Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, Page 2

  WILLOUGHBY

  There’s civil rights laws prevents that, Mrs Hayes, and what if he was just passing through town …

  MILDRED

  Pull blood from ever’ man in the country, then.

  WILLOUGHBY

  And what if he was just passing through the country?

  MILDRED

  If it was me, I’d start up a database, every male baby what’s born, stick ’em on it, cross-reference it, and as soon as they done something wrong, make a hundred-per-cent certain it was a correct match, then kill ’em.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Yeah, well, there’s definitely civil rights laws prevents that.

  He sits on the swing beside her, the billboards stretching out down the hill in front of them.

  I’m doing everything I can to track him down, Mrs Hayes.

  I don’t think those billboards is very fair.

  MILDRED

  The time it’s took you to come out here whining like a bitch, Willoughby, some other poor girl’s probably being butchered right now, but it’s good you’ve got your priorities straight, I’ll say that for ya.

  WILLOUGHBY

  There’s something else, Mildred. (Pause.) I got cancer. I’m dying.

  MILDRED

  I know it.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Huh?

  MILDRED

  I know it. Most ever’body in town knows it.

  WILLOUGHBY

  You know it, and you still put those billboards up?

  MILDRED

  Well, they wouldn’t be as effective after you croak, right?

  Willoughby looks at her in disbelief, gets in his car, drives off.

  INT. BAR – NIGHT

  Town’s main bar, Welby shooting pool against James, a local dwarf, who smacks a good one in from a distance. Dixon comes up, drunk.

  DIXON

  Well, looky looky, if it ain’t the instigator of this whole goddam affair in the first place …

  RED

  I didn’t instigate shit, Dixon …

  DIXON

  Playing pool against the town midget.

  James pots another.

  JAMES

  He’s right, Red, you are playing pool against the town midget.

  RED

  Well he’s a cop, y’know, he’s observant.

  DIXON

  You know, I always disliked you, Red, ever since you was a snotty little child, which you still look like. A snotty little child.

  RED

  Well that’s unfortunate. I always thought you was great.

  James plays a safety shot. Welby takes over.

  DIXON

  Even your name, ‘Red Welby’. Even your name I disliked.

  RED

  Well … okay.

  DIXON

  Like you was some kind of a goddam Communist or something, and proud of it.

  RED

  No, it’s cos I got red hair.

  Welby misses.

  DIXON

  Do you know what they do to faggots down in Cuba, Welby?

  RED

  Wow, that’s left-field … No, what do they do to faggots down in Cuba, Dixon?

  DIXON

  They kill ’em! Which, it might surprise you to learn, I am against.

  RED

  I’m not sure if they do kill faggots down in Cuba, Dixon. I know Cuba’s human rights record is pretty deplorable when it comes to homosexuality, but killing ’em? Are you sure you ain’t thinking of Wyoming?

  DIXON

  Always with the smart ass …

  James smashes in another.

  Jesus! He’s quite good, isn’t he? (Pause.) Willoughby’s a good man, Red. He shouldn’t have this be the only thing he thinks about, the last months left to him.

  RED

  The last months what?

  DIXON

  Oh. You didn’t know. Yeah. Pancreatic.

  Red is shaken. Out of nowhere, Mildred idles over, puts a bunch of quarters on the pool table.

  MILDRED

  I’m up next if any of you ole ladies ever quit yakking.

  She hangs there, staring them down.

  DIXON

  Rude.

  JAMES

  Saw you on TV the other day, Mildred.

  MILDRED

  Oh yeah?

  JAMES

  Yeah, you looked good.

  She stares at him. An embarrassed pause.

  I mean, y’know, you came across really good, in the things you were saying.

  Embarrassed, James goes back to the pool.

  DIXON

  I didn’t think you came across really good in the things you were saying. I thought you came across as a stupid-ass.

  MILDRED

  Ain’t it about time you got home to your momma, Dixon?

