Ok, I wrote this pretty much stream of consciousness. I know it doesn't add up to a true GF film and I wouldn't pretend to be able to write something as good as the worst of the trilogy. But I would appreciate thoughts/ideas to make it better.

Here it is:

The Godfather, Part IV -- Script Treatment

Black screen. The patented Godfather horns play softly as an image slowly fades into focus. It’s the Palermo Opera House. The stairs are littered with scarves, programs, and yellow police tape. It is eerily still -- something terrible has happened here only hours ago.

The camera slowly starts to zoom in on something specific. As we crawl closer to the steps, we see that it is blood. In the distance, the haunting screams of Michael Corleone fill the air.

CUT TO BLACK.

TITLES: THE GODFATHER, PART IV

FADE IN.

We’re looking at a somber Michael Corleone who is sitting alone in the back of a limosuine. He’s wearing dark sunglasses even though it’s raining outside. He sways and moves with the car, but other than that he is lifeless. He makes no moves on his own. His head is barely held up straight by its own power.

The car stops and the driver gets out and walks around to where Michael is sitting and opens the door. Michael ignores this and remains still.

DRIVER: Mr. Corleone, we have arrived.

Again, Michael doesn’t move, and we don’t even know if he is hearing the driver’s voice.

DRIVER: Sir...

Michael moves his head. He slowly nods. He struggles a bit but is able to get out of the car under his own power. He stands up outside and keeps his head to the ground. The driver opens a black umbrella and holds it over Michael’s head.

He has arrived at a graveyard. Around Michael, a crowd has formed. Some reporters are there, flashing cameras. The driver shoes them away and starts to escort Michael through rows of marble tombstones.

The wind blows and tarps covering mounds of dirt buckle and flap in the wind. There is a covered tent up ahead and it’s where Michael is being escorted. A crowd is there as well.

MICHAEL: Wait.

Michael stops and the driver does the same. Michael stands for a moment, his head hanging over his chest. Michael starts to breath heavily.

MICHAEL: I can’t do this.

DRIVER: Mr. Corleone, they are waiting for you.

Michael removes his glasses and looks at the crowd under the tent. From here he can see people watching him. He continues to hesitate.

Under the tent, someone stands. They make there way over to where Michael stands with the driver. As the person approaches, we see that it is Connie.

CONNIE: Michael...

Michael doesn’t respond. Instead he practically turns his shoulder on her.

MICHAEL: I can’t do this.

CONNIE: Then why did you come?

Michael slowly turns around. He puts on his sunglasses.

MICHAEL: I don’t know.

CONNIE: You came because Kay was your wife and you loved her.

MICHAEL: She hated me.

CONNIE: She loved you Michael, everyone loves you. No one holds you responsible for anything. (PAUSE) Please... join us.

Connie takes Michael’s arm and pulls him with her towards the tent.

Vincent Corleone sits under the tent in a luxurious three-piece black suit. He is flanked by Salvatore Fenzini, Vincent’s consigliere and Ricky Tratori, his bodyguard. Vincent nods at Michael as Michael sits down next to Connie. Michael ignores Vincent. Vincent then motions for Salvatore and he leans over to listen as Vincent whispers him something inaudibly.

The camera cuts to Anthony, who looks like he hasn’t slept in a month. Blue and black circles engulf his swollen bloodshot eyes. He is unshaven, and his suit, albeit nice, is crumpled and undone.

Then we settle on Kay’s family. They look very uncomfortable and out of place amongst the high-profile guests. They stare at Michael with contempt and hate in their eyes.

Andrew Hagan begins the service with a biblical speech and then begins to speak conversationally about Kay. It’s something about how Kay was there for him when his father, Tom, died and made him want to enter the priesthood.

Andrew reads more scripture and then stops and continues with some funeral rites. When he is finished, he turns toward the guests.

ANDREW: Would anyone here like to share some words about Kay Adams?

This is obviously scripted, as Vincent slowly stands up and buttons his suit as he makes his way over to the podium.

He flashes something of a grin, and then masks his face in seriousness as he begins to read.

VINCENT: Kay Adams was a wonderful person. Although I didn’t know her that well, the time I was able to spend with her left a lasting impression on me, molding me into the person I am today.

Michael looks up at Vincent, and appears to be surprised and both moved by Vincent’s kind words.

That is when Michael notices the reporters getting closer to the podium and focus in on Vincent. Vincent acknowledges this and looks back at them.

VINCENT: That is why I have decided to create the Kay Foundation, a non-profit organization that will raise money to fight breast cancer and urge women to become more aware about this deadly disease. I am also proud to be its first donor, making a donation of $5 million as the President and CEO of the Genco Olive Oil Company.

