SIDETRIPS


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Could this have been the place?
It was dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sock it to me

 

EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY, EASTERN ALABAMA - NIGHT. 1966.

LONG SHOT - FROM ABOVE.

A speeding car on the empty highway. Muted sound of Aretha Franklin singing “Respect.”

INT. CAR - NIGHT

“Respect” comes from the car radio. JIMMY drives; SHAUNA is in the passenger seat. The windows are open; the southern night rushes through; the speedometer reads 80. Jimmy and Shauna bop to the music.

CLOSE SHOT - REARVIEW MIRROR

Swirling red light of a police car, revving of the siren.

INT. CAR - NIGHT.

JIMMY

Oh shit.

They think fast. What is where?

JIMMY

Don’t lean down as if you’re hiding anything.

SHAUNA

It’s only speeding. We’re vacationers in your beautiful country.

Jimmy slows, turns the car onto gravel. The police car pulls up behind. Its headlights, reflected from the mirror, light the interior of the car.

JIMMY

They could have our license plate from the SNCC office.

SHAUNA

They have no right to search us.

CLOSE SHOT: REARVIEW MIRROR.

A POLICEMAN approaches the car, checks the license plate.

 

JIMMY

As if they need one.

INT. CAR - NIGHT

JIMMY rolls down his window. The police officer approaches, beams his flashlight inside.

JIMMY

Hi. I know we were goin a little fast.

POLICE OFFICER

May I see your driver’s license.

JIMMY takes his wallet from his jacket pocket, keeping his hands in view, extracts the wallet, slips out the license, hands it to the officer, who shines his light on it, hands it back.

POLICE OFFICER

Y’all a long way from California.

JIMMY

We’re on vacation.

The police officer shines his light on SHAUNA who shines back the warmest, most charming and gracious possible smile.

SHAUNA

We were having so much fun we didn’t notice.

POLICE OFFICER

I’m going to have to ask you to follow me.

JIMMY

Where?

POLICE OFFICER

You will follow me, sir.

He returns to the police car. As they pass, the SECOND OFFICER stares intently at them. The car door insignia says Sheriff. Jimmy pulls out and follows.

JIMMY

Not a clue what this is about. Check under the seat. They can’t see you.

She feels under the passenger seat.

SHAUNA

It’s there. It’s not visible.

The two cars exit the interstate, follow winding rural roads. No streetlights, no signs, no lighted buildings, a few residential lights back from the road. This is disturbing. Jimmy concentrates on following the sheriff’s car. They drive through woods. The woods clear. A building appears ahead, parking lights around it, a steel fence.

JIMMY

Give me what money you’ve got. Maybe we just pay a fine and get out.

The two cars pull into the parking lot of a brick municipal building far from any municipality. Two stone exterior stairways lead to a column-flanked arched entrance. Southern Gothic. The gate shuts behind them. The POLICE OFFICER approaches their car.

POLICE OFFICER

Please step out of the car, sir.

SHAUNA smiles that hostess smile again. She looks like a fine young tourist. JIMMY looks like an angry young man from San Francisco in jeans and leather jacket.

SHAUNA

What about me, sir?

POLICE OFFICER

You stay here, ma’am. We’re going to show your boyfriend our facilities.

JIMMY

You take care, honeybun, I’ll be right back.

INT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - NIGHT.

Gothic it is, and dark, fifty, a hundred years old. The main hall unlit, expansive, claustrophobic. Light from a frosted door window. Sheriff’s Department. They enter.

INT. SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT - NIGHT.

The SHERIFF leans over the counter, watching as they enter. Nothing has changed in this room since 1928 except time, patina, mildew, lowered budgets and expectations, a ratcheting downward; they make do. The two-way radio is newish. Jimmy, who does not believe a man’s character is reflected in his physique believes the sheriff’s character is reflected in his physique — that of a mean drunk, a deceiver, a bully, and a con.

SHERIFF

So you’re the tourist.

Jimmy’s clean; there’s nothing incriminating on him. He affects a casual posture, watchful. He will play along.

JIMMY

Yessir.

The Sheriff sees that yessir does not come naturally.

SHERIFF

Mighty nice of you to drop by.

