Screenwriters...David McKenna and Nick Cassavettes

"A man must look at his life and think luxury."
First scene shows workers in the Columbain highlands harvesting coca leaves which are then transported to a laboratory that will produce the final product-pure cocaine hydrochloride. A small twin-engine Cessna is loaded with dozens of duffel bags and the plane takes off.


At a worksite in Weymouth in 1966:
The worksite is busy. George is working a summer job. As George is taking five, he looks across the sight to Fred, who is sweeping up debris. A long way from being the boss.


College Admissions Office - Weymouth. George stands in line to register for college. He looks around the room. He is uncomfortable. He catches his reflection in the shiny glass partition and stops. He doesn't like what he sees. Something is not right. He looks like everyone else. He's a carbon copy.
Registration Woman: Next. (It's George's turn but he doesn't hear it. ) Twenty years of schooling and they put you on a day shift. (He hears the words as he continues to stare at his reflection.)
George (Voice Over): I was standing there, and it was like the outside of me and the inside of me didn't match, you know? And then I looked around the room and it hit me. I saw my whole life. Where I was gonna live, what type of car I'd drive, who my neighbors would be. I saw it all and I didn't want it. Not that life.


***
Construction site - WEYMOUTH
George sits with Fred. It's breaktime and Fred eats from a lunch box.
George: There's something out there for me, Dad. Something different. Something free form, you know? Something for me, and college just isn't it.
Fred: That's too bad. You would have been the first one in the family.
George: I know.
Fred: Alright. You want me to get your old job back? Because I could, you know, I could put in that word.
George: No, Dad. I don't want to...I mean, I just don't want...
Fred: What are you going to do?
George: I'm going to California.

***
Belmont Shores Apartment - 1968 –
George and Tuna, now 21-years old, struggle with their bags in their new ovean view apartment. Two California beauties appear on the balcony next door
Girls: You guys need some help?
George and Tuna share a look.
Tuna: I don't know about you, but I think we're gonna like it here.
Manhattan beach. Barbara and Maria introduce George and Tuna around to the Manhattan Beach regulars. They are immediately accepted despite their ill fitting shorts and Tuna's unhip black socks. The beach scene is one big party. Lots of beer, music, bikinis, and good times. By the end of the day, George and Tuna have a hundred new friends.
George (Voice Over): California was like nothing I'd ever experienced. The people were liberated and independent and full of new ideas. They used words like "right on," “groovy," and "solid." The women are all beautiful and seemed to share the same occupation.
Woman #1: I'm a flight attendant.
Woman #2: I'm a flight attendant.
Woman #3: I'm a flight attendant.
The weed comes out and is passed around. Pipes. Joints. Bongs. Barbara takes a huge hit of grass, grabs George's face, french kissing him, and giving him a huge shotgun.

Back at the apartment…
George and Barbara are sleeping late. Their bodies intertwined beneath the sheets. A slam of the front door wakes them up. It's Tuna.
Tuna: Hey, wake up. Come on, you two lovebirds. Hurry, I want to show you something.
George and Barbara stumble into the kitchen to find Tuna holding a brown paper shopping bag.
Tuna: Figured it out.
George: Figured what out?
Tuna: You know how we were wondering what we were going to do for money? Being how we don't want to get jobs and whatnot? Well, check this out.
Tuna takes the paper bag and empties its contents on the kitchen table. It's a grey mound of stocky, seedy marijuana. Barbara examines the reefer.
Barbara: Tuna, this is crap.
Tuna: I know it's not the greatest. It's commercial.
Barbara: It's garbage.
George: It's oregano. You got ripped off, pal. What are you gonna do with all this?
Tuna: We sell it. I got it all figured out. We make three finger lids and sell them on the beach. We move all of it. We've made ourselves a hundred bucks. Or a lot of weed for our head. What do you think? Not bad, huh? I got the baggies and everything.
Barbara: You can't sell this to your friends.
Tuna: Man. Fuck you guys. I have this great idea and you guys have to be all skeptical.
Barbara: Look, if you really wanna score some dope, I got the guy.
The Whipping Post. George, Barbara and Tuna stop outside the front door.
George: Are you sure this guy is cool?
Barbara: You'll see for yourself.
Tuna: A beauty parlor for men? Sounds pretty queer.
They walk in. The Whipping Post is California's first male hair salon. George looks around at the customer's being pampered. Haircuts, pedicures, manicures.
George: Nothing like this back home.
Barbara: Derek!
Derek Foreal is an effeminate man and he is surrounded by beautiful women. As he sees Barbara, he stops his haircut and runs to embrace her.
Derek: Barbie! (Derek's female entourage rush over as well. Kisses all around.) So, this is the new man, huh? He's cute!
George and Tuna stick out there hands.
George: George.
Tuna: Tuna.
Derek: Tuna, oh my. Enchante, George. Barbie, he's yummy. He looks like a Ken doll. Oooh, Ken and Barbie! It's perfect. Alright, girls, give me five minutes. (Derek makes dismissing gestures and the girls scatter.) Everyone, shoo! You, too, Barbie. I want to talk to the boys alone. (After the girls leave, Derek closes the partition and he turns serious.) What can I do for you guys?
George: We want some grass.
Derek: I know what you want. But, first of all, are you cops?
George: No.
Derek: Because if you are, you have to tell me. If not, it's entrapment.
George: We're not cops. We're from Massachusettes. I mean, does he look like a cop?
Derek: I guess not. Okay. You know, you're very lucky you're friends of Barbie's. If you weren't, I'd never talk to you.
Derek pulls a television-sized brick of quality marijuana out from under a sink and sets it down in front of George.
George: What the fuck is that?
Derek: It's your grass.
Tuna: Wow. That's more than we had in mind.
Derek: I don't nickel and dime. You want it or not?
George and Tuna look at each other.
George: We'll take it.

Back on the beach. . . George and Tuna are the new kings. They smoke pot and drink beer. George and Barbara get close as do Tuna and Maria. Slowly, George's clothes and hair start to improve. His image is cooler. George and Tuna hanging out with surfers, meet new women, and start selling half ounces to people.
George and Barbara sit by the water, watching the waves crash into the sand. The sky is streaked with purple and red.
George: This is it for me.
Barbara: What is?
George: Just everything. You. California. The beach. This spot right here. I feel like I belong here, you know? It just feels right.
Barbara: You happy, baby?
George: Yeah. I am.

Back to the apartment. . . George walks in to find Tuna and Maria sitting with Kevin Dulli, an old friend from back east. He's sitting in front of a water pipe and.
Tuna: Look what the cat dragged in.
George: Holy shit, Dulli. What the hell are you doing here?
Kevin: Well, I'll tell you. I was walking down the beach, minding my business, when who did I see but this fucking guy. I didn't know you guys were living in California.
George: Yeah, but what are you doing out here?
Kevin: I'm on vacation. On my way back to school.
George: This calls for a joint. You want to do the honors?
Kevin: No, man. I'm too fucked up.
Tuna: Nice weed, huh?
Kevin: Fuck yeah. I never seen nothing like it. I'm fucking wasted.
George: Right on.
Kevin: God, I'm stoned. I'm stoned. I'm really. . .
George: Stoned?
Kevin: I wish there was shit like this back home.
George: Yeah?
Kevin: Shit, yeah. Do you know how much money I could make if I had this stuff back east?
Tuna: No shit, Kevin?
Kevin: That's right.
George: Yeah?
Kevin: When there's something to move, it's too easy not to. Do you know how many colleges are in a twenty mile radius? U. Mass, Amherst, B.U....
Tuna: Smith. Hampshire....
Kevin: Right. And Holyoke. There are a hundred thousand rich kids with their parents' money to spend, but there's never anything available. Nothing good, anyway. I'm paying four hundred dollars for shit.

***
Next scene. . . The Whipping Post. Derek, George and Barbara sit around. The blinds are drawn.
George: The way we figure it, Barbara flies to Boston twice a week. Two bags per flight. Twenty-five pounds in each bag.
Derek: You're kidding, right? That's a hundred pounds a week.
George: Yeah, I know, it's a lot of weight.
Barbara: We're gonna call it California sinsemilla. Sounds exotic.
George: I'm telling you, Derek, it will sell.
Derek: I don't know...
George: Here's the best part. We can charge five-hundred a pound.
Derek: Come on, George, no one is going to pay that.
George: It's already been negotiated. It's done. The money is there waiting.
Derek: (looks at Barbara. She nods.) Goodness.
George: Goodness is right. If you do the math, that's over thirty grand a week profit. I want you to be my partner on this, Derek. Fifty-fifty. That's fifteen thousand a week for you, my friend. In your pocket, free and clear.
Derek: And I only deal with you?
George: Barbara and me. No one else.
Barbara: It's gonna work, Derek.
Derek: I don't know. East coast. Airplanes. It all sounds pretty risky.
George: She's a flight attendant. They don't check her bags.

Los Angeles International Airport. . . George drops Barbara off in her uniform curbside. They kiss and she walks away with two big, red suitcases that she checks in. Next scene…A huge jet goes right to left through frame. Later at Logan Airport Gate in Boston. . . Barbara is greeted by Kevin with a hug. A baggage claim check is slipped into Kevin's hand.
Barbara: Any message?
Kevin: Keep it coming. (Kevin heads to baggage claim and walks off with two red Samsonites)
Same scene repeated, except different clothes on all.
Kevin: More.
The same scene repeated, same things changed again; now Kevin is dressed better.
Kevin: I need more.
Barbara: What do you want me to do? I can only take two bags, and I can't fly back here everyday.
Kevin: I know, but I've got a feeding frenzy on my hands. Tell George this is small potatoes. We're missing out on some serious cash. You tell George. He'll think of something.

***
Tuna drives a Winnebago. Maria rides shotgun. Barrelling cross-country, it's a party on wheels.
White Oak Lodge in Amherst. . . at night. Kevin and his girl, RADA, are the welcoming committee as the RV pulls into the parking lot. They wave, slap the sides of the Winnebago, and greet the prodigal sons with hugs and handshakes.
George's room is rustic and plush. A log fire burns and empty champagne bottles adorn the surroundings. The girls have taken to each other. The music is loud, and they dance while the boys do business. Kevin counts out the money. It's stacked in piles all over the table.
Kevin: Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, nine. Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, a thousand. It's all there. Wow. A hundred and twenty-eight thousand dollars.
Tuna: Jesus Christ, I'm getting a boner just looking at it.
(George isn't paying attention. His wheels are turning.)
Kevin: What's the matter, George? Something wrong? You look like you just fucked your mother.
Tuna: Cheer up, man. Half this money is ours. We're fucking rich.
George: It's not enough.
Kevin: What?
Tuna: What the fuck are you talking about, man?
George: The set-up is wrong. We're doing all the legwork, and at the end of the day, we're still paying retail. We're getting middled.
Kevin: So?
George: So, we need to get to the source.
Tuna: Source? What about Derek?
George: He's getting middled, too. And Derek's our partner. What's good for us is good for him.
Kevin: Okay. So we need a source. Where do we start?
George: Who speaks Spanish?

***
Puerto Vallarta, Mexico . . . a local beach. The girls on the beach are drinking and swimming. Series of shots. The guys looking for a connection. George with a bartender. Tuna and Dulli with cabbies. George and Derek talking with a local man, Ramon, at a corner bar. Barbara, Maria and Rada talk with local girls.
At the Oceana Bar . . .
Tuna: This is bullshit, George. We're never going to find anything down there.
Kevin: You know, he's got a point. We're fucking Americans. We stick out like sore thumbs.
Derek: I don't think so.
George: You guys are such babies. You want to go home, go. Me, I'm not going to stop until I find the fucking motherlode.
Rada: Georgie, we're gonna get busted if we keep this up.
George: We're not gonna get busted.
Kevin: George, we'll wind up in a Mexican prison getting fucked up the ass by one of Maria's relatives.
Maria: Hey, fuck you, Dulli. I'm not Mexican. I'm Italian.
Barbara: You're Italian?
Kevin: Yeah, right. Gonzales. What is that, Sicilian?
Tuna: As far as I'm concerned, we're on fucking vacation.
He grabs Maria, runs and does a huge belly-flop into the water. They all laugh. Another series of shots. George and Barbara with local musicians on the beach. George and Derek at a cab stand. George talks with a bellboy in the lobby of a local hotel. At the Cocos Frios Bar, George, Barbara, Tuna, Derek, Maria, Kevin, and Rada are at the bar. Ramon comes up to George, they briefly discuss and George follows him out of the bar. George and Ramon climb into a beat up V.W. bug and take off.

