Ojo Flojo

 Revolt
 of
 the
 Cockroach
 People
 
        Autobiography
        by
     Oscar
     Zeta
     Acosta
 
        Adapted
        by
     jose
     luis
     gonzalez
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 LOTERIA TITLE CARD:
 Oscar Zeta Acosta (Buffalo Z. Brown)
 Chicano activist, writer, lawyer
 Born April 8, 1935: El Paso, Texas
 Missing and presumed dead: 1974, Mazatlan, Mexico
 
   1  INT., HOTEL ROOM - MORNING
 
   A bloated, brown buffalo of a Chicano lawyer named
 OSCAR ZETA ACOSTA stands nude in front of a full length mirror. He analyzes his body.
 
 Slowly, he draws his eyes back and thins his lips down tightly. He’s doing Bogey in Sierra Madre.
 
 OSCAR
 Can you… can you help a fellow American down on his luck?
 
 Then, upper lip rolled tight, exposing top row of teeth, head shaking from anger, he becomes Cagney in White Heat.
 
 OSCAR
 Made it, Ma! Top of the world!
 
 Finally, just puffing out his cheeks slightly and speaking lower, he’s Edward G. in Little Caesar.
 
 OSCAR
 This  is Rico speaking. Rico! R-I-C-O! Rico! Little Caesar, that’s who! Listen  here, you crummy, flat-footed copper. I’ll show you whether I’ve lost  my nerve and my brains!
 
 2  ROLL CREDIT SEQUENCE:
 Credits set against Mexican loteria playing cards.
 
 3  EXT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH - NIGHT
 
 LOTERIA TITLE CARD:
 Year of Huitzilopochtil, 1969
 St. Basil’s Roman Catholic Church
 (Near Beverly Hills)
 
 3  EXT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH – NIGHT (CONT’D)
 
 A  Plymouth shitbox parks in front of the church where two hundred-or-so  Chicano demonstrators have already been holding a candlelight vigil.  Cold and windy.
 
 OSCAR  hops out and heads for the crowd. College kids, elders, children. They  struggle to keep their candles lit. People pray. OSCAR is handed a  quesadilla by a GIRL DEMONSTRATOR.
 
 GIRL
 Tenga.
 
 OSCAR
 (takes it, eats)
 Thanks.
 (to crowd)
 I just got the word. We can go in, but the demonstration has to stay outside.
 
 They  murmur in excitement. “Viva la Raza!” shouts are heard. OSCAR grabs a  voluptuous CHICANA demonstrator by the arm and leads the crowd to the  front door.
 
 When they get there, the BLUE-SUITED USHER mouths the words “No more room” as OSCAR jerks at the door. No luck.
 
 GILBERT is a young Chicano poet.
 
 GILBERT
 Fuck these putos. Let’s go inside.
 
 A small  group led by OSCAR splits up and sneaks around the corner careful not to  be spotted by the SOC SQUAD in the parking lot. Moon-man uniforms and  rubber bullets just itching for the Chicanos to fuck up.
 
 They find it: an open basement door.
 
 The crowd shouts “Let the poor people in!” as OSCAR and the gang slide in.
 
 4  INT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH - NIGHT
 
 Inside, a CHILDREN’S CHOIR sings “Joy to the World” as the Chicanos scurry up the stairs and into the main lobby.
 
 Four  inch-thick glass doors block out the sounds of excitement made by the  demonstrators when they spot the Chicano infiltrators. The USHER is not  pleased.
 
 USHER
 You can’t come in here!
 
 OSCAR
 Can’t we go up in the choir loft?
 
 USHER
 No one is allowed up there--
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 Then open the doors and we’ll listen from here.
 
 USHER sizes up BLACK EAGLE’S immense build and militant garb.
 
 USHER
 uh- no. There’s absolutely no room. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.
 
   GILBERT dives for the front doors and panic ensues. The
 door inches open letting the “Poor people!” chants stream in. The parishioners in the back of the church are getting antsy.
 
 USHER  restrains GILBERT against the door and GILBERT meets him with an elbow  to the face. USHER is stunned and his badge falls out of his coat  pocket. It’s a trap.
 
 OSCAR
 He’s a pig!
 
 USHER
 (holding his bloody nose)
 Sergeant Armas! Sergeant Armas!
 
 4  INT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH – NIGHT (CONT’D)
 
 GILBERT  lays USHER out and BLACK EAGLE pulls the doors wide open. The  cockroaches flood in to be greeted by the SOC GOONS crawling out of the  woodwork.
 
 Now, every COLGATE SMILE and PERSONALIZED CHECKBOOK in the church has taken notice. The USHER inside the church locks the doors.
 
 MONSIGNOR HAWKES instructs the CHOIR to sing louder.
 
 Ashtrays, flyer racks, velvet ropes, holy water. Everything is a weapon. OSCAR can only stand and watch.
 
 Two GOONS grab OSCAR. SGT. ARMAS, the Chicano SOC leader, approaches:
 
 ARMAS
 Don’t touch him! He’s a lawyer!
 
 They back off. The CHOIR never misses a beat as all hell breaks loose in this, a church lobby.
 
 ARMAS
 Things got really out of control tonight. Thanks a lot.
 
 OSCAR
 Aw, fuck you, asshole.
 
 A REAL USHER pokes his head through the door and motions to OSCAR that he can sit up front.
 
 Spotting her chance, DUANA DOHERTY, a Chicana street-nun, sticks her head into the service.
 
 DUANA
 They’re killing the poor people in the lobby! Please help us!
 
 HAWKES
 Never mind these rabble-rousers, children. They are merely misdirected.
 
 As soon as the GOONS pull her away, a new threat comes barreling through the doors. GLORIA CHAVEZ, a busty,
 
 4  INT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH – NIGHT (CONT’D)
 
 raven-haired Chicana plows down the aisle waving a big metal crucifix above her head.
 
 GLORIA
 Brown Power!
 
 In front  of the SOC, the CHICANOS, HAWKES, the television CAMERAS, JESUS, and  every PARISHONER, GLORIA smashes the altar to bits, sending the  intoxicating blood and pasty little bodies of CHRIST flying miles into  the air.
 
 4  INT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH - NIGHT
 
 OSCAR  holds the phone in one hand and receiver to his ear while he looks out  the window and watches the police cars scream up the street, fat with  Chicanos.
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah,  she smashed everything to bits with it, man… I just witnessed the first  religious war in America… I was right there!… Fuckin’ A, turn on your  tape recorder. What have I been telling you?
 
 INTERCUT: INT., BEDROOM - MORNING
 
 The  famous baldheaded journalist RAOUL DUKE sits at his work desk and  fumbles for a tape recorder. In Woody Creek, Colorado, it’s snowing.
 
 DUKE
 And you want me to come out and write about this?
 
