More Than One Idiot Brother - Act 1 / Part 2

Exterior Police station twelve day sell footage taken by JP
and Conrad Felix twenty five. Conrad sporting a ginger jowlbeard
and camo dungarees. They're recording the scene outside the police
station on their cell phones as they prepare to enter
the building, JP wearing an assistant manager's Taco bell uniform.
Behind them a police vehicle marked Canine Unit. As they converse,
a dog intermittently winds from inside the van.
JP and ibrug here in Chief Orden the Michigan Chapter,
the Fourth Amendment, Citizen's Audit Action Committee.
Hello, brothers, am beaches A. Conrad is white but talks
like a Latino gangbanger.
Hey, respect, I don't make me call your mama. Tail
tales and shit, that's it.
She never even like answers her cell phone and she's nappy.
Can we just fucking do this?
Okay, Doc Hill?
Now we know our channel events soft. We haven't even
been posting regular and that's all us. While we're up
in this beats now Fourth Amendment America.
Whoo.
JP and Conrad make their way inside the police station.
JP is a neighborhood activist with a heart on for
the Fourth Amendment, the part of the constitution that demands
probable cause for a police stop and search. Only that's
hard to test when you're on your lunch break. So
JP zeros in on the right implied by the fourth
that can be tested on your lunch break. For the
edification of your thirty nine YouTube subscribers.
Every other Friday, JP and Conrad no at reception. JP
rings the desk bell.
Excuse me, I'm an independent journalist. I'm here today to
make an anonymous record request.
Sitting at a desk at the back of the office.
Sheriff Taylor fifty, an old school seen it all county veteran.
Good afternoon, JP, Conrad.
My Fourth Amendment violation right there. Anonymous records requit the night,
but it just stop.
Oh five, Oh, your names won't be on the paperwork, boys,
that's what makes it anonymous. Now, if y'all want to
make an anonymous request where you, gentlemen are also unknown
to the Sheriff's department, you need to find one that
don't have a sheriff up there whose daughter went to
middle school with y'all.
No need to get antsy officer day comes. You're on
the wrong side of the law. You'll be thanking us
for this work. I guarantee you.
What do you want this time?
General orders for the station and the vehicle numbers to
which all all deputies are assigned in the current shift cycle.
Sheriff Taylor shouts out to a back.
Office Carol, what carre you today?
Deputy Carol Wegel twenty five pops her head through the door.
The four by four general orders are on the bulletin
board by the front door. You can read them on
your way out.
I also need copies all body cam footage from the
past forty eight hours, it being my human right to request.
Conrad, your mama doing okay, and she's sleeping a lot.
But wait now, now, let's say we're journalists here. Do
many be dealt with as anonymous motherless citizens?
Can you tell her anonymously?
I was asking after.
Her, Hey, you want to suck one hundred million dollar
lawsuit for denial of our civil liberties?
Go ahead.
We are failing freedom. The civil rights of every US
citizen are now and are attacked from the same.
That smashed black motherfucker.
What goddamn battery?
Dat comea man?
This sit.
Exterior Nyberg family home night the freeze frame of JP
with the hockey stick over his head.
Daddy didn't leave a will. JP was stuck on assistant
manager at the drive through taco bell on I seventy
five going on seven years. Daddy's truck was JP's ticket
out of that bullshit. So hockey sticks at sundown.
Resume real time. JP beats on Dutch hard with his
hockey still. Dutch rolls to the side, grabs her stick,
gets back to her feet. JP immediately knocks Dutch back
on her as crunch. Dutch spits blood onto the ground.
Out of the corner of her eye, she clocks the
bottom step off the porch.
Stew say mercy sister.
Dutch crawls towards the porch. JP kicks Dutch in the ribs.
She rolls over onto her back's gasping for air, say
twisting her body through the pain. Dutch gets back to
her knees, crawls again for the porch step. Clearly exhausted
and beaten, Dutch collapses next to the edge of the
Stupe looks up at her brother with contempt. JP points
his hockey stick at Dutch's head.
