruggs...

                         LOWELL
               ...you filed a lawsuit against tobacco on
               behalf of the State of Mississippi, did
               you not?

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
                   (nods)
               That's right...

                         LOWELL
                   (after a beat)
               Well, I'm working with someone, now, who
               was the former head of research at Brown
               & Williamson, a former corporate officer
               there.

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
               What's your interest in this, Mr.
               Bergman?

                         LOWELL
               Well, he may tape an interview with us.
               And, we believe if his testimony showed
               up in a court record first, it would free
               him up from his confidentiality agreement
               and give him some protection.

                         MOTLEY
               It could work.  If it's public record,
               it's public record.

                         LOWELL
               Yeah, and he's going to need legal
               representation.

                         MOTLEY
               He sure as hell will.

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
                   (a beat)
               Has he decided to go public?  Because
               let me tell you, we've been doing this
               for three years now, and we've worked
               with a lot of corporate cases involving
               whistle-blowers, so we know...  Big
               Tobacco will do everything in their power
               to stop him.  So, is your man truly
               committed?

                         LOWELL
               Well, actually, no.  Well, he's on the
               fence.  That's the point.

     Scruggs and Motley exchange a look...  Motley shrugs...

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
               Well, we'd certainly be interested in
               making his acquaintance, but without
               knowing what he's going to do...

                         LOWELL
               Well, would you want him to call you?
               Or, you want to call him?  How do you
               want to do it?

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
                   (no nonsense)
               It would be better if he called us.

                         LOWELL
               Yeah.

                         RICHARD SCRUGGS
               Alright?

                         LOWELL
               Okay.  Thank you.

     At this moment, these two attorneys are unsold on the
     prospect of Jeffrey Wigand.  Scruggs disconnects.

                         LOWELL (cont'd)
               Shit...

     INT. CBS EDITING SUITE, NEW YORK - DAY

                         LOWELL
                   (contemplating phone; to Debbie
                    re:  show)
               Oh, we need cops on the street.  We don't
               need them on horses.

                         DEBBIE DELUCA
               I don't know what he was thinking.

                         LOWELL
               Oh, for God's sake, what has this guy
               got, a horse fetish?

                         DEBBIE DELUCA
               Alright, alright.

                         LOWELL
               Get me to New Orleans this afternoon.
               I'll shoot the fucking thing myself!

     TIGHTEN on mounted New Orleans police at crime scene, herding
     crowd.

     INT. THE WIGANDS' NEW HOUSE, KITCHEN - TWILIGHT

     Liane cooking dinner, making pasta.  Ingredients, diced
     tomato, basil, are neatly ordered.  She's waiting for water
     to boil.  The kids are doing homework on the round table in
     the kitchenette.  It's an idle moment.  She's dazed-out
     watching them.

                         DEBORAH
               What are you cooking?

                         LIANE
               I'm cooking pasta primavera.

                         DEBORAH
               Oh, I love that stuff.

     And now she hears from the basement the BELL RING on
     Jeffrey's computer.  It's a tiny bell, incessant...  She
     crosses to the basement stairs.

                         LIANE
               I'm going to have to go downstairs.

     INT. WIGANDS' NEW HOUSE, BASEMENT OFFICE - NIGHT

     Liane down the stairs, approaching Jeffrey's computer.  And
     she SEES an incoming E-mail icon - a large letter with wings -
     flying repetitively across the screen.

     The bell RINGING is louder.  She calls-up the E-mail...  On
     the screen in large RED letters:

               WE WILL KILL YOU.  WE WILL KILL ALL OF
               YOU.  SHUT THE FUCK UP.

     And now Liane is shouting and running up the stairs and...

                         LIANE
               Debbie, Barbara...  Debbie!

     EXT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - EVENING

     Jeffrey, having arrived home from work, pulls the mail out of
     the mailbox, now stands, frozen, staring at something...  And
     he sees, standing upright in the back of the mail box, like a
     monument of threat, a single hollow point .38 CALIBER BULLET.
     He freezes...  And simultaneously...