 OSCAR
 You or someone like you.
 
 DUKE
 And you’re a leader?
 
 OSCAR
 In all modesty, yeah.
 
 4  INT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH – NIGHT (CONT’D)
 
 DUKE
 You’re serious, man.
 (pause)
 I mean, you see what you’ve done?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah, I upped the ante.
 
 DUKE
 You mean, you dumped it on your buddies.
 
 OSCAR sits quietly and doesn’t even realize it when he hangs up the phone.
 
 It’s a nice view from the 10th floor.
 
 FADE TO BLACK  
 
 LOTERIA TITLE CARD:
 Twelve Months Earlier.
 
 EXT., MOTEL - MORNING
 
 OSCAR is a  trim, slim fella. Hardly recognizable. He sits on the phlegm-soaked  curb outside his shitty downtown motel and waits for his sister.
 
 TERESA rolls up in a sporty little convertible.
 
 She gets out and they hug.
 
 EXT., CAR - MORNING
 
 They cruise towards the suburbs.
 
 OSCAR
 How’s mom and dad?
 
 TERESA
 They’re okay.
 
 OSCAR looks his sister up and down in a way a brother’s not supposed to. He clearly hasn’t seen her in years.
 
 OSCAR
 So your name’s Hurley now?
 
 TERESA
 What’s wrong with that?
 
 EXT., HURLEY HOUSE - MORNING
 
 Kidney-shaped pools, picket fences, and kids on mini-bikes tearing through the neighborhood. Unreal.
 
 INT., HURLEY HOUSE - MORNING
 
 They talk in the dining room.
 
 TERESA
 What about politics?
 
 OSCAR laughs into his Martini.
 
 TERESA
 Not like a politician, but like, I mean, you know, the Civil Rights thing.
 
 OSCAR
 Been there.
 
 TERESA
 But that was with the niggers.
 
 DAVE HURLEY, plain as a white envelope, serves breakfast while they talk. He wipes his hands on his apron.
 
 TERESA
 Have you heard about the Chicano Party? Sorta like the Black Panthers, only in East LA.
 
 OSCAR is more interested in his meal. He nods.
 
 OSCAR
 Can I borrow some cash?
 
 TERESA
 No.
 
 They eat quietly.
 
 TERESA
 Why don’t you ask cousin Manuel?
 
 OSCAR
 Does he still own the Fish Bowl?
 
 Teresa nods.
 
 DAVE
 How is everything?
 
 TERESA
 Great, hon.
 
 They kiss. OSCAR keeps eating.
 
 INT., MANNY’S FISH BOWL - AFTERNOON
 
 The few  REGULARS are scattered around. MANUEL and OSCAR sit at a booth. MANUEL’S  build, and photos behind the bar, suggest he’s an ex-track star.  They’ve been drinking.
 
 OSCAR
 You ever heard of the Chicano Militants?
 
 MANUEL
 Bunch a  punk commie kids who couldn’t find their dicks with a flashlight. They  blame all their troubles on everyone but themselves.
 
 OSCAR
 Like you and the Olympics?
 
 MANUEL
 That’s  different! I worked my ass off. The only reason I didn’t make the  selection is ‘cause that pinche Coach Mudd didn’t want to train me  ‘cause--
 
 OSCAR
 -- ‘cause you’re Chicano.
 
       MANUEL
 Exactly. See, I’m not blaming anyone. I’m not  going around asking the government for a handout.
 
 OSCAR
 So the USC scholarship. That wasn’t a handout?
 
 MANUEL
 I earned it, cabron.
 
 EXT., MOTEL - NIGHT
 
 MANUEL pulls up to the curb.
 
 MANUEL
 Remember when you wouldn’t march at graduation cause they bunched all us Mexican kids together at the very end of the line?
 
 OSCAR
 Sons of bitches. Thought we wouldn’t notice.
 
 MANUEL
 Sometimes you gotta do shit on your own, you know?
 (pause)
 How much do you need?
 
 OSCAR
 A hundred. For rent.
 
 MANUEL hands him a wad of cash.
 
     MANUEL
 If you’re really interested, I can take you by that place tomorrow.
 
 OSCAR
 We’ll see. I’ll call you.
 
 INT., MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
 
 The roaches scatter into the shadows as soon as the door opens and light overtakes.
 
 OSCAR undresses as he passes a lonely desk occupied only by Lorenz’s On Aggression and Ardrey’s The Territorial Imperative.
 
 The room is sweating. He lies motionless, face up in bed. All lights are off except for a reading light above the headboard.
 
 Fearless, a cockroach crawls across OSCAR’S bare stomach. He is surprised, but definitely not scared or repulsed.
 
 In fact, he is fascinated. The cockroach stops and faces him, antennae flailing, receiving all transmissions.
 
 OSCAR  lifts his hand and attempts to touch the creature. He extends a finger  and slowly, cautiously flanks his shiny little companion.
 
 The roach extends its wings and flutters away just before the finger reaches it. OSCAR is alone again.
 
 OSCAR (phone v/o)
 What’s that place you told me about again?
 
 MANUEL (phone v/o)
 You mean La Voz?
 
 INT., LA VOZ OFFICE - MORNING
 
 A cramped basement office that doubles as headquarters for the underground Chicano newspaper La Voz.
 
 MANUEL (v/o)
 It’s kind of a newspaper. The offices are in the basement. That guy I told you about used to-- (fade out)
 
 Homemade  tables are stacked chest high with papers and printing equipment.  Protest signs line the walls: “Fences are for Criminals and Animals,”  “Education, Not Eradication,” “Put Chicanos in Our History Books.” OSCAR  looks around for signs of life.
 
 GILBERT rushes out from the back room.
 
 GILBERT
 (surprised)
 Chingado. What do you want?
 
 OSCAR
 Is this La Voz?
 
 GILBERT
 Who wants to know?
 
 OSCAR
 I’m a writer.
 
 GILBERT grabs some of the signs and motions towards the exit.
 
 GILBERT
 No shit. For who?
 
 OSCAR
 No one, really. I came looking for a story.
 
 GILBERT
 Oh yeah?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.
 
 GILBERT locks up.
 
 GILBERT
 You want a story, vato, then come with me.
 
 EXT., GARFIELD HIGH - MORNING
 
 By the time OSCAR and GILBERT get to the school, the first wave of striking STUDENTS have gathered on the lawn.
 
 OSCAR
 What’s going on?
 
 GILBERT
 The students are going on strike, ese.
 
 GILBERT spots someone he knows and leaves OSCAR to melt into the forming crowd.
 
 OSCAR watches the firm young CHICANAS filing out of the school with their classmates.
 
 The STUDENTS are met by other DEMONSTRATORS, as well as the POLICE steadily arriving on the scene.
 