Countryside of Puerto Vallarta. . . Nothing but fields and farms. They pull up to an old ranch. They get out and are greeted by Santiago and his three sons
Santiago: Ramon tells me you are looking for some mota.
George: Yes, I am.
Santiago: (moves to a tarp and pulls it back to reveal many bales of green, seedless sinsemilla.) For instance, something like this?
George: Very nice. I'll take it.
Santiago: Ha ha ha. You are funny. Really, how much will you be needing?
George: All of it. As much as you've got. A couples thousand pounds. I'll be back in a week with a plane.
Santiago: Listen, Americano, it is very nice to meet you, but maybe we are going too fast. You take a little and then come back.
George: I don't need a little. I need a lot.
Santiago: Marijuana is illegal in my country, and I believe in yours, as well. We must be careful.
George: What if I brought you, let's say, fifty thousand dollars? Would that eliminate some of your concerns?
Santiago: Amigo, you bring me fifty-thousand dollars, and I have no more concerns.

***
Santa Monica Airport. . . A pair of boltcutters snaps the chain off a single-engine Cessna.
Tuna: I can't believe we're stealing a plane.
Kevin: Don't be such a pussy.
George: It's fine. We're not stealing it. We're borrowing it. And try to look natural. We've got company. (A mechanic working on the adjacent plane is giving them the hairy eyeball.) Be cool.
The three boys nod their heads in acknowledgement and give a small wave. The mechanic smiles and waves back. In the Cessna - The engine is on and the propeller is spinning. Kevin is at the controls. Tuna is not making the trip. He pokes his head in before shutting the cockpit.
Tuna: You guys are fucking insane.
George: (reads from a flight manual) Alright, pull back the throttle. . .(The engine screams) Not that far, only halfway. You sure you know what you're doing?
Kevin: Relax. I've flown with my old man a million times. And he always told me, the taking off part is easy, it's the landing you've got to worry about.

***
Santiago Farm, Mexico
The plane tries to land. It's a clumsy one. The Cessna is tipping and touching, first one wheel, then another, almost sideways before straightening out and stopping. George and Kevin hop out of the plane. They are greeted by Santiago and the Mexican contingency.
Amigos: Hola, George! Bienvenido!
George hands out presents to everyone-men, women and children.. They love him. Santiago pumps George's hand.
Santiago: Good to see you, Jorge. You are a man of your word.
George: Actually, I've got some news. That fifty thousand I promised you, I couldn't get it. (George throws Santiago a duffel bag) So I brought you sixty.

***
Dry Lake Beds, Twenty-Nine Palms, CA
Rada sits in the Winnebago and keeps flashing the headlights. Barbara, Tuna, and Maria stand on top of the Winnebago waving big, white towels. The plane descends from the sky and touches down, making another extremely shaky landing. They head over to Derek’s house. It's on the water and beautiful. The holiday decorations are up, topless women in elf outfits sip champagne, and a thousand pounds of cannabis lays on the living room floor.
George: Are you sure you want to do this in front of everyone?
Derek: Don't be ridiculous, these are my babies.
George empties the pot all over the floor.
Derek: George, you're a genius. We're rich. Come, children. (The girls dive on top of Derek, caressing and kissing him.) George, get my camera. (Derek poses with a load of marijuana) Take a picture of me, George. Take a picture of me with my new friends. It'll be a fabulous Christmas card.

***
A villa in Puerto Vallarta-1970. A Mexican Real Estate Agent shows Barbara and George a sprawling Villa in Puerto Vallarta. It's amazing. White marble on the water. George looks at Barbara.
George: Should we buy it?
Barbara: Are you kidding?
George: We'll take it.
George, Barbara, Kevin, Rada, Tuna, Maria and Derek with a couple of new girl friends are at the villa. They all wear identical Mexican sombreros. A Mexican boy approaches them with a camera.
Mexican Boy: Picture?
They pose, their arms thrown around each other in camaraderie, the picture freezes and fades out. . .

***
The Buggy Whip, Weymouth -1972. George is taking Barbara and his parents out to dinner. The Buggy Whip is Ermine's favorite.
Ermine: I just can't get over the size of that ring. I just love it. Fred, look at it. Tell me you don't love that ring.
Fred: I'm just happy that George has found someone he cares for.
Ermine: Yes. Of course. But, I'm talking about that ring. It's something else. Let me tell you.
Barbara: George has exquisite taste.
Ermine: What is that, two carats? That's got to be two carats.
Barbara: I don't know.
Ermine: Yes. It's at least two carats, darling. Treasure it.
Fred: Hard to imagine being able to afford a ring like that on a construction salary.
George: (All eyes turn to him, he fumbles) Well, you know. It's um...
Ermine: Ohh, shut up, Fred. Shut your big fat mouth. You don't buy it all at once. It's called layaway.
Fred: Layaway shmayaway.
Ermine: That's right. Layaway. Something you wouldn't know anything about, you cheapskate.
Fred: Who's the cheapskate?
Ermine: You, you big old tightwad. He still has his communion money. Tell him, George. Tell your father about layaway.
George: Yeah, layaway.
Ermine: The boy is happy, Fred. Don't be such a killjoy.
Fred: Killjoy?
George: (looks to Barbara, whose nose is bleeding.) Honey, your nose!
Barbara: Oh my God, I'm so sorry.
Ermine: Barbara, here, take my napkin.
Barbara: Thanks. I'll be okay.
George: You wanna split?
Barbara: Yeah, I don't feel so well.
George: Okay, guys, we're gonna leave. Let's get the check. (He and Barbara leave the restaurant) Are you sure you're okay? You're pale.
Barbara: I feel like shit. Me and my frigging nosebleeds.
George: I'm taking you to the doctor when we get home, and I don't want to hear any arguments.
Barbara: Would you be bummed out if I didn't go to Chicago with you?
George: No, not at all. Sure. You're right. You fly home and get some rest.
Barbara: Nice first impression. A nose bleed in front of your parents.
George: Oh my God, how embarrassing were they? I wanted to shoot myself.
Barbara: Oh, they weren't that bad. I mean, they were kind of cute.
George: Promise me that we'll never be like them. I don't want to wind up like that.
Barbara: Relax, baby. We're going to wind up like us.

***
A police station in Chicago-1972. Mug shots of George. Left, right, center. George sits handcuffed to a chair. Piles of marijuana bricks roll past him.
George (Voice Over): I had a little problem in Chicago. Something about trying to sell a truckload of dope to an undercover officer. So I applied the three rules of the game under if and when arrested.

Cook County Courthouse, Chicago. George and his court appointed attorney stand before the judge at the arraignment.
George (Voice Over): Rule one: don't fight. A trial will cost you a fortune in lawyer's fees and the jury will chop off your balls and hand them to you on a platter.
Judge: George Jung, you have been accused of possession of six-hundred and sixty pounds of marijuana with intent to distribute. How do you plead?
George (Voice Over): Rule two: plead not guilty and get bailed out of jail….
George: (speaking now) Your honor, I'd like to say a few words to the court. (The court appointed attorney puts his head in his hands.) Judge: By all means.
George: In all honesty, I don't feel like what I've done is a crime and I think it's illogical and irresponsible for you to sentence me to prison. None of the real criminals of the world ever end up behind bars. I mean, when you think about it, what did I really do? Cross an imaginary line with a bunch of plants? You say that I'm an outlaw, you say that I'm a thief, but where's the Christmas dinner for the people on relief? (George stops when his attorney stamps on his foot. The court officers roll their eyes and the judge smiles.) Judge: Those are very interesting concepts you have, Mr. Jung. Unfortunately for you, the imaginary line you crossed is real, the plants you brought with you are illegal, and what you did constitutes a crime. (The judge slams his gavel) Bail is set at twenty-thousand dollars.
George walks out, free on bond, to find Barbara waiting for him. She doesn't look so good.
Barbara: Surprise.
George: Baby, you didn't have to come.
Barbara: What, and miss all the fun? C'mon, not a chance. So, what's the verdict?
George: Lawyer says he can plead it down to five years. I'll serve two.
Barbara: Two years. George, I can't wait that long.
George: What? You're not going to wait for me?
Barbara: George, I went to the doctor. I don't have two years.
George (Voice Over): Which brings me to rule number three: which says, fuck rules one and two, skip bail and take off.
George in a rent a car. Hits the gas and the car screams down the road.

***
Back at the villa in Puerto Vallarta. George and Barbara sit on the veranda drinking champagne and watching the sun go down over the Pacific. Barbara is completely bald. Rail thin, eyes sunken. But it doesn't matter. They're having a great time. They laugh and hold hands and laugh some more.
Next scene. . . Cemetery. . . 1973. Everyone is there. All in black. Barbara's casket is lowered into the ground and George climbs to his knees to push the first dirt on the grave.
George (Voice Over): Time is such a funny thing. I look at where I am now, and in here, time inches along. So slow, it hardly seems like it moves. But back then, time went fast.

***
Otisville C F.I., New York-1999
George pushes dirt along the edge of a flower root. Still planting those sunflowers, he presses down firmly, standing before him is Barbara, still beautiful and young with flowing locks. George raises his hand and makes a small wave. Barbara opens and closes her hand. Bye bye.
George: It went too fast. (George looks down and Barbara is gone). No Barbara.

***
The Jung House in Weymouth-1973
George hops the fence like he did when he was a boy and goes in the back door and into the kitchen. Ermine looks at George blankly.
George: Hi, Mom. (Ermine just keeps looking at him.) Surprised to see me?
Ermine: Take your boots off. You're tan.
George: Mexico.
Ermine: Yeah. We heard all about it. I want you to know I'm deeply sorry about your girlfriend.
George: Barbara.
Ermine: Yes, Barbara. She was very pretty.
George:Thank you. Have you been getting the money I sent you?
Ermine: You mean the drug money? Yes, I got it. (Ermine's hands are trembling. She is emotional. She hugs George ferociously, not letting go.) God, son.
George: Okay, Mom. It's okay. Where's Dad? (George turns around to see Fred's beaming face.)
George and Fred sit at the table, a bottle of Scotch sits between them. The glasses are raised.
George: May the wind always be at your back and the sun always upon your face...
Fred: . . . and the winds of destiny carry you aloft. . .
Both: . . . to dance with the stars.
The glasses clink and they drink. Time moves on. . . The bottle is dwindling. George and Fred are feeling it.
Fred: You alright?
George: (nods) Just low.
Fred: You loved her, didn't you? You really loved her.
George: Yeah, Dad. I really did. What am I gonna do?
Fred:Tough spot. (The glasses are refilled)
George: You mad at me?
Fred: Not mad.
George: Yeah, you are. I can tell by the way you look at me.
Fred: I just don't know what you're thinking. I don't understand your choices. You know, the police are looking for you.
George: I know. I'm great at what I do, Dad. I mean, I'm really great.
Fred: Let me tell you something, son. You would have been great at anything. (Something outside catches George's eye. A light. A reflection. A movement. George is up and on the move.) Where are you going?
The front door opens and FEDERAL AGENTS pour into the house. George runs up the stairs in a flash.
Ermine: George!
George slams the door of his bedroom behind him, moves over to the window, and opens it. Cops everywhere. He's trapped. Out of options, he folds. He moves to the corner and sits down, turns on the train set. A knock on the door is heard. FBI Agent, James T. Trout.
Trout: George Jung, you are under arrest.
Fred: Open the door, son.
They lead George outside in handcuffs. Ermine and Fred watch.
Ermine: I had no choice. (George stops and looks at his mother, for the first time realizing her betrayal.) Don't look at me like that. What was I supposed to do? You're in our house. What, was I supposed to be an accomplice? (As George is led to the police car, Ermine follows.) You don't think people know you're a drug dealer? Everyone knows. It's no secret. How do you think that reflects on me? Every time I go out, I'm humiliated. I see the stares. I hear the whispers. How do you think that makes me feel? Did you ever once stop and think of me? (George's head is pushed down as he is put in the squad car. He looks up at his mother.) So you go to jail. It's for your own good. You need to straighten your life out.

