SNOW FALLING ON CEDARS
Screenplay by Ron Bass and Scott Hicks
Based on the novel by David Guterson
May 4, 1998
NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS
AND SOME "OMITTED" SLUGS. THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR THIS
SOFT COPY.
EXT. THE SUSAN MARIE, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - NIGHT
Fog. Penetrated only by sound. The LAPPING of sea at a
drifting hull. Tendrils of mist part, revealing...
...a face. Strong and blond and handsome.
We watch CARL HEINE, high on the cross spar of his mast. He
has pulled a SHUTTLE of TWINE from his rubber overalls, and
is LASHING a LANTERN in the cloud of mist.
INT/EXT THE SUSAN MARIE'S CABIN - NIGHT
A match is struck. CARL lights the wick of a second lantern.
The cabin is meticulously neat. A tin COFFEE CUP on the
counter's edge. The floor clear of any clutter. Carl
glances at his watch. It's 1:07. Then he hears...
...the puttering SOUND of an approaching boat...
EXT. THE SUSAN MARIE, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - NIGHT
...Carl stands on deck with his kerosene lantern and his air
horn, watching as another BOAT comes slowly out of the mist.
The silhouette of a FISHERMAN. As fragments of fog part, we
CLOSE ON the figure's face, to see...
...his eyes. They are Asian.
VISUAL FX TRANSITION TO:
EXT. SHIP CHANNEL BANK - MORNING
An island landscape. Tilt to find our boat bobbing
peacefully on placid water.
EXT. THE SUSAN MARIE - MORNING
Silhouetted against the morning sun, two figures slowly reel
in the massive net onto the rotating drum. A few salmon
slide across the gunnel. Hands methodically pick them out of
the net and drop them into the hold.
ANGLE ON the cedar floats stretched across the water. A dark
heavy shape in the net draws towards the surface.
One figure leans over to take a closer look. SHERIFF ART
MORAN is thin, unimposing, methodical. Only the eyes reflect
his disquiet.
Suddenly, a HAND looms from the tangled netting, stiff and
grotesque.
MORAN lurches back in shock as the raveling net LIFTS from
the water's surface...
...the face of Carl Heine. Turned to the sun.
Moran reels away as his young deputy, ABEL MARTINSON, turns
to throw up over the gunnel behind him.
CUT TO:
INT. CORONER'S LAB - DAY
The face of HORACE WHALEY, coroner, gazing down. A shading
of regret behind the professional mask. Carl's face is
reflected in his glasses. A series of QUICK CUTS...
...Whaley cuts through Carl's weatherproof overalls with
large scissors...
...his hand pulls the SHUTTLE of TWINE from Carl's pocket...
...examines the open, empty KNIFE SHEATH at Carl's belt...
...the right palm is turned to reveal a long cut along the
mound of the thumb...
...Carl's wrist, its WATCH stopped at 1:47...Whaley removes
it, notes the time, and drops it into a manila envelope...
Whaley bends over Carl's body, presses on his solar plexus,
watching pink FOAM rise from Carl's mouth and nose. And
then. He sees something more. His forceps gently pull back
the hair from above Carl's left ear, and...
...Whaley sees something startling. He beckons Moran over.
WHALEY
You want to play Sherlock Holmes, Art?
Reluctantly Moran takes a look. A sharp intake of breath.
MORAN
What the hell would have caused that?
WHALEY
I'll tell you what a head wound like this
puts me in the mind of...
Whaley reaches for the instrument tray, and selects a sharp
cut-throat razor.
CUT TO:
INT. CORONER'S LAB - DAY
CLOSE ON a DROP of BLOOD as it lands in SLOW MOTION on a
white porcelain tray.
VISUAL FX TRANSITION TO:
EXT. SAN PIEDRO ISLAND - DAY
Snow falling on cedars.
The heavens descend softly onto our island. Exquisite,
silent, hypnotic. An epic snowfall inspiring awe at our
frailness against the limitless scope of nature. As CREDITS
BEGIN...
TRANSITION TO:
EXT/INT ISHMAEL'S APARTMENT - DAY
Through a snow covered window we see a pensive, sombre young
man in his mid-20's. This is ISHMAEL CHAMBERS, lost in
thought as he pulls on his coat. We see its left sleeve
pinned up at the elbow of his amputated arm. He tucks his
slim satchel under it.
TRANSITION TO:
EXT. STRAWBERRY FIELDS - DAY
...undulating strawberry fields of pure white, untouched and
flawless...beyond the fields, against a backdrop of cedar
forest, an old PICKUP TRUCK drives carefully through the
snow.
Wipers swish slowly to reveal a slender woman of refined
beauty. HATSUE MIYAMOTO stares ahead at the snow-clad road,
her father HISAO at the wheel beside her.
CUT TO:
EXT. AMITY HARBOR/SAN PIEDRO ISLAND FERRY - DAY
...a view through another windscreen. This time of moving
WATER. In the rear-view mirror, a dapper man in his 40's
grooms himself carefully. ALVIN HOOKS glances out ahead
at...
EXT. AMITY HARBOR - DAY
...the wharves and boats shrouded in snow.
EXT. AMITY HARBOR - DAY
The SAN PIEDRO ISLAND ferry approaches the docks, blanketed
as if by volcanic ash. Behind HOOKS' late model Chevy, the
deck is crowded with people, a number of other cars, and even
a bus.
CUT TO:
EXT. NELS' HOUSE - DAY
A door opens to reveal a pair of dress shoes. Old-style
galoshes are pulled over them.
An OLD CAT curls around the feet as a HAND that tells of its
owner's age offers it a small treat.
The TIP of an UMBRELLA taps to dislodge some snow and ice
from a PLANT POT. The pot CRACKS, scattering earth on the
porch. Impatiently, the feet shuffle aside the debris, and
start down the steps.
The umbrella UNFURLS to reveal NELS GUDMUNDSSON. He is 79,
tall and lean. A little shaky. His body is winding down.
EXT. STREET - DAY
NELS walks carefully down the street, overtaken by kids on
sleds, as WHALEY heads past in the other direction.
NELS
'Morning, Horace, Reminds you of 1930,
doesn't it?
WHALEY
1929 actually, Nels. I believe you're
thinking of 1929.
NELS
Of course it was, Horace. You're right.
1929.
EXT. STREET/COURTHOUSE - MORNING
A bank of powder snow. A boy falls backwards into frame.
Nearby a girl does the same. They swirl their arms and legs.
Laughing. Making angels...
Ishmael walks past, over the rise, the town behind him.
Ahead - a public building, cars gathering as best they can,
people streaming up snow-laden steps to the entrance, and we
FOLLOW...
ISHMAEL, seemingly oblivious to the crowd which jostles him,
as he...
...disappears. Into the courthouse. Titles finish.
INT. COURTHOUSE CORRIDOR - DAY
Ishmael heads up the stairs, to the press balcony, away from
the throng. He catches a glimpse of a woman sitting alone,
out of sight of the crowd.
It's HATSUE, on a wooden bench. Her stare impassive, empty.
PULL BACK to see Ishmael standing alone, in shadow. He
stares with fixed intensity at Hatsue, as she gathers her
thoughts. A moment of decision. He approaches.
ISHMAEL
Hatsue?
She turns her head only slightly.
ISHMAEL
Are you all right?
HATSUE
Go away, Ishmael.
Her voice is quiet and firm. There is no anger.
ISHMAEL
I just wanted to say...
HATSUE
(softer)
Go away.
CUT TO:
INT. BASEMENT - DAY
CLOSE on a large SHOVEL as it scoops up a load of COALS.
The coals fly off the shovel into the fierce flames of the
boiler-room FURNACE. The DOOR clangs shut.
CUT TO:
INT. COURTROOM - MORNING (TRIAL DAY ONE)
A frosty WINDOW above an ancient steam RADIATOR. A HISS of
steam escaping as we pull back to see...
A pair of Asian eyes. We have seen them before. KAZUO
MIYAMOTO sits, ramrod straight, motionless, expressionless,
as Abel unlocks his handcuffs. The eye of a storm of
movement in...
...the assembling COURTROOM. A floor-level packed gallery of
buzzing locals, the scent of anticipation.
NELS approaches the defense table, greeting his client Kazuo.
He reaches over to shake hands with HOOKS at the prosecution
bench.
The JURY BOX. Truck farmers, grocers, fishermen assemble, in
sober neckties. A waitress, a secretary, fisher wives in
Sunday dresses. PAN UP now to...
...a BALCONY with its bank of wooden pews, and gathering in
its front row...
...REPORTERS, cosmopolitan in attire, bearing themselves as
jaded dignitaries from the civilized world. Behind them,
Ishmael makes his way to a seat. As we PAN their ranks...
Snatches of conversation...
REPORTER #1
How 'bout that jury? What a bunch of
yokels. Must make a good ten grand a
year. Between 'em.
He laughs.
Ishmael, jots on a pad balanced precariously on his knee,
until...
...it falls with a CLATTER of pages. He reaches with his
right hand, replaces the pad on his thigh. Ishmael looks
down through the balustrades to see...
...Hatsue, entering the courtroom.
The Reporters lean forward to ogle at her. A frisson of
interest runs through the assembled crowd.
Ishmael watches HATSUE take her place in the first row of the
floor-level gallery. And sensing her presence, Kazuo turns.
Their eyes meet. Husband and wife.
Back in the balcony...
REPORTER #1
Have you seen this rag? The guy writes
like this trial is the biggest thing that
ever happened. You tell me why this is
news down in Seattle.
Shows the next guy his newspaper. It's the SAN PIEDRO ISLAND
REVIEW. Our ANGLE includes Ishmael, listening.
REPORTER #2
Because he's a Jap. Simple as that.
On this, Ishmael gets up, and moves away.
BAILIFF (O.S.)
All rise...
People rise. Ishmael stands, looking down from the balcony.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT WAREHOUSE/DOCKS - DAY
ANGLE FROM ANOTHER BALCONY:
Ishmael walking through a net warehouse towards the wharf.
Purpose in his stride. Up ahead, the Susan Marie is at dock.
Moran stands with half a dozen FISHERMEN.
As he arrives, Moran smiles a thin greeting. Not happy to
see him. Nor is anyone else.
WILLIAM GJOVAAG, a sunburned gill-netter, grunts to Moran.
GJOVAAG
You go fishing, it happens.
MORAN
(to Ishmael)
Figure you'da heard by now.
MARTY JOHANSSON
(to Sorenson, approaching)
Sheriff's been askin' who saw Carl out at
Ship Channel Bank last night.
MORAN
Only to see if somebody talked to him.
JAN SORENSEN
Fishing went sour on me when the fog
rolled in. I got the hell outta there.
GJOVAAG
No sense in hanging 'round the shipping
lane in that fog.
MARTY JOHANSSON
(heavy Danish)
Okay we've got Ferry, Hardwell, Moulton,
Miyamoto...
GJOVAAG
(spits)
Japs.
MORAN
Anyone else?
There is a pause.
MORAN
All right, if you see any of those
guys...
GJOVAAG
(to the others)
Sheriff's sounding like a real hard-ass!
Ain't this just an accident, Art?
Moran finds his eyes drifting to Ishmael's. Which are right
there, waiting. Moran looks away.
MORAN
Course it is, but a man's dead, William.
I got to write my report.
EXT. WAREHOUSE/DOCKS - DAY
Ishmael and Moran, walking alone.
MORAN
I'm not gonna see some article about an
investigation, am I?
ISHMAEL
(quietly)
You want me to lie?
MORAN
No, I wanna be off the darn record,
that's what I want.
No answer. They keep walking.
MORAN
I mean, if there is a killer, why would
you want him all alerted?
Ishmael stops.
ISHMAEL
So this is a murder investigation?
MORAN
I didn't say that...
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Our courtroom silent now, respectful. Court is in session.
PAN the back of the courtroom. Twenty-four citizens of
Japanese ancestry fill the last row, dressed in their most
formal clothes. As one, the Japanese-Americans watch...
...the prosecutor, ALVIN HOOKS. There is a quickness about
the eyes, a tendency to sharpness of manner, that he works
carefully against...
HOOKS
Would you tell us please, Sheriff. What
was your first impression as you and your
deputy inspected the Susan Marie that
fateful September morning?
JUDGE FIELDING, tall and gray, leans on his elbows. His
eyelids droop slightly, a deceptive masking of keen
attention.
The witness is Sheriff Moran.
MORAN
Mainly that it was so quiet out there.
Things just didn't...add up.
Ishmael watching. Thinking on that.
HOOKS
Add up? What do you mean?
MORAN
Well, a fisherman drowning - that happens
sometimes. But Carl Heine? I got to
thinking. He was so...meticulous. He
did things by the book.
EXT. LAUNCH, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - DAY
Moran's hand on the throttle, powering his launch towards the
'Susan Marie', becalmed in the channel.
ABEL
Lights are on, Art. Every last one,
looks like. And his net's out.
MORAN
(yells)
Hey, Carl!
ABEL
I got this bad feeling...
MORAN
Don't say that, Abel. Don't even think
like that.
EXT. THE SUSAN MARIE - DAY
Moran stands on the gently swaying deck. All is quiet except
for a curious rolling SOUND.
CUT TO:
INT. THE SUSAN MARIE, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - DAY
Moran looks in the cabin door. TILT DOWN to see, in our
foreground, the enamel COFFEE CUP rolling on the floor with
the boat's movement.
Moran enters. Sits on Carl's bunk. He takes in the tidy
cabin. With one large battery sitting on the floor.
ABEL (O.S.)
Nothing in the hold. Apart from fish,
that is. Should we pull in the net?
Moran's eye catches a photo of Carl's family. His pretty
blonde wife. Two little boys.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
HOOKS
So, looking at the evidence there, you
determined that this was no accident,
didn't you?
MORAN
I didn't determine much of anything at
first. I kept wondering what I was going
to say to his family. After all, I knew
the guy. I knew his wife and children.
EXT. CARL JR.'S HOME - DAY
Moran climbs from his vehicle, as Carl's young SONS dash
around the corner of the house. Seeing the Sheriff, they
stop cold. Silent, shirtless, barefoot.
MORAN
Hey there, men. Is your mother home?
He spits his gum into a wrapper. The older boy nods towards
the house.
MORAN
You go on and play, now.
They don't move. He goes to the front door. Calls out.
MORAN
Susan Marie?
INT. CARL JR.'S HOME - DAY
Pausing in the entrance, Moran calls again.
MORAN
Are you there?
SUSAN MARIE (O.S.)
Come on in. I'll be right down.
Moran takes in the room, neat and ordered, in a warm and
comfortable fashion. On the wall, a collection of family
photographs: earlier generations of blunt-faced Germans who
never smiled for photographs.
Susan Marie comes in, spittle-marked baby's diaper across her
shoulder, a baby's bottle in her hand.
SUSAN MARIE
What can I do for you, Art, Carl's not
home yet. Is everything okay?
MORAN
That's...
Too quick. He stops himself. And she sees that.
MORAN
It's why I'm here. I'm afraid I have
some...very bad news to tell you,
the...worst...kind of news.
She looks at him, uncomprehending.
MORAN
Carl died last night. Out at Ship
Channel Bank.
SUSAN MARIE
No. No, Carl's fine...
MORAN
We found him, Susan Marie. Tangled in
his net.
And with these words, a slack, blank look crosses her face,
and she sits down HARD on a chair. The baby's bottle slips
from her grasp.
Moran doesn't know what to do. She begins to rock, very
slowly. Her face is more terrible than tears. It is
frightened. She murmurs to herself, so that we can barely
hear...
SUSAN MARIE
I knew this would happen. I warned
him...
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Moran fidgets on the stand.
NELS (O.S.)
Now Sheriff, you've said there was no
sign of a struggle? Nothing out of the
ordinary?
SEE him now. NELS stands beside his impassive client.
MORAN
Well, as I said, with a fella as
particular as Carl, there were a coupla
things that struck me as odd.
And Nels begins to walk toward him.
NELS
Yes, you mentioned the coffee cup on the
floor. Was there anything else out of
place?
MORAN
Well, there was this dead battery just
lying around. And the cover to the
battery well didn't fit right.
NELS
A battery cover that didn't fit? What
did you make of that?
HOOKS (O.S.)
Objection, asking the witness to
speculate.
NELS
My gosh, Alvin, was I supposed to object
every time you did that?
A real. Friendly smile.
JUDGE
(wearily)
That's quite enough horseplay, Nels, why
don't you act your age?
NELS
If I did that Your Honor, I'd be dead.
Some gentle laughter. Judge Fielding doesn't even bother to
look annoyed.
JUDGE
Proceed, gentlemen.
HOOKS
There's an objection, Your H...
JUDGE
And it's overruled. Answer the question.
If you can recall it.
MORAN
I looked under the lid and found one of
the batteries was bigger than the other.
NELS
Didn't that also strike you as odd that
he would have a battery that didn't fit?
A man as particular as Carl?
INT/EXT SUSAN MARIE CABIN, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - DAY
INTERCUT...Moran opens the battery well in the cabin...
MORAN (O.S.)
Yeah, I wondered. But he'd done some on-
the-spot work, you see. The flange was
kind of banged away to make room for the
one that was too big.
We see the flange, and two distinguishably different
batteries in place. The third resting on the cabin floor
beside the well.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
BACK TO the courtroom. Moran still on the stand.
NELS
Now tell me. Would this "too big"
battery have fit, say, in Kazuo
Miyamoto's battery well?
MORAN
It was the exact same type as Miyamoto's,
that's for sure. But he had both his
batteries in when we searched his boat
later.
NELS
And no spare?
MORAN
Like I said. Carl was different than
most. I mean, no one ever carries a
spare.
INT/EXT SUSAN MARIE CABIN, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - DAY
Moran on his knees. Running his fingers along the flange of
the well. He looks up at Abel.
MORAN
It's like you car. Who carries a spare
battery for their car?
INT. COURTROOM - LATER
Horace Whaley, the county coroner, folds his arms. Searching
for the appearance of ease in the witness box.
WHALEY
...prior to that, I served as a medical
officer. In the Pacific.
HOOKS
So. In your profession as medical
officer and coroner. I take it you
would've had to deal with head injuries
on many occasions?
WHALEY
Countless.
HOOKS
And does your experience allow you to
determine the probable cause of a head
wound?
WHALEY
Absolutely. You get hit with a crowbar.
Or a hammer. Or fall off a motorcycle.
The injuries look different. In this
case, the injury had been inflicted by a
long, narrow, flat object.
HOOKS
Like a fishing gaff, for example?
WHALEY
That's very possible.