 A large  group of the STUDENTS have sat down right on Whittier Boulevard and  completely blocked traffic. The COPS try to disperse them, but they  won’t budge.
 
 The COPS  are getting forceful. They shove demonstrators towards the sidewalks.  Some STUDENTS fight back, and are quickly met with billy clubs and mace.
 
 Some of the STUDENTS in charge motion to the sitting group that the show is hitting the road. GILBERT directs the human traffic.
 
 All the  COCKROACHES migrate. OSCAR follows in the middle of the mass. As they  weave through Chicano neighborhoods, they call to the other brown people  to join their march.
 
 OSCAR  takes it all in: mangy dogs and cats, narrow jungle paths of garbage  cans, beat-up jalopies, mudholes and dog shit, signs that read “Menudo  Everyday!” A comfortable beauty.
 
 A KID in a blue beannie no older than fourteen sidles up to him.
 
 KID
 Hey, vato, you got a smoke?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.
 
 He hands him the pack.
 
 KID
 Hey, thanks, ese.
 
 The KID  passes the pack around to his BUDDIES who have made OSCAR the center of a  march line. They all shout “Viva La Raza!” and send tight little brown  fists into the air.
 
 It’s all too much. OSCAR begins to weep. The KID notices.
 
     KID
     Hey, ese. Why’re you crying?
 
     OSCAR
     I’m not sure.
 
 OSCAR  doesn’t bother to wipe the tears away. He keeps marching. Each step more  confident than the last, like he knows they’re leading him somewhere.  Signs and flags and fists and faces shine golden in the morning’s sun.
 
 He breathes with difficulty. He’s amidst the first public action by the Chicano community.
 
 The crowd of thousands marches proud and defiant towards the rest of the world.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ(v/o)
 A revolution accomplished through brute force generates only another brutal society.
 
 INT., FARMHOUSE - MORNING
 
 LOTERIA TITLE CARD:
 United Farmworkers Union Headquarters
 UFW leader Cesar Chavez is one day away from completing a month-long hunger strike
 
 The room  is pitch black except for a flickering candle above Cesar Chavez’s  headboard. There is very little life left in his body. OSCAR sits beside  the bed. A NUN sits quietly in the corner of the room.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 Do you know how long I’ve waited for a Chicano lawyer to come down here?
 
 OSCAR
 I know, Cesar. But I… I dropped out of the scene for a while.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 And now you’re back?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 I heard that now you call yourself Buffalo Zeta Brown, eh?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.
 
 There’s a long silence.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 Buffalo.
 
 OSCAR
 Are you okay, Cesar?
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 I’m okay. Are you okay? How are things in LA?
 
 OSCAR
 All right, I guess.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 Are you getting the viejitos involved in the Movement?
 
 OSCAR
 You know how the old folks are about the kids, and the Movement.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 And the Militants?
 
 OSCAR
 They’re doing a great job… I don’t know if you’d approve, though.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 Listen, viejo… It doesn’t matter if I approve. What can you do, eh?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah, but--
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 I hear you’re a hell of a lawyer.
 
 OSCAR
 I don’t want to be a lawyer.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 So? No one wants to be a lawyer.
 
 OSCAR
 I think I’m going… I think I might take some of the misdemeanor cases from the Garfield student’s strike.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ
 Good.
 (long pause)
 Today’s the last day of my fast. Tomorrow I’m breaking bread with Robert Kennedy.
 
 CESAR CHAVEZ begins to wheeze uncontrollably and the NUN rushes to his aid. OSCAR gets up and walks backward out of the room.
 
 In the hallway, he pauses to read a plaque that (in SPANISH) reads:
 
         Life is not as it seems,
   Life is pride and personal history.
   Thus it is better that one die
   and that the people should live,
   rather than one live
   and the people die.
 - Lopitos; Acapulco, 1960
 
   FADE TO BLACK
 
   INT., OFFICE - MORNING
 
 OSCAR has taken a break from typing to tend to a phone call. He looks at his brand new business cards:
 
 Buffalo Z. Brown
 Chicano Lawyer
 Belmont Hotel, LA
 
 OSCAR
 I’m  sorry, judge. I’d never intend to insult the dignity of your court with  my tasteless business cards… I understand, judge. And I’ll never use the  cards again. In your courtroom. But you can tell those local lawyers  that I’ll call myself any goddamn thing I want!
 
 He slams the phone down and resumes typing. The phone rings:
 
 OSCAR
 Hello?
 
 RUTH (v/o)
 Buff!
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah, Ruth.
 
 RUTH (v/o)
 We’re fucked.
 
 INT., CAR - MORNING
 
 OSCAR listens to the radio as he tears ass to the police station.
 
 RADIO
 Thirteen  Chicano Militants have been indicted by the Los Angeles County Grand  Jury on charges of Conspiracy to Disrupt the Schools--
 
 INT., POLICE STATION - MORNING
 
 OSCAR is guided to the cell where RISCO, GILBERT, MANGAS, and the OTHERS are being held.
 
 RADIO (cont’d)
 -- in  connection with the school strikes this month. Chief Reddin and District  Attorney Younger stated that the militants have all been apprehended  and are being held without bail--(fade out)
 
 OSCAR shakes hands through the bars.
 
 FADE TO:
 
 RISCO
 Yeah, next Tuesday’s the election.
 
 OSCAR
 Didn’t Kennedy and McCarthy send you telegrams of support? Aren’t the Chicanos supporting those guys?
 
 RISCO
 Well… We ain’t voting for Nixon, ese.
 
 OSCAR
 That’s what I mean. The arrests tie in with the California Primary. That’ll make those guys look bad for supporting you.
 
 RISCO
 Those putos’ll move us around whenever they want, ese.
 
 OSCAR
 I ain’t promising anything except that I won’t cop out on anything. I’ll defend you, if you want me.
 
 They resoundingly agree.
 
 RISCO
 We’re going on a hunger strike until we get out.
 
 OSCAR
 Alright. But we need more. We’re already front page news. But we need more.
 
 MANGAS
 Like what?
 
 EXT., POLICE STATION - DAY
 
 The next  day and there is a huge crowd of Chicano protesters, joined by Black  Panthers and the local Communist Party, outside the jail demanding the  freedom of the EAST LA 13.
 
 OSCAR has taken the makeshift stage. The CROWD is hanging on every word.
 
 OSCAR
 Imagine.  Forty-five years behind bars because of an idea. A life sentence for  disturbing the minds of people in power. That’s all they’ve done.  They’ve said things. They are not being prosecuted because of violence.  They did not throw eggs or set fires. The DA isn’t saying they threw  eggs or set fires. They did organize a demonstration. The DA knows this.  And we most emphatically agree. We did plan, and in fact did execute,  the demonstration at five Chicano high schools in March of 1968. If that  makes us criminals, then we are criminals. We are rebels and outlaws  against a government of injustice. And unless we all band together and  fight this type of political persecution, we are all doomed. Thank you  for coming out. Viva la Raza!
 