Vincent poses for the reports who snap pictures. Michael shakes his head in disgust. Vincent nods towards the on-lookers and leaves the podium.

ANDREW: Would anyone else like to come forward and share some words?

For a moment, no one moves. Michael rubs his head and looks up at the empty podium. A long few moments pass by and nobody makes a move. Michael exhales and stands up.

MICHAEL: I’d like to share some words.

ANDREW: Thank you, Michael.

Michael and Vincent pass one another on the way to and from the podium and exchange an uncomfortable look. Vincent looks like he wants to say something, but Michael ignores him and continues toward the podium.

Michael clears his throat and pauses in thought before he addresses the crowd. When he speaks, his voice is rough and deep, filled with pain and sadness.

MICHAEL: I used to be a man who was always worried about my public image... what other people thought of me. Maybe that’s because I was usually overseeing illegal activities and had maintain a legitimate façade to avoid the government. Well, that man is dead. He died when his daughter was murdered about 5 years ago in Sicily.

Some of the people gathered are gasping to themselves in shock. Some of the brave reporters begin to snap more photos but they are being ushered away. Their time at the funeral is finished.

Connie looks at Michael, concerned, and Vincent looks on in something close to embarrassment and anger, but he knows that he must allow Michael to have his say.

MICHAEL: So shortly after my daughter Mary’s death, when I learned of Kay’s cancer -- I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I wanted... to kill myself. (PAUSE) Deep down I knew I wasn’t to blame for Kay’s cancer, but since I was to blame for Mary’s death, I couldn’t help but feel like I was somehow responsible for Kay. Maybe it was all the worry I inflicted on her. The constant lying I was doing to her face. Maybe it was the hate she felt for me, the justifiable hate for me that materialized in the form of a tumor so close to her heart... I still feel guilty about it, and I will never stop feeling guilty about it. I learned that no amount of money can wash away my sins.

Michael looks at Vincent as he says this.

MICHAEL: I learned that the hard way. So even though I know that I didn’t directly cause Kay’s passing, I know I am responsible in one way or another. I know that is what everyone is thinking, and I want to let them know that I am not going to sit here and pretend that I am not to blame. I am. And not a minute goes by where I don’t think about joining Kay, where ever she is, and telling her for all eternity that I am sorry...

Andrew indirectly butts in and takes the microphone from Michael.

ANDREW: Thank you, Michael. We appreciate you’re your honesty.

Michael goes back to his seat and hangs his head in his hands. Connie consoles him as Vincent looks on.

We pull back to a distant shot of the covered tent as Kay’s casket is lowered into the ground.

CUT TO THE CORLEONE COMPOUND IN LONG ISLAND -- KAY’S WAKE.

We watch as people enter the house, give their condolences, and mingle with others. There is food set-up on tables. Although this is a wake, the people are carrying on normal conversations. Kay’s family is huddled together in the corner, again looking out of place.

Someone in Vincent’s crew is telling loud story, filled with profanity. Kay’s family hears this and get up to leave. They make their way out as people are still arriving.
One of the people to arrive is Gil Hauser. He is a portly man, dressed almost sloppily in a wrinkled suit. He is escorted by some other sheepish looking men. They bump into some obvious mob-hoods, and the two groups turn to each other about to exchange words, even in the middle of a wake.

It is then when the two groups recognize each other. They are Don Cortovino’s men. Gil acknowledges them but tries to remain discreet.

CUT TO: VINCENT IN THE OLD DEN

Vincent sits at the same desk where Vito used to sit. He loosens his tie as Salvatore Fenzini pours himself a drink. Salvatore talks with him, strictly business chatter.

Vincent hears a buzz amongst the people outside and looks up. He goes over to the window behind the desk to see what is going on.

Johnny Fontaine has arrived. Although he has gotten on in his years, he still looks good. He shakes some hands and chats with people as he arrives.

VINCENT: (smiling) It’s Johnny.

SALVATORE: Wonder what he wants. Problems with getting his prescriptions filled?

VINCENT: Come on, Sal. Johnny is one of the last guys around from the old days. Bring him in.

Sal nods and exits to fetch Johnny.

CUT TO: MICHAEL ARRIVING AT THE WAKE

Michael gets out of his limousine and takes in the kind of crowd that has gathered at Kay’s wake. He notices that a lot of Vincent’s hood’s are walking around, eating, telling their profanity-laced stories loudly and shakes his head in disgust.

He makes his way past them and a hush falls over them as he enters the house. People try to speak with him, offering their condolences, but he mostly ignore them all.


CUT TO JOHNNY ENTERING VINCENT’S DEN

When Johnny enters the room, Vincent stands and smiles, walks over and embraces Johnny. The two make their way back to the desk and Vincent has Sal pour Johnny a drink.