The Sheriff and his Deputies share a sly enjoyment. They form a triangle around Jimmy; whomever he faces, two are behind.

JIMMY

I guess you want me to pay a fine.

SHERIFF

Nah.

JIMMY

I was speeding.

SHERIFF

Was he speeding?

DEPUTY

Not if you say so.

SHERIFF

All the way from California. Whereabouts?

JIMMY

San Francisco.

SHERIFF

We got a right nice jail here, did you know that?

JIMMY

Really. No, I didn’t.

SHERIFF

Come along. I’ll show you round.

JIMMY

My girlfriend....

SHERIFF

She’ll be safe. Gates closed. Can’t nobody break in.

Or out. The Sheriff and Deputies share a momentary camaraderie, a renewal of the primary sense of who they are, and where.

SHERIFF

You know this here jail is 75 years old. Did you know that?

I will be a tourist; I will visit the ruins; this local dignitary will be my guide.

JIMMY

No I did not.

SHERIFF

Hiney, you stay here. This way, boy.

The Sheriff leads Jimmy through an arched doorway. They descend stone stairs to a lower floor.

INT. JAIL - NIGHT.

A windowless arched corridor of Confederate stone lit by bulbs in metal dunce-caps hung from rods. Along one side are the cells.

SHERIFF

Ain’t but two prisoners, a drunk and a killer. Things to your liking so far?

Many answers occur to Jimmy, none of them rational.

 

JIMMY

It’s got character. The jail.

They arrive at an occupied cell.

SHERIFF

This here’s our drunk.

Jimmy nods to the drunk, who is out cold.

SHERIFF

And this here’s our murderer. Shot his missus. These are violent times.

MURDERER

You got another one, Sheriff?

The Sheriff does not answer. Jimmy wishes he had answered; he wants to know what another one is. The Sheriff points the way back past the stairs.

SHERIFF

Down here’s the other wing. You want to look in there?

JIMMY

No. Not really.

SHERIFF

You’re sure.

JIMMY

I’m sure. Some other time.

Jimmy, modelling his stance on a Paul Newman character, makes an expression that he hopes indicates he’s in on the joke of the tour, a smile half-winsome, half-knowing. The effect is not what he desired: a look from the Sheriff that says you are not in on any joke, boy, there is no joke, a joke implies a common set of values; we share no common anything, you and I. There is only the situation and you are in it.

SHERIFF

Have it your way.

INT. SHERIFF’S OFFICE - NIGHT

The three men emerge from the stairs. Hiney awaits. The Sheriff waves to the Deputies to take Jimmy away. Jimmy tries to read the gesture; he cannot.

EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT.

Jimmy and the two Deputies cross the lot. At the car Jimmy sees Shauna inside, her purse on her lap. He gets in beside her.

DEPUTY

We’ll lead you to the highway.

JIMMY

That’s ok, officer. Just tell us how to go.

DEPUTY

I’m afraid you’ll have to follow us. It’s kinda hard to get there from here.

INT. JIMMY’S CAR.

SHAUNA waits to hear.

JIMMY

They’re fucking with us. We can’t assume the best and we can’t run for it.

EXT. COUNTRY ROADS - NIGHT.

The Sheriff’s car turns from the paved road to a road half-gravel.

JIMMY

This is the Goodman, Schwerner, Chaney thing.

The police car’s ruby tail lights—the only lights visible — turn onto a dirt road.

SHAUNA takes Jimmy’s .45 from her purse, slides it across the seat between them.

SHAUNA

We can’t go like them.

JIMMY

If they stop anywhere except the highway. If they stop in the woods. If they stop and get out. I’ll shoot first. I’ll get out my side and shoot. We can’t die here.

SHAUNA

If they come out with their guns....

JIMMY

Then it’s too late.

SHAUNA

Ok my love.

She reaches over, clicks the safety off. She brushes Jimmy’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, readies herself.

The road widens, smoothens. There are lights ahead. A sign says 80 East, Atlanta. The Sheriff’s car pulls off the road at the on-ramp. Jimmy and Shauna pass them, wave, barrel onto the Interstate, wailing, laughing. Shauna clicks on the radio. Aretha Franklin sings sock it to me sock it to me sock it to me sock it to me.