***
Danbury Prison F.C.I.-1974. George is being led through a series of gated corridors.
Guard: Prisoner in. (As he walks, he takes in the faces of the other inmates. He arrives at his cell and notices he has a roommate) Prisoner in.
The cell door opens and George steps inside. There are books and papers spread out over both bunk beds. George watches as his cellmate quickly clears everything off the top bunk. Apparently, the papers are private. George puts his things down and the little man proffers his hand. He is dark, polite and Colombian.
Diego: My name is Diego Delgado. How do you do?
In the Mess Hall, George pushes his tray through the cafeteria line. Diego is behind him.
Diego: If you don't mind me asking, what is the reason you are in this place?
George: What?
Diego: Your offense? Why are you here?
George: I don't want to talk about it.
Diego: Intriguing. I see. Would you like to know my crime?
George: Not really, no.
Diego: No?
George: I don't like a lot of conversation, Diego.
Diego: Me, too. Too much blah, blah, blah, blah is no good. But we are roommates, okay? And we must talk to each other. I am arrested for stealing cars. For the grand theft auto. Okay? So, now it is your turn. Now you will tell me, okay? You will tell me why you are here? (George says nothing. He keeps eating his food) Oh, come on, George. If we are to be friends, we must trust each other.
George: Murder.
Diego: Ah, yes. The murder.

That night in their cell. . .
George lays on his bunk, smoking. Diego is on the bottom bunk, furiously writing on a notepad. He flips through his books and rustles his papers. George peeks over the side to see what Diego is doing.
George: What do you got there, Diego?
Diego: Nothing. Just a little project.
George: What kind of project?
Diego: Never mind. Not for you to worry.
George: I thought you said we were roommates. That we should talk about everything.
Diego: You have your intrigues. I have mine. This is a happy day for me, George. Nine months from today, I will be in Medellin sipping champagne. In nine months, I am free. How much time do you have?
George: Twenty-six months.
Diego: Twenty-six months? For murder? I must meet your lawyer.
George: I've got to get out of here, Diego.
Diego: Only two ways I know to leave here early. One is to escape.
George: What's the other one?
In a classroom. . .George is trying to teach basic education to the inmates. The room, mostly black and hispanic, is hostile. They don't want to learn.
George: Alright, let's open our books.
Inmate #1: Man, fuck you.
Inmate #2: We ain't opening shit.
Inmate #1: You just the warden's boy. We on to you. You just trying to knock some time off, asskissing motherfucker.
Diego watches as the room reacts with laughter.
George: Alright. You're right. I want to get out of this shithole as fast as I can. And I don't want to do this any more than you do. But for me to walk early, some of you have to graduate. You, forget about it. You're hopeless, go to sleep.
The room laughs again.
Inmate #3: Damn, homeboy, you got ruined. George: But the rest of you could get diplomas and get jobs when you're on the outside.
The room looks at him. They’re not buying it.
Inmate #1: Shit, I'm in for life.
Inmate #2: I'm a criminal. I ain't getting no motherfucking job.
George: We can learn some criminal shit, too. Alright, I'll make you a deal. What if half the time, we learn about George Washington, and the other half, I'll teach you how to smuggle drugs?
Inmate #2: Man, you don't know dick about smuggling no drugs.
George: I was arrested in Chicago with six hundred and sixty pounds of grass. I think that qualifies me.
Diego looks up from his desk, suddenly very interested.
Inmate #1: How did you get a hold of six-hundred and sixty pounds of dope?
George: Flew it in from Mexico on a single engine Cessna. Now, do we have a deal or not? (They react. They're in) Alright, the first thing you need to know about smuggling drugs is that it's easy. The DEA are a bunch of losers. They couldn't find their dicks in a whorehouse. They don't know what the fuck they're doing...
Diego watches George winning over the room. He listens intently to George's every word. His wheels are turning.
That night in George’s cell. . . The lights are out and Diego and George lay in their cots.
Diego: George? Hey, George? I listen to what you say to the class today about the smuggling. You are a magico, ah? (George doesn't respond) I never believed you were a murderer. I knew. I knew you are a magico. I have seen it in you. It's in your spirit.
George: I'm tired, Diego. Go to bed.
Diego: You like to make the boundaries disappear. It's not only the money, is it, George? The adventure is part of the victory. It's the thrill, ah?
George: Good night.
Diego: In my country, I am a magico. A man with a dream. A man on the rise. To take nothing and make it something, okay? I have failed my dream, but I will accomplish. That is why I am in your country. Yes, I lose my freedom. But they do not take my dream. Do you have a dream, George?
George: I would if I could get some sleep.
Diego: Yes, you have a dream. And maybe you accomplish your dream. But yet you failed. Why?
George: Because I got caught.
Diego: No, my brother.
George:Because they caught me?
Diego: You failed because you had the wrong dream. (Diego climbs off his bunk and looks George square in the eye.) George? What do you know about cocaine?

Mess Hall the next day...
George: I don't know, Diego. I've got a good thing going already. Everybody smokes pot. It's easy. Cocaine is a rich man's drug. It's too expensive.
Diego: No, no. That is where you are wrong. For us, it is cheap. In Medellin, we buy for six-thousand dollars a kilo. In Miami, we sell for sixty.
George: (his interest is piqued) That's over fifty-thousand dollars profit per kilo.
Diego: And that's wholesale. Cut it a few times and retail, you're looking at two, three-hundred thousand.
George: Oh my God.
Diego: Yes. And a kilo of coca is smaller than a kilo of your precious marijuana. Everything is the same, George, except instead of thousands, you are making millions.
George: Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.
Diego: Now do you see what I am saying?
George: Getting it here is no problem. Trust me. I'll fly it in myself if I have to. What about supply? How much can we get?
Diego: Don't worry. We will talk of everything. We have the time. You arrive here with a Bachelor of Marijuana, but you will leave with a Doctorate of Cocaine.
That night in the cell. . .Diego and George pouring over Diego's plans. Discussing, planning, plotting.
Diego: What type of planes do you have?
George: Four passenger, single engine Cessna.
Diego: How many kilos can we fit in these planes?
George: I don't know. A hundred, hundred and fifty. How many miles is it from Colombia to Miami?
Diego: Fifteen hundred. We'll have to stop somewhere to refuel.
George: We'll refuel in the Bahamas. I know someone there.
Diego: Great. I love the Bahamas.

***
Liquor Store in Weymouth-1976. George is at a payphone. He drops in a few quarters in and waits to be connected.
George: Diego Delgado, please?
Diego: Allo?
George: Diego? It's George.
Diego: George, hallo! Today is the day, ah? Are you out?
George: Yeah, I'm out.
Diego: Congratulations, brother. I've been waiting for you.
George: How are we doing?
Diego: Perfect, George. Perfect. Everything is fine down here. Everything is all set up.
George: Do we need a plane? How does this work? When do I see you?
Diego: Slow down, George. Slow down. (Fred exits the liquor store carrying two bottles of Dom Perignon. As he catches George's eye, he lifts the bottles showing them off. George holds up a finger, indicating he'll be just a second.) You need to come down here, everybody meets everybody. Ho ho ho. Ha ha ha. We do one for good faith and then we talk about airplanes.
George: I can't go anywhere, Diego. I'm on parole. I can't leave the state.
Diego: But you must. It's the only way.
George: I just got released five minutes ago.
Diego: George, are we gonna do this or not?

***
Basseterre Hotel, Antigua. . . By the pool-1976. George steps outside and spots Diego. Their eyes meet. Diego looks different, relaxed. He wears a straw hat, shorts, and sports a healthy tan. The two men embrace.
George: Good to see you, Diego.
Diego: Yes. Look around you. The sun. The water. The women. It's better than Danbury, no? Come on. I have some friends I would like you to meet. (Diego and George sit with five other Colombians, most notably, a man named Cesar Roza). The mood is not friendly) Fifteen kilos. Seven and a half in each suitcase. You receive a hundred thousand dollars upon delivery.
George: Okay.
Cesar: Not so fast. I would like to go over the details.
George: What details? I put the coke in the false bottoms and take it through customs.
Cesar: Tell me about the suitcases. What is the make and the color?
Diego: Samsonites. Red. No tags.
Cesar: (thinks about it) Hmm. I see. Will there be clothes in the suitcase?
George: What? Yeah, sure.
Cesar: Whose cloths? Your clothes?
George: My clothes, your clothes. What does it matter?
Cesar: I would like to know the contents. Every detail is important.
George: What are we doing here, Diego? This guy's a clown. He's talking about clothes.
Cesar: I demand to know everything. I do not trust six-hundred thousand dollars of coca to someone I don't know.
George: It's a lousy fifteen kilos. I piss fifteen kilos.
Cesar: The coca is my responsibility!
George: You're a fucking amateur!
Diego: Gentlemen, please. There is no need to be impolite. Cesar, this will be fine. You have my word. George, Cesar is just being thorough. That's all.
Cesar: Very well. But just remember, Mr. Jung. I will be with you the whole way. And I will be watching.

***
Logan Airport, Customs-1976. George carries the two Samsonites over to customs Inspections He’s nervous. His heart beats hard. The sound of it beating can be heard and gets louder with every beat. Cesar waits by the baggage carousel.
George (Voice Over): When you're carrying drugs across the border, the idea is to remain calm. The way I do it is to think of something pleasant, a fun party, a moment of triumph. A sexual encounter. I actually project myself to that place. Anything to keep your mind off the fact that you're going to jail for a very long time if they find the fifteen kilos of cocaine in your suitcases.
George stands in front of the customs agent. He tries his best to look relaxed as the agent reviews his documents.
Customs Agent: On vacation?
George: Yes.
Customs Agent:On vacation for only one day?
George: (his heart beats harder, gives the agent a weak smile) My brother's wedding. Imagine that, huh? (George's breathing is labored and his swallowing reflex doesn't seem to be working. Cesar passes through, eyeballing George the whole time.)
Customs Agent: Open your bags, please. (George opens the Samsonites. The heartsbeats are deafening now. Cesar nervously watches the situation from the payphones.) Whose clothes are these?
George: Mine.
Customs Agent: (holds up a woman's undergarment. Cesar throws up his hands in frustration) And this?
George: What can I tell you? Different strokes. (George winks at the customs agent, who shakes his head before finishing the inspection)
Customs Agent: Alright, go ahead.

***
Outside the airport by the payphones. . .George sets down the two suitcases, and pretends to make a call. Not inconspicuously, Cesar grabs the bags and walks quickly out of the terminal.

Back at the Basseterre Hotel in Antigua. . . Diego, Cesar, George and Jack Stevens, a silver haired executive type, lounge around the mini-suite. Cesar still has that crazy look in his eye.
Diego: Three-hundred kilos it is, then. (A beautiful Latin woman enters and kisses both Diego and Cesar. Her name is Inez. She doesn’t seem very friendly) Has everyone met Inez? This is George. I've told you about him. And this is friend, Jack Stevens. (The men offer their hands to her, but she just looks at them before sitting down next to Diego) Try to be more respectful, darling. My apologies. But she is mistrustful of Americans. Shall we proceed? Let's hear it again, Mr. Stevens.
Stevens: I'll fly down on a Friday, refuel in the Bahamas, and then to Medellin.
Inez: Friday? (Inez addresses Diego and Cesar only. She speaks in Spanish. The conversation is about "Why Friday?" Inez has some problem with it. Diego explains. And Inez is reassured.)
Diego: Please, continue.
George: We make the pick-up, refuel once more in the Bahamas, and fly back on Sunday with the mom and pop traffic.
Cesar: Why are you speaking?
George:Excuse me?
Cesar: You. Your responsibility is over. You do not fly. You are not a pilot. You are not a distributor. You introduced us to Mr. Stevens and the use of his airplane. That is all. You make a percentage. A generous one. And you're lucky to get that.
George: I see. How much?
Cesar: Padrino will pay ten-thousand per kilo. For everyone. For you, and you, and you. (He indicates George, Diego and Jack Stevens) There is no negotiation. Three-million dollars. That is all.
Stevens: I want two.
George: Gee, Jack, a million each had such a nice ring to it.
Stevens: No way. I'm doing all the work. Taking all the risk, and it's my plane. (Diego and George look at each other) Hey, you guys don't have to do shit. Just sit back and collect your money.
George: You good with this? (Diego nods) Alright.
Diego: (Inez starts shouting in Spanish about a "lousy two-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars," and how Diego is "such a coward" to give away all his money. Diego is embarrassed but tries to remain calm) You will watch what you say. Especially around George. He is my brother and he speaks as good Spanish as you. (She ignores him and continues to curse and holler. Diego stands) Okay. That's enough.
Inez: Get your hands off me. (Inez takes a swing at Diego and catches him full across the face. Diego swings back and a full scale is on. Cesar continues the conversation as if Diego and Inez weren't beating the hell out of each other right in front of them)
Cesar: Do you have pictures of your kids?
Stevens: What?
Cesar: I'll need to see them. Also need their names and the names of their schools. We are trusting you with ninety million dollars worth of coca, Mr. Stevens. Without your children, there is no deal.
Stevens: (thinks about it. Inez and Diego are still fighting but he finally drags her into the bedroom) Fine. So if that's all, I'll be leaving now.
Cesar: (walks him to the door) Don't forget the pictures.
Diego: (calls from the other room) George. George, come in here. (Diego has put Inez in the bathroom and is holding the door closed. She pounds and kicks and screams in frustration, but he pays no attention) What's the matter, George?
George: What's the matter? We're moving three hundred fucking kilos and we're making dogshit.
Diego: A million dollars for our first run is not bad, George.
George: It is bad. It's chump change. We might as well be hauling suitcases across the border. We're getting screwed.
Diego: I know.
George: And what happens when these guys stop paying? Sooner or later, these guys are going to cut us out. Then where are we?
Diego: That's my George, always thinking. (The door is yanked open to reveal Inez. She is in a rage. Diego slams it in her face) This is only part of the business, George. A very small part. Don't worry, there is so much more to do. Which reminds me, I need a favor from you. I must go to Colombia.
George: What is it? Because I have to get home. I've got a parole officer waiting for me.
Diego: I need you to go to Miami.