HOOKS
(refers to Whaley's report)
You say it was..."a laceration about two-
and-a-half inches long above the left
ear, the bone under it fractured over a
four-inch area"...Tell me, have you seen
this specific kind of wound before?
WHALEY
Frequently. As a result of hand-to-hand
combat with Jap soldiers.
He looks over at the Sheriff.
WHALEY
I even told Art "If you want to play
Sherlock Holmes, you ought to look for a
Jap with a bloody gun butt."
HOOKS
What led you to that conclusion?
WHALEY
I'd seen those kendo wounds many times.
Exactly like this one.
Whaley looks smugly at Kazuo.
HOOKS
Could you tell us what kendo is?
WHALEY
Japanese stick-fighting. They're trained
as kids you know. To kill with sticks.
And the prosecutor's eyes drift to the defendant. So that
the jury's will do the same. HOLD ON Kazuo's regal bearing.
His neutral mask.
HOOKS (O.S.)
No further questions.
EXT. FIELDS - DAWN
Mist of early light. Two dark figures, little more than
silhouettes, measuring their distance from each other with
their lethal shinai staffs. One is a full-grown man. The
other, eight years old. Dialogue plays in JAPANESE,
subtitled in English...
ZENICHI
Hips, stomach, cut. Stomach muscles
tighten as stroke advances.
And STRIKES a fearsome blow, which the child REPELS with
startling proficiency. We can see ZENICHI's stony face, now.
If he is impressed by his son, he does not show it.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! The boy LASHES fiercely, the man
parrying each stroke with blinding ease.
ZENICHI
(very quiet)
Zenshin. Is constant awareness. Of
dang...
CRASH! The father has sent a blow in mid-word, FLINGING the
child like a doll. The boy BOUNCES up, snatching his shinai
into ready position, his face scrunched with pain.
ZENICHI
Kazuo! Never show your pain. Don't ever
show your feelings. On your face. Or
anywhere.
WHAP! The child has unleashed a blow at the left side of his
father's HEAD. It has been blocked just above Zenichi's ear.
There is no anger in either warrior. That we can see.
ZENICHI
Elbow soft. A little better.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Whaley stares with the air of disdain of a man playing chess
with an unworthy opponent.
NELS (O.S.)
But your report states it was death by
drowning, not a kendo wound. How did you
determine this?
WHALEY
As I testified, I found foam in the
deceased's lungs.
NELS
Yes, this foam...I'm not sure I
understand about that, Horace. What
would cause that again?
WHALEY
It occurs when water, mucus and air are
mixed by respiration. Breathing, that
is. I believe I said that.
NELS
(slightly confused)
But you can see why I'm confused, because
a drowned person doesn't breathe. So
how...?
WHALEY
Of course now. The foam means that he
went in breathing.
Ah. Nels holds the pause.
WHALEY
That's why the autopsy report identifies
drowning as the cause of death.
NELS
I see. meaning that he wasn't murdered
first, say on the deck of the boat, and
then thrown overboard.
WHALEY
Well you can always...
NELS
(quickly)
Thank you Horace. That's important.
That's good. But there's something else
I'd like to ask you about now. Something
in your evidence...
He picks up Whaley's report from the clerk's desk. Smiles at
her.
WHALEY
Go ahead and ask.
NELS
About the wound to the deceased's head.
You say it was made by a "long, narrow,
flat" object. Is that what you saw? Or
is that your inference?
WHALEY
(really pissed)
It's my job to infer. That's what
coroners do. They infer. That's my area
of expertise. Inference.
Nels nods. He can be quiet now. The witness distracted from
volunteering opinions Nels did not wish for.
NELS
Of course it is, Horace. Now can you
infer whether an object was propelled
against the head of the deceased, or his
head moved against an object? Or would
both look the same?
WHALEY
The same.
NELS
So if his head struck something narrow
and flat, like the gunnel of the boat, a
net roller, a fairlead, could that
have...
WHALEY
If the head was moving fast enough, but I
don't see how it could be.
NELS
Nonetheless, is it possible?
WHALEY
Sure, anything's poss...
NELS
Is it fair to say that you do not know
for certain which it was.
WHALEY
Didn't I just say that? I already said
that, but...
NELS
But you are certain that he died by
drowning.
WHALEY
For the third time, yes.
Nels nods. Whaley is beyond frustrated.
WHALEY
Can I say something, here?
NELS
No thank you, Horace. You've been more
than helpful. No further questions.
Horace wants to say more. Doesn't immediately move.
JUDGE
We'll take our lunch recess. Reconvene
at...one-thirty sharp.
The gavel CRACKS onto the block. Judge Fielding stands to
leave, and the BAILIFF begins to usher the jury from its box.
Abel Martinson, the deputy, puts his hand gently on Kazuo's
arm, as the defendant turns...
...to face his wife. Standing at the rail. Nels gestures to
Abel to give them some space. Hesitantly, the deputy steps
away a few feet. And beneath the courtroom buzz...
KAZUO
How are the kids?
The voice so colloquially American, we are taken aback.
Having envisioned Kazuo as a silent Samurai.
HATSUE
They're excited. They love the snow.
KAZUO
(softly)
Well, that's great.
Abel looks uneasily around.
KAZUO
Anyway. Just a few more days.
And for the first time, KAZUO smiles at her. She stares
back, her heart in her eyes.
KAZUO
You look beautiful.
ABEL
Look, Art's gonna want me to...
KAZUO
I'm not going until you smile.
HATSUE
(hurriedly, in Japanese)
Don't sit so straight like Tojo's
soldier. I think it's dangerous with
this jury.
That does it for Abel. He grasps Kazuo's arm and tugs, but
he can't budge the defendant.
But she doesn't smile. So his fades. And he lets Abel lead
him away.
HOLD ON her. Watching him go.
Over her shoulder, up in the balcony, Ishmael stares at her.
In his mind, the memory of her voice begins...
EXT. SOUTH BEACH - DAY
Muddy legs splash through the shallows. Two thirteen-year
olds have the beach to themselves. Hatsue carries a leaky
bucket full of clams.
HATSUE
Oceans don't mix--the Atlantic, the
Pacific, Indian, Arctic...they're
different.
ISHMAEL
How are they different?
HATSUE
Just because. It's not one ocean.
ISHMAEL
They are too one ocean. They're really
just part of the same one. They mix
underneath.
HATSUE
No, they don't mix. They're different
temperatures.
ISHMAEL
How do you know?
HATSUE
I just do.
CUT TO:
EXT. SOUTH BEACH - DAY
LATER. Digging in the sand. Ishmael reaches his arm deep
into a muddy hole, almost to his shoulder.
HATSUE
Take it easy! Slow is best.
She reaches into the hole beside him. Her fingers explore
the shell of the dug-in geoduck clam. Ishmael studies her
closely, her muddy knee just inches from his face, as she
focuses on her task.
HATSUE
He's too deep. We need to keep digging.
They are digging now, together. Carefully.
ISHMAEL
Here he comes. We've got him now.
Gently, Hatsue begins to dislodge the clam from its lair.
She lifts it clear. She admires its size and roughness with
her fingertips. Washes it in the shallows. He watches her
movements intently.
ISHMAEL
(quietly)
I like you. Do you know what I mean,
Hatsue? I've always liked you.
The words make her turn. Not startled, exactly. Alerted.
There is no answer. He leans slightly closer, and she looks
down. This is the moment. Afraid and driven, he moves
slowly to her face. And puts his mouth against hers. She
lets him and, encouraged, he pushes harder, making Hatsue...
...lose her balance, and planting a hand beneath the water to
support herself, eyes closed too tightly, she kisses Ishmael
for a long moment, before...
...leaping up, snatching her clam pail and running AWAY down
the beach like a deer. He stands slowly. To watch her go.
His face is unsmiling, but he is helpless with happiness.
Contemplating the kiss.
INT. SCHOOL BUS - MORNING
Ishmael boarding a crowded school bus. Kids are chattering,
arguing. Racial separation is fairly evident. Up the aisle,
he sees...
...Hatsue sitting with her Japanese friends. He walks slowly
past, trying not to look at her. He can't help himself.
He sits. She never looks back.
EXT. IMADA HOME - DUSK
Ishmael crouching at the edge of a farm, in near-darkness.
Across the distance, the screen door opens, light slips
across the porch. Hatsue appears with a wicker basket, to
take the laundry from the line.
He watches, rapt, as she unpins and folds the clothes,
clenching the clothespins in her teeth. Then reeling the
line again, elegant hand over elegant hand. She corrals the
long sweep of her hair, knotting it deftly, before heading
inside. HOLD ON Ishmael watching, and...
CUT TO:
EXT. IMADA HOME - NIGHT
last light. Insects thrum in the stillness. Ishmael is
walking away from the house when he hears the sound of a
FLUTE. He looks back to see...
Hatsue's face appears through a lighted window, a FLUTE to
her lips. She plays.
Ishmael scarcely breathing. Transfixed for a moment. Then
continues on his way.
EXT. STRAWBERRY FIELDS - DAY
Children working fields in sunlight. Kneeling in the rows.
Hatsue with a half-dozen Japanese girls, her hair loose, her
face lightly sheened with sweat. She works with efficiency
and grace, filling her flats.
Three rows away. Ishmael watches. The fear not far beneath
the surface of his quiet features. He sees Hatsue slip a
berry into her mouth and watches her eat it.
Hatsue's gaze drifts slightly in this direction, and Ishmael
looks DOWN rapidly at his work. Cheeks burning, certain she
is watching. Which she is not.
CUT TO:
EXT. STRAWBERRY FIELDS - LATE AFTERNOON
LATER...end of day. The young pickers turning in their flats
as a gentle rain begins. Hatsue slips her money into her
pocket without counting it, and...
...runs lightly off, into the growing rain. Ishmael sees.
Stricken to his soul with longing. And indecision.
EXT. CEDAR FOREST - DAY
Ishmael runs through the cedar forest in the rain. Ahead of
him, we see a glimpse of Hatsue disappearing through the
trees. Ishmael pursues her at a distance. Suddenly he
stops, looking intently ahead.
Through the rain, we see an ancient cedar, a large hollow in
its base. A fallen tree and the thick, ferny underbrush
obscure it and add to its sense of secrecy.
Ishmael approaches tentatively. He stops again.
Hatsue's face appears in the entrance to the hollow.
HATSUE
You followed me, huh?
Rain pelts off Ishmael's soaked form.
ISHMAEL
Sorry. It sort of...happened, I just...I
followed you. I'm sorry.
She pulls her hair behind her ears.
HATSUE
You're getting wet...
She starts refastening her hair now, looking away. He comes
inside...
CUT TO:
INT. CEDAR HOLLOW - DAY
...and crouches as respectfully far from her as he can.
Which is close. He watches her, watches her, and...
ISHMAEL
I'm sorry I kissed you on the beach.
No reaction. As if she hasn't heard. Now his heart is
beating straight through his chest.
ISHMAEL
Let's just forget about it. Forget it
happened.
HATSUE
Don't be sorry. I'm not.
His heart bursts within him. And he struggles to keep it
from his cafe. Even though she isn't watching.
ISHMAEL
Me neither.
She turns her face to him, and offers a small smile. It is
genuine, and therefore dazzling to the boy. She lies back on
the ground.
HATSUE
Do you think this is wrong?
He swallows. Staring at her lying there so comfortably.
ISHMAEL
Your friends would. Your dad would kill
me.
HATSUE
He'd chop you up with a Samurai sword.
Ah. Better. They are both grinning now.
HATSUE
My mom is the problem.
ISHMAEL
Why? We're only talking.
They look at each other for a lingering moment of silence.
INT. IMADA BEDROOM - DAY
Hatsue sits at a bedroom mirror. FUJIKO watching
analytically, as Hatsue weaves her hair into a thick plait.
FUJIKO
(in Japanese)
No, you must never look at a man
directly. This is part of grace.
The girl smiles a small sour smile. Speaks quietly in
English...
HATSUE
Boys on this island don't care about
grace.
Her mother studies her with some irritation. She sighs.
FUJIKO
(in Japanese)
The boys on this island are hakujin.
They don't see grace, and they are full
of lust. They will seek to destroy your
virginity.
Hatsue's eyes widen slightly.
FUJIKO
(in English)
Stay away from white boys. Marry one of
your own kind whose heart is strong and
gentle.
Hatsue sighs as she works on her hair. The older woman reads
the young face in the mirror.
FUJIKO
The pin. Could be better placed.
INT/EXT HOLLOW CEDAR - DAY
The teenagers are sprawled on the ground, sheltered in the
hollowed-out base.
HATSUE
She teaches me. To be Japanese.
He laughs.
ISHMAEL
What does that mean...
HATSUE
Dances, calligraphy. How to do my hair.
He is enthralled. Lost in being with her.
HATSUE
How to sit without moving.
ISHMAEL
What's the point of that?
HATSUE
It's a part of grace. You boys don't
understand.
ISHMAEL
Try me...
HATSUE
She doesn't let me get away with
anything.
ISHMAEL
It's the same for me. Except it's my
Dad.
INT. ISLAND REVIEW PRINTING PRESS ROOM - DAY
A horrific CLANGING noise, the clash of metal on metal.
See ARTHUR CHAMBERS now, at the printing press, an enormous
cast iron contraption, shrieking like an ancient locomotive.
Thirteen-year-old Ishmael is assisting him, feeding paper
into the press. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, but one is
loose, its cuff dangling.
Arthur is a strong featured, intelligent man, with round gun-
metal rimmed spectacles and garters on his shirtsleeves. He
gracefully ducks in and out of the machine, inspecting plates
and printing cylinders.
Arthur pauses to take off his spectacles. Polishes them on
the fabric of his shirt. Carefully, puts them back on. It's
a characteristic gesture of his.
Ishmael reaches over the machine to feed it, his loose sleeve
precariously close to the meshing gears.
Suddenly, Arthur's hand...
...STABS OUT in a LIGHTNING move to GRASP the boy's arm.
ARTHUR
You know what would happen to an operator
who got his sleeve caught in the press?
The boy's eyes widen. What? Arthur smiles.
ARTHUR
He'd be popped open in one instant. Like
a balloon. And splattered across the
walls.
Ishmael flicks a look to the machinery. Gently, Arthur turns
the boy's face to look him in the eye.
ARTHUR
(dramatically)
Even his bones would disappear. To be
discovered later on the floor. Like
strips of white confetti.
Ishmael tries to look unimpressed. Arthur smiles.
INT/EXT HOLLOW CEDAR - DAY
The teenagers safe in their haven. Ishmael lies close to
Hatsue. Staring at her with absorption. She nestles her
head in the crook of his arm.
They kiss. Ignoring the drips of water that find their way
in.
Outside, the rain POUNDING down. A wall of water sealing
them from the world.
INT. COURTHOUSE CORRIDOR - DAY
Feet hurry up the stairs. People jostle past Hatsue who sets
her own pace, unhurried. As she reaches the landing she
notices...
...Ishmael looking down the stairwell at her.
Her gaze flicks away from him as she passes into the
courtroom. No acknowledgement.
HOLD on Ishmael as we HEAR A BRASS BAND...
MUSIC ADVANCED FROM:
EXT. MAIN STREET, AMITY HARBOR - DAY
A modest parade of floats is passing. On the sidewalk, a
genial crowd of farmers, fishermen, families of both races.
In the Island Review office, Ishmael (now 17) reloads
Arthur's camera. Outside, an elderly Japanese farmer,
NAGAISHI, approaches Helen and Arthur with a basket of
strawberries. A gift. Ishmael dashes out to join them.
NAGAISHI
Five sons. That's my secret, Mr.
Chambers. That's important!
ARTHUR
Well we've tried, Mr. Nagaishi. We've
tried hard!
(puts an arm around Ishmael)
But my Ishmael here, he's a match easily
for two lads. Three! We have high hopes
for him.
NAGAISHI
Oh yes, your son is a very good boy. A
strong heart like his father. We wish
him good fortune.
Nagaishi bows and takes his leave.
The STRAWBERRY PRINCESS float approaches, bearing a gigantic
papier-m’chÈ STRAWBERRY at one end and the Strawberry
Princess and her attendants at the other.
ARTHUR
Did you ever wonder why the Strawberry
Princess is always a Japanese girl?
ISHMAEL
Not really.
HELEN
I'm sure your father will explain it to
you anyway.
The Strawberry Princess turns in Ishmael's direction. It's
Hatsue, tiara on her head, scepter in her hand...
ARTHUR
She's sort of an unwitting virgin
sacrifice. To the concept of racial
harmony. And you know what? For a
moment, it seems to work.
Ishmael watches Hatsue closely. Looking radiant, she
demurely acknowledges the cheers of the crowd. Nearby,
FUJIKO looks on approvingly as she watches with Hatsue's
sisters.
ARTHUR
That's the Fujita girl, isn't it?
ISHMAEL
No, Dad. It's Hatsue Imada.
ARTHUR
Oh, yes. She's lovely.
Helen glances at Ishmael, noticing his interest.
Arthur raises his camera and takes a shot of the Strawberry
Princess.
CLOSE ON Ishmael, eager to catch Hatsue's eye. Helen watches
him discreetly.
Hatsue's head turns toward him, and although she sees him,
she gives him no acknowledgement.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
CLOSE ON Ishmael, once more in the row of reporters. He's
looking at Hatsue down below, though he can only see the side
of her face and her hair, bound up securely at the back of
her head.
HOOKS (O.S.)
Mrs. Heine, you were acquainted with the
defendant and his family, were you not?
ETTA HEINE is in her early fifties. Her voice bears traces
of her German accent. She warily pulls her hem down tight
below her knees.
ETTA
Him and his folks worked our land. Lived
in one of the cabins at first.
HOOKS
So the defendant knew the deceased, your
son, even then.
ETTA
They fished together. Went to school.
My boy Carl treated him like a white
person. Like any friend.
Said not with pride, but regret.
HOOKS
So where did things go wrong?
ETTA
My husband went and sold his father
(points at Kazuo)
seven acres of our land. That's where
all this trouble started.
INT/EXT CARL SR. FARMHOUSE - DAY
Etta fifteen years younger, watches stoically from the parlor
window, as her husband CARL SENIOR strolls the strawberry
fields with young Kazuo and his father, Zenichi. Carl is a
well-weathered man, and puffs a pipe as Zenichi stops, sweeps
his arms this way and that. The boy looks from the men to
the vistas of the land itself, as if trying to piece together
what all this means for him.
The two men clasp hands in a firm shake of agreement. Etta
knows trouble when she sees it.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Hooks pacing, slow and calm.