VINCENT: (smiling) Johnny, it is always good to see you.

JOHNNY: You too, Vincent. It’s good to be back in New York. It’s just a shame that most of the time I am back home, there are funerals to attend. Tom, then Mary, and now Kay...

VINCENT: Yes, we have definitely had better times.

JOHNNY: So how’s Mike. He looked like shit at the funeral. And what he said, it’s so unlike him.

VINCENT: Michael has been though a lot, Johnny.

JOHNNY: Haven’t we all. (pauses) So I see that you’ve bought the old house, huh? Still looks great. I remember when I came to your grandfather and asked him for help. Right here. It was Connie’s wedding, I think. You’ll have to excuse me... my memory ain’t so good any more. I asked him for help many times and he never let me down.

VINCENT: Yes. I figured that since I never got to meet my grandfather, I should at least get to know him in other ways. Connie told me how much he loved this house. I feel him in it.

JOHNNY: Yes... (pauses, glancing around the room. After gathering his thoughts, he leans in to Vincent.) Lots of memories here in this house. (PAUSE) Look, Vincent, I have some issues to clear up.

VINCENT: (leaning back in his chair) And these are?

JOHNNY: (leaning in) I signed on to appear at The Canyon, in Vegas. I appear there once every other month, six times a year. I signed on in the 60s, when Mike was running things out there. I love the place. The thing is, the new owner, this Francesco Cortovino -- I saw him at Kay’s funeral, “paying” his respects. Anyway, he’s a real hard ass. He says that the only reason he kept me on was because Mike used to own the casino and that it would be a good gesture to the family. But what he doesn’t realize is that I pack the place. Hell I make more money for him one night a month than all his acts do for most of the week combined.

VINCENT: (waving his hand) The family doesn’t exist anymore Johnny. I mean we’re a corporation now, ever since Michael went that way in the 70s. I have only taken on a consigliere because he’s got a masters in business administration (motions at Salvatore, who is in the room sitting quietly, listening in the corner). But he’s more like a lawyer -- like Tom was for Mike. (pauses and leans back in his chair) So how can I help you with your problem Johnny?

JOHNNY: I understand all that, I do, but hear me out. Ever since Cortovino took control of the casino, things have gone downhill. After I went into semi-retirement I continued my gig at the Canyon because I love my fans. I can’t tour anymore, but I can sure as hell have 2 hours of glory every couple of months. For instance, my last show, I had a top band assembled, some real classy musicians, from the old days. At the last minute, Cortovino’s lackey at the Casino, Greiger’s his name, fires them all because of his budget restrictions or something, it’s total bullshit! He replaces them with some kinda band fit for an off-the-Strip lounge act. Imagine the nerve, it was a complete embarrassment! I know it’s Cortovino’s casino and hotel, but I refuse to perform under these circumstances, contract or no contract. I have a reputation to uphold. I mean I have gold records on my wall and this bastard is jerking me around like this because of budget concerns. It’s humiliating.

VINCENT: (sighing) What can I do, Johnny? I mean it sounds like they were trying to save some cash, probably not Cortovino’s doing directly, but a result of some budget projection or some cost cut-backs. (He glosses over the point that this is result from Cortovino skimming off the top).

JOHNNY: (nods) A buddy of mine tells me that the word on the inside is Cortovino is tightening the reigns, he’s cutting some costs here and there. It’s getting worse bit by bit, and I see where this is all going...

SALVATORE: What did your lawyer say about all of this?

JOHNNY: It’s not a breach of the contract. They are unionized musicians, they knew my songs, the casino provides the band. I usually picked them, until this last show.

Salvatore looks at the 3rd page of the contract

SALVATORE: (Nods in agreement) Your lawyer is right, that’s no breach, like you said the musicians were unionized.

JOHNNY: Well they short staffed the joint and I can only get some shitty roast beef from room service, instead of the catering that used to be provided!

SALVATORE: (flipping through pages and then looking up) Once again as long as the casino provides food and the staff is there to assist with the show, there is no breach. Sorry, Johnny.

JOHNNY: (turns to Vincent with a look of desperation) I need out of this contract, Vincent. I’m getting offers from all over Vegas to do these semi-monthlies, but this contract, it’s exclusive, it binds me to perform only at The Canyon.

VINCENT: Like I said, about the family, we aren’t like that anymore. (pause) It sounds like you’ve signed a contract, Johnny. There’s not much I can do for you in a court or anywhere else. (pause - listening) These aren’t the old days, Johnny. I am sorry. (shakes his head) I love my grandfather, but I am not him.