***
Venetian King Apartments, Miami-1977. George gets out of a taxi to find several Colombian men hanging around outside an apartment. He checks the address and moves over to the men.
George: I'm George. Friend of Diego's? (The Colombian men are not impressed. They grab George and pull him inside. George is pinned against the wall and the Colombian men all start screaming at him in Spanish. There seems to be a problem. A man, Alessandro, steps forward. He is the one who speaks English)
Alessandro: QUIET! Callate! Where's Diego?
George:I don't know. He sent me. I'm George.
Alessandro: Oh, I see. George. Well, that explains everything. Open your mouth, George.(George's puzzled look is replaced by a gun barrel in his face. Alessandro presses it against George's front teeth.) Now, you listen to me. Are you hearing me? (George nods) You see this? (He indicates two duffel bags stuffed with fifty kilos of cocaine) I've been holding this shit for him for three weeks. You tell Diego I don't appreciate it. You tell him I want my money by Friday. Can you do that? George: Um-hmm.

***
The Jung House, George’s room. George sits on his bed, reading. Two duffel bags are tucked away in the closet. Ermine pokes her head in.
Ermine: You have a phone call.
George picks up the phone. Diego’s voice is heard on the other end.
Diego: George.
George: Jesus Christ, Diego, where are you? It's been eleven days and these guys want their fucking money.
Diego: Bad news, George. I'm in Colombia.
George: Well, you better get here fast. I'm sitting on. . . (George notices Ermine is loitering in the hallway, eavesdropping.) Hi, Mom. (George acknowledges her before shutting the door in her face.) I'm sitting on fifty fucking keys. Get your ass up here.
Scene moves to Carcel de Varones, Medellin, Colombia. It's a South American prison. Diego is on the pay phone.
Diego: It's a little hard to get away right now. I'm afraid you're on your own.

***
Derek Foreal’s House, Manhattan Beach-1977. George and Derek sit in the living room with a Mr. T hippieish looking professor. On the table sits various paraphernalia. Scales, beakers, test tubes, and a hot box. George and Derek watch as Mr. T scoops some of George's cocaine and sets it onto the two-inch metal plate.
Mr. T : What we're doing is measuring the purity. Pure coke melts out a hundred and eighty-five, a hundred and ninety degrees. Cutting agents melt much lower. About a hundred degrees. Quality product starts melting at a hundred and forty degrees. That's what I'm hoping for. (Mr. T turns the dial.120. 130. 140) Good. (150. 160.) Jesus Christ. (170. 180) Holy fucking Mary! Jesus, fuck me running! Where did you get this shit! (at one-hundred and eighty-seven degrees, the white powder dribbles off the hotplate and melts away.) Damn! Can I do a fucking line?! (Mr. T puts his nose in the powder. George pulls Foreal aside)
George: What did I tell you?
Derek: It's great and everything, but what am I going to do with all this?
George: Sell it?
Derek: Jesus Christ, George, I don't see you in two years, and you show up at my door with a hundred and ten pounds of cocaine?
George: Just sell it, Derek.
Derek: Alright, but it's gonna take me a year.

At the Whipping Post. . . Money everywhere. All over the floor, the counters, the chairs, and even in the sinks. George and Derek count the money patiently, writing the dollar amount in yellow high lighter on the top of each stack, before wrapping it with a rubber band.
Derek: Thirty-six hours. I can't believe it. Everything is gone in thirty-six hours.
George: I think it's fair to say you underestimated the market there, Derek.
Diego: Touche.
George: But to the victor belong the spoils. (George divides the money) Half a million for you. Half a million for me. One-point-three five for the Colombians.
Derek: Nice doing business with you, George.
George: Not bad for a weekend's work, huh?

***
International Airport, Miami. Immaculate in his white turtleneck and sunglasses, George walks with two aluminum cases. He is greeted by Alessandro and his thugs.
Alessandro: Greetings, Mr. George.
George: Where do you guys want to count?
Alessandro: On the plane.
George: What plane? We going someplace? Where we headed? You have your money. It's all there. What the fuck is going on? (They usher him away to Medellin, Colombia where the plane lands)

***
A deserted sugar factory in Los Rios, Colombia. The blazer pulls into a long driveway. They approach a gate where shirtless teenagers stand guard. The gate opens. Young soldiers open the door for George and roughly usher him over to a Jeep within the confine. They frisk him top to bottom. Diego is leaning against another Jeep and waits for George to be released.
Diego: George, good to see you, my brother.
George: What the fuck is going on? When did you get out of jail?
Diego: Pablo used his influence. Now, George, watch what you say. Everybody hears everything. A lot of things get said and done that, well, let's just say this isn't America. Life is cheap here, you know? No offense, but you know what I'm saying?
George: Yeah. Keep my mouth shut and let you do the talking.
Diego: Right. Now who is the person in California? The connection?
George: Just a friend.
Diego: Who? I need to know. Ah, never mind. We'll talk about it later.
George: Yeah. You do the talking.

The sounds of a young man struggling, can be heard in the distance. From another area, Pablo Escobar emerges. He is handed a pistol and moves quickly over to the man and quietly speaks a few words. And then, without emotion, he shoots the young man in the head. George and Diego, who is visibly shaken, watch. Escobar is handed a towel, and he wipes the splattered blood off his hands, as he moves back. . .A large Colombian man comes over to them. . .
Man: He will see you now. (to Diego) Not you.
Diego: There must be some kind of mistake.
Man: No mistake. Mr. Escobar will see Mr. Jung alone. You are to wait here.
Diego: (George hesitates) It's alright, George. You go.
Man:This way, please. (he escorts George towards the area where the man was just shot. George looks back at Diego as he is led away.)
Escobar: So, this is the man who takes fifty kilos and makes them disappear in one day?
George: Actually, it was three.
Escobar: The man who gives us the airplanes. The man from America. The mafia. Chicago. Boom boom. Hollywood. You are going to open for us the gates of Hollywood, George?
George: It would be my pleasure.
Escobar: Good. Very good. Welcome, my friend. Welcome to my country. (Escobar moves over to embrace George. George returns it, and their hands come together. George can't help it. He reflexively looks at his hands. Escobar understands.) The man in the garden. He was full of courage.
George: Un sapo?
Escobar: Un rata - no good. But he could have run, fled the country. Gone to the policia. But then his wife, his children, his parents, his friends, many people would die.
George: Yes.
Escobar: But, never mind. I am thinking we can do much together. This problem with Diego, the stolen car, the jail, is very silly business. To release him from the carcel, it causes me much inconvenience. The fifty kilos could have been a big problem. And I don't like problems.
George: With all respect, Padrino. Diego is my partner. I do not do business without him.
Escobar: (looks at him with a cold stare. George doesn't flinch. His face reveals nothing. Finally, a smile breaks across Pablo's lips) I like you, George. You are loyal. That is good. That is rare. Maybe crazy. Yes. I can tell already. You are like me. I look at you and I see myself. It's in the eyes, no, George?
George: Yes, it is.
Escobar: So, you are wanting to sell the cocaine for me in your country, George?
George: Yes, sir. As much as you can give me.
Escobar: As much as I can give you? Ha ha. Very good. I like that. Come, George. Let us drive. We have much to talk about. (Diego watches the two men walk outside. Escobar throws an arm around George's shoulder. Pablo hops into a Jeep and motions for George. The bodyguards come running. But Pablo waves them away)

***
The Colombian mountainside. . . Escobar pulls the Jeep off the road and parks it. Before them is a stunning panorama.
Escobar: I like to come up here. To make the decisions. To be one with nature.
George: It's beautiful.
Escobar: People tell me that I am crazy. That my business will never work in your country. What do you think, George? (Escobar looks out over the vista, allowing George the time to respond in full)
George: What do I think? I don't want my answer to be influenced by what I want, so I'm going to have to say I don't know.
Escobar: Yes. I do not know, either. What do you want, George?
George: I want money.
Escobar: Yes. Money. Which is what, George?
George: Freedom.
Escobar: Power?
George: Yeah, maybe.
Escobar: Family.
George: Sure.
Escobar: Beautiful girls?
George: Keep them coming.
Escobar: Keep them coming? Ah, yes. Ha ha. You are right. But money.
George:Money.
Escobar: And Diego?
George:Diego is my brother.
Escobar: (looks at George a long time. He's inscrutable) Good. Take care of him, George. I'm fond of him, but he is sometimes like a baby. Keep an eye on him, okay?

***
Outside the sugar factory entrance. . .Diego is a little pissed off for being left for so long. He taps his foot and picks at his fingernails. Escobar and George pull up in the Jeep. Diego leaps to his feet.
Diego: Padrino
Escobar: (wraps his arms around Diego in an embrace) Diego, mijo. I've made a decision. We are going into business and I would like to start right away.

Images of Diego and George are overlaid with snow falling and money dropping through frame. Close shots of them both on the phone, wheeling and dealing, hands counting cash, and lines being drawn off mirrors. Very dreamlike quality.

***
At the warehouse. . .A duffel bag is unzipped, revealing bricks and bricks of cocaine. Each marked with a "P." A knife punctures one of the bricks. A mound of white powder is brought up to a man's nose. It's George who samples, and then it is sampled by the man he is doing business with. The shot widens to reveal all the participants and dozens and dozens of duffel bags. A handshake seals the deal.

***
A Miami house at night. George and Diego counting cash. It's everywhere. All over the floor, in two-foot stacks. George and Diego keep counting. The stacks are now waist high and spill into other rooms. Inez is there, pacing the floor and rapid-fire talking on the phone. George and Diego, the Banditos. Cigars. Champagne. Arms around each other in camaraderie. In Diego's yellow Ferrari. With Inez, sunning on a yacht. More coke and more transactions. When the deals are with Derek, Diego is always notably absent. The money is so high, it almost reaches the ceiling. There is nowhere to put it. George and Diego sit at the coffee table, dwarfed by the stacks of bills. There is a discrepancy in the count.
George: Three million. I counted it twice.
Diego: It's two-point-five, George. I am sure.
George: (starts to pick up the money)I'm calling it three.
Diego: We're half a million off.
George: Fuck it. I'm not counting it again.
Diego: Weight it. If it's sixty pounds, it's three. If it's fifty, it's two-point five.
George: I don't give a shit. Close enough. (George moves down the hall looking for a place to stack the money, but there is no more room.) Where do I put this!?
Diego: Try the back bedroom.
George: (opens the back bedroom door to find wall-to-wall money. It's packed) There's no room.
Diego: Try the closet.
George: (No luck there, either. George drops the money on the floor and moves back into the living room.) We've got to do something about this.