 They all go wild. OSCAR’S exhausted. He slinks off the stage.
 
 TV REPORTER (v/o)
 Ladies  and gentlemen… Ladies and gentlemen, Senator Robert Kennedy has been  shot… Eyewitnesses report that the man has run out into the lobby… The  police have apprehended him… Eyewitnesses say he’s a Mexican-American,  Latino-type person--
 
 INT., LA VOZ OFFICE - NIGHT
 
 An  incredulous crowd has gathered around the tube. Some  weep, most are  furious. OSCAR sits with GILBERT and PELON away from the crowd.
 
 OSCAR
 He was the last hope for the Chicanos.
 
 PELON
 What the fuck are you talking about, ese?
 
 OSCAR
 Not him,  personally. The whole liberal bit. It’s dead now. McCarthy lost  tonight, too. It doesn’t matter who killed him. Liberals choke at  violence. You watch and see. Nixon’s a shoe-in.
 
 They sit and stare as the crowd filters out.
 
 FADE OUT
 
 INT., TED’S HOUSE - MORNING
 
 TED CASEY stands in the doorway of his home in a bathrobe. He holds out a baggy.
 
 TED
 Straight from Savage Henry.
 
 OSCAR
 Good stuff?
 
 TED
 Oh, you’re good.
 
 EXT., LAKE - AFTERNOON
 
 OSCAR,  MANGAS, BLACK EAGLE, GILBERT, and LADY FEATHERS all sit nude on the  shore. LADY FEATHERS wears a headdress. OSCAR, by this point, is  slightly overweight.
 
 GILBERT
 I think this LSD’s kicking in.
 
 OSCAR
 You’ll know when it does.
 
 LADY FEATHERS
 How will we know?
 
 OSCAR
 You just will.
 
 The rest share a joint as OSCAR sits quietly and watches a one-prop PLANE in the distance.
 
 Sunset.  The orange ball drifts slowly downward as OSCAR waits patiently for the  acid to hit. He’s fascinated by the slow movement of the sun, which has  now begun vibrating to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
 
 The voices around him become a wave of human music. Quite suddenly, the acid twists his head off.
 
 OSCAR is on his side and doesn’t realize it. He laughs.
 
 MACHINE GUN FIRE! He springs up. The sun goes mad. SPANIARDS with shotguns crash their red motorboat onto the shore.
 
 SPANIARD
 Did you see that fat greaser run?!
 
 The COCKROACHES scatter as the PLANE swoops overhead in formation, leading its roaring squadron.
 
 OSCAR  sloshes around the lake at CHAPULTEPEC in the VALLEY OF MEXICO. He  stands around the remains of dead SPANIARDS, water knee-deep and blood  red.
 
 “Stars  and Stripes Forever” plays as he shouts at heaven and shakes his fists  at the PLANE which has now become a giant BLACK BIRD napalming the dry,  brown-yellow countryside.
 
 OSCAR throws stones with all his might and strikes the creature, sending it splattering across the sky, leaving only stars.
 
 INT., CAR - NIGHT
 
 OSCAR sits in the back seat. They drive in silence.
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 What’s the plan, ese?
 
 OSCAR
 I’m meeting Mayor Yorty tomorrow.
 
 INT., MAYOR’S OFFICE - MORNING
 
 MAYOR YORTY sits at his desk with his goon CHIEF REDDIN behind him. A mug full of flags from different nations adorns his desk.
 
 YORTY
 I’m  telling you, Brown. All you fellas are doing is getting your own people  in trouble by doing all this picketing. The blacks did the very same  thing you fellas are doing now, but you know something- and this is the  honest-to-God-truth- those fellas didn’t get a thing accomplished until  the Watts riots! And that’s the truth!
 
 OSCAR,  along with GILBERT, MANGAS, and some CHICANO LAW STUDENTS, sit and stand  in disbelief. OSCAR has the Mexican flag in his hand.
 
 A LAW STUDENT leans forward into OSCAR’S ear.
 
 STUDENT
 Maybe the church will help.
 
 INT., CARDINAL MCINTYRES’ OFFICE - MORNING
 
 MCINTYRE sits in the same type of office at the same type of desk. Four BEEFY PRIEST GOONS stand at attention behind him.
 
 MCINTYRE
 Let me  say this. I know who you people are. I have kept up with your  shenanigans in the paper. And let me say this- I shall never meet with  the forces of evil! We know who is behind you, and we can take care of  you! Remember that. Now get the hell out!
 
 INT., OFFICE - AFTERNOON
 
 ROSEMARY, OSCAR’S kind old secretary, reads off messages as he stands in front of her desk.
 
 ROSEMARY
 Four  calls. Two bomb threats. One was my brother in New Mexico who says he’s  very disappointed in me. And the last one was from the Ford Foundation.  They’ve decided to stop paying for this office.
 
 OSCAR
 Take the week off.
 
 ROSEMARY
 Alright.
 
 EXT., STREET - AFTERNOON
 
 OSCAR and ROSEMARY walk down the sidewalk carrying boxes full of office paperwork.
 
 OSCAR
 I’m moving into La Voz’s office. Do me a favor, though, will you? Before you go.
 
 ROSEMARY
 Sure.
 
 OSCAR
 Set up a press conference.
 
 INT., LA VOZ OFFICE - MORNING
 
 They place is lined with international MEDIA. Seemingly every country is represented. OSCAR is baked by the lights.
 
 OSCAR
 Actually, we’re part of the Jewish underground.
 
 The TEL-AVIV REPORTER isn’t amused.
 
 LIFE REPORTER
 Are any of your members affiliated with radicals?
 
 OSCAR
 Yes. I belong to a violent organization.
 
 LIFE REPORTER
 Is that for print?
 
 OSCAR
 You can tell the world, mister. I am an American citizen. Nixon is my leader.
 
 TIME REPORTER
 What about last week’s attack on St. Basil’s Church?
 
 INTERCUT:  The ST. BASIL’S DEMONSTRATION: GLORIA CHAVEZ destroying the altar, the  SOC breaking up the scene, REPORTERS scrambling around, OSCAR in the  middle.
 
 OSCAR
 We have  nothing against the church. Don’t you understand? It’s the power of the  church. The administration of funds. We want the church to be more  democratic. More involved in social programs. That’s why, three days  from now, the Chicano Militant Catholics, as you call us, are holding a  fast in front of St. Basil’s Church to show our commitment to  non-violence.
 
 The REPORTERS don’t buy it.
 
 EXT., ST. BASIL’S CHURCH - NIGHT
  
 A peaceful CROWD sits under tents and wrapped in blankets. Candles light the night. Some one gently plays corridos on a guitar.
 