JOHNNY: Look Vincent, I apologize if I offended you by pushing too hard. (pause) Maybe you can just give him a call or something.

VINCENT: No need to apologize Johnny, you’re upset. I will see what I can do.

JOHNNY: OK. (Johnny waits to see what Vincent’s reaction is. Once he sees Vincent stand up from behind his desk, Johnny does the same, and then embraces Vincent once more.) Vincent, I’ve been part of this family since your Grandfather took me as his Godson, you will always have my loyalty.

VINCENT: Thank you Johnny. I will see what we can do. I will be in contact with you soon. Now go get yourself a drink. You could use it.

JOHNNY: Couldn’t we all.

Johnny leaves and the door is closed. Vicnent leans back in his chair and sighs.

SALVATORE: So what do you want to do about Johnny?

VINCENT: Not much we can do. A contract is a contract. Make the obligatory courtesy calls. If they don’t want to release him, then Johnny stays at the Canyon.

Salvatore nods and shuffles some papers. Someone enters the room and quietly mentions something to Salvatore. The messenger leaves and Sal turns to Vincent.

SALVATORE: Gil Hauser is here. He’d like to speak with you.

VINCENT: Doesn’t everyone. Send him in.

CUT TO THE GATHERING ROOM

Michael is sitting alone in a chair by the window, looking out into the garden. Gil Hauser makes his way over to Michael. The two shake hands. Hauser is the more enthusiastic one in this encounter.

GIL: Mike, I’m sorry about Kay.

MICHAEL: Thank you, Gil.

GIL: How are you holding up?

MICHAEL: Not well.

GIL: Well if you need anything, I have a skybox down at the stadium with your name on it whenever you want.

Michael nods and looks back toward the window. Gil is about to ramble on when someone escorts Gil away from Michael, and leads him into Vincent’s den.

Michael looks up and sees Gil disappear into Vincent’s den.

MICHAEL: Nothing ever changes.


CUT TO GIL ENTERING THE DEN

Vincent shakes Gil’s hand and leads him to his seat.

GIL: Vincent, I am sorry to hear about your family’s loss. It kills me to see Mike like this. We did business in the old days.

VINCENT: (lighting a cigarette) It’s a hard time for us all.

GIL: Again, I am sorry. Your family will be in my family’s prayers.

VINCENT: Thank you. And thanks for coming. I’m sure it means a lot to Michael. Have you eaten yet? You arrived a little late.

GIL: Yes, thank you. Connie is her name? She made sure that I was fed like a King. Or maybe just a Knight?

Gil chuckles lightly to himself, but he is the only one laughing. Vincent and Salvatore are looking on with humorless expressions. Gil notices his attempt at humor is lost and quiets down quickly.

VINCENT: So what is it? What is so important to meet with me at my Aunt Kay’s wake?

Gil pauses, and then takes a seat. He unbuttons his jacket and pulls at his tie.

GIL: Vincent, you know that I am grateful for everything you have done to help the Knights. Webster Evans, gave me my first job after college with the team, imagine that, working for such a great team out of college, it was a thrill (he smiles reminiscing). But, Don Corleone, my stadium is falling apart. The other night, the scoreboard shorted out. The announcer had to actually announce the score between innings. This is New York after all, when things break they don’t stay broken for long. But the money isn’t there. They say it will cost over two million dollars to replace. I can’t expect families to pay their hard earned money to watch a game played in the stone-age nor is there enough money in the till to repair the scoreboard... not to mention everything else that needs to be repaired.

VINCENT: (staring intently at Gil for a moment) When my uncle invested in the team twelve years ago, you were on top of the division. Things went well for a while and we made a great return. Since then, it went downhill. Salvatore, what did the interim financial statements from last year tell us? (Vincent puffs on the cigarette as he leans back in his chair)

SALVATORE: (examines sheets of paper) The team was barely afloat, with a loans encroaching on the actual issue of stock. Returns had dropped to almost a par level, a really big drop. The team wasn’t in bad shape, but they were getting there fast.

VINCENT: Now, despite all the warning signs, I kept my money where it was. I know you had a bad year, I understand these things, and if I was going to pull out when the going got tough, I wouldn’t be a good investor now would I? I made most of my money back anyhow. But now you are coming to me for more assistance. I’m afraid you think that the well never ends.

GIL: (Smiles politely but continues with a mounting look of concern on his face) With free agency, teams are able to literally buy the players they want. With our attendance, I am out in the cold. The numbers at the gate are decreasing every year. We had a streak of bad luck in the last few years. We can’t afford to keep the players who play better and command higher salaries.