HOOKS
But how can this be, since we all know
it's against the law for Japanese-born to
own land?
ETTA
Carl held it for 'em. Called it a lease.
They made payments every June and
December.
HOOKS
But, even leasing is illegal. And as
Japanese-born, they could never legally
take title.
ETTA
Their kids was born here. So when the
oldest, that one there, was twenty...last
payment gets made, and he could own it.
She folds her hands. Looks Kazuo squarely in the eye.
ETTA
But they missed their last two payments.
So that was that.
HOOKS
Missed their last two payments. After
years of not missing one?
ETTA
It was the war. They were gone. Sent
off to the camps. With all the other
Japs.
INT. CARL SR. FARMHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY
Carl Sr. and Zenichi sit at the table. Carl smooths out a
poster which Zenichi has brought. We read: EVACUATION
INSTRUCTIONS TO ALL PERSONS OF JAPANESE ANCESTRY.
Carl lights his pipe. Compassion in the broad weathered
face. Etta watches by the stove.
ZENICHI
...if you like, you can work our fields,
sell berries, keep the money. Otherwise,
they just rot.
Zenichi produces a neat stack of bills. Puts them on the
table.
ZENICHI
Today, I have half money toward next
paym...
CARL SR.
Absolutely not, Zenichi. I'm not gonna
take your savings at a time like this.
Zenichi spreads the bills out. On the table.
ZENICHI
Please, you take. One hundred and twenty-
five dollars. Then, I send more from
where I'm going. If not enough, you sell
my seven acre berries, and keep the
money.
ETTA
Thought you was givin' us those.
And everything. Stops.
ETTA
Didn't you come in here givin' them away?
Now you want to make up the other half in
berries you expect us to tend and pick.
Is that what you come here hopin' on?
Zenichi keeps his anger within. His face is set.
ETTA
You want more coffee?
ZENICHI
No, thank you. Take money, please.
But Carl is staring at his wife. She stares right back.
Carl turns, slides the money toward Zenichi.
CARL SR.
(staring at Etta)
Etta's been rude to you, and I apologize
for that. You keep this money, and those
payments will work out fine. Somewhere
down the road.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
ETTA
Road ended when my husband passed away.
I couldn't run the farm by myself, so...
I sold all thirty acres to Ole Jurgensen.
Got a fair price, this time. And...
Straightens her spine. To deliver the clincher...
ETTA
Sent their equity back to those Japs,
down to that camp in California. Which I
didn't have to do.
Hooks pauses. As if drinking this in. But Nels' attention
is drawn to Kazuo as he stares at Etta.
HOOKS
So they got all their money back? And
that was that. Or did you hear from the
defendant's family again?
ETTA
Oh yes, I heard from them alright. That
one there. Sitting over there.
She points to Kazuo who stares back at her with eyes as hard
as her own.
ETTA
He just showed up at my door.
EXT/INT ETTA'S APARTMENT, AMITY HARBOR - DAY
Kazuo stands at the open door, in his army uniform. No one
is inviting him inside.
ETTA
Carl's overseas, fighting the Japs. What
is it you want?
KAZUO
(quietly)
I came to get our land back.
He looks her squarely in the eye, fearlessly. Etta is a
little unnerved.
ETTA
It isn't yours. It's Ole Jurgensen's
now. Got talk to him about it.
She goes to shut the door. Kazuo stops it with his foot.
KAZUO
I just did. He didn't know it was our
land. You didn't tell him Mr. Heine
promised my fath...
ETTA
I was s'posed to tell him there's some
illegal contract muddling things up? You
folks didn't make your payments. In
America, bank comes in and repossesses
your land. I didn't do anything wrong.
Kazuo stands. Calm, unblinking.
KAZUO
Nothing illegal. Wrong is a different
mat...
ETTA
Get out of here.
KAZUO
You sold our land out from under us, Mrs.
Heine. You took advantage of the fact
that we were gone. You...
SLAM. The door has closed in his face. And Kazuo stands
there. As if deciding.
Whether to break it down.
EXT. AMITY HARBOR STREET - DAY
Kazuo heads down the steep, wooden steps from the house. He
stops, momentarily unsteady. He holds the handrail as if to
brace himself.
EXT. WOODED HILLSIDE - DAY
A wooded European hillside. A summer's afternoon. The
droning of bees...CLOSE ON a SOLDIER, in U.S. Army uniform.
It's Kazuo, his eyes searching ahead. A burst of machine gun
fire rips the air. Then stops. Just as suddenly.
Kazuo signals a fellow soldier, also Japanese. A flurry of
action. Half a dozen men run from cover to cover up a hill.
All are Japanese-Americans. Across the valley more bursts of
firing. Some explosions. Two soldiers fall. Others drag
them to cover.
Now alone, Kazuo inches around a tree. He continues
cautiously up the slope. Now we see his objective: a crude
bunker-like construction near the ridge top.
Carefully, Kazuo approaches the machine-gun nest. Taking out
a grenade, he draws the pin. He holds it briefly, then
suddenly stands and tosses it into the opening.
He throws himself down behind a fallen tree. A muffled
EXPLOSION. Clods of earth rain down on Kazuo.
CLOSE ON the entrance. Legs visible inside, lying on the
ground. Not a hint of movement.
Cautiously, Kazuo maneuvers for a better sightline. He
carefully works his way into the SMOKING wreckage. Now he
can see three German soldiers inside, clearly dead. The
fourth is just a boy, barely sixteen, and already badly
wounded. He sees Kazuo, and his hand reaches with difficulty
behind some rubble. Swiftly, Kazuo steps on the boy's wrist
to stop him. Then sees the boy's left arm moving in the
darkness near the booted feet of one of his dead companions.
In a reflex action, Kazuo smashes his rifle butt to the side
of the boy's head. A lightning quick coup de grace. Kendo
style. From the boy's hand drops: a water canteen.
EXT. AMITY HARBOR STREET - DAY
Kazuo resumes walking down the street away from Etta's house.
WIDE SHOT...we see him angrily pull his army cap from his
head.
INT. COURTROOM - LATE AFTERNOON
Hooks swivels, pointing his forefinger at Nels.
HOOKS
Your witness.
Remaining seated, Nels slouches back a little in his chair.
Gazing benignly into Etta's hostile glare.
NELS
Just three questions. The Miyamoto
family bought your seven acres for $4500?
ETTA
Tried to. Defaulted on their payments.
NELS
Second question. What did Ole Jurgensen
pay you per acre?
ETTA
A thousand.
NELS
I guess that makes $4500 into $7000,
doesn't it? If you sent the equity back,
you had a profit of $2500.
ETTA
Is that your third question?
NELS
It is.
ETTA
You done your math right.
The old man wears a thin, cold smile.
NELS
You, too. Mrs. Heine. No further
questions.
THE JUDGE glances at Hooks. Then:
JUDGE
You may step down, Mrs. Heine.
ANGLE ON Kazuo. As he watches Etta rise from the box.
Judge Lew Fielding leans his frame toward the jurors...
JUDGE
It's a shame to keep you folks from your
families in a storm like this. I do hope
you'll be reasonably comfortable in the
hotel tonight. And one more thing...
He smiles softly. And turns directly to the press balcony.
JUDGE
This Court takes judicial notice of the
fact that tomorrow is the anniversary of
the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Slight pause. To make sure they are listening.
JUDGE
Which has no relationship to this trial.
Which is why I mention it.
Gavel CRACKS down.
JUDGE
Nine-thirty tomorrow morning. Stay warm.
EXT. COURTHOUSE - DUSK
It's already dark, as Ishmael emerges into the snow. People
hurry across the street. Cars pull away from the curb.
Through the lamplight, Ishmael sees Nels, shoulders hunched
against the cold. Walking away from the courthouse. Alone.
EXT. TORGERSON SERVICE STATION - EVENING
A set of SNOW CHAINS are wrapped around a tire.
DAVE TORGERSON is pumping gas for Ishmael while his teenage
son hooks up his chains. It's busy around the gas pumps.
DAVE
Let it snow, let it snow!
He laughs heartily.
ISHMAEL
Biggest snowstorm I can remember.
DAVE
Where were you in '29? Now that was a
snowstorm. A real blizzard.
Ishmael shrugs noncommittally. Island gossip.
DAVE
Don't believe me! Go check the
coastguard weather records if you want
proof.
ISHMAEL
I suppose there might be a story in it.
DAVE
Scribble, scribble, scribble! While the
rest of us have to work for a living!
Ishmael smiles, tolerating the usual jibe.
INT. NELS' APARTMENT - NIGHT
Nels in shirtsleeves at his table. Brooding over the
remnants of his meal. He looks out the window, assessing the
weather. Coming to a decision, he reaches for his coat.
By the door, he hesitates a moment. Then steps to the table
and picks up a CIGAR BOX and CHESSBOARD. He goes out.
EXT. COAST GUARD LIGHTHOUSE, POINT WHITE - NIGHT
...the LIGHTHOUSE, slicing its shaft of light through the
snow, across the shore, across the water. A foghorn SOUNDS.
The Chrysler pulls up. Ishmael gets out and trudges towards
the concrete tower...
INT. LIGHTHOUSE RECORDS ROOM - NIGHT
A filing drawer opens. Weather reports, month by month.
LEVANT
Everything's dated. That's how we do
things - by dates mainly. Radio
transmissions, shipping logs, weather
reports, the whole nine yards.
The young Coast Guard radioman indicates the crates and boxes
stacked floor to ceiling in the cramped room.
LEVANT
Those boxes go clear back to Noah. Not
that anyone ever pays them any mind.
Ishmael nods, contemplating the mountain of information. A
thought occurs to him.
ISHMAEL
You monitor all radio activity?
Fishermen, that sort of thing?
LEVANT
Pretty much. Anything significant that
is. Some of those guys don't know when
to shut up.
He heads for the door.
LEVANT
Just yell if you need me.
Ishmael considers the drawer open at "December." He pulls
open another one, and hunts out the file marked "September."
CUT TO:
INT. JAIL - NIGHT
Kazuo lies on his cot. The sound of a key in the lock. He
sits up, as Abel Martinson steps in, followed by Nels.
Abel leaves, locking the door. Nels opens the cigar box,
takes out a cigar. Offers one to Kazuo.
NELS
I should've thought of this weeks ago.
I've been looking for someone with the
free time to play chess for fifty years.
My guess is you play a mean game.
He sets up the board.
NELS
White or black?
KAZUO
Advantages to both. You choose.
NELS
Most players prefer to open. Why is that
anyway?
KAZUO
Must believe in taking the offensive.
NELS
And you don't?
Kazuo takes a pawn in each hand. Offers them.
KAZUO
This is the best way.
NELS
If we're going to leave it to chance,
left is as good as right.
Kazuo looks at him. Which will it be?
Nels taps one hand. Kazuo opens it, black.
NELS
Your move.
INT. LIGHTHOUSE RECORDS ROOM - NIGHT
Ishmael stares at the folder. Open on the table.
CLOSE ON the report he's reading.
"SEPTEMBER 16TH.
1:41 A.M. FOG HEAVY. FREIGHTER S.S. WEST CORONA OFF COURSE.
REQUESTED SIGNAL.
1:42 S.S. WEST CORONA CORRECTING COURSE VIA SHIP CHANNEL
BANK."
Ishmael pulls his courtroom notepad from his pocket. Thumbs
through it. Finds what he's looking for. He puts the
notebook next to the open report on file.
His finger compares two details.
"1:42 A.M." and "1:47 A.M. CARL HEINE'S WATCH STOPS."
Ishmael considers this. Puts away the notebook.
Contemplates the report.
ISHMAEL
(calls out)
Hey. Levant!
CUT TO:
INT. LIGHTHOUSE RECORDS ROOM - NIGHT - LATER
ANGLE ON a chart table.
Ishmael and Levant lean over a map. Levant explains.
LEVANT
There's the shipping channel. Any
freighter off-course can dogleg back
through here.
His finger bisects "SHIP CHANNEL BANK."
LEVANT
But that only happens if we're really
socked in.
ISHMAEL
Don't the gillnetters work off the bank?
LEVANT
Not even those guys're crazy enough to
hang around in a bad fog! They get the
hell out of there.
He looks up at Ishmael.
LEVANT
What's it got to do with your snowstorm
story?
ISHMAEL
Nothing. Just curious that's all.
Levant goes to return the file to its drawer.
ISHMAEL
Here, I'll do it.
As he returns the file to the drawer, he deftly removes the
radio report and pockets it.
INT. JAIL - NIGHT - LATER
The chess game has progressed. More black pieces than white.
Kazuo studies the board silently. A small smile. He gently
topples his king on its side. Conceding defeat.
A match STRIKES. Nels puts it to his cigar. Kazuo puts his
aside.
NELS
Jury sees what I see more often than not.
KAZUO
And what do you see?
NELS
What do I see? I see a guilty man.
KAZUO
Maybe. Ask the men I killed in the war.
NELS
But that was war.
KAZUO
You don't understand.
Nels takes a puff. Considers Kazuo's face.
NELS
But...that jury's asking themselves what
was your reason? To kill Carl Heine.
Well, first there's the land itself.
Kazuo says not a word.
NELS
Then there's prejudice. Your people
locked in a concentration camp. Your
father never returns. You go off to
fight the Nazis. Come back to this.
Nels leans back against the wall. Weary.
NELS
Then there's fairness and honor. You
were cheated by that old bitch. Boy, she
is something.
KAZUO
She's not alone.
NELS
You're right there.
Nels shakes his head.
NELS
But I'll tell you something. Hooks has
missed the one reason. One reason. You
coulda done it.
A flicker. Behind the defendant's eyes.
NELS
I watched you while Etta Heine was
testifying. And you weren't thinking
about her. Or about land. Or about you.
No, it wasn't you she dishonored.
He sighs.
NELS
Your father was a man of honor. He chose
his own death rather than...
KAZUO
(abruptly)
What's your point?
There is a silence. And then...
NELS
My point is, you're on trial, Kazuo. For
murder. In the first degree. And unless
you want to hang...
The word sits between them. Kazuo's face shows nothing.
NELS
Now tomorrow. Just like today. That
jury will be looking at the evidence with
one eye. And at you with the other.
You'd better show them an innocent man.
A pause. Kazuo considers this.
KAZUO
You know what I learned from my father?
"Fate favors the courageous." That's
what he used to tell me.
NELS
Your father. Would have wanted you to
return to your family. There's no shame
or dishonor in that.
Kazuo draws himself up. Back straight. His face returning
to its neutral mask. Nels sighs. He gets up to leave.
NELS
The courageous can also be fools.
INT. IMADA HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Carrying two cups of tea, Sumiko joins her parents at the
table.
SUMIKO
She's asleep.
INT. IMADA HOUSE BEDROOM - NIGHT
CLOSE ON Hatsue. Her head on a pillow. Eyes open.
PULL AWAY to reveal her two children in bed beside her. All
asleep. Hatsue lies there. Wide awake. Through the gauze
curtains, snow falls softly outside.
A candle flickers at the bedside. CLOSE ON the flame to find
WE ARE IN...
CUT TO:
INT. BUDDHIST CHAPEL - NIGHT
...a makeshift sanctuary. Candles, offerings of fruit. A
young COUPLE together before a BUDDHIST PRIEST. Kazuo, now
in U.S. Army uniform, and Hatsue, her best dress. Becoming
one.
EXT. MANZANAR INTERNMENT CAMP/EXT. BUDDHIST CHAPEL - NIGHT
A searchlight sweeps barbed wire, rows of dark barracks
blurred by swirling dust.
Our young couple and their wedding party tumble out into the
windy night, laughing. Running to escape the dust.
INT. IMADA BARRACKS - LATER
A cramped, ramshackle room. Dust blowing through gaps in the
flimsy walls. FUJIKO IMADA hangs the last of the woolen army
blankets to divide the room in half, as on the other side, we
see...
Kazuo, on a box, unscrewing the lightbulb to turn it off.
Now the newlyweds stand at a window in their wedding clothes.
Kissing. Slow and full. Until she whispers into his ear...
HATSUE
They'll hear everything.
And her young husband turns. Speaks to the curtain.
KAZUO
(louder)
Wouldn't some music be nice?
And in a moment. The MUSIC begins. A wind-up 78 gramophone.
He takes her hand, places it on his top button. Encourages
her to undo his shirt.
HATSUE
Why do you have to volunteer...
KAZUO
I have to. Don't you see?
(turning to curtain)
Can the music be louder, please? We
can't hear so good in here!
The girl laughs soundlessly. And as the music BLARES, he
brushes a strand of hair off her cheek. He kisses her face
and unclasps her dress.
On the other side of the curtain, Sumiko lies in bed. Below
the curtain she glimpses Hatsue's dress fall to the floor.
INT. IMADA BARRACKS - NIGHT
LATER...the newlyweds on their cot now. Close together.
Naked and hungry for each other.
KAZUO
Have you ever done this before?
HATSUE
Never. You're my only.
As he enters her. She holds him close with all her strength.
And with whispered intensity...
KAZUO
(in Japanese)
Now I understand the deepest beauty.
INT. IMADA HOUSE BEDROOM - NIGHT
Hatsue turns on her side and cuddles up to her daughter. Her
eye catches a newspaper beside the bed.
It's a copy of the ISLAND REVIEW. Its headline: "First
Island Murder Trial in 31 Years Begins."
INT. SCHOOL BUS - DAY
Hatsue sits with the Japanese kids. Ishmael with his
friends. The bus filled with stone-faced teenagers listening
to the DRIVER, who brandishes his copy of the ISLAND REVIEW
at the Japanese side of the bus...
DRIVER
...not just Hawaii, they're attackin' all
over the Pacific, the whole fleet's
destroyed. The FBI's in Seattle right
now...
And pauses. His eyes moving from one Japanese face to the
next. Are you listening?
DRIVER
...arresting Jap traitors, spies and
everything. There'll be a blackout
tonight, so make sure you paper up your
windows. So the Japs can't find us. You
get the message?
Stares them down. Until, from across the bus...
ISHMAEL (O.S.)
Hey, Mr. Lamberson.
The driver's eyes snap around.
ISHMAEL
We get the message.
Hatsue and most of the others have turned to look at him.
For a brief, rare moment their eyes lock. In public.
INT. ISHMAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
The door opens. Ishmael comes into his apartment. He shrugs
off his coat. Hangs it up.
He takes the lighthouse report notes out of his pocket.
Spreads them on the desk in the window.
Outside the snow falls in endless cascades on main street.
Ishmael considers the information he's found. Turning it
over in his mind. His hand idly tapping his antiquated
typewriter.