     Liane and the Girls are running toward him...like in a bad
     fucking dream.  He's looking at them.  Liane is saying
     something about E-mail, but his slow-motion attention is
     still arrested by the statuesque bullet.  As they close on
     him...

     EXT. NEW ORLEANS, THE FRENCH QUARTER - NIGHT

     And we see Lowell lit by FLASHING POLICE LIGHTS.  We're at a
     crime scene.  Uniformed cops on horseback.  Just arrived, the
     Cameraman's unloading his gear, preparing to shoot B-roll.

                         LOWELL
               What happened?

                         COP
               Dispatch received a call of shots fired
               in the area.  Uniforms arrived on the
               scene and found this white male subject
               shot to death.

                         LOWELL
               Was it gang related?

                         COP
               There's no indication as far as a tag or
               an advertisement...

     Police moving around as Lowell's cell phone RINGS...

                         LOWELL
                   (answering)
               Excuse me.  Yeah...

     INT. WIGANDS' HOUSE, BEDROOM - NIGHT

                         WIGAND
               They're terrorizing us.  Death threats?!
               To my family?  My kids?!

                         LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
               What are you talking about?

                         WIGAND
               Someone put a bullet in my mailbox.

                         LOWELL
               Jeff, call the FBI right away...

                         WIGAND
               They do this with impunity!

                         LOWELL
               Jeff...

                         WIGAND
               They get to go home at night.  What does
               it cost these people to do this to us?
               Nothing?!  My girls are crying, so fuck
               them!  I want to tape!  I'm done thinking
               about it.

                         LOWELL'S VOICE (OVER)
                   (frustrated)
               I heard you.  But I got to arrange a
               legal defense first.  I got to get you to
               testify in court, get it on public
               record.

                         WIGAND
                   (cuts in)
               Then hold it off the air until you got
               that.  But I want to go to New York.
               And I want to go on the record.  Right
               now!

                         LOWELL
               Good.  But Jeff...

                         WIGAND
               I'll call them, Lowell.

     INT. WIGAND'S HOUSE, LOUISVILLE - NIGHT

     And two older, local FBI AGENTS #1 and #2 are sitting with
     Jeffrey in his living room...

                         FBI AGENT #2
               Did you handle the round, Mr. Wigand?

                         WIGAND
               Yes, I'm afraid I did.

                         FBI AGENT #1
               We won't be able to lift usable prints.

                         FBI AGENT #2
               Do you own a gun, Mr. Wigand?

                         WIGAND
               A gun?  Yes.

                         FBI AGENT #2
               What caliber is your gun?

                         WIGAND
               What caliber is my gun?

                         FBI AGENT #2
               Yes, sir.  What caliber is your gun?

                         WIGAND
                   (a dawning realization)
               What does that have to do with the price
               of tea in China?

     Now one of the kids is crying, Liane trying to calm her,
     takes her out of the room.

                         WIGAND (CONT'D)
                   (a beat, realizing)
               You think I put that bullet in the
               mailbox myself...?

                         FBI AGENT #2
               If we could take a look, Mr. Wigand...

     And he gets up...  They follow him into the bedroom.  He
     unlocks the side drawer on his night stand, taking out a gun,
     giving it to one of the Agents.

                         FBI AGENT #1
               Why do you keep this gun?

                         WIGAND
               I don't think it's unconstitutional yet
               to own a gun.  I'm a target shooter.

                         FBI AGENT #2
               That bullet was for a .38 caliber.  Do
               you own a .38?

                         WIGAND
               Yes, I do.  A .38 Target Master.  In my
               gun safe downstairs.  A .45 Gold Cup.  A
               .22 target pistol.  So what?

                         FBI AGENT #2
                   (after a beat)
               Do you have a history of emotional
               problems, Mr. Wigand?