VINCENT: (ignoring Gil’s excuses) It was my understanding that when the Corleone’s bought 49% of the team, that you would come to me with any financial issues you had. Now if you came to me first, I would have had someone down at city hall call you about the repairs, and not the other way around. And this would be taken care of already. The only thing you need to worry about would be pennant race. Now I am wondering if I should get out while the getting out is good, Gil.

Gil looks worried, and is shrinking in his seat.

VINCENT: What troubles me even more than these stadium issues, is the debt you’ve been running up in Vegas. And I hear that you’re getting in over your head with Don Cortovino.

GIL: Vincent, that is nothing... really. It’s none of your concern.

VINCET: I think it is Gil. Especially when you are coming to me, asking me for money to fix a scoreboard, amongst other things. I’m glad to help. But when you’re running up a massive debt in Vegas, what am I supposed to think?

GIL: Yes, I understand your concern. (Gil slides his hands into his pockets and looks towards the ground in shame) But the team has been mine for ages. I am not used to relying on someone else to get things done; and the slump was always promising to undo itself. I figured that if I had a hot streak in Vegas, I could do the repairs on my own dime, without having to come to you for help.

VINCENT: I’m sure it sounded good at the time. But as a minority investor, I cannot let this infraction stand. Not when you’re hoping a lucky streak in Vegas will pay the bills. (Vincent puffs on his cigarette and leans back in the chair) And certainly not when there are rumors that you are thinking about moving the team to Las Vegas.

GIL: That was just an option I was giving myself. I never seriously considered it.

VINCENT: But I’m willing to bet that Don Cortovino is. Sal?

SALVATORE: Don Cortovino’s front company, Sin City Construction, has already broken ground for what looks to be a new baseball stadium, right off the strip.

Vincent simply leans back in his chair and awaits Gil’s response.

GIL: (sheepishly) I didn’t know anything about it.

SALVATORE: You’re thirty million down to Cortovino. That’s not to mention the ten millions dollars that the team is losing on a yearly basis.

VINCENT: My uncle did business with Cortovino. He took over the casinos when Michael sold his interests to go legitimate. Cortovino is a smart man. He knows he has you by the balls. He wants the Knights in Vegas. He wants the concession deals and all the other perks that come with it. But I want it more. And that’s why I’m buying you out.

GIL: (panicking) I can pay off Cortovino. I just need a little floated to me to fix...

VINCENT: No, Gil. You’re out.

SALVATORE: When the owners meet next month, we are going to present our findings to them. As you’re well aware, they will vote for a transfer. And when the vote is passed, the transfer will be made. We’ll own 100% of the team.

Gil is deflated. He reaches for his drink and downs it all in one gulp. He slams down the glass and looks at Vincent.

GIL: I have friends throughout the league. We all go way back. I’m not so sure they will like the idea of someone of your stature taking over full control of the team.

VINCENT: They have no choice. You’re losing them money too, Gil. One hand washes the other.

GIL: This is unbelievable. So do you expect me to just lie down after owning this team for 30 years and just hand it off to you?

VINCENT: No, I don’t. Which is why I’m offering you another choice, one that saves you the humiliation. I’m doing you a favor here, Gil -- out of respect for your partnership my uncle. I’m sure this is what he would have wanted. (pauses) If you agree to sell the team to me willingly, there will be no need for us to present our findings to the league. You’ll be spared the embarrassment of a thirty million dollar debt in Vegas. Your reputation as one of baseball’s best owners from the golden age will remain in tact.

Gil perks up a little bit, thankful for the ability to choose, even though neither option is what he wants.

VINCENT: Gil, look... As investors, we either had to pull out completely or buy you out. I don’t want to pull out. And I don’t want the Knights in Vegas. My father grew up rooting for the Knights. I want to see them win again... in New York. I think you should look at the deal you’re getting here. It’s fair. Have your people look it over and you’ll see that it is. You’ll be paid market price for the team. That will allow you to get square with Cortovino. I hear that he is not a man you want to owe large sums of money to. It’s completely up to you. But I can’t let this partnership go on as it is. We’re just losing too much money. So what will it be?

GIL: (at a loss for words) This is a bombshell, Vincent. Am I supposed to have reached a decision so soon?

VINCENT: I don’t really see the decision here, Gilly. Either the news about your gambling debt will be known by the entire country or you will sell me your share of the team and receive market value for it. Either way I get what I want. (pause) Gil, I know you don’t want to bother your wife with the gambling debt. The secret trips to Vegas. The penthouse suites with dancers. I know you don’t want your daughter to learn about any of this. She respects you. I respect you. I know you and my uncle did business in the old days. That is why I want to do this the right way.

GIL: Well... then... I guess I’m going to be selling you my share of the team, Vincent.

VINCENT: Great.