SOUND OF a sudden flurry of rapid typing, AND WE ARE IN...
CUT TO:
INT. ISLAND REVIEW FRONT OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON, RAIN
...as Ishmael types furiously. Arthur paces around him,
shirtsleeves rolled. Suspenders, no tie. Composing the
day's editorial aloud to his son.
ARTHUR
These people are our neighbors, they have
sent their sons to the United States
Army...they are no more an enemy than our
fellow islanders of German descent...
Hesitates briefly. Then...
ARTHUR
...of German or Italian descent. Let us
live that, when it is over, we can look
each other in the eye. And know we have
acted honorably.
He leans across and RIPS the page out. Reads it swiftly,
then hands it to Ishmael.
ARTHUR
Set that for me, would you?
He leaves the office, polishing his spectacles.
INT. ISLAND REVIEW PRINTING PRESS ROOM - NIGHT
Ishmael works at typesetting the editorial. The SOUND of the
press CLATTERS from next door. Ishmael reads the copy aloud,
dramatically. A politician on his soapbox.
ISHMAEL
Let us LIVE that, when it is OVER, we can
look each other in the eye. And KNOW we
have acted HONORABLY!
He looks up to see Arthur watching him from the doorway. One
eyebrow raised.
ARTHUR
(dryly)
Finished?
His deadpan look doesn't fool Ishmael. He grins.
ISHMAEL
Just about!
Arthur's face doesn't change. Just a wrinkle of humor gives
the game away.
INT. IMADA HOUSE - DUSK
A bustle of activity. Fujiko hangs a blanket to blackout the
windows. Hisao takes down a shotgun, placing it on the table
next to a box of shells.
EXT. CEDAR FOREST - TWILIGHT
Hatsue is out of breath, panting from running through the
forest. Ishmael tries to calm her.
HATSUE
They've arrested Mr. Shirasaki, and his
family can't leave their house. They say
he planted his strawberry rows like an
arrow to guide bombers to some navy base.
She is outraged.
HATSUE
Those rows have been there since before
we were born.
He wants to lighten her. Leans in and kisses her.
ISHMAEL
Diabolical. See, that's what makes you
people so cunning.
She pushes him away. Agitated.
HATSUE
Look at my face. It's the face of the
people who bombed Pearl Harbor. We're in
bad trouble, you have to see that.
He puts a finger on her lips. Brushes aside a strand of her
hair.
ISHMAEL
Everything's going to be fine.
She reaches out and touches his face gently.
EXT. IMADA HOUSE - NIGHT
HATSUE nearing her house, some berries gathered in her apron.
She looks up. A black car approaches the house. Headlights
covered. Hatsue freezes, watching. Two men in suits get
out. Chatting, oblivious to Hatsue. They put on their hats
and go to the front door.
INT. IMADA HOUSE - NIGHT
CLOSE ON Hatsue, staring with silent anger greater than her
fear.
HISAO (O.S.)
(shaky)
We are loyal. It is for our defense.
PULL BACK to see the room. Hatsue and her sisters side by
side, staring at the table. On it rests the shotgun, four
boxes of shells, a ceremonial sword. FBI AGENT CRAWFORD, is
tagging each item. He wears an insincere smile.
FUJIKO
Everyone on the island has these things.
Fujiko at her husband's side. She is quietly indignant.
AGENT CRAWFORD
(overly casual)
Well, they'll hold this stuff for a
little bit, then ship it back to you.
It's nothing to worry about.
And walks over to the tansu, a chest of drawers, and begins
to remove items...
AGENT CRAWFORD
You folks have been real polite, and
we'll be outta your hair in just a
second...
...a silk kimono with gold brocaded sash...
AGENT CRAWFORD
That's very nice. From the old country,
it appears. Very high class.
And lays it on another table, next to a stack of Japanese
sheet music, and a bamboo FLUTE. The flute Ishmael had once
watched Hatsue play through the window.
AGENT CRAWFORD
These are real nice things. They'll take
special care of 'em.
He LIFTS the flute now, toward his lips, as if he intends to
play it. Then, his eyes cut playfully to Hatsue. Only a
joke. Hatsue won't give him the satisfaction of reacting.
SUMIKO
You have to take her flute?
Fujiko is outraged. Hisao's face masks fear and anger...
AGENT CRAWFORD
...oh yeah, any old country stuff, we
have to take.
And sees on the sofa, an open album. Strolls over. Picks it
up. Doesn't see Hatsue stiffen with revulsion, as he
wanders, thumbing through it, toward the doorway...
AGENT CRAWFORD
(calling out)
Wilson? Stop pawing through the
underwear!
And chuckles. He knows they appreciate a joke. It means
there's nothing to be afraid of. Stops turning pages now.
Looks up, his eyes moving until they find Hatsue.
AGENT CRAWFORD
Strawberry Princess, huh? You musta been
flattered by that.
A screen door slams. FBI AGENT WILSON enters with a crate.
AGENT WILSON
(quiet triumph)
Dynamite. Twenty-four sticks.
And the crate BANGS onto the table. Just beside the kimono.
HISAO
This for tree stumps. For clearing land.
The agent's smile fades now.
AGENT CRAWFORD
Maybe. Maybe. But this is still bad,
y'see.
Fujiko slips her hand into her husband's. To give him
strength.
AGENT WILSON
It's illegal contraband, you were s'posed
to turn this stuff in. We, uh...
Slight shrug.
AGENT CRAWFORD
Now we gotta arrest you. Have to take
you to Seattle.
Fujiko's breath catches. One of the daughters whimpers.
Wilson unhooks a pair of handcuffs from his belt, but...
AGENT CRAWFORD
Naw, you don't need those. Mister Eee-ma-
da-san here is a class act, a real
gentleman.
The younger girls are crying now, clinging to their sisters.
HATSUE
You can't do this. He's done nothing
wrong.
Fujiko gestures to Hatsue for silence.
AGENT CRAWFORD
Best for an honest man to clear his name
for good and all. He'll be back soon.
They gather up the confiscated goods and escort Hisao to the
door.
HISAO
(to Fujiko)
Call Kenji Yamamoto. Tell him I am
arrested.
AGENT CRAWFORD
I wouldn't bother. We've got him too.
EXT. IMADA HOUSE - NIGHT
Hisao between them, the two agents cross the porch. Wilson's
hat bumps into the wind chimes. A sudden jangling. He
glances at them, then reaches up and takes them down.
The family watches from the doorway. The younger girls
sobbing.
The oddly soothing tinkle of the chimes accompanies the men
out to the waiting black car.
EXT. WOODS - NIGHT
Lantern light. A pile of dirt. Zenichi jabs a shovel into
it. Kazuo watches as he kneels down, removing objects from a
burlap sack. Places them into an open strongbox...
...wooden swords, hakama pants, a shinai, scrolls written
with care. Dialogue plays in Japanese, subtitled in
ENGLISH...
ZENICHI
Your great-grandfather was a samurai, a
good soldier.
The father never looks at the son. Only at his work.
ZENICHI
He killed himself. On the battlefield.
At Kumamoto.
The young man knows this. Yet his entire being is focused on
every word.
ZENICHI
He went to battle with a sword. Against
guns. Knowing what honor required.
An elegant SWORD. Its curved blade gleaming in the lantern
light.
ZENICHI
He was angry. Crazy. But he knew what
what honor required.
A separate sack, just for this. Folded with respect.
ZENICHI
Honor can require loyalty. Revenge.
Death.
It goes into the ground. With the others.
ZENICHI
Honor is the only scale. In which our
worth. Is weighed. Every life ends.
And if it ends dishonored. It is as
if...
KAZUO
...as if we have never lived.
INT. CHAMBERS' HOUSE, ARTHUR'S STUDY - LATE AFTERNOON
The phone rings. Arthur reaches over and picks it up. A
shrill squawking voice penetrates the room. Expressionless,
Arthur hangs up.
Now we see: Helen, at Arthur's huge, cherrywood desk,
recording advertising receipts in a ledger. Opposite her,
Ishmael reads their paper. Its headline: ISLAND JAPANESE
ACCEPT ARMY ORDER TO EVACUATE.
HELEN
It's unbelievable to me...
ISHMAEL
(refers to paper)
I don't know, Mom. Here's twenty-three
ladies honored by the PTA and Dad singles
out three names. And they're all
Japanese. That's not journalism.
Helen glances at her husband. He smiles. A familiar debate.
ARTHUR
Because?
ISHMAEL
Because journalism. Is just the facts.
ARTHUR
Which facts? You can't print them all.
Journalism is making choices. Culling
out what's important.
The phone rings again. This time Arthur holds the receiver
toward them:
PHONE VOICE
"You know what happens to Jap lovers?
Jap lovers get their balls cut off and
stuffed down their..."
Arthur hangs up again.
HELEN
This is dangerous, Arthur.
ARTHUR
It'll blow over.
HELEN
Did you see the letters?
She hands him one. Arthur leans back. He reads aloud.
ARTHUR
"Seems like you're favoring the Japs,
Art....Your newspaper is an insult to all
white Americans. Please cancel my
subscription..."
ISHMAEL
What are you going to do?
ARTHUR
Send him a refund.
Ishmael flicks through the paper.
ISHMAEL
Where's the Petersen's ad I put together?
ARTHUR
He pulled out.
HELEN
So did Lottie Opsvig, and Larson. And
the Cafe.
A pause.
ISHMAEL
Now what?
Arthur thinks for a moment. Helen continues working.
ARTHUR
Print four pages instead of eight?
INT. MONTANA SCHOOL GYMNSAIUM - WORK CAMP DORM - NIGHT
CLOSE ON HISAO. Writing a letter. Cross-legged on a bunk
bed.
HISAO (O.S.)
(subtitled Japanese)
"...we are digging trenches for a water
system. I am folding and ironing
clothing in the laundry..."
PULL BACK and UP to see that he is in a cavernous GYMNASIUM,
hundreds of bunks, each with its Japanese male occupant. The
effect is soulless and demeaning.
HISAO (O.S.)
(subtitled Japanese)
"...thank you for sending the
photographs..."
INT. IMADA HOUSE LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON
Eight pages of his letter, carefully written in Kanji
characters. Some lines have been blacked out by the censors.
Fujiko reading aloud in English...
FUJIKO
"...Do not forget to spread the weevil
bait and cut the runners on the yearling
plants..."
Fujiko is momentarily overcome. She stops reading.
PULL BACK to see mother and three daughters around the table.
Sumiko goes to comfort her mother.
SUMIKO
The hakujin...They're no better than
animals.
HATSUE
(blurts)
Not all of them.
SUMIKO
How would you know?
A moment of eye contact between the sisters.
HATSUE
Because I live here. Among them.
Her voice so loud, so insistent. Her sisters are afraid for
her. To have shown such disrespect. They look down at their
hands. Or away, as if not hearing.
FUJIKO
You speak with great assurance, Hatsue.
The words fly from your mouth.
HATSUE
I don't care what you say! Do you hear
me? I don't want to be Japanese!
She rushes from the room. The room is still as the grave.
FUJIKO
(quietly, slowly)
These are difficult times. Nobody knows
who they are. She does not mean what she
says.
The mother's eyes burn silently.
INT. HATSUE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Hatsue lies on her bed, face to the wall. Fujiko puts away
some clothing, trying to hide her agitation.
FUJIKO
You are grown now, Hatsue. Your life is
yours. I hope you will carry your purity
with you always. And remember the truth
of who you are.
Hatsue remains silent. Unresponsive.
EXT. CEDAR HOLLOW - DUSK
They lie so close. Their bodies touching, not moving. Their
faces inches apart, so that every word is a murmur...
ISHMAEL
Now look. What you do is write to my
house, with Kenny Yamashita's name on the
return address. No one will suspect a
thing.
HATSUE
You're like me. We're both liars. It's
one lie after another.
He's never seen her this fragile, this scared. He knows he
has to be strong for her.
ISHMAEL
It's not lying. It's what we have to do.
He unties her hair. Removes a HAIRPIN. So gently. He slips
the hairpin into a crevice in the cedar. Tries to keep his
smile calm, steady...
He brings his face to her hair. Kisses it.
ISHMAEL
You smell like cedar.
Her eyes are wide. They move over his face. A murmured...
HATSUE
So do you. It's your smell I'll miss as
much as anything.
He looks in her eyes. And words come from his heart, before
he can stop them...
ISHMAEL
Marry me, Hatsue. We'll leave here.
Her eyes brim.
ISHMAEL
I want to marry you.
Her face so still. One tear falls, and he kisses it.
HATSUE
(softly)
Are you crazy?
ISHMAEL
(a whisper)
Please say yes.
No answer. Not knowing what to say, she winds an arm behind
his head, and brings him nearer. His mouth opens into hers,
with more force, more of his heart, than he has ever given.
Deep and tender. His hands reach beneath her dress...
...she arches off the moss to make room for his hands. He
unclasps her bra...
...as they breathe into each other, he undoes all eleven
buttons on the front of her dress...
...she feels his hardness with her hand. His breathing
stops. She unclasps his pants...
He peels her panties down her thighs...
Suddenly, he is OVER her, drawing her legs up around him.
Her head tilts back, her eyes squeeze closed. And as he
enters her...
HATSUE
Ishmael...
ISHMAEL
(whispers)
Please...
Her face registers a sudden certainty.
Her hands GRASP his upper arms. And push away gently.
HATSUE
(softly)
No, Ishmael
And he blinks. As if waking from a dream. Everything has
stopped. Her face is strong and yet overflowing with regret.
She scrambles away. Starts to dress herself, tearfully.
Ishmael draws away, buttoning his pants. Stunned,
uncomprehending.
ISHMAEL
I'm sorry.
In a sudden burst of rage...
HATSUE
I don't know anything anymore.
She scrambles out of the hollow and...
EXT. CEDAR HOLLOW - DUSK
...BOLTS away, through the forest. And is gone.
Ishmael watches her disappear.
Devastated.
INT. IMADA BEDROOM - DAWN
An open SUITCASE is flung onto a bed. Items of clothing are
hastily packed.
Hatsue closes the lid and shuts the clasps.
EXT. IMADA HOUSE - DAWN
Fujiko locks the front door. Together with her three
daughters, each with a suitcase, she walks over to an ARMY
TRUCK on the dirt road outside their house. In the distance,
the FERRY WHISTLE sounds.
Two SOLDIERS assist them into the truck. It drives off.
EXT. AMITY HARBOR STREET - EARLY MORNING
A small convoy of three trucks passes through the main
street. Silent onlookers watch from the sidewalk. A tiny
hand waves a miniature flag from the back of a truck.
A line of JAPANESE EVACUEES, file down towards the docks.
All are carrying bundles of luggage.
Hatsue watches them as her truck bumps towards the harbor.
EXT. AMITY HARBOR FERRY DOCK - MORNING
The army trucks pull up. Hesitantly, Fujiko, Hatsue, and her
two sisters climb from the truck, to see...
...a ferry, the KEHLOKEN, stands waiting. Soldiers are
patrolling, organizing, watching. The evacuees, mostly
women, children, and elderly men stand or sit in the cold,
waiting with a poignant blend of dignity and uncertainty...
...Those who have registered at the official table wear large
TAGS on their coats, as if they themselves were baggage.
Others patiently stand in line.
...a FATHER unstraps huge parcels of belongings tied to the
family car. His CHILDREN watch...
...nearby, on top of an enormous pile of bundles and
suitcases, sits a glum THREE-YEAR OLD GIRL, clutching her
little purse, as if she is herself a parcel...
Arthur's car pulls up. Arthur and Helen get out. Ishmael
watches from the back.
And against the dockside building...
...a cluster of white islanders, including Helen & Arthur
Chambers, silently watching as their Japanese neighbors file
toward the ferry. Arthur busies himself with camera and
notebook as...
...there's a sudden flurry of noisy protest from an irate OLD
JAPANESE MAN, in full U.S. Army dress uniform complete with
World War I campaign medals, as he's escorted from a vehicle
by two young soldiers...
...another solider takes a mewling kitten away from a little
girl. His reassuring words to her are in vain. She's
heartbroken.
...A middle-aged woman waves to Fujiko, who casts her eyes
down, refusing to acknowledge the greeting. And just as they
reach the gangway...
...Hatsue sees Ishmael, who stands at an unobtrusive
distance, among a group of students. She pauses.
Their eyes meet, and HOLD for a heartbeat...
And she is gone.
...the ferry whistle blows again...the ropes are cast off...
...a CREWMAN hurries onto the bridge as the FERRY MASTER sets
the engines in reverse. Silent tears run down his face...
As the ferry pulls away from the dock, individual cries of
farewell go up from the crowd. Some onlookers weep...
...Ishmael waves, and from a distance we see Helen has been
watching him, her suspicions confirmed...
...while small children on board wave little paper Stars and
Stripes...
...and from up on the dock pilings, a NATIVE AMERICAN hurls a
bouquet of red roses into the water...where they are churned
in the boiling wake...
EXT. ON THE AMITY HARBOR FERRY - DAY
...Amid a throng of people and piles of belongings on board,
Hatsue sits withdrawn, in a world of her own, oblivious to
the hubbub surrounding her.
INT. CEDAR TREE - DAY
The silent forest.
Ishmael sits alone in the tree in troubled contemplation, his
profile silhouetted against a crack of light.
EXT. IMADA HOUSE - DUSK
...Ishmael passes a homemade sign on the fence: EVACUATION
SALE - FURNITURE, ALL BELONGINGS. He looks at the familiar
Imada home: windows now broken, vandalized with racist
graffiti: "DON'T LET THE SUN RISE ON YOU HERE, JAPS."
INT/EXT BUS - DAY
Ishmael sits in his usual place as the school bus bumps along
the road out of town. He looks at one side of the bus where
Hatsue and her friends used to sit. Almost all the seats are
empty.
INT. BUS - DAWN
On another bus, far away, the Imada women huddle together for
comfort. The bus is crammed full of people and belongings.
Everyone looks desperately uncomfortable, after an endless
journey, though a number of people are asleep. All the
window blinds are pulled down even though it is light
outside.
Hatsue is awake, enveloped in her brooding. DUST swirls
around her.
A few rows back across the aisle from Hatsue, a YOUNG MAN is
also awake. It's KAZUO.
The Bus slows down to make a turn. Kazuo glances back to
check the SOLDIER on the rear seat is still asleep. Then he
raises his window blind a few inches to look outside.
EXT. MANZANAR INTERNMENT CAMP - DAWN (KAZUO'S POV)
The bus enters the gate of a fenced COMPOUND. Military
vehicles sweep past.