***
Banco de Federale in Panama City. . .George and Diego watch as their money is hauled into a huge wall safe. Armed Panamanian soldiers stand guard. The Panamanian officials and the bank president oversee the proceedings.
George: Are you comfortable with this?
Diego: George, we've got sixty-one million dollars. It's either here or someplace else. We've got to put it somewhere. Unless you want to launder it.
George: And keep only forty-percent? No thanks.
Diego: Then relax. It's a federal bank. Guaranteed by the government. And Senor Noriega has very lenient banking principles. No questions. No problems. All the pesados keep their money here. Even El Padrino. What do you worry? Everyone knows we are with Escobar. Who is going to fuck with us?
George: (he and Diego sign papers. The bank president cngratulates them and hands them documentation) I love it.
Bank President: I'm sorry.
George: I give you thirty-million dollars and you give me this little book.
Montage of still photos ensues. . .Diego and Inez's wedding. The ceremony. The ring. The kiss. The lineup with all of the bridesmaids. George is the best man, and the only American.
Biltmore Hotel Ballroom-Reception. . .A huge reception. All the pomp and circumstance Colombian money can buy. Politicians. Policemen. And every smuggler north of Colombia. George sits with Diego and Inez at the table of honor. Inez is opening presents. Diego's tipsiness is a little out of character, but hey, it's his wedding day and a little champagne never hurt anyone. He drunkenly throws his arm around George's shoulder.
Diego: I'm married, George. Me. I can't believe it. Can you believe I'm married, George?
George: You're a lucky man, Diego.
Diego: I love you, my brother, do you know that?
George: I love you too, man (George notices Mirtha smiling from across the room) I'll be right back, Diego.
Inez: Look, honey, a power boat.
Diego: Great, baby, great! (They kiss.
George: (walks across the dance floor directly towards Mirtha) Hello.
Mirtha: Hello.
George: Do I know you?
Mirtha: I don't think so.
George: Why are you smiling?
Mirtha: Why are you smiling?
George: I don't know. My name is George.
Mirtha: I know who you are, El Americano. Mister George.
George: What is your name?
Cesar: (arrives) Mr. Jung, I see you've met my fiancee, Mirtha. (He kisses her)
George: Mirtha.
Cesar: Diego needs to see you right away, please. Excuse us, Amorcito. (They leave. George looks back, Mirtha is smiling at him. George arrives at the table. Various greetings.)
Augusto: Pleased to meet you finally, George. I am Augusto Oliveras.
George: My pleasure, Augusto. Diego has told me much about you.
Ramon Ochoa: Congratulations on your conquest of the West Coast. How much bigger can we get?
George: Sky's the limit. We're just beginning to tap the market. If it's accepted by actors and musicians, the rest will follow. (They all agree. Mirtha continues to smile at George from across the room. Diego returns to the table)
Augusto: We are talking about George's West Coast operation.
Diego: Ah, George's mystery man.
Rafael Ojeda: Yes, where is this man? When do we meet him?
Diego: You don't meet him. George keeps this a secret. He's here meeting everyone, goes to Colombia and meets Pablo, but still keeps his secrets. Even from his brother.
Juan Carlos “The Guapo”: Come on, George, we're all in this together.
Emilio Ochoa: Yes, George, there's enough for everybody.
George: I think Padroni is happy with the current situation. Will you please excuse me?
George exits after Mirtha. He steps into the empty lobby looking for her. He can't find her. She appears from the shadows and startles him. George embraces her and kisses her.
Mirtha: You better know what you're doing, George. You're playing with fire.
George: I like fire.
George and Mirtha spend an increasing amount of time together. They become very close. He buys her gifts and there is cash everywhere. An overhead shot of George and Mirtha's bedroom. It's completely covered with money. Completely covered. George and Mirtha make love on the sea of cash. As the camera pulls up we see money slowly falling from the ceiling.

***
Silver Star Wedding Chapel, Las Vegas-1978
Mirtha: I do. (They kiss. Mirtha wipes her red nose) I need a fucking drink.

***
Eastham House. . . George moves to the bedroom. Mirtha is pregnant and she's showing. She's also bent over a mirror with a straw in her hand. George opens the door and takes her by surprise.
George: Jesus Christ.
Mirtha: Oh, don't be such a fucking hypocrite. I quit smoking, didn't I?
George: Put that shit away, they're here.
Downstairs. . .Mirtha and George lead Fred and Ermine from room to room, showing off the house.
Ermine: It's all so beautiful.
Mirtha: What do you think, Dad?
Fred: Yeah. Nice.
Ermine: Look at this credenza. If you don't mind me asking, how much is something like that? It's got to cost a fortune.
George: (quickly) It's a family heirloom.
Ermine: I've seen those in magazines. They're not cheap.
George: Mirtha comes from a very wealthy family.
Ermine: Oh, I see.
Mirtha: Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house.
George: (he and his father move outside and they walk around the grounds) So, business is going good. I've got this import/export thing going on in Miami that's been very profitable. With my investments... Fred: Don't bullshit me, George. I don't see you very much, I don't want to waste the time. (They move along the rear of the house. Classic cars line the driveway) You come from my body, remember? You're my baby boy. The same kid who would jump off a mountain if someone told him he couldn't do it. You haven't changed much. I know the things you do. Not everything. But I get the picture and I don't care. I don't like it. It's not what I would have chosen for you, but it's your life. It doesn't have anything to do with me. (He turns and looks at his boy) You're like your mother. You love money.
George: Dad.
Fred: No, it's good. You have a family. It's good if it makes you happy. It's nice to have nice things. Are you happy, son?
George: Yeah, Dad. I'm happy right now.

***
Holiday Motel, Little Havana-1978
Diego puts a straw in his nose and snorts. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated, and a weapon sticks out of the back of his pants. He knocks the dust off his nose before moving outside. George is on the porch, smoking a cigarette.
Diego: Three years. How long have we been in business? Three years. Does she get to meet your connection? Was she good enough?
George: Shut up, Diego. They're going to be here any minute. I'm trying to concentrate.
Diego: I'm very angry with you, George. Very angry. You don't take me to California, but you take your bitch wife? A woman? I understand you love her, but it was you and me who started this. You and me.
George: What do you need my connection for, Diego? What are you going to do with it?
Diego: What do I do with it? Nothing. It's for peace of mind. It's for the principle.
George: (Ignoring him, he checks the cylinders on his weapon and runs over possible scenarios in his mind. But Diego won't stop) Jesus fucking Christ, Diego. I ain't telling you. It's just business. Now, shut up. You're driving me crazy.
Diego: I'm driving you crazy? No. You're driving me crazy. We had a dream. What happened to our dream?

A black sedan pulls up and five Puerto Rican men approach the room. George and Diego greet them and lead them inside. It's game time. The atmosphere is charged with danger and everyone is acutely aware of everything. The guys sit down, their guns bulging through the inside of their suits. The suitcases are opened. The rules are the same. No English. No raising voices. No sudden movements. George offers their leader, Tony, beers for his men, and is politely declined. The count starts. George and Diego riff through ten thousand dollar bundles. Diego is still acting pissy. He's mumbling to himself, making faces, slamming the money all around. The guys keep a close eye on him. Diego finishes a stack, throws one of the bags on the ground. The conversation is in Spanish unless otherwise indicated.
Tony: Algun problema?
George: No no no... no problema, amigo. El dinero esta todo aqui. Lleves las "llaves" y mas tarde lo contaremos. Okay? No problem.
Tony: Que problema? Nosotros esperamos. (The pressure is getting to one of the hoods. His name is Benny. He's got a crazy eye and he seems ready to snap. George resumes the count, but Diego won't get off it.)
Diego: (English) You embarrassed me, George. You make me look very bad.
Benny: Que esta diciendo?
George: Nothing. Todo esta bien.
Diego: (English) Everything is not alright. I bring you in, and you slap my fucking face!
George: This is not the time, Diego. (The men all reach for their pieces and all hell starts to break loose)
Tony: Hay algun problema? Hablame!
Diego: (English) You fucked me in front of my whole family!
George: Fuck you...I didn't fuck you.
Benny: Maldita sea, que diablos esta diciendo?
George: Esta todo aqui, amigo...take the keys. Take 'em and go.
Tony: Que esta pasando aqui, jefe?
Diego: Sientese ye no se meta en lo que no le importa. (The guns are out and pointed. It's out of control now.)
George: Take it easy! Everything's okay!
Diego: Que es lo que quieren de me, hijueputas campesinos?
George: (steps forward with the keys) Take the fucking keys! (Benny shoots and George is hit in the shoulder/collarbone) Estoy bien, okay? Everything is alright. There's no problem. Okay? This never happened. No one has to know anything about this. Diego, I want you to calmly tell them where the fucking coke is. Do it now.
Diego: Es un Ford blanco junto a una pick-up. (Tony very carefully takes the car keys.)
George: No problem, gentlemen. Goodbye. (The men slowly back out the door. George looks at Diego.) Derek Foreal.
Diego: What?
George: Derek Foreal! Derek Foreal! Derek fucking Foreal! Alright? The answer to all your dreams. Are you happy now?

***
Los Angeles International Airport. George and Diego exit the terminal. George's arm is in a sling. Derek waits in a Lincoln Continental. The three men come together, and Diego and Derek are introduced. The men's hands come together and the frame freezes on their handshake.

***
Eastham house-Upstairs. Fred pulls into the driveway in his new car and honks the horn. Fred and Ermine get out of the car.
Fred: Hello, hello.

Oliveros Mansion, Miami. It's a New Year's Eve party. A lavish Colombian celebration. George and a very pregnant Mirtha move through the crowd to find Augusto.
Augusto: I'm so glad you two could make it. Mirtha, look at you. So beautiful. You look like you're about to burst.
Mirtha: Thanks. I am. Where's Martha?
Augusto: I don't know. Drunk somewhere. Try the bar. And if you find her, tell her to come, it's almost midnight. (As Mirtha leaves, Augusto throws his arm around George's shoulder.) It's good you came down, George. We need to discuss a few things.
Diego: Where's Diego?
Augusto: He's not here, George.
George: Yeah, well where is he? And who is this Norman K. guy? That's all anyone is talking about. Norman K. Norman K. Do I know him?
Augusto: (lets out a big laugh) Norman Cay is not a person. He is an island, George. In the Bahamas. From what they say, it is free and it's Diego's new home.
George: What?
Augusto: (throws an arm around George's shoulder) Let us walk. From what I understand, Diego has bought a hundred and sixty acres, a marina, a hotel, and an airstrip.
George: Motherfucker works fast.
Augusto: The word is that soon he is to be king of the middle empire. He is doing multiple runs right now and using the island as a jump-off point. George: He what?
Augusto: Yes. Jack Stevens is already a very busy man. Along with many others. You shouldn't stay away so long.
George: That's impossible. We can't be up and running. Who's distributing? (Augusto says nothing. But the ball is dropping in Times Square. 10, 9, 8, 7. . . ) Oh, no. (Happy New Year. Streamers, confetti, and champagne. George marches through the kissing guests and over to a phone. He's steaming. The music is up, so he has to scream) Hello, Derek? This is George. Am I wearing lipstick? I said, am I wearing lipstick? Because when I'm getting fucked, I want to make sure my face is pretty. You're buying directly from Diego, aren't you, you son of a bitch?
Cut to Derek Foreal in full New Year's regalia, complete with party hat.
Derek: I don't want to get caught in the middle of this. That's between you and Diego. (George’s face looks pained) It's nothing personal, George. Just business.
George: Yeah. I understand. Just business. Right. Fuck you. (The song ends, and George is left standing there shouting) I bring you in, and this is how you repay me? You little homo! Hey, Derek? Derek?