Don't make me do what I don't want to do,
but I swear to God I will fuck you dumbas motherfucker.
JP raises his hockey stick like a battle axe, charges Dutch.
Dutch surreptitiously jams the blade of her stick against the
porch step. Just as JP is about to smash her
skull open, she suddenly raises the shaft of the stick
right up, too late to alter course. JP runs right
into the rigid stick, crouch deep deep in his crotch.
JP's face creases. He collapses to his knees, balls and hands.
Dutch stats grabs JP's hair so lifting his chin higher.
Dutch takes careful aim, then smack. Dutch punches JP right
on the edge of his chin. JP falls unconscious. Mort
Niberg twenty eight giggles inanely from the house stoop sitting
next to Mort, a beautiful black labrador.
Grascal broke Mort's heart twice, once for his passing, second
for how he blamed himself for it. My brother hadn't smiled,
not once in nineteen years. But then he found Chancer,
the black lab astray, just like Mort. By giving Chancer
a home, Mort found his way back to happiness, maybe
even peace.
Rafe Nyberg thirty five, impossibly handsome even in a grubby
muscle shirt, tosses the keys of the truck to Dutch.
She catches them first time, despite her hands being wet
with blood.
Rafe a boy too pretty to be smart. There is
such a thing even out here. No need to work
hard at all if you be rife, just turn.
A prelap thrash metal live cover of Ring of Fire
Interior Rusties Lounge, Rural, Michigan night. The room is heaving,
all eyes fixed on stage. The crowd is disproportionately made
up of red faced young women who've been washing their
very sweaty backs all night. Hard Rafe at the mic
in front of his band, The Ungrateful Dead, who are
smashing a shred metal cover of Ring of Fire. That
the band stop abruptly. The crowd go berserk.
Let me remind you why we're here tonight.
Listen now, constant rue and yeah, hollers from the crowd.
Why.
Rafe sees Deirdre Caine twenty one in the audience. He's
in full respute mode and knows it. Deirdre stares at Raefe.
He feels the power of looking right into her soul.
The show is the animal.
Why and the animal?
No one is the animal.
You can never be the animal.
You can only.
Ever be the animal. So you see it now?
How could you see?
How could you not see?
How could you ever know?
It's the only thing you ever know?
The animal can.
Only be the fucking animal.
Raith drops his arm. The band immediately hit.
The chorus Smash.
Cut Rusty's Lounge restroom. Minutes later, Deirdre straddled around Rafe
as he fucks her against the wall of a doorless stall.
Customers come and go like this is the thousandth time
they've seen this bullshit and Rusties.
Fuck me, fuck me, Raith, come inside.
Me behind him, Connor Kane twenty five comes into the restroom.
Jesus right, that's my wife.
Raife carries on fucking beardro glances around.
I know, man, just need another nut.
A customer bumps Connor's shoulder as he walks out of
the restroom. Connor just stands there, numb and confused.
Oh fuck me, right, daddy, come on.
Connor steals himself heads back into the bar.
Some people don't know. They gotta glow about them like
God be shining a golden spotlight right down on them.
Only Raife weren't one of those. He knew all about
the glow.
Hits, slow mo close on Rafe's translucent blue eyes.
When a girl got with Raith. Crazy as this sounds,
he knew he made her feel like she was famous.
Resume real time.
Coming, Daddy, I'm going.
Oh fuck, you got me. Connor bursts back into the restrooms,
smashes a barstool over Rafe's head. Raith falls, cracks his
head off the bowl. Raife is out, cold, blood dripping
from his ear.
Motherfucker.
Deirdre jumps to her feet, kicks and punches Connor. You
can make me come. Shit like this wouldn't happen. Deirdre
pulls down her mini skirt, storms out. Connor on zips
takes a piss on Rafe's chest.