A sign etched in timber: MANZANAR WAR RELOCATION CENTER - FOR
ALIENS AND NON-ALIENS. Barbed wire, barracks, dust.
CUT TO:
EXT. MANZANAR INTERNMENT CAMP - DAWN
The convoy of BUSES pulls up by the ADMINISTRATION BLOCK.
Nearby, some SOLDIERS are raising the flag.
Befuddled groups of Japanese-Americans alight from the buses
with their belongings, into the unpleasant bite of wind and
dust.
CUT TO:
EXT. MANZANAR INTERNMENT CAMP - DAWN
HIGH ANGLE ON...The flag unfurling at the top of the pole.
As it flaps, it drops like a curtain to reveal...
ROW UPON ROW of BARRACKS as far as the eye can see...the vast
compound of MANZANAR.
CUT TO:
INT. KAZUO'S CELL - LATE NIGHT
A LIGHT flickers on. A hand screws in the lightbulb. It's
Kazuo, standing on his cot.
...the bare bulb swings. Its light throws shadows of castles
and horses across the chessboard.
Kazuo stares at the pieces.
INT. MIYAMOTO LIVING AREA - NIGHT
A heavy, muddy STRONGBOX is dumped on the kitchen floor.
It's 2:00 A.M. Kazuo is soaked to the bone. Mud-spattered.
He struggles with the strongbox lid. He picks out some
objects, placing them on the table.
Then, with reverence, he takes up the ceremonial sword.
Hatsue appears, dimly lit in the doorway.
HATSUE
Kazuo?
Kazuo examines the sword. Remembering.
KAZUO
This belonged to my great grandfather.
HATSUE
What do you want to go digging all that
up for? You should leave that stuff in
the ground.
Kazuo places the sword on the table. Takes a towel. Wipes
his face and hair.
HATSUE
Kazuo? Let it go.
Still nothing. Kazuo turns, continues to unwrap the precious
objects. Some have suffered with time.
Hatsue tries to catch his eye. And then.
KAZUO
My father buried these things on our
land.
HATSUE
It's not our land.
Kazuo turns. Face contorted with passion. Even madness.
KAZUO
It is our land. Don't you understand?
They locked us up. And stole it from us.
Hatsue embraces him. His face moves toward tears.
INT. COURTROOM - MORNING (TRIAL DAY TWO)
Delicate frost patterns on a window pane. Beneath it, wet
mittens steam, drying on the radiator.
On the wooden floor little puddles form, dripping from snow
covered boots and shoes of the watching islanders.
In the witness box, OLE JURGENSEN wobbles slightly, hands
resting on the cane planted between his frail legs.
HOOKS
Mr. Jurgensen. Did the defendant offer
to buy the seven acres from you?
OLE
Oh, yeah. He was eager to. But this is
five years ago, before my stroke. I had
my health, I wasn't wantin' to sell.
HOOKS
And then after your stroke, earlier this
year, you put your property on the
market. I believe you said September 7.
Which, remember, is eight days before
Carl Heine died. And who comes September
7, wanting to buy?
OLE
Carl Heine came.
Hooks pauses. Lets that sink in.
HOOKS
But Carl was a fisherman. And very
successful at it.
OLE
He said he didn't want that life no more.
He'd been saving to buy a farm. He was
sorry I got sick. But I could tell he
wanted to get back his father's place
real bad.
The old man's head bobs. Recalling.
OLE
Liesel and me. Was happy for him.
Hooks smiles. As if he would be happy, too.
HOOKS
And later, that same day. Only eight
days before Carl Heine died. Did another
prospective buyer appear?
EXT. CARL SR. FARMHOUSE PORCH - DAY (NOW OLE'S)
Ole sits in a wicker chair at a wicker table. His wife
LIESEL is setting out cold drinks. But their visitor stands
rigid, disbelieving.
LIESEL
I'm sorry to tell you, we took his
earnest money, he shook Ole's hand. Come
November, he'll sell his boat, and take
over the farm.
Kazuo is thunderstruck.
KAZUO
But your sign...
LIESEL
We din't have no time to take it down.
He just come ten o'clock.
Kazuo nods. His voice is soft, but his eyes are steel.
KAZUO
It's my fault. I should have come
earlier.
He looks so odd, perhaps he's ill. Liesel is concerned.
OLE
If you want t'buy them seven acres. Carl
Heine's the only fella can sell 'em.
KAZUO
You're right. I'll go see Carl.
EXT. CARL SR. BARN - DAY
WIDE SHOT...Kazuo stares at the "FOR SALE" sign on the barn
near the gate. He tears it down.
EXT. FIELDS - NIGHT
CLOSE ON Kazuo alone, sheened with sweat, his movements a
blur, as the kendo staff CUTS the air. Angrily.
INT. COURTROOM - MORNING
Sheriff Moran sits in the witness box, in his hands is a
piece of ROPE.
Outside, the wind whistles. RATTLING the windows as snow
LASHES the glass.
MORAN
It's a mooring line from Carl Heine's
boat.
HOOKS
And what's so special about it?
MORAN
Well, the strange thing is it's got a
bowline in it.
Holds it up for Hooks. So the jury can see the knot.
MORAN
And all the other lines on Carl's boat
were braided together in loops.
HOOKS
What do you make of that?
MORAN
Well. This one here is identical to all
the lines we found on the defendant's
boat. And it's worn just the same, too.
Ah. Hooks nods. Significant.
HOOKS
But didn't you just tell us you found
that on the deceased's boat?
MORAN
Sure. But if Miyamoto, there, had been
tied up to Carl's boat and cast off in a
hurry, he coulda left it there.
Nels looks up, almost perfunctory.
NELS
Objection. The witness is speculating.
Judge Fielding turns to Moran.
JUDGE
Sustained. He's right. Watch yourself.
MORAN
Well, all I know is. I found his rope on
Carl's boat. Why don't you ask him to
explain that.
CUT TO:
Kazuo's face. Totally impassive. He looks away.
EXT. THE ISLANDER/DOCK - LATE DAY
From his cabin on THE ISLANDER, Kazuo looks along the dock.
In the distance, Moran and his deputy approach.
Kazuo quickly returns to his task. Replaces the battery in
his well. Closes the cover.
He checks how close Moran and Abel are. He notices an empty
cleat. Then...picks up a fresh line and secures it to the
empty cleat.
Moran and Abel are closer now. Kazuo jumps onto the dock.
Goes to meet them.
FROM THE BOAT, we see them meet thirty feet away. The lap of
water, gulls shriek.
Moran hands a warrant to Kazuo. Kazuo glances at it. Hands
it right back.
Art prods Abel down the dock. Abel heads for the boat, as
Art continues to talk to Kazuo.
IN OUR FOREGROUND, Abel steps onboard. Sweeps a look right
around the boat. His eyes settle. He reaches down and picks
up...
...the FISHING GAFF...
...BLOOD on the handle.
INT. COURTROOM - LATE MORNING
The gaff is now in Nels' hand. In the witness box...
...DR. STERLING WHITMAN, hematologist.
NELS (O.S.)
So you found the blood on the gaff was
not fish blood at all. It was human,
yes? Type B positive.
DR. WHITMAN
Carl Heine's type.
Nels nodding. Seemingly unconcerned by this fact.
NELS
But you can't say with any certainty that
the blood was his.
DR. WHITMAN
No, but as I say, the type is rare. Ten
percent of Caucasian males. Whereas the
defendant, there, is type O.
Nels sighs. A bad moment.
NELS
Yes, sir. You told us. No one is
contesting that. You also told us that
you scraped the dried blood from the
handle of the gaff.
(pointing)
And what did you see under your
microscope, besides the B positive blood
blood and the wood scrapings...?
DR. WHITMAN
What else would there be?
NELS
But Doctor. Were there no splinters of
bone, no particles of scalp, no strands
of hair?
DR. WHITMAN
None.
NELS
Doesn't this seem odd to you? If this
gaff were in fact used to inflict a head
wound...?
DR. WHITMAN
I was asked only to perform two blood
tests. I determined that...
NELS
(gently persistent)
Yes, yes. As you have testified. But
what I want to know is would that seem
logical?
DR. WHITMAN
I don't know.
NELS
You don't.
Pause.
NELS
Now. Our good friend the coroner
testified that Carl Heine had a cut. A
fresh cut. Probably one or two hours
old. On the palm. Of his right hand.
Walks toward the box. Holding the butt of the gaff toward
him...
NELS
With no bone or scalp or hair present.
Would it be more probable that the blood
on the gaff came from crushing a man's
skull or from a cut on his hand?
DR. WHITMAN
I'm a hemotologist, not a detective.
NELS
Which is more probable?
Whitman won't be badgered. His smile carries only a trace of
coldness...
DR. WHITMAN
It is not my function. To weigh those
probabilities.
Nels looks him over. Looks at the jury.
NELS
You're right there Doctor. Thank you.
For braving the thrilling ferry ride all
the way from the mainland through the
snowstorm to help us out.
And walks away. Hands the gaff to the clerk.
NELS
You can put that away now, Maggie. We're
done with that.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Hooks sits against the prosecution table. His demeanor
gentle, respectful. His voice soft.
In the box, the widow sits in lovely dignity. Blonde and
alabaster and modest, in her black dress and veil of
mourning.
In the press row, all eyes are attentive. An angle they know
they can sell. Ishmael among them, watching, neutral.
Susan Marie listens. Poised.
HOOKS
Can you think back for me to the morning
of September 8th?
There's a tremor of recollection in her eyes.
CUT TO:
INT. CARL JR'S BATHROOM - DAY
A bright bathroom. Filled with STEAM.
A hand clears condensation off the mirror. Susan Marie peers
at herself in the glass. She has just woken up.
Behind her, the huge outline of Carl behind the shower
curtain. Scrubbing away a night's fishing.
HOOKS (O.S.)
...the morning after your husband
purchased the Jurgensen's farm...
Now in the shower, Susan Marie's face is pressed against the
wall.
Wet strands of hair fall across her eyes. Carl behind her,
his beard raking her shoulders. Her body arches with his
movement. He turns her face to kiss her. Quite tenderly.
HOOKS (O.S.)
...one week before his death...
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
CLOSE ON Susan Marie. Momentarily chokes with emotion.
Hooks moves toward her slowly. Solicitous.
HOOKS
I'm sorry Mrs. Heine. To have to ask
you. Can you recall that morning?
SUSAN MARIE
I can.
INT. CARL JR.'S BACK DOOR/SHED - MORNING
Susan Marie is by the door, looking out through the shed full
of nets and fishing gear...
HOOKS (V.O.)
Did the defendant come visiting that day?
To speak to your husband?
...across the yard. Her towering husband walks beside a
smaller man. Carl is doing the talking. Kazuo's face is
stone.
INT. CARL JR.'S KITCHEN - LATER
Carl paces the room, the baby at his shoulder.
CARL JR.
It's no big deal. It's a long story. He
wants to buy seven of Ole's acres. The
ones his family had. That thing my
mother talks about.
SUSAN MARIE
Oh that...I had a feeling it was that.
What did you tell him?
CARL
What could I tell him? There's my mother
to think about. You know her.
Susan Marie knows what Etta would say.
CARL
I said I'd think it over, have a talk
with you.
SUSAN MARIE
Did he go away angry?
CARL
I couldn't...tell...
Pause.
CARL
Look. Kazuo's a Jap. You can't read
Japs.
SUSAN MARIE
Don't say that. You don't mean that.
You and he used to fish together. You
were friends.
And Carl turns. Looks at her. A full beat.
CARL
We were kids then.
He hands her the baby and leaves the room. HOLD on her.
INT. CARL JR.'S SHED - DAY
LATER. Carl in his shed, alone.
He fingers a beautifully made bamboo fishing rod. Turns the
handle to the light to see a name etched on it: "Kazuo
Miyamoto."
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Susan Marie's eyes are set. Wary.
NELS (O.S.)
So your husband said he'd think it over.
Encouraged Mr. Miyamoto to believe he
might sell to h...
SUSAN MARIE
I wouldn't say encouraged.
NELS
Well, he didn't say "no", did he? Didn't
say no hope existed?
SUSAN MARIE
Not in those words.
NELS
So the defendant was encouraged to hope.
She thinks about this.
SUSAN MARIE
How would anyone know what he hopes for,
or anything else he's thinking?
A murmur from the gallery. Kazuo sits unflinching. Nels
stops in his tracks. Turns to look at her.
NELS
Mrs. Heine. Do you really think that's
fair?
HOOKS
Objection, Your Honor. Completely
irrelevant.
NELS
There's nothing more relevant in this
courtroom, Alvin. You know that as well
as anybody.
The gavel CRACKS down.
JUDGE
Gentlemen, gentlemen. Back to your
corners, please!
NELS
I'm sorry for this little interruption,
Mrs. Heine. I have no further questions.
JUDGE
Thank you, Mrs. Heine. You may step
down.
Susan Marie leaves the box. As we follow her path back to
her seat...
HOOKS (O.S.)
The State rests, Your Honor.
...Susan Marie passes within touching distance of Hatsue in
the gallery. Hatsue looks at her. Strong. Direct...
JUDGE (O.S.)
Very well, Mr. Gudmundsson. The defense
may call its first witness.
...Susan Marie stares resolutely ahead, refusing to return
the look. Only a nervous adjustment to her hair betrays her
uncertainty as she sits...
NELS (O.S.)
The defense calls Mrs. Hatsue Miyamoto.
Hatsue now gets up, and heads to the stand along the same
path just taken by Susan Marie. She passes Kazuo, who looks
straight ahead. Not a flicker between them.
The jurors watch her as one.
In the balcony, Ishmael tenses involuntarily. He takes out
the lighthouse notes. Looks at them again. Then back to the
witness box. In front of him, a soft chuckle as Reporter #2
ogles the new witness.
REPORTER #1
Take it easy, why don't you! Her
husband's not hung yet!
They laugh quietly.
Ishmael stuffs the papers away again. His features creased
with indecision.
CUT TO:
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
HIGH WIDE SHOT of the court. Nels stands near the box,
facing Hatsue.
HATSUE
He woke me with the news. He was very
excited about the land. We started
making plans right away.
CLOSE ON Hatsue. Eager to cooperate, but on edge
nonetheless.
NELS
And when did you first learn. That Carl
had drowned?
The slightest pause. As if hesitant to confess...
HATSUE
One o'clock, that afternoon, from a clerk
at Petersen's.
INT. MIYAMOTO BEDROOM - DAY
Hatsue shakes Kazuo awake.
HATSUE
Carl Heine is dead. It's all over the
island.
KAZUO
What do you mean?
HATSUE
He drowned. They've found him in his
net.
KAZUO
I can't believe it. Carl?
HATSUE
It's true. Poor Susan Marie. And those
kids.
Kazuo leaps out of bed. Suddenly agitated.
KAZUO
I'd better get down to the boat. Replace
that battery.
HATSUE
What are you talking about?
KAZUO
I was on his boat last night, remember?
HATSUE
So? You were helping him. Tell the
Sheriff.
KAZUO
Are you kidding? You think they're going
to believe me?
HATSUE
It was an accident, wasn't it?
KAZUO
That's right. Let's just leave it at
that.
He hurries out. HOLD ON Hatsue. Wondering.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
NELS
(turning to Hooks)
Your witness.
And Alvin Hooks rises. Perches on the edge of the
prosecutor's table. And looks at the witness.
HOOKS
So. Your husband came home agitated,
after his encounter at sea with the
deceased?
Only earnestness across her perfect features.
HATSUE
I said "excited." Not agitated. He was
excited in the sense of being overjoyed.
HOOKS
You were...overjoyed yourself, to hear
the news?
HATSUE
Happy for him. And relieved.
HOOKS
So, then, you...and your husband...must
have called friends, relatives, to tell
them the happy news. Yes?
HATSUE
(calm, respectful)
No.
HOOKS
Really? Didn't call your mother, your
sisters, about starting a new life? Your
husband never tells his family that the
family honor is vindicated?
Hatsue shifts in her chair.
HATSUE
No, we decided not to tell anyone. Until
we signed papers. In case something went
wrong.
HOOKS
And then, something did. Carl Heine was
found dead. With his head crushed.
She weathers that last part. As if taking no notice.
HATSUE
Yes, and then, what was there to call
about? Everything was up in the air.
HOOKS
Up in the air? Was that your reaction?
And he rises. Tastefully indignant.
HOOKS
I would suggest that more happened than a
land sale evaporating. A man died, Mrs.
Miyamoto. A husband and father of small
children had his skull bashed in!
HATSUE
(quiet dignity)
If you mean to imply that we didn't care
about Carl's death, that is wrong and
insulting.
HOOKS
I see. Well, did it occur to you to come
forward to tell Sheriff Moran what you
knew? The encounter in the fog,
the...dead battery, was it?
Silence.
HATSUE
We discussed that. And decided not to.
The row of reporters, scribbling diligently. Ishmael among
them, notepad balanced on his right thigh.
HOOKS (O.S.)
Why not?
On Hatsue. She looks at him with her customary directness.
HATSUE
Because things looked bad. Very bad.
Kazuo and I knew that. We thought he
could end up here, on trial for murder.
And that's exactly what has happened.
A momentary flickering of the lights. Hooks stops. Looks
upward. The lights flick again. And stay on. A murmur of
relief from the gallery.
HOOKS
But if truth was on your side, whatever
were you worried about?
HATSUE
Trials aren't only about truth, Mr.
Hooks. Even though they should be.
They're about what people believe is
true.
Once more, the reporters. But now, as Ishmael writes, he
alone keeps looking up. At the witness.
HOOKS (O.S)
So you hid the truth. Deliberately. You
lied.
HATSUE
We were afraid. To come forward seemed
like a mistake.
HOOKS
Doesn't it seem to you, Mrs. Miyamoto,
that your mistake was in being deceitful?
And on this word. Ishmael stops writing. Alone among the
bank of reporters, he is frozen, watching her.
HOOKS (O.S.)
Concealing information during the course
of a sheriff's investigation.
On Hatsue. Her dignity and composure.
HATSUE
It seems human. To me.
Oh. Hooks raises his brows.
HOOKS
I suppose that you mean this somehow
excuses your lies? I don't know, Mrs.
Miyamoto. I just don't understand this
at all. I'm completely at a loss. I
mean to say, how on earth can you expect
any of us to believe you now?
Silence. Hooks settles into his chair.
HOOKS
No more questions, Your Honor.
HATSUE
Wait a minute, I haven't had a chance...
HOOKS
I said. No further questions.
Anger flashes across her eyes. She draws a breath...