 ARMAS and his troops, in the FEDCO building a block away, just wait and watch.
 
 OSCAR sits alone, warm in a large blanket. BLACK EAGLE fields REPORTER’S questions.
 
 Three  pretty teen girls approach OSCAR. ROSALIE, VERONICE, and MADELINE. They  are cousins. They chew gun and talk fast without missing a beat.
 
 VERONICA
 Do you have an extra blanket?
 
 OSCAR
 We can share this one.
 
 They all sit against the wall and throw OSCAR’S blanket across their legs.
 
 VERONICA
 You’re Buffalo, right?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.
 
 VERONICA
 Are you really stoned?
 
 OSCAR
 What do you mean?
 
 ROSALIE
 No. It’s just… Isn’t that why you’ve just been sitting?
 
 MADELINE
 You look spaced out.
 
 OSCAR
 I’m fasting.
 
 ROSALIE
 The others are smoking.
 
 OSCAR looks around, realizing just how much he resembles a middle-aged, phony-ass mystic.
 
 OSCAR
 Do you guys have any dope?
 
 FADE TO:
 
 They’ve made a makeshift tent using their bodies as posts and the blanket as cover. They pass the joint around.
 
 OSCAR’S loving it. In a pup tent with three gorgeous Chicana broads.
 
 Things  come naturally. Kissing, touching, fondling, smoking, kissing,  caressing, smoking. Nothing serious. Just a brief walk through the  clouds.
 
 BLACK  EAGLE and GILBERT stand above the writhing tent-monster. They laugh and  do a silent 3-count and prepare to yank the blanket off. GILBERT’S hand  reaches out…
 
 FADE TO:
 
 St. BASIL’S CHURCH - MORNING
 
 A PRIEST’S hand reaches out holding a Communion wafer.  OSCAR leads the Chicanos to the brand new altar.
 
 PRIEST
 (giving Oscar a wafer)
 The Body of Christ.
 
 EXT., CRONIE’S - AFTERNOON
 
 ROBERT FERNANDEZ is living it up with his sister LUPE and FRIENDS. They eat burgers, drink sodas.
 
 LUPE (v/o)
 My  brother Robert was a good kid. He’d been picked up a few times, yeah.  Simple stuff. Drinking in public. Possession. He spent some time in the  Youth Authority Camp. But he was getting his act together. He even got a  job. He was starting work next week.
 
 INT., LA VOZ OFFICE - MORNING
 
 LUPE and her husband JOHN sit across from OSCAR.
 
     LUPE (cont’d)
 We were  at Cronies having some burgers when the cops started hassling us. All  ‘cause Robert shouted “Brown Power” when they drove by. They checked him  out, his arms and everything. The tracks were old, but the cops didn’t  care. They took him to jail. They said he’d be out in a few hours, but  then Robert called and said the cops had changed their minds. We waited  all night, until finally the cops called late the next day and said that  Robert had committed suicide in his cell. That he hung himself.
 
   INT., FUNERAL PARLOR - MORNING
 
   DORIS, ROBERT’S other sister, weeps over his body.
 
       LUPE (cont’d)
 At the  funeral, Doris, our other sister, went up to pay her respects. She was  crying over Robert when she noticed that her tears had wiped some of the  make-up off of his face.
 
 DORIS wipes the tears off his face to reveal deep blue welts.
 
 LUPE (cont’d)
 His face was covered with bruises. We told the coroner, but he said it was natural. They buried him that afternoon.
 
   INT., LA VOZ OFFICE - MORNING
 
 OSCAR
 You think the cops killed him?
 
 LUPE
 I know they did, Mr. Brown! Robert was a good kid. He was getting married and he… there’s no reason why he’d kill himself.
 
 OSCAR
 The LA County Coroner. Tom Naguchi. I’ll set up a press conference.
 
   INT., NAGUCHI’S OFFICE - AFTERNOON
 
 The press has gathered to hear OSCAR’S statement. Dr. Naguchi stands proudly behind him.
 
 OSCAR
 Gentlemen,  I’ll make this short. We have reason to believe that Robert Fernandez  died, not by suicide, but at the hands of another. That’s all I can say  now. But on behalf of the family of Robert Fernandez and those in East  LA who are interested in justice, we’d like to thank Dr. Tom Naguchi.
 
 NAGUCHI smiles from ear to ear.
 
 INT., LA HALL OF JUSTICE - MORNING
 
 OSCAR passes CHARLES MANSON being led down the hall by a heavily armed entourage.
 
 He walks downstairs and into the morgue.
 
 INT., MORGUE - MORNING
 
 A large,  bright room lined with hospital carts. Naked bodies of red and purple  meat. An old wino, legs crushed. A full breasted red-head. A beautiful  young girl with her white skin gone yellow. OSCAR doesn’t turn away.
 
 At the  far end of the room, NAGUCHI and his staff of seven expert PATHOLOGISTS  wait patiently. Some smoke pipes. A STENOGRAPHER and a sheriff’s office  REP stand by, as well.
 
 NAGUCHI
 Coroner’s number 19444889, Robert Fernandez, deceased.
 
 He pulls the sheet off ROBERT’S body. A bull of a man, now pale and purple-necked. His chest is stitched shut.
 
 NAGUCHI  snips the stitches. When he’s done, he opens ROBERT’S chest and empties  the contents onto a nearby table. Sawdust and sand spill out.
 
 PATHOLOGIST
 Is this your first time?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.
 
 PATHOLOGIST
 You’ll get used to it.
 (to Rep)
 Where there photos from the scene?
 
 REP
 No, sir.
 
 PATHOLOGIST
 What are we looking for, Mr. Brown?
 
 OSCAR
 We have reason to believe that Mr. Fernandez was murdered--
 
 REP
 Nonsense.
 
 NAGUCHI
 Gentlemen, please. Mr. Brown, where would you like for us to begin?
 
 What a question. OSCAR looks all around.
 
     OSCAR
     What was that?
 
     NAGUCHI
     What are we looking for, Mr. Brown? Bruises?
 
     OSCAR
     Yeah. Bruises.
 (points to Robert’s face)
 Is that a bruise?
 
 NAGUCHI
 Well.  Discoloration, purple spots. The body is decomposing. It’s all normal.  There’s no way to tell without microscopic observation.
 
 OSCAR
 So, what. We have to cut all the purple spots off?
 
 NAGUCHI
 That’s the only way to satisfy your… yes.
 
 OSCAR settles into his role as autopsy director.
 
 OSCAR
 Okay. How about this?
 
 OSCAR points to the left cheek. A PATHOLOGIST quickly slices off an inch of meat with a scalpel.
 
 OSCAR
 How about the ear?
 
