WILLOUGHBY
There’s civil rights laws prevents that, Mrs Hayes, and what if he was just passing through town …
MILDRED
Pull blood from ever’ man in the country, then.
WILLOUGHBY
And what if he was just passing through the country?
MILDRED
If it was me, I’d start up a database, every male baby what’s born, stick ’em on it, cross-reference it, and as soon as they done something wrong, make a hundred-per-cent certain it was a correct match, then kill ’em.
WILLOUGHBY
Yeah, well, there’s definitely civil rights laws prevents that.
He sits on the swing beside her, the billboards stretching out down the hill in front of them.
I’m doing everything I can to track him down, Mrs Hayes.
I don’t think those billboards is very fair.
MILDRED
The time it’s took you to come out here whining like a bitch, Willoughby, some other poor girl’s probably being butchered right now, but it’s good you’ve got your priorities straight, I’ll say that for ya.
WILLOUGHBY
There’s something else, Mildred. (Pause.) I got cancer. I’m dying.
MILDRED
I know it.
WILLOUGHBY
Huh?
MILDRED
I know it. Most ever’body in town knows it.
WILLOUGHBY
You know it, and you still put those billboards up?
MILDRED
Well, they wouldn’t be as effective after you croak, right?
Willoughby looks at her in disbelief, gets in his car, drives off.
INT. BAR – NIGHT
Town’s main bar, Welby shooting pool against James, a local dwarf, who smacks a good one in from a distance. Dixon comes up, drunk.
DIXON
Well, looky looky, if it ain’t the instigator of this whole goddam affair in the first place …
RED
I didn’t instigate shit, Dixon …
DIXON
Playing pool against the town midget.
James pots another.
JAMES
He’s right, Red, you are playing pool against the town midget.
RED
Well he’s a cop, y’know, he’s observant.
DIXON
You know, I always disliked you, Red, ever since you was a snotty little child, which you still look like. A snotty little child.
RED
Well that’s unfortunate. I always thought you was great.
James plays a safety shot. Welby takes over.
DIXON
Even your name, ‘Red Welby’. Even your name I disliked.
RED
Well … okay.
DIXON
Like you was some kind of a goddam Communist or something, and proud of it.
RED
No, it’s cos I got red hair.
Welby misses.
DIXON
Do you know what they do to faggots down in Cuba, Welby?
RED
Wow, that’s left-field … No, what do they do to faggots down in Cuba, Dixon?
DIXON
They kill ’em! Which, it might surprise you to learn, I am against.
RED
I’m not sure if they do kill faggots down in Cuba, Dixon. I know Cuba’s human rights record is pretty deplorable when it comes to homosexuality, but killing ’em? Are you sure you ain’t thinking of Wyoming?
DIXON
Always with the smart ass …
James smashes in another.
Jesus! He’s quite good, isn’t he? (Pause.) Willoughby’s a good man, Red. He shouldn’t have this be the only thing he thinks about, the last months left to him.
RED
The last months what?
DIXON
Oh. You didn’t know. Yeah. Pancreatic.
Red is shaken. Out of nowhere, Mildred idles over, puts a bunch of quarters on the pool table.
MILDRED
She hangs there, staring them down.
DIXON
Rude.
JAMES
Saw you on TV the other day, Mildred.
MILDRED
Oh yeah?
JAMES
Yeah, you looked good.
She stares at him. An embarrassed pause.
I mean, y’know, you came across really good, in the things you were saying.
Embarrassed, James goes back to the pool.
DIXON
I didn’t think you came across really good in the things you were saying. I thought you came across as a stupid-ass.
MILDRED
Ain’t it about time you got home to your momma, Dixon?
DIXON
No, it ain’t time I got home to my momma. I tole her I was gonna be out till twelve. Actually.
James whacks in the black brilliantly from a distance …
DIXON
Jesus!
JAMES
Me v. you, Mildred!
He smiles at her.
INT. MILDRED’S HOUSE – NIGHT
Mildred enters, a beer in hand, a bit drunk …
MILDRED
Hey Robbie? I think that midget wants to get in my pants –
… to find Father Montgomery, an old priest she knows, at the kitchen table beside Robbie, best teacups in front of them.
MILDRED
Father Montgomery.
FATHER MONTGOMERY
Mildred. I’m sorry for calling on you so late, although I must say Robbie’s been the consummate host. Despite his having, he was just telling me, something of a tricky day at school.
ROBBIE
Oh, no, just some of the guys on the team was giving me crap.
MILDRED
Crap about what?
FATHER MONTGOMERY
About the billboards. Which is, uh, kind of what I’ve come to have a word with you about, Mildred.
MILDRED
Oh. Proceed.
FATHER MONTGOMERY
I know it’s been hard for you, Mildred, this past year. We all do. The whole town does. And whatever it is you need, we’ll be there for you. Always. But the town also knows what kind of a man William Willoughby is. And the town is dead set against these billboards of yours.
MILDRED
Took a poll, did ya, Father?