  DIXON

  No, it ain’t time I got home to my momma. I tole her I was gonna be out till twelve. Actually.

  James whacks in the black brilliantly from a distance …

  DIXON

  Jesus!

  JAMES

  Me v. you, Mildred!

  He smiles at her.

  INT. MILDRED’S HOUSE – NIGHT

  Mildred enters, a beer in hand, a bit drunk …

  MILDRED

  Hey Robbie? I think that midget wants to get in my pants –

  … to find Father Montgomery, an old priest she knows, at the kitchen table beside Robbie, best teacups in front of them.

  MILDRED

  Father Montgomery.

  FATHER MONTGOMERY

  Mildred. I’m sorry for calling on you so late, although I must say Robbie’s been the consummate host. Despite his having, he was just telling me, something of a tricky day at school.

  ROBBIE

  Oh, no, just some of the guys on the team was giving me crap.

  MILDRED

  Crap about what?

  FATHER MONTGOMERY

  About the billboards. Which is, uh, kind of what I’ve come to have a word with you about, Mildred.

  MILDRED

  Oh. Proceed.

  FATHER MONTGOMERY

  I know it’s been hard for you, Mildred, this past year. We all do. The whole town does. And whatever it is you need, we’ll be there for you. Always. But the town also knows what kind of a man William Willoughby is. And the town is dead set against these billboards of yours.

  MILDRED

  Took a poll, did ya, Father?

  FATHER MONTGOMERY

  If you hadn’t stopped coming to church, Mildred, you’d be aware of the depth of people’s feelings. I had a dozen people come up to me on Sunday. So, yes, I took a poll. Everybody is on your side about Angela. No one’s on your side about this.

  MILDRED

  Y’know what I was thinking about, earlier today? I was thinking ’bout those street gangs they got in Los Angeles, the Crips and the Bloods? I was thinking about that buncha new laws they came up with, in the eighties I think it was, to combat those street gangs, those Crips and those Bloods. And, if I remember rightly, the gist of what those new laws said was, if you join one of these gangs, and you’re running with ’em, and down the block from you one night, unbeknownst to you, your fellow Crips, or your fellow Bloods, shoot up a place, or stab a guy, well, even though you didn’t know nothing about it, even though you may’ve just been standing on a street corner minding your own business, those new laws said you are still culpable. You are still culpable, by the very act of joining those Crips, or those Bloods, in the first place. Which got me thinking, Father, that whole type of situation is kinda similar to you Church boys, ain’t it? You’ve got your colours, you’ve got your clubhouse, you’re, for want of a better word, a gang. And if you’re upstairs smoking a pipe and reading a Bible while one of your fellow gang members is downstairs fucking an altar boy then, Father, just like the Crips, and just like the Bloods, you’re culpable. Cos you joined the gang, man. And I don’t care if you never did shit or never saw shit or never heard shit. You joined the gang. Yo
u’re culpable. And when a person is culpable to altar-boy-fucking, or any-kinda-boy-fucking, I know you guys didn’t really narrow it down, then they kinda forfeit the right to come into my house and say a word about me, or my life, or my daughter, or my billboards. So, why don’t you just finish up your tea there, Father, and get the fuck outta my kitchen.

  She goes off to another room. Montgomery puts down his teacup.

  ROBBIE

  But thanks for coming up anyway, Father.

  INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – DAY

  Doctor drawing Willoughby’s blood as he looks away from it, squeamish, out the window at the pretty landscape.

  DOCTOR

  How you been feeling, Bill?

  WILLOUGHBY

  Oh, like I got cancer in a major organ.

  DOCTOR

  Well, I just want you to know, we’re all on your side about this Mildred Hayes thing …

  WILLOUGHBY

  If I have to hear that one more fucking time …!

  He wrenches the needle from his arm, and tosses the vial at a wall, where it smashes and splatters.

  I’m done with this shit. I can’t waste my life waiting.