JUDGE
That's enough, Mrs. Miyamoto.
Hatsue goes to speak.
JUDGE
Not another word! The fact that you wish
to speak, that you might like to give Mr.
Hooks over there a piece of your mind --
this just isn't allowed, Mrs. Miyamoto.
All in the reporter's row are scribbling furiously.
All but one.
At which moment the lights FLICKER once. There is something
of a GASP, at the near-miss. And then...
A HUGE GUST OF WIND shakes the windows.
DARKNESS. The lights go OUT for good. A collective groan.
Fielding's gavel coming DOWN for silence.
JUDGE
Bailiff?
From somewhere...
BAILIFF (O.S.)
I'll see if I can scare up some candles,
Your Honor.
More noise. The gavel again.
JUDGE
Very well. Lights or no lights, Mr.
Gudmundsson, will you redirect?
NELS
Nothing further, Your Honor. The
interruption is as well timed as it could
be.
JUDGE
You may step down, Mrs. Miyamoto. Now,
in the circumstances...
Squints around in the near-blackness.
JUDGE
...I think we might resume tomorrow, in
the hope of better things.
He turns to the Jury.
JUDGE
But snow or no snow, let us not forget
that this is a murder trial. We have got
to keep that foremost in our hearts and
minds.
And to the watching attorneys.
JUDGE
The thought of a retrial makes me weary.
I think that with a little effort we can
avoid one, can't we?
Gavel RAPS once.
INT/EXT ISHMAEL'S CHRYSLER, CENTER VALLEY - AFTERNOON
Ishmael driving past the blanketed strawberry fields. On the
seat next to him a bag of GROCERIES.
Here and there, cars, abandoned to the drifts. Spikes of
green branches poke out of the snow where they've fallen. An
abandoned wreck on its roof. Light-hearted radio music makes
a counterpoint to the desolation.
Ishmael has to work at keeping the car on the road, but he
enjoys it. He turns the wheel using a specially mounted
cherrywood knob.
CUT TO:
EXT. CENTER VALLEY ROAD - AFTERNOON
BY THE ROADSIDE...With his father's old camera, Ishmael
photographs a logging truck that's skidded and lost its load.
CUT TO:
EXT. CENTER VALLEY ROAD - DITCH - AFTERNOON
BACK ON the road, the Chrysler follows the curve. Fields are
pure white to the horizon. Up ahead, an old station wagon
has run into a ditch. A middle aged Japanese man is working
at a rear wheel with a shovel.
Ishmael pulls over. Gets out to lend a hand.
As he approaches the car, a woman appears from behind it.
It's Hatsue - shovel in one hand. Pulling snowflaked hair
out of her eyes with the other. Ishmael stops. A BEAT.
CUT TO:
INT. CHRYSLER, SOUTH BEACH DRIVE - LATE AFTERNOON
Ishmael drives with Hisao beside him, Hatsue behind.
HISAO
This is a very fine car. Much better
than the new ones.
Ishmael smiles, at the old man's desire to be complimentary.
ISHMAEL
It was my father's.
HISAO
He was a good man...
He looks out the window. Ishmael's eyes flick to Hatsue in
the rearview mirror.
ISHMAEL
I know it's caused you trouble, but the
snow is beautiful, isn't it?
Hatsue shares the seat with the groceries, staring out the
side window, strands of wet hair pasted against her cheek.
HISAO
Yes, very beautiful.
Suddenly, her eyes SNAP to meet Ishmael's in the mirror. His
dart away. Hers hold.
HATSUE
This trial is unfair. Your father would
have written about that in his paper.
He keeps driving. And he keeps his eyes on the road.
ISHMAEL
(calmly)
What would he have said?
HATSUE
How this trial is wrong. How it's just
about prejudice. The whole thing is
unfair.
ISHMAEL
I sometimes think that unfairness is just
a part of things.
HATSUE
I'm not talking about the whole universe,
I'm talking about people. The coroner.
That prosecutor. You.
Hisao Imada looks out the window. Silent.
ISHMAEL
Is that what you think?
She studies his face.
ISHMAEL
Maybe I should write a column. Yes.
About unfairness. About the unfair
things people do to each other.
And his eyes come up. Meet hers in the mirror.
INT. PETERSEN'S GROCERIES - DAY
Ishmael home from the war, still in uniform, carrying milk
and crackers, in line at the checkout. The empty sleeve of
his Marine tunic pinned up at the elbow.
At the head of the queue Hatsue unloads groceries. An infant
at her shoulder.
In front of him, SVEN RONSTON, carefully glances back at
Ishmael's pinned sleeve. The CHECKER glances his way, then
looks awkwardly down.
ISHMAEL
(defiantly)
You can look. That's okay. We can talk
about it.
Everyone looks at him. And away. Confusion.
ISHMAEL
It's a missing arm. Okay? It was blown
off just like that. By the Japs.
No one knows where to look. Down, away, anything. Hatsue
fumbles with her groceries. Ishmael puts his milk and
crackers down. Heads for the door. Then, without stopping
or looking back:
ISHMAEL
I'm sorry.
EXT. BEACH - EVENING
Ishmael alone on the familiar beach from his childhood.
CLOSE...we see he is wracked with grief. In his hand, a
Purple Heart medal.
Pacing in rage and grief, he suddenly hurls the medal as far
as he can. Into the water. Gulls wheel and screech.
Ishmael walks away.
EXT. SOUTH BEACH BAY - MORNING
Ishmael, crouched among trees. Above a sunlit stretch of
beach. CLOSE ON his face. Eyes gazing down. At something.
See Hatsue down on the beach. Alone, raking for steamer
clams. Her baby beside her on a blanket, beneath an
umbrella.
Ishmael walks down to the sand. Crosses to where she works.
And squats down. At a respectful distance.
ISHMAEL
Can I talk to you?
She must have seen who was coming. Because the words do not
startle her. Or slow her work.
ISHMAEL
I'm sorry. I should never had said that
word.
Silence. Hatsue works on.
ISHMAEL
Talk to me. Please?
HATSUE
I'm married, Ishmael. It isn't right for
us to be alone. People will t...
ISHMAEL
I'm like a dying person. I don't sleep.
I don't eat. I tell myself this can't go
on this way. But I can't shake it.
Pause. He tries to move into her field of view.
ISHMAEL
I know you'll think this is crazy, but
all I want is to hold you. Just for five
seconds. And smell your hair. I think
if you hold me, just this once, I can
walk away and never speak to you again.
I need to be in your arms, Hatsue, just
for five seconds.
He tries to touch her hair. To smell it. She rejects his
advance.
HATSUE
I did a terrible thing, Ishmael. I knew
what you felt. And what I didn't.
Sadness in her voice. But strength as well.
HATSUE
And I never found the courage to tell
you.
His eyes swim with tears. He chokes them back, he has to.
HATSUE
You have to hear this, I can never
touch you. Not even for five seconds.
Not ever. You have to let go.
She rises slowly. Brushes the sand from her skirt.
HATSUE
To hold you would be wrong and deceitful.
You're going to have to live without
holding me, that's the way things are.
She takes one step back.
HATSUE
Things end, Ishmael. They do.
And turns away. She gathers her baby in her arms. Takes her
blanket, her umbrella, her rake and her pail. He watches,
never moving, as she gathers her things. Gathers them as if
he wasn't there. And as she leaves...
HATSUE
Get on with your life.
EXT. IMADA HOUSE - DUSK
The Chrysler pulls up to the farmhouse we have seen before.
Nearly at the spot where Ishmael watched Hatsue so long ago.
Hisao gets out. Nods his head with a grateful smile.
Ishmael turns to Hatsue as she gets out.
ISHMAEL
Hatsue?
Reaching in his pocket for the lighthouse report.
ISHMAEL
I need to talk to you...
HATSUE
I appreciate your help, Ishmael. Don't
spoil it please.
ISHMAEL
You don't understand. I think it's
important.
Hatsue pauses. Waiting. Ishmael goes to speak. Then looks
away.
HATSUE
Maybe another time.
She trudges to the house in her father's footsteps. Her
children appear on the porch with her mother. Angry with
himself, Ishmael stuffs the notes away and drives off.
CUT TO:
EXT/INT CHAMBERS' HOME - NIGHT
Ishmael heads up a path away from his parked car towards a
fogged kitchen window. As he approaches, a hand wipes the
glass clean on the inside, and a face bends to look through
the cleared circle of the window pane. Ishmael looks in.
Finds himself almost face to face with his mother in the
lamplight.
INT. CHAMBERS' KITCHEN - NIGHT
CLOSE ON a steaming soup kettle, resting on a woodstove.
PULL BACK to see Helen is bundled up in coat and scarf,
despite the heat from the kitchen stove.
HELEN
It's a travesty of justice. This island
ought to be ashamed.
She fills to bowls with a wooden ladle.
HELEN
They only arrested him because he's
Japanese.
ISHMAEL
He's not doing much to help himself on
that score. Sitting there so defiant.
Just like a face from one of our
propaganda films.
HELEN
I know who he is. He's a striking man.
His face is powerful. That doesn't make
him guilty.
ISHMAEL
Of course not. But it's not as simple as
that. The evidence sounds very solid.
That prosecutor's sure got his facts
lined-up.
Helen puts a bowl in front of Ishmael.
HELEN
You haven't even heard the defense case,
yet from the sound of it you're ready to
hang him!
HOLD ON Ishmael as Helen sits opposite him.
HELEN
Besides. There's more to life than
facts.
ISHMAEL
What else is there? Everything else is
emotions. At least you can cling to the
facts. Emotions just float away.
HELEN
Float away with them. If you can
remember how, Ishmael. If you can find
them again.
They start to eat. Then, suddenly...
ISHMAEL
I'm so unhappy.
INT. CHAMBERS' HOME, STUDY - NIGHT
Ishmael is seated at his father's desk. His candle throws a
pool of light onto the bound volume of the ISLAND REVIEW that
he's leafing through. He stops at a particular page...
...the STRAWBERRY FESTIVAL. Hatsue the Princess.
He looks up from the desk. A glint catches his eye.
On another shelf. Nearly obscured by books, clutter. A
slender, curved piece of metal. He moves his head, to see
more, and into view comes...
...a venerable pair of SPECTACLES. The ones we watched
Arthur polish on his shirt. And Ishmael...
...goes to the shelf. Takes up the spectacles with care. He
polishes them on his shirt. Brings them up momentarily to
his eyes. Then looks at them in the light, briefly glimpsing
his own double reflection.
EXT. VETERAN'S CEMETERY - DAY
Ishmael, the left sleeve of his dark suit of mourning pinned
at the elbow. He is by his mother's side. The diggers are
filling a grave in the distance. Mourners mingle, some
casting glances back at Ishmael. Keeping their distance out
of awkwardness rationalized as respect.
A small group pay their respects to Helen. One man speaks to
her. MASATO NAGAISHI is frail. But his voice is clear...
NAGAISHI
The Japanese people of the island are
saddened by this loss. Your husband was
a man of great fairness and compassion
for others...
He stands at a respectful distance. Helen nods, thank you.
NAGAISHI
A friend to us. And to all people.
Silence. They are a tableau of stone. Finally Nagaishi
turns to Ishmael.
NAGAISHI
We know you will follow in his footsteps.
And honor his legacy.
Ishmael's face registers the challenge.
INT. CHAMBERS' HOME - STUDY - NIGHT
Ishmael turns to see Helen watching him in the doorway, still
wearing her coat and scarf.
HELEN
You should stay the night. Don't drive
back through this.
ISHMAEL
I've got an early start.
A pause. Ishmael goes to shut the bound newspaper volume,
but not before Helen's eye takes in the picture of Hatsue.
A moment. Then...
HELEN
This room is full of ghosts, isn't it?
No response. Ishmael turns away to replace the book in its
vacant slot.
HELEN
I hate to see you this way...
Ishmael's back remains resolutely turned.
ISHMAEL
I don't know what you're talking about.
HELEN
I'm right, aren't I? About your feelings
for her?
Ishmael's silence speaks volumes.
HELEN
She's married, Ishmael.
No response.
HELEN
Look, it's awfully cold in here. Let's
talk in the kitchen.
ISHMAEL
I don't want to talk about anything.
HELEN
You're just like your father. He
never...
Ishmael spins around, his face seething with emotion.
ISHMAEL
I'm not just like my father. I know
everyone wishes I was. Everytime they
look at me I can see them thinking, "He's
only half the man his father was". And
they're right.
Helen looks him in the eye. And, gently...
HELEN
I was only going to say he didn't mind
the cold.
Ishmael looks away. She moves closer. She hugs him quickly.
HELEN
It's not such a terrible thing. To be
your father's son.
She adjusts Ishmael's scarf. Gives him a little smile. And
leaves him, alone in the room.
On the desk, the eyeglasses reflect a snapshot of Arthur and
his young son under the glass of the desktop.
INT. ISHMAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
ECU: AN OLD TYPEWRITER CARRIAGE
The words: "THE FACE OF PREJUDICE" are typed. Then... The
page is RIPPED out. SCRUNCHED up.
CUT TO:
INT. ISHMAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
WIDE SHOT AS THE BALL OF PAPER HITS THE FLOOR...
...alongside several others. Ishmael feeds a fresh sheet in
expertly, paper held in mouth. Incessant snow blows hard
against the window.
CLOSER as he types afresh..."FAIRNESS AND JUSTICE"...
...and stops again. On the desk, the lighthouse report
flickers in the lamplight.
CLOSE ON the notes as Ishmael puts a corner of the paper to
the flame. It ignites, blackens, crumples into dust.
CUT TO:
INT. ISHMAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
A closet door opens. An accumulation of junk is revealed,
including a prosthetic arm tucked away. TILT to see a
cardboard box pulled out. The lid is removed to expose...
...a mess of photographs, clippings and books. A careless
archive of memorabilia. An old high school yearbook is
opened to reveal a small bunch of letters.
Ishmael leafs through the letters. He picks out one
envelope. On the back, WE SEE...
...the return addressee is "KENNY YAMASHITA."
Ishmael looks at the envelope in his hand. Turns it over.
The envelope is turning. The front is blank. A hand start
to write "Ishmael Chambers"...
WE ARE IN:
INT. IMADA BARRACKS - LATE AFTERNOON
The cramped barrack hut, that houses the Imada family. The
constant dust blows through cracks in the thin walls.
Hatsue is alone. Addressing the envelope.
The door opens. Dust and wind boil in. Hatsue's sisters
hurry inside, laughing. Hatsue glares at them.
SUMIKO
(to Hatsue)
Well, pardon us Your Royal Highness.
Sumiko playfully grabs the letter.
SUMIKO
Who's your loverboy, then?
HATSUE
Give me that!
SUMIKO
(reads)
Ishmael Chambers! From Kenny Yamashita?
Fujiko enters, catching this. The laughter stops. Sumiko is
frozen with the letter. In the paralyzed pause, Hatsue...
SNATCHES it back. Glances flitter between the sisters.
Fujiko's eyes demand an explanation.
Fujiko nods to the other girls to leave. They obey. The
mother steps aside to let them pass. Stares at her eldest
daughter. Hatsue sits on her bunk, the letter in her lap.
FUJIKO
Does this explain your eagerness to walk
in the woods everyday? Gathering
berries?
In the silence, noises of other families intrude.
FUJIKO
(quietly)
Does it? Answer me.
In response, Hatsue removes the letter. She looks directly,
almost defiantly at her mother. And starts to read.
HATSUE
(reads)
"Dear Ishmael, I can't think of anything
more painful than writing this letter to
you. I feel I have to tell you the
truth. When we met that last time in the
cedar tree and I felt your body move
against mine..."
Hatsue looks her mother in the eye. Fujiko sits suddenly in
a chair. She pulls her dusty coat around her.
HATSUE
(reads)
"...I knew with certainty that everything
was wrong..."
CUT TO:
INT. ISHMAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
...CAMERA MOVES from the torn, stained letter to find...
Ishmael's face as he reads by the open closet.
HATSUE'S VOICE continues:
HATSUE (O.S.)
"...I knew we could never be right
together, and that soon I would have to
tell you so..."
INT. MANZANAR IMADA BARRACKS - SUNSET
Hatsue reads on. Her defiance has crumbled already.
HATSUE
"...And now, with this letter, I am
telling you. This is the last time I
will write to you. I am not yours
anymore."
She is oblivious to her mother's presence now, caught up in
the expression of her own grief.
CLOSE ON the letter.
WE ARE IN:
INT. SHIP BUNKROOM - NIGHT
A ship's bunkroom. PUSH IN on Ishmael, reading the letter.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"...I don't love you, Ishmael. I can
think of no more honest way to say it.
When I heard your heart beating, as we
lay together, I felt closer to you than I
had ever been to anyone. And I knew it
could not last forever."
We HEAR the raucous sounds of his bunkmates. See them in
soft foreground...cleaning weapons...one marine shaves
another's head.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"Whenever we were together, I knew it..."
Closer, closer. On Ishmael.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. UNDERWATER, TARAWA ATOLL - NIGHT
UNDERWATER. Tendrils of seaweed. PAN TO...
Above us, on the surface, bodies drift almost ethereally
against brilliant flashes of red and yellow light in the
night sky beyond. Like Aurora Borealis. The underneath of a
boat hull. The surface broken by bodies jumping in.
Now CLOSE ON Ishmael's face underwater.
He's in full battledress and helmet. He looks about to
drown. His heavy pack threatens to sink him. Other bodies
land around him. In the melee, Ishmael loses his gun.
ALL SOUND is muffled, apart from his own HEARTBEAT, and
HATSUE'S VOICE reading the letter...
HATSUE (O.S.)
"...I loved you and I didn't love you at
the same moment..."
ON ISHMAEL to see BUBBLES escape from his MOUTH as he
struggles out of his pack. Below him, a dead MARINE, trapped
in a tangle of barbed wire.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"...I'm going to move on with my life as
best I can, and I hope that you will too.
You must live, Ishmael..."
AS IF IN RESPONSE, Ishmael struggles upwards to BREAK the
surface, gasping for breath in violent gulps AMID A BEDLAM OF
GUNFIRE AND EXPLODING ORDNANCE.
EXT. OCEAN'S SURFACE - TARAWA ATOLL - NIGHT
WITHERING BURSTS of fire and explosives whip the water, as
Ishmael struggles to survive in this version of hell.
Fractured, fragmented glimpses through choppy water of...
...marines, jumping into the water from a LANDING CRAFT...
...one man submerges, drowning. Another is SHOT in the
HEAD...