 Another swift move and the flesh is removed. Everything ends up in jars of clear liquid.
 
 NAGUCHI
 And now, Mr. Brown?
 
 OSCAR
 The knuckles. Here.
 
 And so it goes. OSCAR instructs every scalpel-stroke. Jars fill up quickly. ROBERT is disintegrating before their eyes.
 
 The head  is opened. The brain, in its sack, is removed.  Bruises line the scalp.  The face is pulled off and back. This ain’t ROBERT no more. Not a body. A  body is a whole. This is a joke.
 
 Out comes  the neck bone. Sawdust. Broken ribs. Sand. Old track marks. A cross  tattoo on his hand. A heart-shaped tattoo on his arm. All removed,  bottled, and labeled.
 
 INT., BATHROOM - MORNING
 
 OSCAR leans against a sink and cries.
 
 INT. NAGUCHI’S OFFICE - MORNING
 
 NAGUCHI sits solemnly behind his desk.
 
 NAGUCHI
 I’m sorry, Mr. Brown. The findings were inconclusive.
 
 OSCAR
 Then I want a Coroner’s Inquest.
 
   EXT., COURTHOUSE - DAY
 
   OSCAR fields REPORTER’S questions.
 
       OSCAR
 This is  not a trial. It is an inquest. I can’t participate as a lawyer or  cross-examine. Norman Pitluck, the Hearing Officer. I am only here to  assist him. But I can say nothing to the jury. That’s state law.  Period.
 
 He enters the courthouse.
 
 INT., COURTROOM - DAY
 
 Activists,  family, and reporters from local and Mexican news stations- RUBEN  SALAZAR among them - fill the room. OSCAR sits with PITLUCK, with  ROSALIE, MADELINE, and VERONICA in the audience behind them.
 
 Four MEN and four WOMEN fill the jury box. The same STENOGRAPHER from the autopsy records the proceedings.
 
 The fat Italian DOCTOR who held the initial autopsy has taken the stand.
 
 PITLUCK
 This question is from Mr. Brown. What led you to find strangulation as the cause of death?
 
 DOCTOR
 The injuries to the neck, the bruised skin, and the ruptures inside.
 
 PITLUCK
 Could these injuries have happened after death?
 
 DOCTOR
 That’s highly unlikely since the deputies found a belt and a piece of cloth around the boy’s neck--
 
 OSCAR
 (standing)
 That’s hearsay!
 
 JUDGE
 Mr. Brown, please sit down!
 
 OSCAR
 It’s unreliable!
 
 JUDGE
 Sit down!
 
 CUT TO:
 
 The Chicano DEPUTY who arrested ROBERT has taken the stand.
 
 DEPUTY
 It was possible that Robert was under the influence of drugs.
 
 OSCAR
 Objection! He’s prejudicing the jury!
 
 JUDGE
 And so are you, Mr. Brown, with your outbursts! Now please sit down!
 
 CUT TO:
 
 A JAILER is now up.
 
 PITLUCK
 From Mr. Brown: Why didn’t you take Robert to the hospital?
 
 JAILER
 He was already dead. There was no detectable breath for almost a half hour--
 
 OSCAR
 Are you a doctor?
 
 JUDGE
 Mr. Brown, I will remove you from the court—
 
 OSCAR
 You’re nuts!
 
   CUT TO:
 
 A young,  black TRUSTY who handed towels and blankets to the prisoners is on the  stand. He’s nervous. BROWN holds up a blanket with a section neatly cut  out of it.
 
 PITLUCK
 The section missing from this blanket is what the investigators believe to be Robert’s suicide rope.  
 
 TRUSTY
 I remember I took in two new blankets. The night before. One for Fernandez and one for the other dude.
 
 PITLUCK
 And in the morning?
 
 The  TRUSTY looks across at the DA and the JAILERS who walked him into the  courtroom. He knows the brutal consequences of his statement.
 
 TRUSTY
 They were both there.
 
 The crowd murmurs. He just exposed a murder.
 
 TRUSTY
 They don’t let us leave dirty or torn blankets.
 
   OSCAR thanks him in silence.  
 
   CUT TO:
 
 PITLUCK questions MICKEY DA SILVA, the kid sleeping in the bunk above ROBERT FERNANDEZ. His nose is in his chest.
 
 PITLUCK
 Mr. Da Silva, you were in the bunk right above Robert?
 
 MICKEY
 Yes, sir.
 
 PITLUCK
 Did you notice anything strange that night?
 
 MICKEY
 When he  came in he asked if I had a pencil. He wanted to write his name on the  wall. I told him no and we talked for a little while.
 
 PITLUCK
 Did he seem strange in any way?
 
 MICKEY
 He seemed a little down, I guess.
 
 PITLUCK  
 Anything else?
 
 MICKEY eyes the DA and the JAILERS.
 
 MICKEY
 No. Next thing I know, they’re carrying Robert away in the morning. I didn’t see anything.
 
 OSCAR
 Goddamn liar!
 
 JUDGE
 Mr. Brown!
 
   CUT TO:
 
 The JURORS sit and the FOREMAN hands the verdict to the JUDGE.
 
 JUDGE
 It is the finding of this jury that the death of Robert Fernandez was, in fact, a suicide.
 
 The crowd can’t believe it. Robert’s family is heartbroken.
 
 OSCAR sits quietly at his table. The blood pumping through his ears is the only sound.
 
 INT., GILBERT’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
 
 Laid before them: a gallon of gasoline, Tide, tampons, tape, a can of oil, and a jug of water.
 
 OSCAR and PELON watch as GILBERT teaches them a valuable lesson.
 
 GILBERT
 Two  parts gasoline mixed with one part soap and one part oil. You mix it in a  bottle and stick the tampon in the neck. Tape it shut with the string  hanging out. Light and heave so it breaks on contact. Molotov. Poor  man’s napalm.
 
 INT., MUSTANG - NIGHT
 
 OSCAR drives with GILBERT and PELON.
 
 PELON
 Who we gonna hit?
 
 OSCAR
 Don’t know. I’m thinking.
 
 GILBERT
 What’ll you do if you get caught?
 
 OSCAR
 I’ll tell them my name is Emiliano Zapata.
 
 
 
 PELON
 D’you ever see that one movie with Brando? Viva Zapata?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah. It was okay.
 
 They drive past a Safeway.
 
 GILBERT
 The Farmworkers are boycotting the Safeways.
 
 OSCAR
 Cesar Chavez is not into bombs, ese.
 
 GILBERT
 We are.
 
 PELON
 Yeah. That’s where my mom shops. They’re always giving her a hard time.
 
 They park  behind the store. They operate in silence. PELON hands OSCAR a lighter  and the homemade bomb. OSCAR walks gently across the empty, rain-slick  parking lot.
 