  INT. POLICE STATION, MAIN ROOM – DAY

  Willoughby breezes in, doing up his tie. Dixon’s hungover.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Get me the file on the Hayes case.

  DIXON

  The Angela Hayes case or the Mildred Hayes case?

  WILLOUGHBY

  There is no Mildred Hayes case.

  DIXON

  We’ve had two official complaints about the billboards, so, actually …

  WILLOUGHBY

  From who?

  DIXON

  (flipping through pad)

  A lady with a funny eye … and a fat dentist.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Get me the file on the Angela Hayes case. ‘A lady with a funny fucking eye’, Jesus Christ.

  EXT. BILLBOARD ROAD – DAY

  Backs of the billboards framed behind him, Willoughby has the case file laid out on the hood of his car, weighted with rocks. Some gruesome photos of a burnt corpse that we don’t see much of but Dixon does, wincing, nauseous.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Late night?

  DIXON

  No.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Lay off that Welby guy.

  DIXON

  Or you’ll do what?

  WILLOUGHBY

  Or I’ll kick your momma’s fucking teeth in.

  DIXON

  No, you won’t. (Pause.) Who told ya I was laying on him anyway? The midget?

  WILLOUGHBY

  What the fuck are you talking about?! Fucking midgets! I’m trying to fucking concentrate!

  Dixon shrugs. Willoughby goes back to the file. Dixon ambles, bored. Willoughby crouches, runs his fingers through the burnt soil there, looking like he might cry.

  DIXON

  What are you looking for, anyway? There’s nothing to look for.

  INT. DENTIST’S SURGERY – DAY

  Mildred in a dentist’s chair.

  MILDRED

  I don’t know what it is. The filling feels like it’s kinda waggling.

  Geoffrey, a fat dentist, appears, with his instruments.

  GEOFFREY

  Well, if it’s waggling it’s gonna haveta come out.

  MILDRED

  (bemused)

  Ain’t you gonna have a look at it first?

  Geoffrey does so, perfunctorily.

  GEOFFREY

  It’s gonna haveta come out.

  Bemused, she guesses he knows what he’s doing. He fiddles among his drills, comes up with a high-pitched one.

  MILDRED

  Uh, can I get a little Novocaine, there, Doc?

  He puts the drill down, gets a syringe, injects in under her gum at painful angles and length, takes it out and looks at his watch, just sitting there.

  GEOFFREY

  Give it a couple minutes.

  Silence. Then he picks up the drill again, gets it going.

  GEOFFREY

  I just wanted to say … There’s a lotta good friends of Bill Willoughby in this town, Mrs Hayes, who don’t take kindly to …

  But Mildred has already grabbed the drill hand, then grabbed the hand that was holding her mouth open. She slowly starts bringing one hand towards the other, the whirring drill aiming towards his big fat thumbnail.

  Geoffrey is too flabby, and Mildred too forceful, for him to do anything about it but whimper, as …

  Close up: the drill gets closer and closer to his thumbnail.

  Geoffrey sweating …

  Mildred determined …

  … until finally the drill whirs into the nail, splitting it right down the centre.

  MILDRED

  Then why don’t you tell those good friends of Bill Willoughby to tell him to go do his fucking job, fat boy.

  She pushes the screaming bloody dentist out of the way, rinses her mouth out with the pink stuff, spits it at his head, and exits.

  INT. GIFT SHOP – DAY

  Denise behind counter, Mildred arranging knick-knacks. Cop car pulls up, lights flashing. Willoughby and Dixon enter.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Hey there, Mildred! You didn’t happen to pay a visit to the dentist today, did ya?

  Mildred’s dialogue hereon is through a totally unintelligible, Novocained mouth.

  MILDRED

  (unintelligibly)

  No.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Huh?

  MILDRED

  (unintelligibly)

  Said ‘No’.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Oh. So it wasn’t you who drilled a little hole in one of big fat Geoffrey’s big fat thumbnails, no?

