Chapter Text
ACT ONE
fade in:
int. silver springs - morning - flashback
We're back in Bright's room. It's empty. He's completely still. On the bed, grey sweats and a long sleeve. Shaggy-haired and disheveled like he was all those months ago. He's mentally elsewhere. The light buzzes. A clock ticks. Then -- KNOCK KNOCK!
Bright remains perfectly still. A NURSE is in the doorway. Her scrubs are oddly baby blue.
Blue NURSE
You have a visitor.
He's guided by TWO MALE GUARDS. Halls are bleak. Blue Nurse walks in front, clipboard in hand. The silence is louder than her heels.
int. silver springs - dining room - continuous
Double doors open. We follow Bright's face. She walks ahead. Light floods in. Bright looks up. Grey curls are hard to miss. His eyes WIDEN. Please, no.
Blue NURSE (cont'd)
Dr. Whitly?
We see Martin sitting with his back turned. Dressed in a dark blue sweater and light slacks, hair a bit tamed. He hasn't aged a day. He turns around.
martin
(relieved)
My boy.
Martin stands up. Bright FREEZES.
bright
(under his breath)
No. No, no, no, no, no.
Bright steps back. The guards lock his arms and shove him forward. Bright struggles against them. They bring him to the lunch table where Martin is standing.
They make him sit. Martin reaches over. Bright recoils.
martin
It's okay, son. No need to be scared.
Bright is still FROZEN.
martin (cont'd)
I know, it's a lot to take in. But rest assured, I've set you up with the best psychiatrists in all of New York. We'll get through this. Together.
bright
I killed you. I watched you die.
Martin nervously eyes Blue Nurse.
martin
I'm very much alive. Also, that's not the kind of thing you want to say in front of the nursing staff.
bright
You bled out. I stabbed you.
martin
What you saw was a projection of fear.
bright
(stands up)
I know what I saw!
The two guards reach for him. Martin instantly stops them.
martin
It's okay. It's okay. He's just a bit worked up. I can handle him.
Martin walks away from his spot. He crosses to the other side of the table. Bright takes a step back.
bright
What are you doing?
martin
I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to help.
Martin's hands are outstretched.
Bright's back hits a wall. It's dark. All he sees is brown. Windows of a house. Where am I? Branches. Hunting rifles. Camping equipment. It feels vaguely familiar.
martin (cont'd)
Put that down, and we can get you home safe.
What? Bright looks down where Martin points. The knife in his hand is pointed at Martin. Martin moves forward.
bright
Get away from me.
martin
(carefully)
Malcolm, listen to me--
bright
(interrupting)
Don't touch me!
His hand is steady. Martin's too close, hovering. Bright realizes he's still moving forward. Martin closes the gap in between them despite the prick of the knife in Bright's hand.
martin
It's okay, son.
Martin goes in for a hug. His arms wrap around Bright. No! Bright lets go of the knife. Martin steps back, and the knife is wedged perfectly in his stomach. Martin just smiles.
martin (cont'd)
I've missed you, too.
int. Bright's loft - bedroom - morning
Bright wakes up SCREAMING. His restraints SNAP. He's drenched in sweat, hair unkempt, clearly shaken. QUICK SHOTS: Young Bright and a bloody switchblade. Bright staring at the forest floor. Young Bright running through the forest. A SCREAM. Martin in agony. Blood everywhere. So much blood...
Terror remains. He's going to be sick.
Then the front door SLAMS! Sunshine chirps. Heels scratch the floor.
jessica (o.s.)
Malcolm Whitly!
Jessica comes stomping in like a hurricane. She's ticked.
jessica (cont'd)
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I am under the impression your phone has a stable connection, yes?
She doesn't wait for him to answer.
jessica (cont'd)
Because you're ignoring my calls, skipping dinners, ignoring your sister. Gil says you declined a case? I should be running for the hills like Julie Andrews but instead I'm here and I am worried. Just look at this place.
His loft is a mess...more or less. Sheets tossed. Pill bottles out, some uncapped. A few dirty dishes on the island. Clothes strewn about. Affirmations scattered everywhere.
Jessica's initial anger subsides. She's at a loss.
jessica (cont'd)
What on earth is going on?
Bright focuses on his breathing.
bright
Are you done?
