This Ain't Compton

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In Chapter 11 of GUN-WILD, Robbery-Homicide detectives Bobby Teen and Taya Ralls question the clerk at the 7-11 that trigger-happy runaway Cam Clinch robbed earlier that morning. Meanwhile, Cam, Rod and the rest of the gang make their getaway from the bank robbery ...


INT. 7-11 - AT THAT MOMENT
Two PLAINCLOTHES ROBBERY/HOMICIDE COPS
interview Skinny Black Cashier
at the scene of the crime.

A TECH CREW is finishing up their work,
packing up their stuff to go.

SKINNY BLACK CASHIER
She was wearing a baseball cap,
scarf up over her nose and shades.
But I told the other cops
after it happened.
I don’t see how --

PLAINCLOTHES COP
ZIP IT.
I like to conduct my OWN interviews.
Sometimes the beat cops miss something.

Meet BOBBY TEEN (45),
Detective Sergeant, Robbery Homicide.

Face like a potato.
Bit of a belly.

Once spit-and-polish,
now a bit soft from working the posh beat.

SKINNY BLACK CASHIER
But it was a small job.
She only got a couple hundred bucks.

PLAINCLOTHES FEMALE COP
That might be.
But the chief doesn’t like it
when perps start shooting up
local businesses.
In case you haven’t noticed,
this ain’t Compton.

Meet TAYA RALLS (27),
African-American gazelle.

Tall and lean.
Freshly-minted Detective.

Think Rosario Dawson,
with an attitude.

Chip on her shoulder
the size of City Hall.

SKINNY BLACK CASHIER
What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?

BOBBY
Watch your language.
We’d like to see the surveillance tape.

SKINNY BLACK CASHIER
But I told you, man --
she shot up the camera.

BOBBY
But she was taped BEFORE
she shot it up, right?

Pause.

SKINNY BLACK CASHIER
Uh -- yeah.

BOBBY
See what I mean about
conducting my own interviews?

SKINNY BLACK CASHIER
I’ll go get the tape.

He goes into the rear of the store.

TAYA
You really think
there’ll be anything?

BOBBY
It’s our job to
leave no stone interned.
(beat)
You can write that down if you want.

TAYA
Isn’t that 'unturned?'

BOBBY
Ooh. Big college girl.
Shut the fuck up.

INT. OLDS CONVERTIBLE - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Rod turns north up a steep hill.
Starts to slow down.

HONDO
Why are you slowing down?

ROD
This car sticks out
like a sore fucking thumb.
We gotta find new wheels, pronto.

HONDO
(to Cam)
And what THE FUCK was that back there?
I told you NO FUCKING SHOOTING.

CAM
He wouldn’t listen.

HONDO
Fucking COPS?
You might have KILLED one of them.
You know what happens THEN?
We’re MARKED FOR LIFE.

CAM
So fucking what.
I’m already marked.

Rod and Cam exchange looks.
Strange smiles.

HONDO
This isn’t FUNNY.
(SMACKS Cam on the head)
And THE FUCKING GUARD.

CAM
OW!

HONDO
You didn’t make the fucking
GUARD lock the DOOR!

CAM
You said he was gonna be an OLD FART.
He was built like a MARINE.
He was gonna jump me.
I had to CLOCK HIM.
(beat)
There was no TIME.

HONDO
Shit. Fuck.
(beat)
Shit.

ROD
We got the money, didn’t we?

HONDO
Yeah, but --

ROD
So we’ll hole up somewhere
and figure out our next move.

NET
Oooh. I like the sound of 'holing up.'

HONDO
We gotta find a motel.

CAM
Are you kidding?
A cheap motel is the first place
they’re gonna look for us.
(beat)
Whattya say we snatch an RV
and go up north?

NET
Go -- camping?

ROD
You mean -- like a motor home?

CAM
Yeah. And I know where we can get one.

HONDO
Oh, yeah? Where?

CAM
My father.
(beat)
Easy pickings.
Bastard’s out of the country --
in Switzerland.

Hondo pulls out a joint.
Lights it. Takes a big hit.

Squints at her.
Still pissed off.

HONDO
Yo-de-lay-he-fucking-HOO.