Raif is deaf in his left ear, not from ten
years of playing his got awful music and shit hold bars,
but for raw fucking chicken heads in Rusty's bathroom, in
plain sight of their meth head men folk first Thursday
of every.
Month, exterior Nyberg Family Home night, RAF's smiling at dutching
his head with a mixture of shock and admiration.
Raife could have been somebody he had that on all
of us, no doubt. God, damn girl, you something else?
You really are of force.
Dutch looks from Raife to the front stoop, sees Mama
and Iberg sixty. Mama and Iberg looks at Dutch with
cool contempt.
Mama and Iberg dog slayer, snipe killer, burner of little dolls.
It was she, if you're asking, who come up with
the idea of how the issue of Daddy's truck was
to be settled. What she wanted really was to watch
me catch a bird tooosy beaten from the comfort of
her front stoop. Here, welcome Mama.
Dutch removes from her pocket a raggedy ass charred doll
and two cable ties. She looks right at her mother,
then attaches the doll to the front grill of the truck.
Mama and Iberg tosses her cigarette into the road, turns
and goes back into the house. Approaches Dutch, followed devotedly
by the black lab.
I need to go into town tonight. Can I boil
your truck?
Dutch looks from mort to the black lab. The lab
whines interior Dutch's truck, rural road day moving Dutch driving,
Amy and Agnes sharing the passenger seat. Did he live?
What JP?
Did he live?
Amy? Butterworth? You asking me if I killed my own brother.
I ain't seen him round You live out by the woods,
could bury whoever you lack whenever never be found, not ever?
And there's Edison Lake. If you didn't have time to
dig a hole, I mean you got it all up
your way. Exterior rural shack day moving. Dutch's tow truck
pulls up outside Agnes and Amy's ramshackle cabin. Half a
dozen cats wandering about the property.
How much we owe you? You didn't call me out?
No charge.
Agnes opens a small cloth purse, takes out what paper
money she has, hands it to Dutch.
Eight dollars. Guess my magnus, I ain't taking You can
take the money or take a lady's pride. What's it
to be?
Dutch hesitates, takes the eight dollars. Dutch pulls a two
thousand earra no kio thirty three ten from her pocket,
starts a text message.
Just seeing if jedn come out, take a look at
your chevy.
Just an estimate I think for now.
Nothing to think on man owes me a favor. I'm
calling it in end of bliss you Dutch.
Your mama must be right proud of you. Dutch clearly
doesn't have an answer to that remark, so she just
nods at Amy as she makes to get out of
the truck. You'll be going again soon, Hm, back into
the army.
No oh, I'm done with that.
You come back to look after your daddy.
At the end, I.
Heard Adi Interior Nyberg family home bedroom night flashback. Dick
Nyberg sixty five in his dying bed, drip in his arm,
Dutch sitting next to her father, reading from a dog
eared copy of Charles Portis's True Grit. Dick's eyes brighten
as he listens. He smiles and shakes his head. Dutch
smiles back at him, continues reading.
He's gone, must be six months.
Why are you still abide?
Child?
Back in the truck, Dutch flips down the sun Viser
hanns Agnes a postcard for Chesterman Beach on Vancouver Island,
showing a sunset trail ride of around ten horses and riders.
Fridday, Come bath me trail riding vacation, taking a stake
in a branch and saving up a long time.
Dutch smiles as she fingers the edges of the postcard. Well,
there's something I ain't seen in a long while. A
smile on your face, Good.
Luck, Dutch.
As Agnes gets out of the truck, Dutch reaches back
to the control panel over her shoulder. She pulls a
red lever, releasing the fifteen pound hook on the toe arm,
thus gently lowering the station wagon. Dutch watches Agnes and
Amy as they approach their cabin. The cat's running out
to greet them.
America has a promise, no doubt, only a promise less
often cat who is in the market for a savior,
Poor old white women, you're goddamn right.