FATHER MONTGOMERY
If you hadn’t stopped coming to church, Mildred, you’d be aware of the depth of people’s feelings. I had a dozen people come up to me on Sunday. So, yes, I took a poll. Everybody is on your side about Angela. No one’s on your side about this.
MILDRED
Y’know what I was thinking about, earlier today? I was thinking ’bout those street gangs they got in Los Angeles, the Crips and the Bloods? I was thinking about that buncha new laws they came up with, in the eighties I think it was, to combat those street gangs, those Crips and those Bloods. And, if I remember rightly, the gist of what those new laws said was, if you join one of these gangs, and you’re running with ’em, and down the block from you one night, unbeknownst to you, your fellow Crips, or your fellow Bloods, shoot up a place, or stab a guy, well, even though you didn’t know nothing about it, even though you may’ve just been standing on a street corner minding your own business, those new laws said you are still culpable. You are still culpable, by the very act of joining those Crips, or those Bloods, in the first place. Which got me thinking, Father, that whole type of situation is kinda similar to you Church boys, ain’t it? You’ve got your colours, you’ve got your clubhouse, you’re, for want of a better word, a gang. And if you’re upstairs smoking a pipe and reading a Bible while one of your fellow gang members is downstairs fucking an altar boy then, Father, just like the Crips, and just like the Bloods, you’re culpable. Cos you joined the gang, man. And I don’t care if you never did shit or never saw shit or never heard shit. You joined the gang. Yo
u’re culpable. And when a person is culpable to altar-boy-fucking, or any-kinda-boy-fucking, I know you guys didn’t really narrow it down, then they kinda forfeit the right to come into my house and say a word about me, or my life, or my daughter, or my billboards. So, why don’t you just finish up your tea there, Father, and get the fuck outta my kitchen.
She goes off to another room. Montgomery puts down his teacup.
ROBBIE
But thanks for coming up anyway, Father.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – DAY
Doctor drawing Willoughby’s blood as he looks away from it, squeamish, out the window at the pretty landscape.
DOCTOR
How you been feeling, Bill?
WILLOUGHBY
Oh, like I got cancer in a major organ.
DOCTOR
Well, I just want you to know, we’re all on your side about this Mildred Hayes thing …
WILLOUGHBY
If I have to hear that one more fucking time …!
He wrenches the needle from his arm, and tosses the vial at a wall, where it smashes and splatters.
I’m done with this shit. I can’t waste my life waiting.
INT. POLICE STATION, MAIN ROOM – DAY
Willoughby breezes in, doing up his tie. Dixon’s hungover.
WILLOUGHBY
Get me the file on the Hayes case.
DIXON
The Angela Hayes case or the Mildred Hayes case?
WILLOUGHBY
There is no Mildred Hayes case.
DIXON
We’ve had two official complaints about the billboards, so, actually …
WILLOUGHBY
From who?
DIXON
(flipping through pad)
A lady with a funny eye … and a fat dentist.
WILLOUGHBY
Get me the file on the Angela Hayes case. ‘A lady with a funny fucking eye’, Jesus Christ.
EXT. BILLBOARD ROAD – DAY
Backs of the billboards framed behind him, Willoughby has the case file laid out on the hood of his car, weighted with rocks. Some gruesome photos of a burnt corpse that we don’t see much of but Dixon does, wincing, nauseous.
WILLOUGHBY
Late night?
DIXON
No.
WILLOUGHBY
Lay off that Welby guy.
DIXON
Or you’ll do what?
WILLOUGHBY
Or I’ll kick your momma’s fucking teeth in.
DIXON
No, you won’t. (Pause.) Who told ya I was laying on him anyway? The midget?
WILLOUGHBY
What the fuck are you talking about?! Fucking midgets! I’m trying to fucking concentrate!
Dixon shrugs. Willoughby goes back to the file. Dixon ambles, bored. Willoughby crouches, runs his fingers through the burnt soil there, looking like he might cry.
DIXON
What are you looking for, anyway? There’s nothing to look for.
INT. DENTIST’S SURGERY – DAY
Mildred in a dentist’s chair.
MILDRED
I don’t know what it is. The filling feels like it’s kinda waggling.
Geoffrey, a fat dentist, appears, with his instruments.
GEOFFREY
Well, if it’s waggling it’s gonna haveta come out.
MILDRED
(bemused)
Ain’t you gonna have a look at it first?
Geoffrey does so, perfunctorily.
GEOFFREY
It’s gonna haveta come out.
Bemused, she guesses he knows what he’s doing. He fiddles among his drills, comes up with a high-pitched one.
MILDRED
Uh, can I get a little Novocaine, there, Doc?
He puts the drill down, gets a syringe, injects in under her gum at painful angles and length, takes it out and looks at his watch, just sitting there.
GEOFFREY
Give it a couple minutes.
Silence. Then he picks up the drill again, gets it going.
GEOFFREY
I just wanted to say … There’s a lotta good friends of Bill Willoughby in this town, Mrs Hayes, who don’t take kindly to …
But Mildred has already grabbed the drill hand, then grabbed the hand that was holding her mouth open. She slowly starts bringing one hand towards the other, the whirring drill aiming towards his big fat thumbnail.