Vincent stands and makes his way around the desk and shakes hands with a reluctant Gil Hauser, who is still in shock. Vincent walks Gil to the door. It is opened by the doorman.

VINCENT: I know this came as a surprise. It’s not personal. It’s just business.

GIL: (coldly) I understand. Again, I’m sorry about Kay.

Gil leaves.

CUT TO MICHAEL WANDERING AROUND THE HOUSE

Michael is looking over the house, obviously taking a trip down memory lane. He is unaware that Connie has been watching him for some time now, with pity.

CONNIE: It feels good to be back in dad’s house, doesn’t it?

Michael is startled and turns around.

MICHAEL: It brings back a lot of memories. Good and bad.

CONNIE: Have you talked with Anthony yet?

MICHAEL: I haven’t seen him here. And I doubt he would talk to me if I tried.

CONNIE: You should try, Michael. He’s your son.

MICHAEL: I have tried, Connie. For 5 years.

Vincent emerges from his den and sees Michael and Connie talking in the hallway. He makes his way over to Michael.

VINCENT: Uncle Mike. How are you holding up?

Michael ignores him.

CONNIE: Michael...

VINCENT: It’s alright Connie. I know he still holds me responsible for Mary’s death.

MICHAEL: I hold myself responsible for that. For not doing something about the two of you running around long before I did. But I don’t appreciate your goons around the house making a mockery of Kay’s wake.

VINCENT: I’ll send them away immediately.

Vincent snaps his fingers and Ricky Tratori nods in compliance and begins to usher goons from the house.

MICHAEL: (watches goons go) What’s it matter? They’ll be back eventually. One way or another.

VINCENT: Uncle Mike, about Mary, I did everything you asked me to do.

MICHAEL: Did you?

Connie tries to mediate, but is losing her position. People are starting to notice the argument unfolding. Connie leads the two of them into the den and closes the door behind them.

CONNIE: Let’s get this out in the open right now.

Michael collapses in the chair off to the side of the room with his head in his hands. Vincent paces.

MICHAEL: There’s nothing to say. Mary is dead. Kay is dead.

CONNIE: But none of it is anyone’s fault here.

Michael shakes his head.

MICHAEL: Are we finished? I have a plane to catch tonight.

CONNIE: Where are you going?

MICHAEL: Back to Sicily.

CONNIE: To be reminded of Mary’s death?

MICHAEL: I need to be reminded. Constantly. You two should be reminded more often as well. Maybe you’ll smarten up, get away from this life. I can’t stay.

VINCENT: Stay here, Mike. I could use you. Help me avoid the same mistakes you made. The ones that haunt you now.

MICHAEL: You want advice? Give all this up. All of it.

CONNIE: Michael, the family business is 100% legitimate and has been for years. Just the way you wanted it.

MICHAEL: But it’s not worth the cost!

Just then Anthony walks into the den.

ANTHONY: What’s going on in here? I heard shouting.

MICHAEL: Anthony.

Michael walks over to Anthony and tries to hug him. Anthony rebuffs him and flees to the other side of the room.

ANTHONY: Don’t touch me.

CONNIE: Anthony.

ANTHONY: No. I’m tired of all this bullshit. People are always asking me why I never talk to anyone from my family any more. Look at us! The only time we get together is when someone dies.

MICHAEL: I never wanted it to be like this, Anthony.

ANTHONY: But it is dad. It’s the way it is and it’s your fault. Everything you ever did has lead us to this moment.

Anthony storms off. Connie follows. Vincent remains as Michael pours himself a drink.

MICHAEL: All my life, I swore to protect my family. Never once did I think that I had destroyed it, until now.

Michael leaves. Vincent remains alone. He pours himself a drink and sits at his desk.

Salvatore enters the room with Ricky Tratori.

VINCENT: Who is left?

SALVATORE: No one. Everyone is gone.

VINCENT: I want you to keep in contact with Hauser’s lawyer, Welster. If he balks at the deal, then we release Hauser’s gambling problems to the press.

Sal nods in agreement. He gathers his things and leaves the room. Ricky takes a step forward.

VINCENT: How is our Columbian connection coming along? When is the next shipment scheduled to arrive?

RICKY: Tomorrow. Florida Keys. Our guy in the Coast Guard told us that they will be running drills for most of the day in Marathon. That will leave Key West largely unmonitored. That’ll leave a 45-minute gap around 2 a.m. Once the shipment is recovered we’ve got some dairy trucks that will move it to it’s distribution points in Atlanta.

VINCENT: Excellent. I know my grandfather was always against this line of business. But my father always said there was a lot of money in white powder. You know what? He’s right. (pause) Make sure nothing goes wrong. We worked hard to get the press and the government to believe we’re legitimate. We can’t fuck up now.