 It seems  as empty, dark, and infinite as the night sky. OSCAR periodically  flickers the lighter. He reaches the rear of the store and spots a small  window high above.
 
 He lights  the string, waits a moment, and heaves it straight through the glass.  He walks back in a daze as flames and alarms scream behind him.
 
 INT., GILBERT’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
 
 OSCAR and the boys are greeted with kisses and shouts and booze and mota. OSCAR succumbs immediately.
 
 EXT., KMEX RADIO - MORNING
 
 OSCAR parks and walks into the station.
 
 REPORTER (v/o)
 The  cause of the fire that gutted the Safeway is still unknown, but a  spokesman for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department said arson is  likely to blame. In other local news, flamboyant Mexican-American lawyer  Buffalo Z. Brown has announced that he is running for the office of  Sheriff of Los Angeles County, population seven million--
 
 INT., KMEX RADIO - MORNING
 
 Reporter RUBEN SALAZAR conducts the interview for his news program.
 
 OSCAR
 First of  all, I’ve given up my slave name and changed it to Zeta. Second, you  can bet that if another Chicano, another Cockroach, had killed Robert  Fernandez, Sheriff Peter Peaches wouldn’t have covered it up like he  did.
 
 RUBEN
 Cockroaches, Mr. Brown- uh, Mr. Zeta?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.  Cockroach People. You know, the little beasts that everyone steps on.  But don’t worry, when I’m in there, I’ll make sure that those guilty are  punished.
 
 RUBEN
 So it’s true? You’re running for LA County Sheriff, Zeta?
 
 OSCAR
 (holds up receipt)
 Here’s my receipt for the filing fee.
 
 RUBEN
 Well, you are just full of surprises.
 
 After the interview:
 
 RUBEN
 So you’re really going through with it?
 
 OSCAR
 Absolutely.
 
 RUBEN
 Well, I want to cover every bit of it.
 
 OSCAR
 Ruben, that’s fine by me.
 
 RUBEN
 And be careful, hombre, okay? You know how dangerous this is.
 
 OSCAR
 I know, I know.
 
 LOTERIA TITLE CARD:
 Trial of the St. Basil’s 21.
 
 FINISH TRIAL
 
 SPEECH WITH QUINN, CARR, ET AL.(speech VO w/ photo montg.?)
 
 LOTERIA TITLE CARD:
 Rally at UCLA Student Union
 One Day After the Kent State Shootings
 
 A full  and eager house. CORKY GONZALES is at the podium. A RED-BEARDED MC  stands beside. Long hair, untucked shirts, beads, buttons, and posters  adorn the crowd.
 
 CORKY GONZALES
 So I  would only like to add that you should get involved in struggles in your  own backyard. Not just in the campuses, but in the barrios, the  ghettos, wherever you find the forces of reaction working against the  people. Which reminds me, our next speaker is a candidate for sheriff in  the upcoming election under La Raza Unida party. I ask for your  support. Thanks.
 
 CORKY  GONZALES steps down and heads for the wings where he embraces OSCAR and  sends him out. RED-BEARD walks him up as applause trickles around the  auditorium.
 
 
 OSCAR
 Let me  just say first that I am not here for votes. Most of you don’t vote,  anyways. I am here to join the protest against the war. I have come to  share my words of sorrow for the kids killed at Kent State. But more  than that, I’ve come to ask for your support in local issues. Like Corky  said, death is not uncommon to us. Fuck, they’ve taken everything from  us. Death at the hands of the pigs is nothing new to Chicanos.
 
 “Preach on, brother!” and “Right on!” fly across the room.
 
 OSCAR
 But still, I must ask myself what the shouts of solidarity mean. You say to go “right on,” yeah?
 
 “Amen!”
 
 OSCAR
 You say we gotta wipe the pigs out, right?
 
 “Right on, man!”
 
 OSCAR
 That we need peace and love, right?
 
   “Give ‘em hell, brother!”
 
       OSCAR
 Peace and love, and a little dope and a little rock on the side, right?  
 
 “Yeah!”
 
 OSCAR
 Hell,  yeah. A little dope and a little love, a little cheer here and there.  Let’s march around the block and step right up to those pigs and kill  them with our buttons and beads. We’ll slaughter them with our Rolling  Stones albums, right?
 
 The crowd feels duped. “Fuck you, man!”
 
 
 OSCAR
 We’ll smother them with acid, and rock and roll!
 
 “Get off the stage, man!” and “Quit this divisive shit!”
   
     OSCAR
 When the  pigs come to take us all, what will you do? Will you hide behind your  skin? Your school colors? Will you run back to Beverly Hills? Or  Westwood? Will you shoot you own mother, crack your uncle’s head apart? I  doubt it. I seriously doubt it.
 
 RED-BEARD
 Wrap it up, will you.
 
 OSCAR
 Fuck off. Viva la Raza, motherfuckers.
 
 A few CHICANOS applaud, but RED-BEARD rushes to the mic and announces:
 
     RED-BEARD
 Alright, alright. Here she is. Miss Angela Davis.
 
 The angry crowd immediately switches gears and roars to life. ANGELA DAVIS passes OSCAR.
 
     ANGELA DAVIS
     Brother, you are heavy.
 
 OSCAR LOSES SHERIFFS RACE
 
 INT., MEXICANA AIRLINER - EVENING
 
 OSCAR looks out his tiny window at the gold shimmering sea.
 
 EXT., LOPITOS STATUE - NIGHT
 
 OSCAR walks uphill, duffel slung over his shoulder. At the top of the hill, next to Lopitos’ statue, stands a man his age.
 
 OSCAR
 They told me you’d be up here, mano.
 
 Despite being twins, OSCAR’S brother JESUS is considerably thinner, with longer hair. They hug.
 
 JESUS
 How was the trip?
 
 OSCAR
 Okay. I think the CIA’s after me, though. I saw some guys at the airport.
 
 JESUS
 You’ll be safe here.
 
 OSCAR looks at the statue. The inscription reads, in SPANISH:
 
       Life is not what we live
       Life is honor and memory
       That’s why it is better to die
       While the village lives,
       Rather than live
       In a dead village
 
 OSCAR
 Jesus Christ. I’ve seen that before.
 
 JESUS
 Oh yeah?
 
 OSCAR
 At Cesar Chavez’s fast. Who is this guy?
 
 JESUS
 A little mountain Indian from Guerrero.
 
 OSCAR
 What’d he do?
 
 JESUS
 One time  he came here, looked over this mountain and saw how beautiful it was.  But an American millionaire owned it all. So Lopitos got the Indians and  the Mexicans together and they all camped out and started building  homes. The government tried to force them out, but they finally had to  give in. They paid off the Americans and the people stayed. Lopitos  became mayor. He forced the American interests out of Acapulco. Two  years later he was assassinated. Right on this spot.
 