...men struggle and plunge desperately towards the shore, a
distant, smoke enveloped SILHOUETTE OF PALMS glimpsed briefly
in the strobing, lightning flashes of explosions.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"I'll always be wishing the very best for
you..."
BLACK.
EXT. TARAWA BEACH/PIER - NIGHT
A split-second glimpse of a shelled, burned out hull,
WREATHED IN BILLOWING SMOKE.
A HAND grabs desperately on the jagged edge. Ishmael hauls
himself up. Lungs gasping.
Now waist-deep, he drags himself underneath the wooden
structure of a pier. Other men struggle past. The water
surface ERUPTS with mortar shells.
Under the slatted timbers Ishmael sees...
...a JAPANESE SOLDIER rises from underwater amid the wreathes
of smoke and lightning flashes of red and yellow brightness.
HIS BALD HEAD AND NAKED TORSO give him an unearthly warrior
quality. His face bears a fleeting resemblance to KAZUO.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"...But now I must say goodbye to you..."
WHIP PAN to ECU of Ishmael as...
...a HUGE JARRING EXPLOSION WHITES OUT THE FRAME.
EXT. SEAWALL - DAY
LONG FADE IN FROM WHITE.
Blinding sunlight. Ishmael wakes to water lapping over him.
A body floats alongside him, inches away. Photographs of
smiling loved ones leak out of the dead marine's pack,
drifting in the tide.
Above the waterline, a ghastly litter of death and damage.
Bodies half submerged in sand, like incomplete stone
sculpture. Some look as though they're sleeping, strangely
peaceful amid the destruction.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"I know you will do great things in this
world..."
Behind Ishmael, a partial view of the smoke enveloped beach.
From the little we can see, it's like a twister hit it.
Shattered palm trees, a burnt-out tank, and a stranded
landing craft. Some re-outfitters crawl along the seawall,
distributing weapons to survivors.
The shattering THUNDER OF EXPLOSIONS continues. The ripping
crackle of machine-gun fire, the thump of mortars CONTINUES
OVER...
INT. ISHMAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
...ISHMAEL on his bed, Hatsue's letter still in his hand. As
he turns, his amputated stump is for the first time quite
visible, naked and terribly vulnerable...
EXT. SEAWALL - DAY
...a squad leader goes OVER THE WALL. Firing ERUPTS, and the
make-shift unit SCRAMBLES into the teeth of it, mortar and
machine-gun BARRAGES and FLAME THROWERS pierce the shroud of
SMOKE.
CAMERA FOLLOWS Ishmael SPRINTING through battered palm trees
and silhouetted wreckage.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"...You have a gentle heart. A good
heart, Ishmael..."
All SOUND disappears. Only Ishmael's panicked breathing can
be heard. The man next to him goes DOWN silently, Ishmael
TURNS instinctively, and an unheard shot...
...RIPS into his left elbow. He stares down, more in
surprise than anything else. Still just his breathing
audible.
CUT TO:
ISHMAEL'S POV...his left forearm - a trickle of blood rolls
from under his sleeve, down his upturned palm...
TWO HANDS take the ARM away...
WE ARE IN:
INT. SHIPBOARD OPERATING ROOM - NIGHT
...a hell of men and blood and doctors and limbs and shouted
curses. Most of the surgeons CORPSMEN, obviously
learning as they go.
HATSUE (O.S.)
"...I will never forget you, and the time
we spent together."
CAMERA finds Ishmael. Feverish, in a morphine-glaze,
unconscious of the straps that hold him to a table. Lying
across his chest, a bloody HANDSAW. Ishmael blinks,
disbelieving. Turns to see...
...there, being carried away by a corpsman...
...his left arm.
ISHMAEL
(an opiated rasp)
...fucking goddam Jap bitch!
BLACK.
INT. COURTROOM - MORNING (TRIAL DAY THREE)
A match is struck. A large candle lit.
CUT TO:
WIDE SHOT...the empty courtroom, all in readiness for the
days proceedings. Lit by a dozen candles. Like a chapel.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
CLOSE ON Kazuo.
BAILIFF (O.S.)
Do you swear to tell the truth. The
whole truth. And nothing but the truth?
So help you God?
KAZUO
I do.
ANGLE ON Kazuo in the stand. Nels paces before him, poised
to ask a question.
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON Kazuo's eyes. Tendrils of mist spiral past.
WE ARE IN:
EXT. SHIP CHANNEL BANK, THE SUSAN MARIE - NIGHT
Fog. The sound of water. Lapping at the hull of a boat.
The mist drifts, revealing...
Eyes. They are blue. The heavy brows above them dark gold,
matted and damp.
CARL
My batteries are drawed down, both of
'em. Generator belts were loose.
PULL BACK to see him. With his kerosene lantern and his air
horn.
KAZUO
No sweat. We'll pull one a mine, get ya
started.
PULL BACK to see him now, leaning on his gaff. Squinting up.
At the top of Carl's mast. We follow his gaze to see...
KAZUO
You lashed up a lantern? 'Gainst a fog
like this?
See it now. SWAYING as the helpless boat bobs in the night.
Carl holds up the lantern in his hand.
CARL
Lantern and air horn. That's all I got.
I'm dead here.
CUT TO:
EXT. SHIP CHANNEL BANK, THE SUSAN MARIE - NIGHT
ANGLE ON a large battery as it's swung from one boat to the
other. Carl looks at it.
CARL
That thing's big. But it'll fit if I
bang the flange out the way.
Kazuo reaches down and picks up his GAFF.
KAZUO
We can use this to hammer with.
INT/EXT THE SUSAN MARIE'S CABIN, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - NIGHT
CLOSE ON a battery well. One battery sits in place, one spot
is empty. And...
...CRASH! The butt end of a fishing gaff BANGS against the
metal flange. Again. AGAIN. And as the next blow is
STRUCK, the huge hand...
...slips, and the soft metal SLICES Carl's palm. A pause as
he glances at the bleeding cut, and resumes his work.
Then, satisfied he's made room for it. He lifts Kazuo's
battery into place and secures it. He replaces the lid to
the battery well, but it juts above the floor, resting on the
bigger battery.
CARL
It'll take me a while to get charged up.
KAZUO
Keep it tonight. I'll catch up with you
on the dock.
Kazuo takes up his gaff. He goes to step over to his boat.
CARL (O.S.)
Seven acres...
Kazuo stops.
CARL
I'm wonderin' what you'd pay for 'em.
Just curious, is all.
KAZUO
What are you sellin' 'em for? Why don't
we start there.
CARL
Did I say I was selling? But if I was,
I'd have to figure you want 'em real bad.
Oughta charge a small fortune, maybe...
A slight shrug. A smile.
CARL
Then again. Maybe you'd want your
battery back.
Kazuo doesn't grin back. His face shows nothing at all.
KAZUO
The battery's in, that's done. Besides,
you'd do the same for m...
CARL
...might do the same. I have to warn you
'bout that, chief. I'm not screwed
together like I used to be.
Kazuo's face remains impassive. And the big man squints up
into it. He puts his cut palm briefly to his mouth.
CARL
Hell, I'm sorry, okay? About the whole
damn mess. If I'd a been around, my
mother wouldn't a pulled it off that way.
He is sorry. And with that, Kazuo's face eases.
CARL
(grins)
I was out there. Fightin' you Jap sons-a-
bitches.
KAZUO
(no grin)
I'm an American. Did I call you a Nazi,
you big Nazi bastard?
CARL
(softly)
Not that I recall.
KAZUO
I killed men like you, pig-fed German
bastards. So don't talk to me about
Japs, you big Nazi son of a bitch.
Carl laughs.
CARL
I am a son-of-a-bitch. I'm a great big
pig-fed Nazi German bastard.
Pause. And Kazuo's poker face breaks into a smile. The two
men consider each other, then...
CARL
$1200 an acre, that's what I paid Ole.
You got no choice on that.
KAZUO
If I was buying, what'd you want down?
Just out of curiosity?
CARL
A thousand down. We can sign off
tomorrow.
Just hands grip. A firm shake.
KAZUO
Eight hundred. And it's a deal.
Kazuo steps back onto his boat.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Kazuo. In the witness box. Ramrod straight. Face composed,
in the flickering candlelight.
HOOKS (O.S.)
For the life of me, sir, I cannot imagine
why you kept this story from the Sheriff.
KAZUO
(quietly)
I was thinking about it. Every minute.
HOOKS
Except when Sheriff Moran arrested you.
You said nothing about seeing the
deceased.
Turns to the jury. Openly bewildered.
HOOKS
Why?
No reaction from the defendant. Nothing anyone can see.
KAZUO
I didn't have a lawyer...
HOOKS
But even after you had an attorney. You
still claimed to know nothing. Claimed
not to have seen Carl. Am I correct?
A beat.
KAZUO
Yes. Initially.
HOOKS
Well, "initially" is an interesting word,
sir. You'd been arrested, you had a
lawyer, and you still claimed ignorance!
Silence.
KAZUO
I should've told everything right away.
I wouldn't be here if I had.
HOOKS
Should have told "everything". Meaning,
you should have told the truth.
CUT TO:
INT. JAIL - NIGHT
Nels is interviewing Kazuo on their first meeting.
NELS
Is that the truth? The whole truth? Is
it?
KAZUO
You don't want to hear the whole truth.
NELS
Why don't you try me...
KAZUO
The whole truth is...I wanted to kill
him.
NELS
But did you?
SILENCE.
NELS
Did you? Tell me.
KAZUO
No. I didn't.
INT. COURTROOM - DAY (CONTINUED)
We can just discern the anger. At the edge of Kazuo's steady
gaze. Silence.
HOOKS
Nothing to say?
KAZUO
(quietly)
I didn't know that was a question.
And Hooks smiles. Loving it. Walks toward the witness.
Stalking him.
HOOKS
My apologies. Do you regret not telling
the truth?
KAZUO
I have told the truth.
HOOKS
You mean, this morning. The new story,
the battery story. That one is the
truth? That's a question, sir.
KAZUO
(even quieter)
Yes. And I told it long before this
morning.
Pause. Hooks resumes pacing.
HOOKS
So tell us. This good deed. This
charitable act of yours, helping Carl.
Why?
KAZUO
Well. It's a kind of code among
fishermen. Someone sounds a distress
call, you go. No questions asked.
HOOKS
That's interesting. Let's think about
that. Suppose it was you who sounded a
distress call. Are you with me?
KAZUO
So far.
HOOKS
Supposing it was you who sounded the
distress. Could you rely on another
fisherman, say Carl Heine for example, to
come? And help you?
KAZUO
Yes.
HOOKS
I see. Now you told us you ran out to
Ship Channel Bank that night with "other
boats." Is that right?
KAZUO
That's right.
HOOKS
Was Carl Heine's boat among them?
KAZUO
Yes.
HOOKS
Did you see him running out there?
KAZUO
Until the fog rolled in. Then I lost
sight of everyone.
HOOKS
Okay, now let's see...
A FLICKER, and the LIGHTS go on. A murmur from the gallery.
A man JUMPS UP, claps his hands and hurries out of the
courtroom. A couple of others follow suit.
Judge Fielding raps the gavel for order, as the Bailiff
starts to blow out the candles.
HOOKS
Now, where were we...yes...
Hooks flicks through his notes.
HOOKS
(reads)
You said in your testimony "I slept til
one-thirty, when my wife woke me up with
the news. We talked for a while. I left
at six and went straight to my boat."
Pause.
HOOKS
Didn't go anywhere else? Just straight
to the boat? Is that the truth?
KAZUO
Yes.
Hooks leans over the box. Ever so slightly invading Kazuo's
space.
HOOKS
Well, the Sheriff found two batteries in
your well. If, as you claim, you left
one with Carl Heine, how is that
possible?
KAZUO
I had a spare battery in my shed. I
brought it down, and put it in just
before the Sheriff showed up.
Ah. I see.
HOOKS
Conveniently, in your shed. Oh, this is
new. Why does this battery story change
every time a new question is raised?
Kazuo looks at him, evenly.
KAZUO
You asked if I went straight to the boat.
I did. With the battery.
Hooks steps back. Looks the witness over.
HOOKS
And the new line, too? Was that in your
shed? You have a regular chandlery in
there.
Silence.
HOOKS
You have no answer? You sit there in
silence, with no expression. You're a
hard man to trust, sir...
NELS (O.S.)
Objection!
JUDGE
You know better than that, Mr. Hooks.
Either ask questions that count for
something, or sit down and be done with
it.
Silence. The judge staring hard. Hooks never flinching.
JUDGE
Shame on you.
Hooks turns his eyes to Kazuo. Stares him down, so the jury
can watch Kazuo's implacable stare in return. Turns away.
HOOKS
No further questions.
Judge Lew Fielding looks to Nels, who nods.
JUDGE
You may step down, Mr. Miyamoto.
As Kazuo steps down from the box. We PAN...
...reporters' row. The boys are writing as fast as their
hands can move. Only Ishmael is not writing at all. He
stares at the pad resting on his knee. IN CLOSE we see...
The words: "two lanterns." Double underlined.
INT. COURTROOM BASEMENT & HOLDING CELLS - DAY
Ishmael and Moran face each other across the counter. Behind
Moran, the holding cell where Kazuo sits on a cot.
Listening.
MORAN
What do you want it for?
ISHMAEL
It's public record, isn't it? If the
public cares to read it.
Moran considers this a moment. In the cell, Kazuo gets up
and looks through the bars. Ishmael avoids his gaze,
uneasily. Abel comes in, heading for the cell.
ABEL
They're about to start up again.
MORAN
Where's a copy of that inventory? You
know, the list of all the stuff on the
boats.
Abel points to a filing cabinet drawer. As Moran retrieves a
document, Abel leads Kazuo, handcuffed, out of the cell.
Ishmael has to step back to let them pass. Kazuo stops.
KAZUO
Hey Chambers.
Ishmael glances at him. Nods uncomfortably.
Abel leads him away. Moran slaps a paper onto the counter.
MORAN
One inventory...
Ishmael skims down the list of contents for "The Susan
Marie," Carl Heine's boat. His finger stops.
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON the words: "Lantern, Kerosene. One."
Ishmael contemplates this a moment, then hands the paper back
to Moran.
ISHMAEL
Thanks Art. You've been a great help.
INT. COURTROOM - LATER
Alvin Hooks stalks the jury box now. Prowls before them
along the rail. As their eyes follow.
HOOKS
...believing that Etta Heine's son would
never sell him the land. Land that in
his mind, filtered through ancient rules
of behavior handed down from his
ancestors' culture, belonged to his
family by right...
Stops. To make sure they understand.
HOOKS
His only choice to get the land would be
to eliminate Carl Heine. So that Ole
Jurgensen would need a new buyer.
Pacing again, hand trailing along the rail...
HOOKS
In his mind. Seen through codes of
revenge difficult for us to fathom, this
was also the only way to avenge what he
felt to be the grievous dishonor brought
to his father, his family...
Raises his finger. This must be heard...
HOOKS
...to a thousand years of ancestry, in a
foreign land we still find an enigma.
Despite our recent bitter experience with
its ways.
And stops once more. Places his hands on the rail.
HOOKS
Thus believing cold-blooded murder to be
justified...he trailed Carl Heine...could
hear his engine in the fog...and sounded
his own horn, claiming distress.
Straightens up. Shakes his head, ever so slightly.
HOOKS
As Carl pulled alongside: "Please, Carl,"
the defendant must have said. "I am
sorry for what has come between us, but
adrift here in the fog, I plead for your
help!"
Imagine. Imagine that.
HOOKS
And so this good man tied his boat fast,
while his enemy leaps aboard, striking
the treacherous blow he was trained to
strike by his father's hand.
Counting off the facts. One finger at a time...
HOOKS
The feud over these seven acres had
festered for eight years. He argued with
Carl about buying the land one week
before Carl was killed. Then Carl is
found. In his own net. His skull
crushed. His blood on a murder weapon
found on the defendant's boat.
Spreads his arms. Wide.
HOOKS
And after a series of lies. The
defendant at last admits he was there.
Alone on the boat. In the fog. Carl
Heine's blood on his fishing gaff.
A hush. A murmur...
Hooks holds the pause.
Looking into the eyes now. Of each man. Each woman.
HOOKS
Look clearly at the defendant. See the
truth self-evident in him. And in the
facts of this case.
And turns. So that they will follow his eyes to Kazuo's
stone- hard gaze.
HOOKS
Look into his eyes, ladies and gentlemen,
consider his face. And ask yourself,
each one of you, "What is my duty? As a
citizen of this community. Of this
country. As an American?"
INT. COURTROOM - LATER
PAN the jury, slowly, as they hear...
NELS (O.S.)
There is no evidence of anger at Carl,
much less rage, much less murderous rage.
No reason for premeditation and no
evidence of it. Anywhere.
Nels stands very still. Hands resting on the rail. As calm
and quiet as his adversary had been dramatic.
NELS
He had asked his childhood friend Carl to
sell him some land. And Carl was
considering it.
Leans forward. Just a little.
NELS
Carl's own wife testified that her
husband had not made up his mind!
Strange moment to follow and kill a man,
don't you think?
He spreads his palms.
NELS
And yet the state is required to prove
these things. Beyond. A reasonable.
Doubt.
His eyes widen.
NELS
There is more than reasonable doubt, but
reasonable doubt is all that's needed.
Why is Kazuo's D-6 battery in Carl's well, if
Carl was helping him?
Why?
NELS
Isn't the blood on the gaff more
consistent with Carl's hand wound than a
skull fracture? Given the absence of
bone fragments or brain tissue.
And now. he begins to pace, limping slightly, eyes down.
NELS
What Mr. Hooks asks you to believe is
that no proof is needed. Against a man
who bombed Pearl Harbor. Look at his
face, the prosecutor said. Presuming
that you will see an enemy there. He is
counting on you to remember this war.
And to see Kazuo Miyamoto as somehow
connected with it.
He stops. Looks at them.
NELS
And indeed he is. Let us recall that
First Lieutenant Kazuo Miyamoto is a much
decorated hero of the United States Army.
The feeling wells in the old man. It bleeds through the very
quietness of his voice.
He leans his elbows on their rail, as if confiding in them.
NELS
Now Kazuo Miyamoto did one thing wrong.
He wasn't certain he could trust us. He
was afraid that he would be made a victim
of prejudice. As Mr. Hooks is urging you
to do.
Silence.
NELS
And there's reason in his uncertainty.
Why? We sent him. And his wife. And
thousands of Americans to concentration
camps. They lost homes, belongings,
everything. Can we now be unforgiving of
his mistrust?