Ricky Tratori nods and leaves the room. Again, Vincent is alone. He opens a desk drawer. A gun is inside. Vincent reaches in, but doesn’t pull out the gun. Instead he pulls out a picture of Mary. Vincent stares at the picture for a moment and then takes a drink, setting the picture on his desk.

CUT TO A HIGH CLASS MANHATTAN APARTMENT BUILDING.

A cab pulls up to the front of the apartment.

Anthony gets out of the cab and walks slowly up to the steps and through the front door. He stumbles up the stairs. Halfway up he pauses for a few second seemingly in thought.

ANTHONY: Fuck him.

He gets to his door and fumbles around in his pockets for his keys only to drop them. Anthony picks them up and unlocks the door.

His entrance gives way to a loft that is evidently spacious in the blue and black light of night. One light is on in the distance, lighting just a thin portion of the large room, and creating a very disjointed emotional effect. Anthony looks around for a second and then turns on another light.

Anthony notices that some of the things that were previously here, are now gone.

Walking into the bedroom, which is in more disarray, we see a half empty dresser. The closet is filled with empty hangars. Anthony walks to the desk and picks up a piece of paper. Reading it his mood progressively wavers from distress to anger then to a bit of sorrow, only briefly though. We only see a portion of the note, but what we do see is enough to let us know that his girlfriend, Madeline, has left him.

Anthony remains angry for a second allowing his hand to fall to his side and almost mindlessly crumples the note. He simply lets it fall out of his hand. With a slight nod of his head, he opens a desk drawer and takes out a small mirror. He opens another drawer and pulls out an old sock. He unravels it and reaches down into it and pulls out a bag of white power. He sprinkles some on the mirror, uses a playing card to narrow it into a line, and then aggressively snorts it up. He falls down to the floor, against the bare bed. He reaches for the end table drawer and pulls out a bottle of liquor and chugs it. When it is finished he tosses it against the wall. It shatters violently and falls to the messy floor.

Anthony then cocks his head back against the bed, opens his mouth and lets out a loud scream that fills the apartment and bounces off its walls.

CUT TO MICHAEL SITTING IN A PRIVATE JET

Michael is looking out of the window, into the black nothingness that is the Atlantic Ocean below.

He glances back to the interior of the plane and sees the Corleone corporate logo on the headrest before him, as well as on the wall next to the door to the cockpit.

Michael turns and motions for the private attendant. He and Michael are the only people on the small 8 seated plane. The attendant comes over to Michael’s seat.

ATTENDANT: What is it, Mr. Corleone?

MICHAEL: I’d like the pilot to land the plane at the next closest airport.

ATTENDANT: May I ask why?

MICHAEL: This is a family owned plane. As soon as I land I’m breaking all ties. I’m going totally and completely clean.

ATTENDANT: I’d like to make sure this is OK with Vincent, if you don’t mind, Mr.-

MICHAEL: Land the plane, god dammit -- and don’t make me ask again!

The attendant nods and rushes into the cockpit.

CUT TO A HARLEM STREET.

Artie Genesse and Alberto Bianci are making the rounds on their street corners. They approach a young black man, Gerrard, who is loitering on the steps of a liquor store.

ARTIE: Yo, Moses Malone... what the fuck you think you’re doing?

GERRARD: Relax, man. I’m waiting for someone.

ALBERTO: And who might that be?

GERRARD: None of your business, man!

ARTIE: (laughs) This is our fuckin’ street corner, ya dig? (mocking Gerrard) And if some jive ass coon is loitering around one of our fine establishments, we’re gonna know why. So you wanna tell us or do we have to beat it out of you?

GERRARD: (takes a step forward) Why don’t you ask him yourself?

A car squeals to a stop. A man in a ski mask leans out of the driver side window with a sawed-off shotgun. Artie and Alberto reach for their guns but they never have a chance.

The first shot hits them both in the chest. The second shot puts them down on the ground and shatters the storefront window behind them. An alarm goes off. Gerrard stands over their dead bodies. Gerrard hops in the car as the shooter yells for the driver to take off.

The store-owner runs out of his store, horrified to see two men lying in a pool of their own blood.

CUT TO VINCENT SITTING IN THE KNIGHT’S SKYBOX

Vincent is sitting with Salvatore Fenzini in a skybox at the Knight’s stadium. The scoreboard has been fixed. However, construction has started beyond the outfield wall to build an even bigger and better scoreboard. A large Genco Olive Oil ad graces the space above the scoreboard.

The crowds are small, but they are loud, as the Knight’s are beating the Cincinnati Reds 6-2 in the bottom of the seventh inning.

