WILD BILL

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO - FINANCIAL DISTRICT - NIGHT - 1969

An empty intersection. A dimming street lamp.

A RED Mustang, parked on a side street.

BILL (30’s) sits in the drivers seat. A man born of thunder and will live and die like thunder. Talks less, listens more.

GENO (30’s), passenger seat. Talks more, and more after that. A Jewish Brooklynite as wild as Neal Cassidy. Grungy and brassy, he attempts lavish taste with little money. Before them sits the WELLS FARGO HEADQUARTERS. Colossal, affluent, demeaning.

Geno exits the car, approaching the bank doors. He VIOLENTLY shakes them. The alarm is EAR-SPLITTING.

He runs back, climbing inside.

MINUTES LATER

Three cop cars come BLARING down the street.

Cops LEAP from their vehicles, guns drawn at the doors.

A YUPPIE MANAGER (60’s), bathrobe and all, pulls into the middle of the chaos, keys jangling. An investigation finds nothing. The Manager locks up, shrugs his shoulders at police before all pull away.

Once again: the street is quiet, dark, empty

It's Bill's turn.

I/E. SERIES OF SHOTS

A) Bill SHAKES the doors, BOOKING IT. Alarm BLARES.

B) Inside a COP car, the CB Radio blares. . . DISPATCH WE GOT A 10-90 AT WELLS FARGO IN DOWNTOWN. OFFICER Again? They got a faulty alarm system or somethin’.

C) Bill and Geno chuckle as cops swarm the bank again.

D) The Manager drives back, noticeably embarrassed.

E) The Manager shuts off the alarm again. All disperse.

D) Geno approaches the doors, gives a dramatic SHAKE. Alarm BLARES.

E) Cops and Manager arrive again. The cops are irritated.

F) More door SHAKING. Alarm BLARES.

G) Less cops arrive.

H) More door shaking. More ALARMS.

I) One ROOKIE COP (20’s) arrives, doesn’t even draw his gun. ROOKIE (to Manager) Yeah, you got rats or something, I don’t know.

J) Manager and Rookie leave.

K) More door shaking. More alarms.

END SERIES OF SHOTS

Routinely, the shrill alarm revives a pissed off, red-faced Manager as he exits his car toward the bank doors. NO COPS THIS TIME. He puts his keys in the lock when: a forty four NUDGES his arm.

MANAGER’S POV - A Hobo, Casper the Friendly Ghost, and two magnums.

INT. WELLS FARGO

A flawless execution to a JIMI HENDRIX-LIKE VIBE .

They PUSH the Manager inside, drawing the blinds. Geno FIRMLY holds the yuppie with an arm around the neck and a gun to his head (cocked).

Bill runs to the back, mentally evaluating. He STUMBLES upon a vault: giant dials, stainless steel bars and a towering coldness. Bill removes a little black book from his back pocket, reading the numbers and relaying to the dial. Bill PUSHES the vault open: an empty room, save for stacks and stacks of GOLD BARS. Bill SHOVES bar after bar into an Army sack, including the only few stacks of cash.

He exits the vault, heading back to Geno, where the Manager is GASPING for air.

BILL

Quit chokin’ him!

Geno speaks from behind his cheap mask...

GENO

I’m not!

MANAGER

I. . . have asthma. . .

Geno lets him fall to the ground. All a ploy, the Manager stops the labored breathing, leaps from the ground to attack Bill-

Geno SHOOTS HIM IN THE BACK, blood SPRAYS Bill in the face. He’s dead.

GENO

Oh, shit.

EXT. EMPTY FIELD - DAWN

Stacks of humming bee boxes, dripping with a red honey (blood?).

A GNARLED, OLD TREE marks their location.

Several feet away, Bill and Geno dig a deep hole. The Army sack of gold bars sits nearby. The duo can't wipe the shit-eating grins off their faces.

GENO

“Oh Lord! Won’t you buy me, a Mercedes Benz! My friends all drive Porsches! I must make amends! Worked hard all my lifetime! WITH HELP FROM MY FRIENDS. Oh, Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz!”

BOTH MEN

“Oh, Lord! Won’t you buy me, a colored TV! Dialing for dollars is trying to find me! I wait for delivery each day until three! But Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a color TV!”

Bill tosses the sack inside the hole.

EXT. SAME EMPTY FIELD - DUSK (MONTHS LATER)

Bill and Geno exit a wrecked Mustang, it's body barely hanging on. They're both bloodied, beaten and bruised. Something bad happened.

They frantically run around the field, searching for any signs of the gnarled tree as their place-holder.

GENO

This ain’t it.

Bill starts PROWLING down the road on foot, his partner in tow.

GENO

You remember the tree? Or some fuckin’ honeybee boxes or somethin’, I remember that.

Ahead, a large white sign introduces the duo, peppered with cartoons of happy families with barbecues: FUTURE SITE OF YOUR NEW HOME! COMING THIS FALL!

Bill falls on his knees. It can't be.

GENO

There’s the tree!

Just ahead sits ten large skeletons of homes. An OLD, GNARLED TREE lays, chopped down, among a pile of construction trash.

Bill cases the first house’s foundation.

Geno waits for an outburst.

GENO

The bricks GOTTA be under one of these houses-

They observe the scope and strength of the home’s foundations. They're build to last, that's for damn sure.

BILL

FUCK!

Bill grabs a LARGE ROCK, the only available tool. He stands above the foundation, SLAMMING the rock into the structure. He SLAMS, OVER and OVER and OVER.

GENO

What’re we doin’, man?

BILL

We’re getting these bricks, we’re melting them down and leaving the country.

Geno anxiously rolls this over in his head.

BILL

GRAB SOMETHING!

HOURS LATER (NIGHT)

Their shirts removed, dripping in sweat, they stand among an entirely torn up flooring. No gold found.

BILL

Let’s go to the next one.

He exits outside, met with THREE LARGE FLASHLIGHTS in his face. Cops.

OFFICER

Sir, have you had anything to drink tonight?

Upon hearing this, Geno audibly FLEES through the back.

OFFICER (to other officer)

Go get him!

He shines a light on the thoroughly vandalized property.

OFFICER

What the fuck are doing, boy?! Get on the ground!

BILL

Don’t you fuckin’ touch me! Something here belongs to me-

An OFFICER goes to grab him, Bill SWINGS at him! Another OFFICER attempts an unsuccessful “take-down”. A cluster fuck of fists, swings between Bill and the two cops.

OFFICER

GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DO NOT RESIST! GET ON THE GROUND!

Bill ESCAPES, SPRINTING!

He gets caught, trampled by the officers.

OFFICER

The other one got away!

After an endless fight, Bill is cuffed, defeated. The back of a cop car is a hopeless place.

SAN QUENTIN STATE PRISON - DAY - 2004

Bill exits the prison doors into a burning sun. Under his arm he carries a small plastic bag of belongings he admitted in '69.

Geno, an old man now, pulls up in a beat up truck.

The two embrace, but it's a cold embrace.

MINUTES LATER

Geno pulls up to Washington St, a crowded hub-bub of business men and tourists. He parks. The two men sit for a long time in silence.

Bill finds the strength to exit the truck for a good look.

He stands before a bank. A new one. A big one. A look of acceptance spreads across Bill's face.

BILL

This was the field, huh?

Geno sadly nods.

Somewhere under this marbled structure of a bank, sits half a million in gold bricks.

And still does to this day.

This script is based on the true story of my grandfather, Wild Bill Binderup, bank robber, and King of San Francisco.