Exterior trailer park evening. Dutch parks up next to her trailer,
takes a large bag of groceries from the passenger seat,
steps out. The Dutch puts the grocery bag on a
camping table next to a large bowl, awaghing scales and
a stack of tupperware. She makes to open the door
when she sees a peculiar sight, doctor Kurt Thor cycling
a white bicycle through the trailer park with a second
bicycle controlled by his left hand one man, two snow
white bicycles. A very neat trick, Doctor Thor stops outside
a distant trailer, knocks on the door. Dutch walks into
her trailer, comes back out with a beer from the
grocery bag. Dutch removes a seven pound sack of peanuts,
five boxes of honey smacks, and eight cans of hog fat.
From her vantage point, she can now see a boy
eleven taking the second bicycle from doctor Thor. Dutch can't
hear what Mom thought says, but there's no need.
Thank you.
The boy jumps on the bike and cycles past Dutch.
Dutch puts on a pair of disposable gloves, starts mixing
the peanuts, honey smacks, and hog fat in the large bowl.
Dutch observes as Mom shakes doctor Thor's hand. Doctor Thor
gets on his bike and cycles off. When he sees Dutch,
he pulls up, Hello, there, Amon. The boy cycles past,
makes to high five doctor Thor. Doctor Thor high fives
the boy as he cycles away. Oo, mister Thor, all right.
As the boy cycles off, doctor Thor looks.
At Dutch outreach. His father's a security guard up at
the old AMC plant uh huh, mind if I join you?
Call one inside.
Doctor Thor leans his bike against Dutch's truck, goes into
inside Dutch's trailer. Doctor Thor absorbs Dutch's spartan existence. Laundry
folded in small neat piles her three O eight Winchester
on a wall rack, cans of tannerite targets, a framed
picture of Dutch in uniform riding a horse from her
days in the Army's caisson platoon, a beautifully maintained saddle
on a custom wallstand. Two dog eared books behind the photo,
Charles Portis's True Grit and a translation of Demopoisson's Boule
de Suif. Thor picks up Boule de Suif, looks back
to the trailer door, clearly unsure how Dutch and Demopossans
go together. Outside the trailer. Doctor Thor comes down the steps, beer.
In hand, open there twist.
Tom Kurt opens the bottle with his hand, sits opposite Dutch,
who continues to mix the bowl in silence.
Miss win Star Cuisine, no.
Doubt, Michigan farm Beera pay four dollars pound badger cake coss.
You good return, Not exactly scalable.
A Badgers for TV year round, humane traps. Scale don't
come into it, guaranteed is what matters around here.
You're in the service. Didn't have to come back here
after you got out? No why then?
Same reason as you. It ain't Sacramento.
Doctor Thor and Dutch look fearlessly at one another.
You left the town hall early the other night without
saying a word. First went out.
I know a song half sung.
Dutch places the badger cake in the tupperware, weighs the contents.
When measuring just over one pound, she closes the lids.
You're an iberg. Your family has been in these parts
for over one hundred years. You're old. Twelfth word carries weight.
I'm sorry. Does that mean I get a bicycle or not?
That's funny, but you don't get a bicycle.
How's that?
You're in Doctor Sandberg's town resident file is unreachable, am I?
Now?
However, I believe you also have this singular quality that
will save you in the world. World that's coming being
an absolute lack of self pity.
Careful doctor, What plays for flattery in one parish don't
always flatter in another.
This town can thrive. Dutch it has a unique opportunity
here won't get another. And I know you know that.
What do you want from me, Doctor Thorp?
I want you to use your voice. Do you know
I need to get back into towns and cities. To
do that, I first need to succeed here in twelve
I need the people of this town to tell the
DOT that what we did there wasn't just safe but necessary.
Four and a half million Americans drive for a live
in Doctor Thorpe, Cabs, teamsters, bus drivers and the rest.
How necessary is it to steal their jobs away? Anyway?
Do tell you're for Wall Street types, Dutch bankers and
the like.
Heart bleeds for them.