***
Later. . .The family is all there. Fifteen, twenty strong. Cuban coffees all around.
Mirtha: Que va hacer?
Augusto: Que queres decir. Que es lo que el va hacer? Pues, no va hacer nada.
Maria: Alguna cosa tiene que hacer.
Family Member #2: De otra manera, es un marica.
Family Member #3: Un hijueputa
Family Member #1: Maricon.
Family Member #2: Mira, vos sos responsable por el exito de Diego.
Family Member #3: El se esta burlando de vos. Debes hacer algo, hombre.
Maria: No Puedes hacer ni un culo.
Augusto: El no va hacer nada. Hay un problema. Aqui, hubo un error y nosotros lo vamos ha arreglar.
Blanca: No le escusches a mi yerno. A el solo le importa la plata. (Blanca reaches into her purse, pulls out an ice pick folded in a piece of linen cloth, and puts it down in front of George.) Vos lo tenes que matar, ahorita mismo. De lo contrario vas a quedar como un marica sin horror.
Family Member #3: Mejor dicho vos sos un aculillado.
Family Member #1:Maricon.
Blanca: Sabes que, vos no tenes pantalones. Nadie te va a respetar. Usa esto. Deja solo un huequito tan pequeno, que ni sangre le va a salir a ese malparido del Diego.
Augusto: Blanca, por favor.
Mirtha: Mama, vos sos bien antigua. Como lo va a matar con un picahielo. Eso era en su tiempo, estamos casi ya en los ochenta. El lo va a meter un tiro, lo va a volar, le va a hechar un hijueputa carro encima.
Augusto: Dejen la maricada pues! No jodan! Nadie va a matar a nadie! George, debemos hablarle al Patron, es la unica manera, mano.
George: No, no, no, no yo puedo arregarlo solo.

***
Norman Cay, Bahamas-1979. George cruises through the turqoise water of the Caribbean in a sport fisherman. He heads for the docks where Cesar waits for him.
Cesar: Good to see you, George. It's been a long time.

At the Yacht Club. . . a tavern style bar that juts out over the water. The crimson sky streaks the windows. Diego is there. His hair is long, and a graying beard sticks through his gaunt face. The bar has been taken over by Diego's banditos. Automatic weapons and prostitutes are the décor of the place. George is escorted through the door by Cesar, and the room quiets. All eyes on Diego and George. Diego rises.
Diego: George, I am happy to see you. How are you, my brother?
George: No more brothers, Diego.
Diego: Of course we are brothers. Why do you say that? You hurt me, George.
George: You fucked me, Diego.
Diego: I did not.
George: You went behind my back and you cut me out.
Diego: No, I never. I would not do that, George. Never.
George: I talked to Foreal, Diego.
Diego: (There is a pause. Diego's goons ready their weapons as Diego scoops up a cringer with his pinky and sniffs) Maybe you are right. I did betray you a little bit. (One of the men says something in Spanish and everyone laughs. George is furious. He starts to tremble and his face turns red) Oh, boo hoo, boo hoo. So sad, George. I stole your California connection. So what? Who introduced you to Pablo Escobar? Me. Who introduced you to your fucking Colombian wife? Me. Who protected you when my friend Cesar Roza wanted to slice your fucking throat, huh? Who mad you millions and millions of dollars? Me. And what do I get in return? This? Accusations? I have always given you everything, George, but that is over now. This is my operation. My dream. So go home, George. Go back to your stupid little life. You can sell half grams to your fucking relatives for all I care. Because you are out!
George: (lunges at Diego and is immediately grabbed) You'd better kill me now, Diego, because you're a dead man.
Diego: George, don't be so emotional. This is business. Besides, I can't kill you, you are my brother. (They lead him away. George is getting the beating of his life. His teeth broken, kicked in the head, the body, the groin. His arm stomped. Blood and broken bones. It's a king size beating. The men prop him up and Cesar reaches back and hits him with a haymaker. George's nose is broken. Blood spurts everywhere. George is dropped to the ground, spit on, and left for dead)
Cesar: Say "hi" to your pretty wife for me.

***
Hacienda Los Napoles, Colombia. Poolside. A family barbecue, Colombian style, is in full swing. Kids play soccer. Zoo animals run wild together. George is led outside by two armed bodyguards. Pablo sees him and gives George a big hug.
Escobar: George, you look terrible.
George: Yeah, well...
Escobar: Diego?
George:Yeah.
Escobar: Please. Sit down. We'll drink some scotch.
George: I didn't come here to drink scotch.
Escobar: I see. I'm sorry about this, George. I'm not happy about this situation. It's bad. You now know who your Brutus is.
George: You know why I'm here. You know what I have to do. I came here for permission. Out of respect, Pablo. This is bullshit, he's making me look like a punk.
Escobar: It is very difficult. Diego makes me a lot of money. If Diego goes so does the money. You were an excellent teacher, George. When the student has learned well, the teacher is no longer necessary. We must remember we have wives, friends, familia. Even familia that has not been born. But sometimes, we must forget as well. I am like you. I must teach the lesson. We want to teach the lesson. But we cannot. We must remember that life is the teacher.
George: You're saying life will take care of Diego?
Escobar: Life will take care of everybody. Diego, me, you. It is the teacher.
George: I get it. I'm really pissed, Pablo. You know the DEA knows about Norman's Cay. For Chrissakes, Diego worships Adolf Hitler and John Lennon, that's fucked up!
Escobar: I'm sorry, George.
George: Yeah, well, what are you gonna do? You and me, Pablo? Are we good?
Escobar: Of course, George. We are beautiful. We are brothers. Real brothers. Not like Diego. We started this, George.(Escobar embraces George for a moment, and then George starts to move away) And, George? The vengance? It is best served cold.

***
Eastham House-George’s Bedroom. Mirtha is sleeping. She's due anyday. George sits on the bed and rests his hand on Mirtha's face. He’s swollen and bruised and she starts.
Mirtha: George. Oh, Jesus Christ, George. Look at you.
George: Shhh, honey, never mind. It's alright. It's over. I quit the business. I'm out.
Mirtha: Pablo said no?
George: Pablo said no. It's all over. And I'm never going back. I have you. We have the baby. And there's nothing else. It's just the family now. Shhh. Sleep now.
The next day. . . Fred, Ermine and Mirth are waiting for George in the car. Mirtha's water has broken. Ermine honks the horn from the back seat and screams out the window.
Ermine: George, it's time! George! George!
George: ( he’s high and in a panic. He races around, trying to get a suitcase packed and find his keys) Coming! (He finally gets it together, but before he runs out the door, he does one last blast.)

***
Cape Cod Hospital, Hyannis, Maternity. Mirtha is on the birthing table and screaming in pain. She's crowning. George wears hospital scrubs and a surgical mask. He and his saucer pupils hold Mirtha's hand in comfort. The baby comes, and Dr .Mick Bay slaps the baby's behind and cuts the cord. Mirtha breaks down and sobs hysterically. But something is wrong with George. The color drains from his face. He grabs his chest and falls over onto the floor. The medical staff attends to him.
George (Voice Over): Watching my baby girl born did something to me. They talk about religious experiences, I didn't believe in religion. But when Kristina Sunshine Jung came into this world, something in me changed. I looked at her and I knew right then that I could never love anything but my daughter ever again. It sounds sappy, but it was like, click, I knew what I was put on this planet for. It was the greatest feeling I ever had followed by the worst feeling I ever had.
Nurse: He fainted.
Mirtha: George!
Dr. Bay: (grabs George’s wrist) He's in tachycardia. George, your heart is racing. Have you been using drugs?
George: Coke.
Dr. Bay: Cocaine? How much?
George: I don't know. Maybe eighteen grams.
Dr. Bay: In how long? A week?
George: Today.
Dr. Bay: Oh, Jesus, Get me a 12-lead e.k.g. and start an i.v. stat! This man is having a heart attack.
Later. . . George lies in the recovery room, sedated, tubes everywhere. He's hooked up to IV's, monitors, and machines. Dr. Bay enters.
Dr. Bay: I've reviewed your toxicology report three times, George. I've never seen anything like it. Eighteen grams. The lethal dose is a gram and a half. You should be in the Guiness Book. (George cracks a faint smile) It's not funny, George. You should be dead right now. Absolutely. I cannot come up with one logical explanation for why you're still breathing. I'm not here to give you lectures, I've got no moral interest in what you do. But, take it easy, George. Stay with us a while. You've got a daughter now.

***
Eastham House. Kristina is crying. Daddy George to the rescue. He picks her up, cuddles her. Gives her a bottle and she quiets.
1980
A one-year-old Kristina is being coaxed by George to take her first steps.
George: Come on. Come on, honey. You can do it. Come to Daddy. (Kristina tries, stumbles. Gets up again. She looks like a drunk, but she's doing it) Good girl! (Mirtha enters. She's all dressed up, and wearing dark sunglasses) Look, Mirtha. She's walking.
Mirtha: She did that before.
George: No. These are her first steps. Watch her.
Mirtha: Yeah. I know. She did that before.
George:But this is...
Mirtha: I said, I've seen it before.
George: Alright.
Mirtha: Can you lift the furnace. I need money.
George: Where are you going?
Mirtha: Out.
Series of shots from-1980-85. The years go by and George is clean and sober, enjoying family life. Healthy and happy. Mr. Mom. Mirtha looks worse and worse as her habit becomes bigger and bigger. As George and Kristina grow closer and closer, Mirtha is stepping out on the town. Blowing money right and left. Shopping with Mirtha, buying clothes, furs, and diamonds. As Kristina gets older, we see her birthday parties. George and Kristina wearing paper hats and eating ice cream. She's two years old, she's three, four, five, six...
Eastam House-1985. The house is all done up for a party deluxe. Fully catered, with bartenders, waiters, music, the works. And of course the three c's, champagne, caviar and Colombians. George is laughing with Augusto and Martha Oliveros, but when Derek Foreal appears in the doorway, George excuses himself and walks over.
Derek: Happy Birthday, George. Mirtha invited me.
George: Yeah. She told me.
Derek: Look, I'm sorry about everything. I feel like an idiot. You were right. I did fuck you. And then Diego fucked me. Cut me out, too.
George: I heard.
Derek: I lost sight of everything. Forgot who my friends were.
George: It's in the past. I'm out of the business now, so forget about it. No hard feelings. We need to move on. And besides, I'm sorry, too.
Derek: You?
George: For calling you a homo.
Derek: That was out of line.
George: (throws his arm around Derek's shoulder) Good to see you, Derek.
Mirtha: (runs in with a giant crystal punch bowl filled with mother of pearl. She holds it over her head triumphantly) Now let's fucking party, motherfuckers! Let's have some fucking fun.
Derek: Jesus, is that Mirtha!? (A very underweight Mirtha nervously runs around the party, shoving coke up everyone's noses. She is gakked to the gills and out of control. Her pupils a mile wide.) Christ almighty, George. Feed her a cheeseburger or something. What does she weight, eighty pounds?
George: I know. She needs to slow down. She's going to blow an O-ring.
Mirtha: (The birthday cake is brought in, the candles are blown out and everyone cheers. Mirtha runs over to her husband, still holding the cocaine. She's sweaty, her hair matted down on one side.) Happy birthday, baby. Do a line. (She tries to push a line up his nose)
George: No, that's alright.
Mirtha: Oh fucking relax. Let your hair down for once. It's your fucking birthday, for Chrissakes. You're such a fucking pussy. I swear to God, I married this big time drug dealer and wound up with the maid.(Mirtha's loud now and making a scene. He thinks about it.)
George: No honey, I'm alright.
Augusto: A toast! To Mister George Jung. Mr. I 95, north and south. My brother-in-law. Happy birthday!
Everyone: (raise their glasses) To George!
Party guest: (comes running inside) Cops! They're all over the place. (The waiters, in their white jackets, exchange knowing looks. The bartender comes out from behind the bar)
Bartender: Freeze!
In an instant, all of the waiters' guns are out.
Waiter: Massachusetts State Police Department! Everybody on the floor!
Police cars everywhere. All the party guests are filed out the door, and are being led away. Mirtha is dragged out, spitting and screaming. George, in handcuffs, is pushed to a squad car. He looks through the window to see a female police officer escorting Kristina out of the house.