 OSCAR
 Ever since I saw that, I believed in it.
 
 JESUS chuckles and heads for his torn-up shoebox Chevy.
 
 INT., CAR - NIGHT
 
 They drive down the slope.
 
 JESUS
 You and your guys really believe it, huh? So how many have you killed?
 
 OSCAR
 None. But, you know, we’re--
 
 JESUS
 From  here, the Chicano thing. The Blacks. It all looks the same. It might not  be, but it looks it. I mean, Lopitos here. It was life and death on the  mountaintop. The chose death and they beat it. You’ve got to look for  it, stick your nose in. Find death before you find life. All that shit.
 
 OSCAR
 What about the campaign? We got all those votes on nothing.
 
 JESUS
 They gave you those votes. Everyone knew you were going to lose.
 
 OSCAR is stung.
 
 OSCAR
 That’s easy for you to say. Up here in the mountains, sucking dope and fucking those broads.
 
 JESUS
 You do the same in LA, don’t you?
 
 OSCAR
 Yeah.
 
 JESUS
 It’s all ego-tripping. That’s my opinion, anyways.
 
   EXT., WHOREHOUSE DISTRICT - NIGHT
 
 OSCAR and  JESUS walk down the narrow street crowded with whores in mini-skirts  and bikinis. Dark-red slashes of lipstick and heavy eye shadow. Young  and old and slender and full. Kids chase mangy dogs around.
 
 They enter:
 
 INT., EL CLUB 69 - NIGHT
 
 Creedence Clearwater blares over the jukebox. JESUS is greeted by ANNA and LA BETTI.
 
 ANNA
 Es tu hermano?
 
 JESUS
 His name is Zeta.
 
 The ladies chuckle. LA BETTI grabs OSCAR’S arm and drags him out onto the floor.
 
 OSCAR
 You work for Jesus?
 
 LA BETTI nods and digs through her pocket.
 
 LA BETTI
 I hear you Americanos don’t know how to relax.
 
 OSCAR
 I’m a Chicano.
 
 LA BETTI
 Un que?
 
 OSCAR
 Chicano!
 
 LA BETTI holds a pill in her fingertips and drops it into OSCAR’S mouth. He swallows.
 
 
 OSCAR
 What was that?
 
 LA BETTI
 Quaalude-400.
 
 OSCAR
 What kind of high is it?
 
 LA BETTI
 You sound like a fucking hippie.
 
 LA BETTI drives her crotch into his and buries her hands under his shirt.
 
 OSCAR plays along, not even feeling the effects of the pill. They dance.
 
 LA BETTI
 How do you feel?
 
 OSCAR
 Relaxed as hell.
 
 LA BETTI
 That’s because you’re not moving.
 
 She’s right. He’s been leaning against a pole for some time, weakly flinging his arms and legs out.
 
 OSCAR grabs her and kisses her.
 
 LA BETTI
 No, no. We can’t do that out here. We need to get a room.
 
 OSCAR
 What?
 
 LA BETTI
 Come on.
 
   JESUS and ANNA watch from their table.
 
 INT., ROOM - NIGHT
 
 OSCAR lies in bed under the weight of the drug. He watches while LA BETTI undresses. Then, a knock.
 
 ANNA pokes her head in. Behind her is a quiet little OLD MAN in a white suit and Panama hat.
 
 LA BETTI
 Que paso?
 
 ANNA
 He didn’t get enough with Carmela. He wanted to know if he could sit in the corner and watch.
 
 OSCAR
 What is he, a pervert?
 
 ANNA
 He’s just a dirty old man.
 
 OSCAR
 Whatever.
 
 The OLD MAN sits quietly in the corner.
 
 ANNA  looks the scene over then helps LA BETTI undress OSCAR. They caress his  body, then each other’s, then OSCAR comes to and grabs handfuls of brown  flesh.
 
 They go at it. Soon enough, they’re panting like dogs, or like buffaloes on the run. The little OLD MAN watches quietly.
 
 FADE TO
 
 STOCK FOOTAGE:
 Whittier  Boulevard, Saturday morning. Dime stores, pawn shops, TV repair.  Thousands of faces, posters and flags of red and green. Brown people,  long hair, boots, fists swinging, pintos, Chicanos, hippies,  cockroaches, boot, shoe, heel, tromp tromp tromp.
 
 LOTERIA TITLE CARD:
 Chicano Moratorium
 August 29, 1970
 
 STOCK FOOTAGE:
 Thousands sit on green grass, drinking, smoking, eating, falling, jumping. A picnic, a Saturday afternoon in the park.
 
 A flamenco dancer form UCLA dances with a bucktoothed ranchero.
 
 SLASH!  The film cuts to a liquor store two blocks away. Laguna Liquors. The  patrons watch in horror as a thick line of pigs in brown suits and white  helmets, guns and rifles and bazookas and tear gas advance on the park.
 
 SLASH!  Cops manhandle the cockroaches. Some wait, hands in the air, feet spread  wide. Others run. Many are beaten or gassed. A kid grabs a gas grenade  and tosses it right back at the cops.
 
 SLASH!  Pandemonium. The Chicanos run blindly through a club-and-gas-and-bullet  gauntlet. A beautiful young Chicana is savagely clubbed and crashes to  earth.
 
 SLASH! A still photograph of a COP firing a tear gas launcher into the open door of the Silver Dollar Cantina.
 
 HEADLINE:
 LOS ANGELES TIMES COLUMNIST
 RUBEN SALAZAR KILLED BY STRAY
 BULLET DURING CHICANO RIOTS IN
 EAST LA; CHICANO LEADER
 CORKY GONZALES ARRESTED
 
 EXT., PHONE BOOTH - MORNING
 
 OSCAR holds the paper in his hand and waits for an answer on the other end. JESUS stands by.
 
 He looks over the gorgeous bay and across the sea.
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 Hello.
 
 OSCAR
 Black Eagle, it’s Zeta.
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 Motherfucker. What the fuck? Where the fuck are you, vato?
 
 OSCAR
 Acapulco.
 
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 What are you doing there? Have you--
 
 OSCAR
 I read the news today.
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 We’ve been waiting for you all summer, man. Things are fucked here. Did you hear Gilbert got shot by the Feds?
 
 OSCAR
 No. The  Feds are after me, too. I think I’m being tailed. Listen, tell everyone  I’m not just getting all fucked up down here. I’m working on something.
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 Oh yeah? What?
 
 OSCAR
 In case  worse comes to worse, we got a place to go. Back-up. Look, I’ll tell you  about it soon. I’ll be there tomorrow at two, LA time.
 
 BLACK EAGLE
 Orale pues. Glad to hear you’re a cockroach again.
 
 The phone goes dead. OSCAR hadn’t even realized it under the mesmerizing effects of the horizon.
 
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