Jessica gawks at Bright.
bright (Cont'd)
Because I don't have time for this. Please leave.
jessica
(softer)
Let me help you.
Bright unclips his restraints. Attempts to get out of bed but Jessica is blocking his path. He is exhausted. Bright gives up and sits on the edge. She types away on her phone.
jessica (cont'd)
I'll have Luisa drop by this afternoon.
bright
I can do it myself--
jessica
(interrupting)
And for the love of all things Holy, I am begging you to respond to your sister.
bright
I'm busy.
jessica
Wasting away in bed and ignoring my calls? Please. Even when your father was pissed at me, he knew how to answer the phone.
Bright's on his feet. Quick. He's in Jessica's face, fists clenched. Clearly at the end of his rope. Jessica turns to him. She's not backing down.
jessica (cont'd)
I don't know what happened to you at Silver Springs, but my son knows his manners. Drop the attitude.
Bright says nothing.
jessica (cont'd)
Good.
Then -- Bright's phone RINGS. Jessica picks it up for him.
jessica (cont'd)
It's Gil.
(answers)
Captain Arroyo. To what do I owe the pleasure? Hm? Malcolm is busy right now, you know how he is. Perhaps I can take a message?
Bright walks toward the bathroom. Drags his hands through his hair.
jessica (cont'd)
A case? I'm sure he'd love to get his hands dirty. Okay. I'll tell him. Okay. Bye.
She hangs up and tosses his phone on his bed. Jessica makes her way to the door.
jessica (cont'd)
(moving)
The next time I call, answer.
Jessica takes her leave. The front door SLAMS. Bright closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. And pushes the bathroom door open.
titlecard: prodigal son
int. Ford's apartment - living room - morning
Luxurious upscale studio apartment. Various industry models plastered on the walls in gold picture frames. Whites, greys, gold accents, a true modern-style apartment.
We follow Bright through the yellow tape. Techs are taking photos. He spots JT in the middle of the room. Dani is talking to Edrisa. He can't see the body from here.
Bright hides his tremor in his pocket.
Gil clasps him on the shoulder a bit too hard. Bright flinches, caught off guard. Gil's missed him.
gil
Glad you could make it. Tried to call you but your mom answered. What was that about?
bright
It's a long story. Starts with a serial killer father, ends with an overbearing mother.
gil
She cares about you.
bright
Something like that. What do we got?
The body of A MAN (Vincent Ford, 40s and incredibly handsome) lies on his stomach dressed in an expensive all-black suit. Blood soaks the white rug beneath him.
gil
Vincent Ford, fourty-six, unmarried. Runs Vanguard, one of the biggest modeling agencies in all of New York.
bright
The Vincent Ford?
dani
Do you know every rich person in New York?
bright
Vincent Ford is a household name in the fashion industry. Not to be confused with Jerry and Eileen Ford. They're fashion powerhouses in their own right. He's a designer, stylist, appeared on every magazine from Nylon to Vogue. If there's a runway, you can guarantee Vanguard models are walking.
jt
I never knew you were into fashion like that.
bright
(sheepish)
I like art.
Bright crouches down next to the body. Creating a profile in his head. He looks to the door, the windows overlooking the city. Reexamines the angle of the body.
Edrisa drops down next to him.
edrisa
What are you seeing?
bright
(thinking)
Everything's in place. No forced entry. The single champagne glass on the table suggests he met with someone last night.
(to Gil)
Did the PA know anything?
gil
Nope. Went home at around ten, said Vincent was turning in for the night when they left.
bright
(to Edrisa)
Cause of death?
edrisa
Severed carotid artery, single cut. Judging by the lividly of the body, he was killed about ten hours ago. Roughly between midnight and two.
Edrisa carefully turns Vincent on his back. He's probably twice her bodyweight. Everyone gets a good look at the gash across his neck. It looks eerily similar to --
Bright stares at the gash on Vincent's neck. He squeezes his shaky hand into a fist. Gil notices. QUICK FLASHES of Ainsley holding a bloodied knife, the drag across Endicott's neck, the glass falling to the ground.