***
M.P.D. – Interrogation Room
George: (still dressed in his party clothes, sits at a desk. Two detectives set a confession in front of him) What's this?
Detective #2: It's your statement. How it was all yours, the pound of coke was for personal use and none of the guests had any idea it was there, yeah, right.
George: (looks through the papers) I want my kid out of protective custody. Now. No fucking around. My wife and my kid on a plane tonight. I sign when they call me safe and sound.
Detective #1: No fucking way.
George: Fuck you, then. I sign nothing. (the detectives debate)
Detective #2: Do it.
Detective #1: (walks to the door) George? You better get yourself a good lawyer this time. We're gonna nail your ass to the wall on this one.
George: Oh hey, one more thing?
Detective #1: What's that?
George: Get me a six pack.
Later at Eastham House, in the garage. It's the middle of the night. George walks through a dark and lonely house. He goes to the furnace, opens it up and sees that there are only five stacks left.
George: Fuck.
Scene moves to the Jung House in Weymouth the next morning. George pulls up to the front.
George: Hi.
Fred: I heard. Ermine, your son is here.
Ermine: (Off Screen) Tell him I don't want to see him. Tell him he's not welcome here.
George: Mom.
Ermine: (her back is to George. She won't look at him) Don't you dare step one foot in this house. You're not my son, you hear me? I don't have a son anymore. (She disappears into the house. The sound of a door slamming.)
Fred: She's angry. It's all over the news.
George: Yeah. Listen. I'm going to be going away for awhile.
Fred: You're not going to trial?
George: No.
Fred: Good. (They stand there and look at each other for a while. There's a lot to say but nothing's coming out. George hands Fred a gym bag)
George: Give this to Mom, will you?
Fred: Money. You and your mother. All the time chasing it. I never understood it.
George: Give it to her, Dad. It'll make her happy.
Fred: Yeah, I know. This is it, isn't it? (The two men throw their arms around each other and hold on to one another in the doorway of the old house.)
George: Tell Mom, you know...
Fred: I'll tell her. (George breaks away and moves to the T-bird) Take care of yourself.

***
Banco de Federale, Panama City-1985. George walks through the bank. He sits at a desk in front of a Panamanian bank employee. He slides his bank book across the table.
George: I'd like to make a withdrawal.
Bank Employee: (opens the book and gets a funny look on his face. Nervous.) Excuse me, please. (He gets up and moves to the bank manager. They move to another manager. And another. And then everyone disappears behind closed doors. Finally, the bank president emerges and moves over to George.
Bank President: I'm afraid there is a problem, Mr. Jung. The banks have gone through a change, a nationalization. I'm afraid your funds have been appropriated by the Panamanian Government... George starts to shake. The bank president tries to explain, but whatever he says is unimportant. George is paralyzed.

***
Apartment in Liberty City, Florida. An inexpensive one-bedroom furnished apartment. Mirtha has just received the news and is losing her mind. Clara Blanca is cooking dinner.
Mirtha: What are we going to do?! What are we going to use for money?!
George: Please, Mirtha. I'll start working for Augusto. I'll talk to him tonight. I'll do something.
Mirtha: Don't touch me. Tell me. Just answer the question. What do I spend? What? How will we live? (Kristina sits there. She hears everything, so does Clara Blanca.)
George: Not in front of the kid.
Mirtha: Don't give me that shit. You just better do something. (She storms into the bedroom and slams the door. George stands there. Awkward silence. George goes to Kristina.)
George: Everything's gonna be okay, sweetheart. Don't be upset.
Kristina: What's happening to us?
George: I don't know.
Kristina: Are we gonna split up?
George: No, never. Don't even think about that, it's impossible. I love your mother. And you are my heart. Could I live without my heart? Could I? (Kristina nods "no." They embrace.)

***
George’s Thunderbird, Miami. The car moves along I-95. George is driving while a jacked up Mirtha does a speed bump. A cop is following in the distance.
George: There's a fucking cop behind us, Mirtha. Be cool, will ya.
Mirtha: Fuck you, George, just fucking drive.
George: Hey, why don't you just put a "I'm doing cocaine" sign on the car. What is your fucking problem?
Mirtha: My problem? We're broke, that's my fucking problem. And you're a fucking spy.
George: What?
Mirtha: That's right. Always spying, always judging. Everyone's laughing at you, you fucking pussy. You let Diego fuck you in the ass. Maybe you are a fucking faggot. You must be fucking Diego because you're not fucking me. (Mirtha grabs his crotch)
George: Those are my nuts! (George tries to fend her off. The car swerves all over the road. It's turned into a full scale fist fight. The red lights of Florida's finest come up behind them and George is pulled over.)
Mirtha: (leaps out of the car, teary eyed, crazed and bloodied. The policemen step from their car.) He's a fugitive and a fucking cocaine dealer! There's a kilo in his trunk right now! Take this sorry motherfucker to jail! (George sits behind the wheel. He knows it's over.)

***
MCI Walpole, Visiting Area-1989. Inmates sit across from their families. Mirtha is sitting at the glass. George walks to his seat.
Mirtha: I'm divorcing you, George. I'm getting custody of Kristina. And when you get out next week, you're going to pay support and that's the end of it. Alright? There's someone else. I'm sorry. (George just looks at her. His face is stone. But he is moved) You should have taken better care of me, you know? You've been away a long time. Four years. Say something.
George: What do you want me to say? I'm in prison. You should know. You put me here.
Mirtha: Fuck you, George. I knew you'd say something like that. Always thinking about yourself. (She moves away and drags nine-year old Kristina into the room. Kristina yanks her arm away and they get into a heated argument. Through the glass, George can't hear the words but it's clear that Kristina doesn't want to be here.)
George: My baby. She's so big.
Kristina: (Mirtha forces her over to the glass and keeps showing her, prompting her to talk. Kristina stares at George through the glass. Cool. Defiant. Angry. She picks up the phone and speaks, every word an accusation.) I thought you couldn't live without your heart. (She drops the phone, walks away, and doesn't look back.)

***
Phone Booth, Miami. George puts in the quarters.
George: Hello, Derek? It's George. Yeah. Yeah, I am. I'm in Miami. I'm looking to do something. I want to put together a crew. Do you know anybody? Leon? I don't know him. What's his last name? Alright. Give me the number.

Elementary School, Miami. Nine-year old Kristina Jung leaves school. George, fresh out of prison, moves across the street to meet her.
Kristina: What are you doing here?
George: Nothing. I just wanted you to know I was out. I just wanted to see you.
Kristina: Well, here I am. See?
George: How are you doing?
Kristina: George, you just can't show up, tell me you love me, and have everything be okay.
George: Dad.
Kristina: What?
George: You can call me Dad if you want.
Kristina: I don't want, alright? It's not funny. I'm really pissed off, George. You blew it, now leave me alone.
George: Kristina, c'mon, I'm sorry. I'm going to make this right. I've got a few things going on.
Kristina: What do you want from me?
George: Just to walk with you. I want to be your dad again.
Kristina: Do what you want, it's a free country. (She walks away. He follows.)

*** The Palm Lounge, Miami. George sits at the bar with a man named Leon Minghella.
Leon: It's a four-man operation. Two on the ground. Two in the air.
George: Who's the co-pilot?
Leon: You're looking at him. We provide the plane, transportation cost, U.S. landing spot, and take it to wherever you want it to go. You provide the pick up point in South America, and are responsible for payment. You assume all the bust risks. We take sixty-five percent of all transportation fees, ten percent of the gross, plus our expenses. This is not a negotiation, so if this is okay with you, we can talk further. If not, we can forget we had this conversation.
George: Sounds fine. I'll need to meet everybody.
Leon: They're over at the booth. (Leon leads George over) Gentlemen, this is George. George, this is Ben, G.G. and. . .
George: (his eyes widen as he looks at the last man. It's Kevin Dulli) Holy shit, Dulli!
Kevin: Georgie, oh man, hold the mayo!
George (Voice Over): That was it. Seeing Dulli after fourteen years sealed the deal for me. The rest was just details. My end was roughly five-hundred thousand. Kristina and I could have a good life for five hundred grand. Start over somewhere. One final score. That's all I needed.

***
Oliveros Mansion, Miami
Augusto: Three-hundred kilos is a very big load, Georgie. Why don't we start small?
George: No. I have the space. I figured it out. This is what I want to do.
Augusto: Alright. I'll ask Pablo, tell him it's for you. I don't think there will be a problem.
George: Five-thousand per kilo.
Augusto: Ha ha. That's too much, Georgie. Those days are over. The rate is one-thousand dollars. Inflation, you know?
George: This is a one time thing, Gusto. One and I'm out. Give me a good price for old time's sake. What do you think?

***
Residential Street in Miami. George and Kristina walk through the neighborhood. He carries her books.
George: Let me ask you something. If you could go anywhere in the world, anywhere, where would you want to go?
Kristina: You mean, like a trip?
George: Yeah, sure, whatever.
Kristina: (thinks about it) I don't know. Maybe California.
George: (amused by her answer) California? You can go anywhere in the world. India. Tibet. Australia. Paris. And you choose California?
Kristina: Yeah.
George: What is it? A Disneyland thing?
Kristina: No. I just kind of like the sound of it.
George: California, huh?
Kristina: California. (They turn a corner and arrive at Kristina's house. Mirtha is standing in the doorway.)
George: Go on inside now. I want to talk to your mom alone. (He kisses his daughter goodbye.)
Kristina: Bye, Dad. See you in the morning, okay?
George: I'll be here. (George moves over to Mirtha)
Mirtha: What do you want?
George: You knew I was seeing Kristina, right?
Mirtha: Yeah. She told me. You walk her to school.
George: Yeah, so I've been thinking. I love her, y'know? I kind of want to have her. I've been away for so long. Make up for the missed time, you know?
Mirtha: I haven't seen one dollar from you. You haven't paid me one cent in child support, alimony.
George: Yeah, well. I'm working on that. I've got something going.
Mirtha: Yeah? I better see some money out of it.
George: Yeah, you will. Of course.
Mirtha: (looks at him for a minute) Hey, look. You start paying, who knows what will happen. You're a good father, George. I always gave you that. But you've got to talk to her.
George: Yeah.
Mirtha: She's getting big. Getting her own ideas.
George: I know. Well, that's all I really wanted to say. So, okay, then. (He moves down the steps and heads for the sidewalk.)
Mirtha: Hey, George. You okay?
George: Yeah. I'm fine. I'm good.

***
The Palm Lounge. The restaurant is filled with the team. They discuss, argue, re-examine every little detail.
Kevin: We take off from Lauderdale, Sunday, refuel, and be in Medellin by Monday.
Leon: Overnight, refuel, and back Wednesday night.
George: Where are you coming in?
Ben: Vero Beach.
G.G.: It's good. It's small.
Leon: Then we drive it to the Lauderdale house where it stays until pick up and payment the next morning. You want to go over it again?
George: No. All set. Piece of cake.

***
George’s Studio Apartment. George is cooking dinner for Kristina. He's only got a hot plate so it's slow. The table is set with plasticware. Kristina chops the salad.
George: I'm thinking about getting out of town this week. You want to come with me?
Kristina: Where are you going?
George: I don't know. Maybe California.
Kristina: You swear?
George: Yeah. Go out there, check it out, see what it's like. I've got some stuff to do this week, but I'm thinking maybe Thursday. Thursday after school.
Kristina: You know I can't. Mom will never let me go.
George: You let me take care of your mother. You just pack your bags.
Kristina: But I've got school.
George: There's schools in California.
Kristina: You swear?
George: That's right. Three o'clock. Thursday. At your mother's. You and me. It's a date.
Kristina: I don't believe you.
George: I swear. On my life.
Kristina: Swear on my life.
George: I swear on your life.

***
Vero Beach Airfield. George, Ben and G.G. wait on the tarmac. George is pacing. The sound of a Cessna is heard and soon it is dropping out of the sky. The plane lands and taxis over. Kevin and Leon stick their fists out of the airplane in triumph. The men quickly unload the plane into the trunks of two Broncos and the back of a truck.

Ft. Lauderdale house. The duffel bags are taken out of the Bronco and into the house. The boys sit around as George samples the product.
Kevin: Are we good?
George: Are we good? Yeah, we're good. We're beautiful. We're perfect. This is A grade, one-hundred percent pure Colombian cocaine, Ladies and Gentlemen. Disco shit. Pure as the driven snow. Good riddance.(He looks the boys over.) You saved my life, Dulli. You'll never fucking know. All you guys. Everyone just got a raise. Instead of ten percent, you get fifteen.
Leon: Jesus, George, fifteen percent. That's an extra two-hundred large.
George: I don't give a shit. Split it up. Have a great life. I'm done. I'm out. Starting over. Cheers. (They clank. George gets up and does the Snoopy Dance to the bathroom.) Yeah! Unbelievable. Dulli, pour us another round. I gotta hit the head.

