PAGE ONE - 6 PANELS.
Open on a close up of DETECTIVE FINCH, he’s middle aged, lean, his hair rests in a widows peak - he wears a suit that is functional not fashionable. His face wears the look of disgust.
Cut to. We are looking down an escalator coming up out of a busy tube station. DETECTIVE RUIZ is the focus as she nears the top of the escalator. She holds her phone to her ear. She’s young, but tough looking. She’s hard edged and cynical. She wears a dark grey suit, no tie, her dark hair cut short. Her badge hooked on her belt.
Finch? What is it? I’ve had like twenty missed calls. I was underground.
Reveal shot. Looking over Finch’s shoulder into an abandoned church, he’s still on the phone to Ruiz. Light spills in through the cracked stained glass window. Light pools around a chair in the centre of the room, the corpse of a young boy hangs from the ceiling. A few police officers in uniform are putting police warning tape up around the scene.
It’s him Ruiz. We’ve got another kid. Same m.o. as the others.
Cut back to Ruiz. She is now on street level, walking through a busy downtown main street in a large urban city.
You sure it’s him? We’ve had copycats before.
Cut to a close up on a photo pinned up to a corkboard. The photo is grainy, but the face of a man can be made out. He is middle aged, short dark hair. He holds a pistol in his hand, the weapon obscures most of his face.
Trust me. It’s him, it’s Preston Bishop. Our goddamn ghost in the wind.
Pull back - we reveal the whole of the cork board. It’s massive. The photo from the last panel sits in the centre. All around it are other photos, gangs of men, weapons, maps with locations circled, a few evidence photos from murder scenes. A few hand written notes (we can’t make out what they say.)
Three years and all we’ve got is a grainy photo of this psycho.