  MILDRED

  (unintelligibly)

  Of course not.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Huh?

  MILDRED

  (unintelligibly)

  I said ‘Of course not’.

  DENISE

  You drilled a hole in the dentist?

  MILDRED

  (unintelligibly)

  No, Denise, I didn’t.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Well, I thought it was kinda funny myself, but he wants to press charges, so we’re gonna have to bring you in, I’m afraid.

  INT. POLICE STATION, INTERVIEW ROOM – DAY

  Dixon guarding door. Mildred looking out window.

  Mildred’s point-of-view: across the road, Welby and Pamela are looking out at the pedestrians in the sunshine. Welby’s obviously into her, but shy about it. End point-of-view.

  Mildred smiles. The Novocaine’s worn off.

  MILDRED

  So how’s it all going in the nigger-torturing business, Dixon?

  DIXON

  It’s ‘Persons of colour’-torturing business, these days, if you want to know. And I didn’t torture nobody.

  She idles back to the table and sits.

  Goddam saying that goddam stuff on TV. My momma watches that station!

  MILDRED

  And she didn’t know nothing about the torturing?

  DIXON

  No, she didn’t know anything about it. She’s against that kinda thing.

  Willoughby breezes in.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Who’s against what kinda thing?

  DIXON

  My momma. Is against ‘persons-of-colour torturing’. She said ‘nigger-torturing’. I said you can’t say ‘nigger-torturing’ no more. You gotta say ‘persons-of-colour’ torturing. Right?

  WILLOUGHBY

  I think I’ll be able to take care of Mrs Hayes on my own from hereon, Jason.

  DIXON

  Sure, Chief, I’ll be right outside if you need me.

  Dixon gives Willoughby a pat on the back as he leaves. Willoughby sits with some papers.

  WILLOUGHBY

  Don’t gimme that look. If you got rid of every cop with vaguely racist leanings then you’d have three cops left and all o’ them are gonna hate t
he fags so what are ya gonna do, y’know?

  He smiles at Mildred, then comes round and sits on her side of the desk, looking down on her.

  I wanna know something, Mildred. Why’d ya drill a hole through poor fat Geoffrey’s thumbnail?

  MILDRED

  Oh, that didn’t happen. His hand slipped and he drilled a hole through his own self. Is he saying I done it? Jeez, then I guess it’s just his word against mine, huh? Kinda like in all those rape cases you hear about. Except, in this case, the chick ain’t losing.

  WILLOUGHBY

  It ain’t really about winning or losing, though, is it, Mildred? I mean, do you think I care about who wins or loses between the two of yous? Do you think I care about dentists? I don’t care about dentists. Nobody cares about dentists! I do care about, or I’m interested in, tying you up in court so long that your hours at the gift shop are so shot to shit that you ain’t got a penny to pay for another month’s billboards. I’m interested in that.

  MILDRED

  I got some dough put away …

  WILLOUGHBY

  What I heard was you had to sell off your ex-husband’s tractor-trailer to even pay for this month’s billboards, that right? (Pause.) How is ole Charlie, by the way? He still shacked up with that pretty little intern works down at the zoo?

  MILDRED

  He’s still shacked up with some chick who smells of shit. I don’t know if the zoo’s got anything to do with it. Although I’d hope so.

  WILLOUGHBY

  How old is she? Nineteen? That must smart.

  MILDRED

  Keep trying, Officer. Keep trying.

  WILLOUGHBY

  What’s Charlie think about these here billboards of yours, an ex-cop like Charlie?

  MILDRED

  Ex-cop, ex-wife-beater. Same difference, I guess, right?

  WILLOUGHBY

  His word against yours, though, right? (Pause.) Charlie don’t know about them, does he?

  MILDRED

  It’s none of his business.

  WILLOUGHBY

  He’s kinda paying for ’em though, ain’t he?

  MILDRED

  I’m paying for ’em.