In twenty twenty, for the first time in the history
of Wall Street, the volume of passive equity assets managed
by computer algorithms was greater than those managed human traders,
across a four point three trillion spread. Guarding Gecko is
dead Dutch, only the SEC didn't get him. It was
a crew of nineteen year old freelance coders from Nairobi
making two dollars and thirty eight cents an hour Wall
Street or Walmart checkout. There's no difference if you can
be replaced by a machine this century. You will It's
not personal, just a matter of time.
A race between tech billionaires for the wages of America.
And I bet you sleep like a fucking baby.
Dutch tosses the mixing gloves, lights a cigarette. This is
the first time doctor Thor has seen Dutch's hands, the
raw burn scars across her fingers and palms. Doctor Thor
stares at her wounds. Dutch sees him seeing workplace accident.
No in the service, then nope, sorry, didn't.
Mean to pry it ain't that, doctor, See it weren't
no accident.
Doctor Thor takes a moment to let this sink in.
Help me to help your people help themselves. A four
factory and twelve it could totally happen. I ain't lying
about that. Dutch.
Hiet to me or don't makes no difference, no defeat,
without surprise, nothing is certain. I'll not speak for you
or spy for you, because that's really what you want.
Ask me to be your Benedict Arnold ever again, and
we'll see what happens.
Doctor Doctor Thor stands, gets on his bicycle.
One hundred and four people die on America's roads every day.
An autonomous autos. Pro rod I hit one hundred and
three deaths a day. Overnight, insurance firms will price human
driven vehicles out of the market. This is certain as necessary.
How many jobs are worth a single human life? Dodge,
My vehicles are going to save lives over time, thousands
of them.
Only a man who believed in the safety of his
driverless autos would personally give bicycles to kids to ride
the self same roads. Nice story for the deity. You
tell the boy's mother that's the real reason he has
a new mountain bike.
Dutch, help me to win here. I guarantee you'll never
have to drive that iron age tank ever again.
Oh my god, did.
You hear that?
Oh yes, Wow, you're really upset at this way.
Apparently so Jesus Okay.
Dutch looks at her father's toe truck, her doll in
the grill. She puts her gloves back on, starts mixing
the cake again.
You're offering me what you would want if our rolls
were flipped. What's money? What you should be offering is
what I want? Then, respect, motherfucker.
Thanks for the beer, Dutch pointedly says nothing. Doctor Thuller's
cycles away as he goes. He's by the boy with
the new bicycle. They cycle together into the distance. Exterior
Ford Avenue night, A man rides a white bicycle down
the trafficless, lamp lit road. Alongside him a second bicycle
in parallel motion. Two quick pistol shots from the woods.
Only one bicycle emerges from the darkness, hits the curb,
flips over into the gravel, front wheel spinning. Dutchess headlights
find the man lying in the road.
Grow up poor, you grow up respecting bad luck. But
it's more than that.
Dutch stops, turns off the engine, steps out of the cab.
Thirty three in hand. She sweeps her flashlight along the road.
He grow a sense for it, you know it's here
without any talon.
She spies an abandoned cabin, all quiet there.
When I saw the body in the road, I knew
my brothers had a hand in miss. No fucking doubt none.
Dutch locks the second bicycle further along the road.
Doctor Thor, mister Thor, is that you?
Dutch walks forward, kneels down, presses two fingers against the
man's neck, holds for a moment, takes her hand back.
It's like you know your own body when something is
just wrong.
Dog barks aggressively close to the edge of the road.
Dutch swings her flashlight pistol towards the.
Barking Jesus Fucking Christ.
Standing in the woods, Wraith, JP and Mort.
Who is in the market for a savior?
Mort holding the leash for a police dog whose who?
By Tabird reads police canine idiots.
Idiots are in the market for a savior, except they
don't know that they're idiots.
Dutch sees a smoking revolver in JP's hand.
Jesus Fucking Christ, Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus fucking Christ and
Act one.
Can we go back to page one and read the
first half of page one again