George leaves the room. The camera slowly pans back to the guys. Something doesn't look right. They have not moved. They look bummed. Leon looks at G.G.
Leon: What?
G.G.: I feel bad.
Ben: Me too. He's not such a bad guy.
Kevin: Fuck you guys. All of you. I've known him for thirty fucking years. Fucking George.
Leon: Yeah, I like him, too. But what's done is done. So let's not get all sentimental about it, okay?
The camera pans back to the bathroom door, George comes back into the room, dancing. He goes and sits down with the guys.
George: (laughing) Dulli, I was just thinking about that time we landed in Mexico. You've gotten a lot better since then, huh pal? Remember that fucking landing strip? Huh? (George is the only one smiling. No one is looking at him.) Hey, what's wrong fellas? Why the long faces? ( He looks at each one. He slowly realizes something's up. He looks to Dulli finally. Defeated) No. C'mon, Dulli.
The front door busts down, agents pour in. The camera pans to George. Fades.

***
Otisville, CFI. New York-1999
George has tears in his eyes. He is frozen. Paralyzed by the memories.

***
Mirtha’s house,Miami-1989
Nine-year old Kristina Sunshine Jung sits on the front porch as the sun goes down. Her bags are packed and ready to go.

George (Voice Over): I had broken a promise. Everything I loved in my life goes away.

***
Otisville, FCI-1989. George is led into a small room and greeted by his lawyer, Archie Zigmond.
Zigmond: Here's the deal, George. You're not getting out. I tried to get you furloughed, but your mother squashed it. Said it would only upset him. I'm sorry.
George: (Takes it in. Blinks) How's he doing?
Zigmon: Well, he's out of the hospital, but there's not much anyone can do for him. It's just a matter of time. Listen, I brought a tape recorder in case you wanted to say something to him. That way he could hear your voice.
George: Right. (Zigmond sets the tape recorder down and leaves the room. George stares long at the machine. He pushes the record button and looks at the red light.) Hello, Dad. . .

***
Jung House. A sixty-nine year old Fred shuffles from his house to the blue LTD. He gets in, turns the key, and puts his son's tape into the deck.
George (Voice Over): You know, I remember a lifetime ago, I was about three-and-a-half feet tall, weighing all of sixty-pounds, every inch your son...
Flash back to 1953...Six-year old George runs through the leaves to the truck and rides to work with his father.
George (Voice Over)... those Saturday mornings going to work with my Dad. We'd climb into that big yellow truck. I used to think it was the biggest truck in the world. I remember how important the job we did was. How if it weren't for us, people would freeze to death. I thought you were the strongest man in the world. Remember those home movies when Mom would dress up like Loretta Young? And the ice creams and the football games? Waino, the Tuna, and the day I left for California only to come home with the FBI chasing me? And that FBI agent, Trout? When he had to get on his knees to put my boots on? You said...
Fred: That's where you belong. . . (A choked up Fred repeats the words) . . . you sonofabitch. Putting on George's boots.
George (Voice Over): That was a good one, Dad. That was really something. Remember that?

***
Back to Otisville . . . George's eyes well up and he sparks a cigarette, as he keeps trying to tell his father goodbye.
George (Voice Over): And that time you told me that money wasn't real? Well, old man, I'm forty two years old. I finally learned what you tried to tell me so many years ago. I finally understand. You're the best, Dad. I just wish I could have done more for you. I wish we had more time.

***
Otisville, 1999. A vision of Fred Jung sits on the ground before his fifty-two year old son.
George: I guess I kind of lost sight of things. "May the wind always be at your back and the sun always upon your face, and the winds of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars." Love, George.
Fred: That was a beautiful message.
George: I meant every word of it.
Fred: Did you know I died two weeks after you sent me that tape? (The apparition of Fred disappears and George is left alone once again.)
George: Yeah, Dad. I knew that.

***
Otisville, 1990. George is led into the room where 3 FBI men await him. One of them is named Fred Garcia.
Garcia: How are you doing, George?
George: What do you guys want?
Garcia: You hear about your old friend, Diego?
George: What about him? (Garcia tosses a newspaper onto the table. The Miami Herald. Inside is a full page letter addressed from Diego Delgado to Vice President George Bush. In the letter, Diego offers to make a deal. In exchange for immunity, Diego will rat out the entire cocaine business. Americans, Colombians, Noriega, Escobar, everybody. Just let him free.) What the fuck? Is he going to walk?
Garcia: He's going down, George. It's election year. We're not making any deals.
FBI Guy #1: He's never getting out. Orders from the top.
Garcia: So, how would you like to help us put him away?
FBI Guy #2: We've done our homework. We know you hate this motherfucker.
George: I don't think so.
Garcia: Don't be stupid, George. We've got him. We've got him dead to rights. But like I said, this is top priority so we're handing out free passes on this one. And the first one's got your name on it. Cut your sentence in half, maybe more.
George: No thanks, fellas. You've got the wrong fucking guy. I'm not a rat.

***
Visitor’s Room. George sits in the chair behind the plexiglass. Mirtha enters and takes a seat on the other side.
George: Mirtha, what's going on? Everything okay with Kristina?
Mirtha: Kristina's fine.
George: Is she here? Is she coming?
Mirtha: Is she here? George, Kristina hates you. You fucked her over one too many times. And I'm not here to socialize. Did you hear about Diego?
George: Yeah.
Mirtha: Well, I got a call from Pablo. He said this thing with Diego is a disaster. He's giving up lab locations, names, bank accounts, he was very pissed off. Pablo said to take him down. His exact words were "Fuck Diego."
George: He wants me to testify? Is that what he's asking me to do?
Mirtha: George, he wasn't asking. (Mirtha gets up and starts to move away)
George: Mirtha, how are you doing?
Mirtha: Better than you.

***
Courthouse Hallway, Jacksonville-1990. George, Archie Zigmond and two armed guards walk down the corridor.
George: Hey, Arch, you think the judge will let us get a cocktail after this is all over?
Zigmond: I'll see what I can do, George.
George: Thanks, Arch. (They walk into the crowded courtroom. The courtroom buzzes as George is led down the center aisle and is handed off to the bailiff. Over this we hear. . . )
Clerk: Sir, please state your name.
George: I'm George Jung. Spelled J-U-N-G.
Clerk: Thank you.
Prosecutor: Mr. Jung, do you know Diego Delgado?
George: Yes, I do.
Prosecutor: Do you see him here in the courtroom?
George: Yes, he's sitting right there at the end of the table.
Prosecutor: Let the record state the witness has identified, Diego Delgado.
The following sound bytes are dissolved together in montage style...
Prosecutor: Mr. Jung, can you describe the circumstances of how you began talking about cocaine with Mr. Delgado?
George: Shortly after I arrived at Danbury Federal Correctional Institute I related to Diego that the crime I was in for was smuggling marijuana. Diego told me he had high level connections in Colombia and they needed to find someone to help them transport cocaine into America. . . The first run was fifteen kilos, which we smuggled into Logan Airport in hard shelled suitcases. . .We wrapped the cocaine in kitchen cabinet paper, and duct tape, that way if there were any dogs in customs. . . I introduced Diego to a pilot named Jack Stevens, who helped us fly 300 kilos of cocaine per week into the United States via twin-engine Cessnas. Jack would fly into North Carolina, we'd meet him there and drive it down to different distribution points. . . I never met Pablo Escobar. Diego Delgado was my only connection to cocaine from Colombia. . . Diego convinced me to keep most of my money in a Panamanian bank. Diego had a close relationship with Manuel Noriega. In exchange for allowing us to keep our money there, we paid him a percentage. . . There was an 85% chance that if you snorted cocaine between 1977-1984, it was ours. Initially with my LA connections, we invented the marketplace. In 1977, there was no other real competition. . .The first year we made about 100 million dollars between us. It was an expensive operation. Eventually we built up to three different pilots doing multiple runs per week, connections on both coasts, everything was running smooth. We were like a corporation. . . he was very anti-government. He talked about revolution, forming his own country or island, he was looking for power as well as money. I was just looking for money. . .He disliked the United States, thought it was a police state. He hoped that by flooding the country with cocaine, it would disrupt the political system and tear down the morality of the country. . . Well, yes, Derek Foreal was my connection, I met him back in 1968 when I first moved to Manhattan Beach. It was Foreal's marijuana connections that kicked off our cocaine market. . .Yes, it was my idea to bring the kilos to Los Angeles. When Diego finally got Derek Foreal's name from me, it was only a matter of months before he'd cut me out. . .I'm not sure how my relationship with my daughter and ex-wife have anything to do with this trial. I mean we're here to talk about Diego Delgado, aren't we?

Calibanos: Yes, we are Mr. Jung. (We come out of the montage, the defense attorney Diego Delgado, Joe Calibanos, is now doing the questioning.) Mr. Jung, you're a convicted felon, correct?
George: Yes, I am.
Calibanos: Do you have any agreement or understanding whatsoever with the United States government in regards to your testimony?
George: No, I cam here out of my own volition.
Calibanos: Excuse me?
George: Something about vengance being best served cold.
Calibanos: Really. Are you getting paid, Mr. Jung?
George:Excuse me?
Calibanos: Mr. Jung, don't you have an agreement or understanding with the United States Government in connection with your testimony in this case?
George: I'm doing sixty years at Otisville, no chance of parole. Even if they cut my sentence in half I'll be seventy-three years old. That's some fucking deal. I don't know if the parole board, the judge, the pope or Jesus Christ himself can get me out of here. I have a really bad record, I'm not sure what's going to happen.
Calibanos: So you do have an agreement with the United States Government, Mr. Jung, correct? (George can't respond. Looks to Diego. Looks from the jury, the judge, George is on the spotlight and it's uncomfortable. He feels suddenly sleazy.) I thought so. No more questions.

Silence. The judge tells George he can step down. Calibanos laughs quietly with associates. George is bummed. He walks by Diego. They look at each other.
George: You shouldn't have taken the 30 million, Diego, I was out. (George is lead away)
Clerk: The court calls Mr. Jack Stevens.
Jack Stevens is lead to the stand. We slowly dissolve to. . .

***
Car-1999. A brown Mazda moves along Highway 19. Behind the wheel is a beautiful 20 year old woman wearing dark sunglasses. She drives absently, her mind somewhere else.
Otisville, Visitors Entrance. The woman is buzzed through the double doors. She moves to the man behind the desk and takes off her sunglasses.
Kristina: I'm here to see my father.
Admissions Officer: Name?
Kristina: Kristina Sunshine Jung.

The guards are rounding up the other prisoners and escorting them inside, but George is still planting sunflowers.
Guard: Hey, George, five more minutes, buddy.

Back to admissions. . .
Admissions Officer: Jung. (Kristina grabs her papers and moves to the counter.) Belongings in here. (Kristina empties her pockets and deposits her possessions into a locker box. She is handed a key.) Feet on the blue line. (Kristina stands on a blue piece of tape and the admissions officer buzzes open the giant metal door. But Kristina doesn't move.) Miss? ( He presses the buzzer again, but she just stands there.) Miss? Something wrong?

Back to George. . . he turns around as a GUARD taps him on the shoulder.
Guard: George? George, come on. You've got a visitor. (George looks up to find Kristina being buzzed through the gate. She moves through the open area and onto the grass quickly. Slow motion: Father and daughter come together at last in a long embrace.)
George: I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry.
Kristina: It's alright, Dad.
George: I didn't mean to...
Kristina: I know, Dad. I know.
George: (he hugs her hard) I fucked up.
Kristina: Shhhh.
George: I love you. I love you so much. You've got to know that. You've got to know.
Kristina: I know, Dad. I love you too.
George: After everything. After everything, the only thing left out of my whole life is you.

Kristina looks at her father, smiles, and disappears. There was no Kristina. The guard continues to tap.
Guard: George? George, come on. It's getting dark.
George: (looks up to find a prison guard. His name is Gus, and he helps George to his feet) But I have a visitor.
Gus: Not today, George. Time to go back.
George: But I want to put her name on the list for tomorrow. My daughter.
Gus: Okay, George.
George: Because she's visiting me.
Gus: We'll do that tomorrow, okay? It's lockdown time.

The shadows grow long, and Gus leads George down a cement path that cuts through the grass. The huge structure of Otisville looms dark against the sky, and Gus and George take the long walk back.

***
Oustide Otisville prison. Standing outside the fences, Kristina smokes a cigarette as she watches her father being led away. After a few moments, she turns around, walks to her car and gets in. Time to go home. And as the brown Mazda pulls out of the driveway, the taillights turn red, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally disappear.