Looking in their eyes. As if waiting for an answer. They
shift their weight, fidget beneath his gaze.
NELS
Now our learned prosecutor would have you
do your duty as Americans. Proud
Americans. Of course you must. And if
you do, Kazuo Miyamoto has nothing to
fear. because this great country is
supposed to be founded on a set of
principles. Of fairness. Equality.
Justice. And if you are true to these
principles, you will only convict a man
for what he has done. Not for who he is.
He holds their gaze.
NELS
I am an old man. I do not walk so well
anymore, and one of my eyes is close to
useless. My life is drawing to a close.
Why do I say this? I say this because it
means I ponder matters in the light of
death in a way that you do not. I feel
like a traveller descended from Mars,
astonished at what passes here. What I
see is the same human frailty passed from
generation to generation. We hate one
another. We are the victims of
irrational fears.
He straightens his spine. Winces slightly, with the pain of
it.
NELS
You may think this is a small trial. In
a small place. Well, it isn't. Every
once in awhile. Somewhere in the world.
Humanity goes on trial. And integrity.
And decency. Every once in awhile,
common folks get called on to give the
report card for the human race.
The eyes are watering. But the voice gains strength.
NELS
In the name of humanity. Do your duty as
jurors. Return this man to his wife and
children. Set him free. As you must.
End on Ishmael. As the words sear into him.
INT. COURTROOM - LATER
CLOSE ON handcuffs snapping into place. Abel stands by to
lead Kazuo away. But he turns and reaches toward Hatsue.
Her sisters move away to allow Hatsue a moment with Kazuo.
They clasp hands across the railing. Feelings beyond words.
Nels is packing up. Studiously avoiding any intrusion.
Abel puts a hand on Kazuo's shoulder, breaking the moment.
He leads Kazuo away.
HOLD ON Hatsue. She sits down. Alone in the gallery. Nels
makes his way down the aisle. He looks up at the balcony to
see Ishmael staring at Hatsue. Nels recognizes the power of
the emotional connection between them. He passes out of the
courtroom without a pause.
Ishmael looks down at the lone figure of Hatsue in the empty
chamber.
Sensing she's being watched, she turns suddenly and catches
him.
He gets up and leaves.
EXT. CEDAR FOREST - AFTERNOON
The familiar landscape of the cedar forest is now blanketed
in snow.
Ishmael appears, trudging relentlessly through the snow. He
pauses. Looks around. Everything looks different to him.
He heads off in a fresh direction.
CUT TO:
INT. CEDAR HOLLOW - AFTERNOON
A hole is punched through the snow.
With difficulty, Ishmael hoists himself through the entrance,
and struggles into a cross-legged position inside.
His back is to the entrance, as he contemplates the wall of
cedar close in front of him.
His eye takes in the surface of the wood, the moss, and
suddenly lights on a particular crevice. He reaches out and
extracts...
...A HAIRPIN. Hatsue's hairpin, now rusted with the years.
CUT TO:
EXT. SNOW BANK - DAY
A bank of powdery snow. A boy falls backward into the drift.
It's young Ishmael. Another figure flops beside him. It's
Hatsue. They whirl their arms and legs, laughing. Making
angels.
INT. CEDAR HOLLOW - AFTERNOON
With a sense of decision, Ishmael replaces the hairpin in its
hiding place. Letting go.
EXT/INT IMADA HOUSE - NIGHT
Ishmael sits in his car. He looks at the Imada house,
gathering his resolve. He takes the coastguard report out of
his pocketbook.
He trudges through the snow to the front door, and knocks.
The door opens a crack. It's Sumiko. She looks at Ishmael.
And shuts the door quickly.
Uncertain, Ishmael hesitates. Muffled voices inside.
The door opens again. This time it's Hisao.
Ishmael unfolds the piece of paper in his hand. Gives it to
him, explaining. Puzzled, Hisao looks at it. Then steps
aside, opening the door to usher Ishmael in. He enters and
the door closes behind him.
Through the window, we see Hisao explain Ishmael's presence.
They all sit at the dining table. No sign of Hatsue.
From the stairwell, Hatsue appears, in nightgown and her
father's old bathrobe. Ishmael stands. Awkwardly, they face
each other. Fujiko urges them to sit.
INT. IMADA HOUSE - NIGHT
LATER...Steaming cups of green tea mask the undercurrents
that radiate around this table. Ishmael sits opposite
Hatsue. The pair of them observed by four more pairs of
eyes.
ISHMAEL
The report shows the freighter entered
Ship Channel Bank at 1:42. Carl Heine's
watch stopped five minutes later when the
seawater seeped in at 1:47.
HATSUE
Remember that coffee cup the Sheriff
talked about? Just lying there. That
proves his boat was rocked by something.
FUJIKO
Spilled coffee doesn't prove much.
Hisao nods in agreement.
HISAO
Kazuo needs more than a coffee cup to
save him.
HATSUE
But it's something.
ISHMAEL
There's another thing. In his testimony,
Kazuo described a lantern lashed to
Carl's mast.
HATSUE
He told me it was all he could see in the
fog.
ISHMAEL
Well there's no mention of it in the
Sheriff's report. And yet it would
suggest that it was Carl's battery that
was dead, wouldn't it?
INT. SOMMENSEN'S WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
Blackness. The sound water lapping at wood. CLICK of a key,
springing a lock. The SCRAPE of a large PADLOCK sliding
away. A door CREAKS open, and from the sound of it, a large
one.
Gray light seeps in.
Three SILHOUETTES framed in the open doorway. Against the
night sky.
A soft CLICK, and the LIGHTS go on. A few bare bulbs strung
across the rafters of this towering old mildewed barn of
creosoted timbers.
TWO BOATS are tied to wide-elbowed piers. We've seen them
before.
Moran points up to the cross spar, high on the mast of the
first boat.
MORAN
See, no lantern.
ABEL
(respectfully)
Sheriff? That's Miyamoto's boat.
Oh. Moran swings his gaze up to the second boat.
MORAN
No lantern there, neither.
Shining his flashlight. Up the mast.
ISHMAEL
What's that, up there?
And they all look up. Shining their lights together.
MORAN
Nothin'. Bits of string. Look, we've
been over these boats...
ISHMAEL
Pieces of string aren't nothing.
And he steps to the base of the mast. Puts the flashlight in
his pocket. With his one hand, he clutches the wire ladder,
testing it.
ISHMAEL
Abel? Do me a favor. Climb up there and
take a look.
Abel begins to climb. Art calls up to him.
MORAN
Don't go touching anything up there,
Abel. It's a crime scene, remember. You
don't ever touch something at a crime
scene.
He shines his flashlight up the mast.
MORAN
(to Ishmael)
I don't know how I let you rope me into
this.
Abel reaches the crossbar. And in the light, it's clear.
ABEL
They're lashings, Art. "Figure-eight"
lashings. All cut through.
He leans closer with his own flashlight.
ABEL
And you know something? This stuff on
the mast? Could be blood.
ISHMAEL
From his hand. The cut on his hand.
Art gets onto the opposite wire ladder. They look at the
blood stains together. When they look down, Ishmael is at
the gunnel, inspecting it. Closely.
MORAN
What the hell is it now?
Ishmael look sup.
ISHMAEL
You'd better come down here.
He points to a spot on the gunnel. Moran and Abel peer at
it. Between his fingertips, Moran extracts from a splinter
of wood a human hair.
INT. JURY ROOM - NIGHT
The Bailiff backs his way through a swing door, carrying a
tea tray. Through the gap we catch a glimpse of the jurors
around a walnut table. And a snatch of raised voices...
VAN NESS
I'm not saying you're wrong. Just that I
have my doubts. What's the rush?
The door flaps shut, muffling the debate.
JENSEN
Been three hours. You sayin' there's a
way to go slower?
The door opens again as the Bailiff emerges now without the
tray. Again a glimpse. And a voice.
PORTER
You can see what really happened, same as
the rest of us. My God. Carl died,
here.
JENSEN
Alex, it's unreasonable to be so stubborn
that you think you're smarter than all
the rest of us put together.
The door FLAPS shut.
INT/EXT JUDGE FIELDING'S HOUSE - NIGHT
JUDGE FIELDING opens his front door to a deputation: Nels,
Ishmael, Moran and Hooks.
JUDGE
This'd better be good. I hope you're not
wasting my time with these bits of twine
and lanterns...
He leads them into the parlor. Closes the door.
INT. JUDGE FIELDING'S PARLOR - NIGHT
JUDGE
(to Ishmael)
Under the law, I can permit evidence at
this stage only is required in the
interests of justice. Only if it changes
everything. Nels explain that to you?
See Nels now sitting next to an immaculately-groomed Hooks.
The prosecutor cool, watchful.
ISHMAEL
He did.
JUDGE
So tell me why that lantern would be so
significant.
The young man draws a breath...
ISHMAEL
Well. It was Carl's boat that was dead
in the water. Or he'd never have put up
the lantern
The judge thinks on that.
JUDGE
So you believe there were two lanterns
when the defendant arrived. One in
Carl's hand. The second lashed to the
mast.
ISHMAEL
That's what Miyamoto reported, and he'd
have no reason to lie. He couldn't know
it would help his case.
JUDGE
And why does it?
ISHMAEL
Because the second lantern, the one on
the mast. Was never found. So we have
to ask...
A slight shrug. Stating the obvious.
ISHMAEL
...where did it go?
And then...
ISHMAEL
Maybe it went. Where Carl went. Over
the side.
HOOKS
(softly)
Your Honor, that is the rankest
speculation.
The judge looks up. First, to Nels. Who looks straight
back. And shakes his head in amusement, just slightly.
JUDGE
Really, Alvin. Spare me.
HOOKS
With all due respect...
JUDGE
Now listen to me, we're gonna hear this
theory out. And if justice requires,
we're gonna let the jury hear it, too.
A beat. His eyes never waver.
JUDGE
Just in case it might be the truth.
Silence. The look holds.
JUDGE
Which I know, as an elected official of
this county, you are as interested in as
any of the rest of us. Are you not?
HOOKS
(crisp)
Yessir, I surely am.
Good. Turns now...
JUDGE
Now. This second lantern...
ISHMAEL
After Miyamoto left, and Carl's engine
was up and running, he must've remembered
the lantern. So he climbs up to cut it
down...
CUT TO:
EXT. THE SUSAN MARIE, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - NIGHT
Carl climbs the ladder. He reaches for his knife, his feet
precariously balanced on the ladder, his arms on the
crossbar.
Carl's knife SLASHES at the twine...We HEAR the freighter,
the boat ROCKS.
With terrifying suddenness, through the wall of fog, the vast
BOW of the FREIGHTER appears.
The FREIGHTER'S WAKE HITS.
The Susan Marie pitches violently. Carl is dislodged. Falls
backwards. The LANTERN falls. The KNIFE falls.
The boat continues to rock as a curtain of fog draws around
the stern of the disappearing freighter.
CUT TO:
UNDERWATER...
Carl's WATCH drifts through frame. It's 1:47.
Carl's body drifts into his net. The bubbles of his last
breath escaping...
INT. SUSAN MARIE'S CABIN, SHIP CHANNEL BANK - NIGHT
...the cabin. Silent, as...
...the coffee cup rolls on the floor.
INT. JUDGE FIELDING'S PARLOR - NIGHT
JUDGE
And the headwound?
NELS
A long, narrow, flat object.
ISHMAEL
We found a small fracture in the gunnel
just below the mast.
HOOKS
Anything could've caused that.
ISHMAEL
Anything with human hair.
He hands over a cellophane packet containing the strand of
Carl's hair. The Judge holds it up to the light.
HOOKS
I have to start reading your paper more
closely. You're quite a storyteller.
ISHMAEL
That means a lot, coming from you.
HOOKS
This isn't a legal case. There's no way
to prove any of it.
NELS
Lucky it's not his job to prove
anything...
ISHMAEL
...beyond a reasonable doubt.
There is a suppressed snort of nervous laughter from Moran.
Hooks turns on him.
HOOKS
You think this is funny?
MORAN
No I don't. But...not at all.
ISHMAEL
(to Hooks)
There's nothing funny about any of this.
HOOKS
(to Nels)
At the eleventh hour you let him drag us
here with some preposterous story he's
invented...
ISHMAEL
Is everyone who doesn't agree with you a
liar?
HOOKS
Just look at the company you keep...
Ishmael's anger is palpable. Nels puts a hand on his arm.
ISHMAEL
We always want someone to blame, don't
we? Even when there just isn't anyone.
JUDGE
This clearly merits a fresh look. I want
to think about it.
INT. NELS' LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Ishmael sits in a lounge chair. From the kitchen behind him,
a throaty COUGH.
Nels appears, holding a kettle. His hair wispy and wild.
He looks at Ishmael, then disappears again.
NELS (O.S.)
By the way, the coastguard report. When
did you come across it?
No answer. Nels appears, without the kettle.
NELS
Was it today you went out to the
lighthouse?
ISHMAEL
(just above a whisper)
Day before yesterday.
A pause.
ISHMAEL
You're wondering why I held it.
NELS
Perhaps I have some idea.
Ishmael looks at him.
NELS
Could it have anything to do with the way
you look at her?
Pause.
ISHMAEL
Hooks called her a liar. I knew she
wasn't.
NELS
It takes a rare thing. A turning point.
To free yourself from any obsession. Be
it prejudice. Or hate. Or even love.
ISHMAEL
I had to really. I had no choice.
NELS
Now you're sounding just a little like
your father. Did I ever tell you how much
I liked him?
Ishmael reflects.
ISHMAEL
I keep thinking about poor Carl. How
unfair it seems. An accident. Just like
that.
NELS
Things just bear down on us I suppose. A
freighter in the fog. Or a war.
And from some quiet corner of his heart...as the kettle
begins to whistle.
NELS
Accident rules every corner of the
universe. Except the chambers of the
human heart.
Nels goes out to the kitchen and switches off the gas.
HOLD ON Ishmael as the kettle whistle dies. Nels pokes his
head around the door.
NELS
Tea?
INT. COURTROOM - DAY
The packed courthouse. All on their feet as Judge Fielding
enters. He sits. Everyone that has one, resumes their seat.
Even in the press balcony there's silence. And standing room
only.
Judge Fielding leafs through papers. No one coughs, no one
blinks. He looks to the jury, watching expectantly.
JUDGE
Members of the jury, this court thanks
you for your diligence in the task you
have performed under difficult
circumstances. However, in the light of
new evidence received you are now
discharged forthwith from your
responsibilities.
There's a murmuring in the public gallery as people react to
the news.
Nels grasps Kazuo's arm. Hatsue draws in a breath, hardly
daring to hope.
The Judge turns to address the court. When...
In the gallery Hisao slowly stands, with dignified humility.
Holding his hat in front of him, he turns and bows his head
towards Ishmael's corner of the balcony. There's a flicker
of excitement from the crowd.
Fujiko tugs at his arm, embarrassed at the uncharacteristic
display. But Hisao holds his ground. So Fujiko joins him.
And her daughters. Hatsue turns too, and rises slowly.
The muttering grows amid the non-Japanese side of the
gallery. People crane their necks to see what's happening.
Judge Fielding's hand reaches for the gavel. But leaves it
untouched.
In the balcony, Ishmael leans forward with the other
journalists to see what is going on. He is astonished to see
the display. The other journalists look at him
questioningly. What the heck is all that about?
One by one other Japanese people rise and silently look
upwards, until the majority of them are standing.
Nels turns, and follows their gaze up to Ishmael. Their eyes
meet briefly.
Hooks and Moran are discomforted by the display, and look to
the Judge.
Now the gavel RAPS.
JUDGE
Order. You will resume your seats.
Everyone sits, still murmuring.
JUDGE
Settle down, settle down...Let us not
forget we have been considering the death
of one man...
A glimpse of Susan Marie and Etta.
JUDGE
...and pondering the fate of another.
(turning)
Will the defendant please rise.
Kazuo and Nels stand side-by-side.
JUDGE
Kazuo Miyamoto. In the interests of
justice, the charges against you are
dismissed. You are free to go home. God
bless.
He raps the gavel once more.
APPLAUSE breaks out from the gallery, where citizens of
Japanese ancestry have forgotten custom and decorum.
Some of the citizens assembled add their applause. Others
look awkward, not knowing how to react.
The defendant is OUT of his chair, and with one strong grip
of gratitude to the frail shoulder of his counsel, he is...
...AT the rail, HATSUE is in his arms, the embrace so FIERCE
on both sides, everyone crowding around them.
A glance upward from her catches Ishmael's eye.
INT. COURTHOUSE CORRIDOR - LATER
The Miyamotos, surrounded by family and well-wishers, make
their way out of the courtroom.
It's a chaotic throng of citizens and reporters.
Ishmael watches from the balcony staircase. Below him, a
jubilant exchange of hugs, kisses, tears.
Hatsue and Kazuo are each embraced by family and community
members, Japanese and non-Japanese alike.
Reporters jostle around the edge of the melÈe. Eager for
comment.
Ishmael sees Hatsue's sisters mobbing Kazuo, excitedly. And
now, Nels finds himself in a grateful embrace from Hatsue.
EXT. COURTHOUSE - DUSK
It's still snowing. Hatsue tentatively approaches Ishmael.
As he notices her approach, she stops a pace or two away.
Physical awkwardness radiates between them.
Their eyes meet. Hatsue smiles hesitantly.
HATSUE
(softly)
Can I hold you now?
Ishmael smiles too. A little smile.
ISHMAEL
Just for five seconds.
She moves closer and HUGS him in a tender embrace, her face
in the crook of his neck. He feels her closeness to him. He
smells her hair, as she whispers in his ear.
HATSUE
I'm so grateful. For your gentle heart.
Ishmael puts his arm around her. Holds her close - for five
seconds. Perhaps a beat longer. Snowflakes settle on their
clothes and hair.
Stepping outside amid the group, Nels watches as they draw
apart. Kazuo registers the moment too, as Hatsue turns to be
reabsorbed into the joyous crowd. Nels exchanges an
understanding glance with Ishmael. And passes by.
CUT TO:
EXT. COURTHOUSE - DUSK
HIGH WIDE SHOT of Ishmael's small figure. As the rest
depart. The expanse of snow. The courthouse.
CLOSER...Ishmael goes to put his notepad into his pocket. It
slips from his grasp. He stoops to retrieve it. Something
falls from his jacket...
...his father's SPECTACLES tumble into the snow.
Ishmael picks them up. And looks at them. As if recognizing
them for the first time.
He wipes the snow off the lenses carefully. Tucks them
safely into his breast pocket.
Walks away.
ROLL END CREDITS.