Salvatore is on the phone most of the time, shuffling papers in the background. As we listen, we can tell that he is getting things in place to take over complete control of the Knights.

It is then when Ricky Tratori storms into the skybox. Salvatore, seeing Tratori’s face and instantly knowing the importance of the situation, tells whoever is on the phone that he will have to call them back and hangs up.

Vincent doesn’t turn away from the game as Tratori pleads the importance of the situation.

RICKY: Artie Genesse and Alberto Bianci were shot to death in Harlem fifteen minutes ago.

Vincent closes his eyes in calm frustration. Yet he still doesn’t turn around to face Tratori.

SALVATORE: Any witnesses? Do we know who did it?

RICKY: The store-owner said that a black sedan pulled off a few seconds after he heard shots fired. He also said that a black kid, maybe 18 years old had been hanging out there for a few days. He was there only a few minutes before the shooting happened and he didn’t stick around to give a statement.

Just then, Gil Hauser enters the skybox. Ricky silences himself as Hauser enters the room and shakes hands with Vincent. Gil still looks defeated, but looks as if he’s coming to grips with his the decision.

GIL: I was on my way out. I just wanted to say good night.

VINCENT: You’re leaving? You never leave the games early.

GIL: Well considering the circumstances I just... it’s your team now Vincent. Enjoy it.

Vincent turns back around and watches the game. He waves to Gil nonchalantly. Gil lowers his head, fingers his hat in his hands and nods slowly. He wants to say something else, but can’t find the words. He looks saddened and hurt. He quietly leaves.

Ricky steps in closer to Vincent.

RICKY: Vincent, I think it would be wise to go back home. I will escort you there. I already have a car waiting.

VINCENT: I’d like to watch the rest of the game.

SALVATORE: Ricky is right. We don’t know if this is just an isolated event or art of something bigger.

Just then a caterer enters the room, rolling a cart filled with plates of food covered in silver lids. Ricky stops him abruptly and starts lifting the lids off the plates. It is only food.

RICKY: Show me your event pass.

The caterer is nervous, his hands shake as he removes the pass lanyard from his neck. Ricky inspects it and then hands it back to him.

RICKY: He checks out.

Ricky waves the caterer through and he sets the plates on the serving table. He then leaves.

Vincent walks over to the table and picks up a plate and carries it over to his seat. He is obviously troubled with the news he has just been given.

SALVATORE: I wouldn’t eat that. You never-

VINCENT: Enough!

Just then, a bullet rips through the glass and hits Vincent’s plate, sending food all over his shirt. Ricky is in action immediately, pulling back Vincent’s chair and pulling him around the bar. Salvatore dives behind it as well. Another shot zips through the skybox, and shatters liquor bottles stacked against the mirror above the bar. Glass and liquor rains down on the three men as they take cover. Ricky pulls out his gun, but cannot get a shot off as more shots scream through the room. After a half dozen more, the shots stop and Ricky peaks his head over the bar.

Ricky stands up and escorts Vincent and Salvatore out of the skybox and down the hall of the stadium. The caterer is about to get onto the private elevator, but Ricky pushes him out of the way and his food cart spills to the ground. When they enter the elevator, Ricky presses the ground level button and gets on his walkie-talkie.

RICKY: I need that car at the east entrance, now!

VINCENT: It was Hauser that son-of-bitch. He knew what was going to happen, which is why he left.

SALVATORE: We can’t jump to conclusions yet, Vincent.

The elevator opens and there are men waiting for them. It is stadium security.

SECURITY OFFICER #1: We heard that shots were fired. Are you OK, Mr. Corleone?

RICKY: He’s fine, help us get to the east entrance.

The Security Guards escort the three of them through the concourse, pushing fans out of the way. When they reach the east entrance, the car is waiting. The driver has the passenger window down.

DRIVER: What the fuck is going on?

RICKY: Open the doors, god dammit!

Ricky opens the back door and Vincent and Salvatore get inside. Ricky is about to open the passenger door when one of the Security guards removes his pistol and fires it into the car, striking the driver in the head. A spurt of blood covers the windshield. Ricky downs the two guards with two perfectly placed shots and then pulls the dead driver out of the car and then gets in himself. He floors the pedal and the car burns rubber as it peels away from the curb.
Ricky is busy navigating his way through the city as he calls out over his shoulder.

RICKY: You two alright?

SALVATORE: Yes, I’m fine. Vincent are you-

Vincent looks down at a small red spot on his white shirt. He is shocked but calm.

SALVATORE: Vincent is hit.

RICKY: Fuck!

I like this script although the dialouge could be improved, but thats just my opinion. Are you planning on posting anymore?

Continue. Don't think anymore about how is it and finish it.