                         WIGAND
               Yes.  Yes, I do.
                   (beat)
               Yes, I get extremely emotional when
               assholes put bullets in my mailbox...!

     And we hear Liane's voice from downstairs...

                         LIANE'S VOICE (OVER)
                   (upset)
               I didn't tell you that so you could just
               pick it up and take it away.  Jeffrey!

     And we see Liane following FBI Agent #3, coming up the stairs
     from the basement, and the Agent is carrying Jeffrey's
     computer...

                         WIGAND
               What's going on?

                         LIANE
               I told him that you had an E-mail death
               threat that said if you didn't shut the
               "F" up, they were going to kill you...

     Agent #3 starts out of the house with the computer followed
     by #2.  Jeffrey runs out after them.

     EXT. THE WIGANDS' HOUSE - NIGHT

                         WIGAND
                   (outraged)
               You can't take that...  It's personal
               property...!

                         FBI AGENT #2 (OR #3)
               We have a search warrant, Mr. Wigand.
               There's been a death threat.

                         WIGAND
                   (after him)
               ...my files!  Personal correspondence...

     Agent #3 ignores him, putting the computer in the trunk of
     their car.  And FBI Agent #1, the .38 bullet in a baggie,
     comes out of the house.

                         WIGAND (CONT'D)
               ...letters to my brother...my will.

     His shoes slip on the grass and he falls.  And the FBI are
     getting into their car.  And NEIGHBORS have come out,
     watching them.  Liane and the girls, standing halfway down
     the front lawn, the neighbors looking at them.  She and
     Jeffrey look at each other.  Will she go to him or not?  She
     goes to him as he rises...

                         WIGAND (cont'd)
               That computer has everything...

                         FBI AGENT #2
               You alright, Mr. Wigand?

                         FBI AGENT #1
               We need to take a look at your gun safe,
               Mr. Wigand.

     EXT. NEW ORLEANS, THE FRENCH QUARTER - NIGHT

                         LOWELL
                   (interrupts)
               I'm telling you, your agents in that
               office are acting improperly!  Now, who
               are they trying to protect?

     And we see a Man in his early forties, a neatly-dressed man
     who prides himself on his appearance, at his desk in the
     Bureau (FBI).  BILL ROBERTSON.  He's completely distracted,
     focused on agent travel orders...

                         BILL ROBERTSON'S VOICE (OVER)
               Let me tell you something, Lowell.  Look,
               look, look.  You're talking about two
               agents in a regional office in
               Louisville.  I got the goddamn Unabomber
               threatening to blow up LAX!  I gotta move
               45 agents from all over the country into
               L.A.  Alright?  When I get a chance, I'll
               give it a look...

                         LOWELL
                   (heated)
               You better take a good look!  Because I'm
               getting two things:  pissed off and
               curious!  Now, any of these guys been
               offered jobs in corporate security after
               they retire?  Either one of those guys
               have ex-agent pals already in those jobs?
               Like, for instance, their ex-supervisor,
               who's already at Brown & Williamson as we
               fucking speak?

     INT. BILL ROBERTSON'S OFFICE, WASHINGTON - NIGHT

                         BILL ROBERTSON
                   (beat)
               I'll give it a look.

                         LOWELL
               You're getting my drift?

                         BILL ROBERTSON
               I'll give it a look.

     He hangs up.

     INT. DINING ROOM, THE FOUR SEASONS HOTEL, NEW YORK - NIGHT

     And we slide by some elegant diners to fall onto Lowell and
     Mike Wallace with Jeffrey and Liane in the Hotel's dining
     room, having ordered dinner.

                         LOWELL
               So, is everything okay?

                         MIKE WALLACE
               How are the rooms?  Comfortable?

                         LIANE
                   (to Mike)
               Yes, very.  You know, I enjoy your work
               so much...when you're talking to
               somebody, I always feel like I'm right
               there.

     And she laughs...

                         MIKE WALLACE
               Thank you got saying that...