EXT. SAG HARBOR, LONG ISLAND - MORNING
A large black man, ‘Big Matt Silver,’ early 40s, exits the back of a beautiful Long Island home. He sits on a deck chair overlooking an ocean view. On a small table he places a cigar, a smart phone and a gun. He lights the cigar. He types something in his phone and presses ‘send.’ He picks the gun up – a 9mm Glock – and aims it toward his head.
On a smart phone screen flash the words: The Life Lessons of Big Matt Silver.
INT. BROOKLYN TENEMENT - NIGHT
“The Sins of the Father Can Be Transformed by the Son.”
Late ‘80s. A Brooklyn tenement. Night.
A black man in his 40s, SAMMY SILVER, dressed in wanna-be hustler gear, enters the building with his son, MATT, a stapling college aged man-child. It is Matt’s 18th birthday and his father is giving him a peek into the adult world. Sammy knocks on a nondescript third floor door. A peep hole opens. A stern, emotionless face looks out.
Doorman: What?
Sammy: It’s Sammy. Sammy Silver.
Doorman: That mean something to me?
Sammy: T.J. I’m T.J.’s friend. I came here the other night.
Doorman: Who’s the duck?
Sammy: This is my son.
The Door snorts derisively and closes the peep hole.
INT. AFTERHOURS CLUB - NIGHT
For a long moment Sammy and Matt stand there. Suddenly the door opens. Music and bright, reddish light flow out. It is an afterhours club, not a crack house. The players and playettes snort coke from table tops along with their alcohol.
Sammy sits Matt at a bar and buys him glass of Hennessey to celebrate his birthday. Then Matt’s father goes off in search of his man T.J. somewhere in a backroom. A DJ with a young MC perform early ‘80s a hip hop set in the corner. The duo is rocking old school party rhymes. Matt sips his Hen Rock and nods his head, feeling very adult.
A man sits next to Matt and introduces himself as T.J. He has a dusty voice and a face as hard and unforgiving as concrete.
T.J.: You gonna have to go home alone son. Your father is already gone. He said he was a coke dealer. But he was really a mailman, right?
Matt: Where is he?
T.J.: I told you he was gone. Your father wasn’t who he said he was and couldn’t do what he said he could. Sorry it had to go down like this, but it did.
Matt pulls away from T.J. and rushes toward the door his father disappeared behind. The Doorman tries to block him but Matt hits him solidly in the gut and the big man doubles over. Matt marches past his prone body and opens the door.
Sammy lies face down on a card table, looking like a drunk who’s had three too many. Matt is momentarily relieved, thinking his father his just asleep or drunk. When Matt gets closer he notices blood oozing from the back of his head. Sitting Sammy up Matt is confronted with the awful truth: there is a bullet hole in his father’s forehead. The Sammy Silver is stone cold dead.
From the doorway T.J.’s gravelly voice can be heard.
T.J.: Boy, I told you your father was gone.
INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY
Two weeks later, at a funeral home, Matt sits in the front row with his mother RUTHIE and sister KHADJA, who are both overwhelmed with grief. Matt sits impassive. There was no real investigation. Matt tried to get the police to come with him to the afterhours spot, but they were reluctant. When they arrived only the Doorman was there.
His father’s body was found a few days later on a roof top twenty blocks away. No witnesses. Only Matt, who told his story to unsympathetic eyes.
INT. SILVER HOME - MORNING
A few months after the funeral Matt is heading to a construction job when Ruthie chides him, saying “Your father would have wanted you to go college.”
Matt: Yeah. Well he should have taken out a life insurance policy if that really mattered to him.
Ruthie: Don’t you dare disrespect him.
Matt: I’m sorry Ma, but that’s the way it is. You need the money. Khadija can go to nursing school, but I’m gonna help you. And don’t worry. I ain’t getting shot up in some damn bar.
EXT. DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN - DAY
High up at a Manhattan construction site Matt pushes a wheelbarrow of concrete. From the high-rise Matt can look down at a brownstone rooftop where a group of white kids are dancing and getting high to a rap jam. His co-worker Malcolm walks over and looks down.
Matt: There’s money in that rap shit.
Malcolm: No doubt. My cousin Blue Streak DJ’s at the Latin Quarters Friday nights.
Matt: I’ve seen him there a couple of times. That’s a rough spot. He should get some security.
Malcolm: I hear you. You know someone?
Matt: Yeah.
INT. LATIN QUARTERS, MIDTOWN MANHATTAN - NIGHT
The Latin Quarters, the legendary and dangerous hip hop hot spot, is packed with hard rocks and screw faces. Matt, doing security, stands looking tough by the DJ booth as BLUE STREAK plays for the hard core hip hop crowd. GARY TEE a record promoter for Dark Nite Records, tries to approach the DJ and Chris intercepts him. Gary Tee is offended but Matt doesn’t move until Blue Streak gives the ok. Matt watches as Gary Tee slips the DJ some new vinyl 12 inches and a bag of coke. Blue Streak immediately plays the latest Dark Nite jam and big ups the record up on the mic.
Matt notices two THUGS looking toward the booth. Gary Tee tries to hand Matt some coke as he exits but Matt declines. He watches, however, as the two Thugs follow Gary Tee out. Matt thinks a moment and then follows them.
EXT. LATIN QUARTERS - NIGHT
He comes around the corner where the Thugs are robbing Gary Tee at knifepoint. Matt runs up and wails on them. “I won’t forget your ass!” the smaller Thug says and Matt laughs. Gary Tee is grateful. Calls him “Big Matt” and offers him a job at Dark Nite records.
[More to come]