Bright focuses on the case.
dani
Murder weapon hasn't been found. We think the killer stashed it somewhere.
jt
(sarcastic)
Luckily for us, power outage zapped all of the CCTV footage in the entire neighborhood. Maintenance is working to get their system back online.
WHOOSH -- Bright imagines the killer walking in. They're having drinks together. They seem close. Vincent is alone. Then --
bright
This was personal. Our victim knew our killer. He let them in, had a drink or two. Something changed. Vincent was on the couch facing an empty chair. The depth of the blade suggests Vincent was taken by surprise. Our killer came up behind him, knife in hand, and slashed his throat.
dani
But there's only one glass and no murder weapon. The killer knew what they were doing.
bright
They knew what to avoid. This cut is jagged, sloppy. By the time they realized what they've done, they were mortified, shocked. But they needed to finish the job. You can see the change in direction near the larynx.
edrisa
Slicing someone's neck open is not that easy. I would imagine.
bright
It can be. When you've reached a breaking point, you can do anything.
WHOOSH -- IMAGES of that fateful night resurface. Ainsley's blind rage. Her bloodied hands. Her blood-stained sweater. Her confusion.
Dani and JT exchange looks.
bright (Cont'd)
Vincent Ford is no stranger to controversy. His modeling agency Vanguard Models has a history of legal disputes, typically regarding "misconduct", if you will.
dani
Somebody must've been pissed at him.
gil
Anything else we should be looking for?
bright
Our killer is going to present as "normal", perhaps numb now that the rush of killing has left them. Over time, they begin to lack pleasure in their daily life. Their dopamine levels shrink, and in extreme cases, they develop RDS. Reward Deficiency Syndrome. When someone reaches that level of apathy, they will find other ways to gain a sense of gratification. It is likely they will kill again.
dani
Got a description?
bright
Someone who's very close to Vincent. Younger, impressionable. Someone whose been taken advantage of.
gil
(to Edrisa)
Get your team and wrap this up. Everyone else, let's move out. I've got word that a handful of reporters are downstairs.
ext. vincent Ford's apartment - continuous
As predicted, a hoard of reporters are gathered around the building. Camera's flashing, questions flying, uni's guarding the door.
Bright's phone rings. It's Ainsley. He scans the crowd, hangs up, then tucks his phone away.
int. adn building - ainsley's office - continuous
Ainsley's phone stops ringing.
ainsley
Damn it, Malcolm.
She tosses her phone on her desk next to her laptop. The screen opens a live broadcast from downstairs. A REPORTER swallowed by their jacket talks to the camera but we can't hear anything. The bottom of the screen reads: BREAKING NEWS: NYPD OUTSIDE VINCENT FORD'S STUDIO. COULD IT BE?
We seamlessly TRANSITION to --
int. Damien's office - continuous
-- Damien's laptop screen. Camera ZOOMS OUT. Damien has his feet up on his desk, watching the report, tossing a blue stress ball back and forth. He's uninterested.
KNOCK KNOCK!
damien
Come in.
An OFFICE AID (20s, could use a hairbrush) steps in, iPad in hand.
office aid
Sir, you need to see this.
She sets her iPad down on his desk and frantically starts typing. Damien tries to keep up.
damien
Something wrong?
office aid
Look.
She pulls up another news report. A REPORTER is talking. The bottom of the screen reads: IVORY PARK: CRUZ FAMILY FILES LAWSUIT. DEMAND FOR GOVERNMENT ACTION FUELS PROTESTS. We see a PROTESTOR speak with the Reporter:
protestor #1
(agitated)
The government doesn't care about us. Not our neighborhoods, not our schools, our kids. Not one official has come out and spoken to us, and that sends a very clear message. They let that poor girl die and we're supposed to get over that?
Camera switches to Damien's face. He appears calm.
damien
Send this to me.
office aid
(typing on the iPad)
Yes, sir.
damien
One more thing. I need you to run a name for me: Malcolm Bright. See what you can find on him.
office aid
Yes, sir. I'll get right on it.
damien
Thank you. Close my door.
The Office Aid exits. Damien stands up from his chair to stretch. Then he digs in his drawer and pulls out something black. An old burner phone. He dials a number.
damien (into the phone)(cont'd)
I want Matt Goodwin.
Damien closes the phone. He takes a deep breath then smiles.
END OF ACT ONE