Geoffrey is too flabby, and Mildred too forceful, for him to do anything about it but whimper, as …
Close up: the drill gets closer and closer to his thumbnail.
Geoffrey sweating …
Mildred determined …
… until finally the drill whirs into the nail, splitting it right down the centre.
MILDRED
Then why don’t you tell those good friends of Bill Willoughby to tell him to go do his fucking job, fat boy.
She pushes the screaming bloody dentist out of the way, rinses her mouth out with the pink stuff, spits it at his head, and exits.
INT. GIFT SHOP – DAY
Denise behind counter, Mildred arranging knick-knacks. Cop car pulls up, lights flashing. Willoughby and Dixon enter.
WILLOUGHBY
Hey there, Mildred! You didn’t happen to pay a visit to the dentist today, did ya?
Mildred’s dialogue hereon is through a totally unintelligible, Novocained mouth.
MILDRED
(unintelligibly)
No.
WILLOUGHBY
Huh?
MILDRED
(unintelligibly)
Said ‘No’.
WILLOUGHBY
Oh. So it wasn’t you who drilled a little hole in one of big fat Geoffrey’s big fat thumbnails, no?
MILDRED
(unintelligibly)
Of course not.
WILLOUGHBY
Huh?
MILDRED
(unintelligibly)
I said ‘Of course not’.
DENISE
You drilled a hole in the dentist?
MILDRED
(unintelligibly)
No, Denise, I didn’t.
WILLOUGHBY
Well, I thought it was kinda funny myself, but he wants to press charges, so we’re gonna have to bring you in, I’m afraid.
INT. POLICE STATION, INTERVIEW ROOM – DAY
Dixon guarding door. Mildred looking out window.
Mildred’s point-of-view: across the road, Welby and Pamela are looking out at the pedestrians in the sunshine. Welby’s obviously into her, but shy about it. End point-of-view.
Mildred smiles. The Novocaine’s worn off.
MILDRED
So how’s it all going in the nigger-torturing business, Dixon?
DIXON
It’s ‘Persons of colour’-torturing business, these days, if you want to know. And I didn’t torture nobody.
She idles back to the table and sits.
Goddam saying that goddam stuff on TV. My momma watches that station!
MILDRED
And she didn’t know nothing about the torturing?
DIXON
No, she didn’t know anything about it. She’s against that kinda thing.
Willoughby breezes in.
WILLOUGHBY
Who’s against what kinda thing?
DIXON
My momma. Is against ‘persons-of-colour torturing’. She said ‘nigger-torturing’. I said you can’t say ‘nigger-torturing’ no more. You gotta say ‘persons-of-colour’ torturing. Right?
WILLOUGHBY
I think I’ll be able to take care of Mrs Hayes on my own from hereon, Jason.
DIXON
Sure, Chief, I’ll be right outside if you need me.
Dixon gives Willoughby a pat on the back as he leaves. Willoughby sits with some papers.
WILLOUGHBY
Don’t gimme that look. If you got rid of every cop with vaguely racist leanings then you’d have three cops left and all o’ them are gonna hate t
he fags so what are ya gonna do, y’know?
He smiles at Mildred, then comes round and sits on her side of the desk, looking down on her.
I wanna know something, Mildred. Why’d ya drill a hole through poor fat Geoffrey’s thumbnail?
MILDRED
Oh, that didn’t happen. His hand slipped and he drilled a hole through his own self. Is he saying I done it? Jeez, then I guess it’s just his word against mine, huh? Kinda like in all those rape cases you hear about. Except, in this case, the chick ain’t losing.
WILLOUGHBY
It ain’t really about winning or losing, though, is it, Mildred? I mean, do you think I care about who wins or loses between the two of yous? Do you think I care about dentists? I don’t care about dentists. Nobody cares about dentists! I do care about, or I’m interested in, tying you up in court so long that your hours at the gift shop are so shot to shit that you ain’t got a penny to pay for another month’s billboards. I’m interested in that.
MILDRED
I got some dough put away …
WILLOUGHBY
What I heard was you had to sell off your ex-husband’s tractor-trailer to even pay for this month’s billboards, that right? (Pause.) How is ole Charlie, by the way? He still shacked up with that pretty little intern works down at the zoo?
MILDRED
He’s still shacked up with some chick who smells of shit. I don’t know if the zoo’s got anything to do with it. Although I’d hope so.
WILLOUGHBY
How old is she? Nineteen? That must smart.
MILDRED
Keep trying, Officer. Keep trying.
WILLOUGHBY
What’s Charlie think about these here billboards of yours, an ex-cop like Charlie?
MILDRED
Ex-cop, ex-wife-beater. Same difference, I guess, right?
WILLOUGHBY
His word against yours, though, right? (Pause.) Charlie don’t know about them, does he?
MILDRED
It’s none of his business.
WILLOUGHBY
He’s kinda paying for ’em though, ain’t he?
MILDRED
I’m paying for ’em.