Loudly, I say, "Cut," and walk around in circles for a moment. "Let's do it again," I say, and we go back to the starting point. After the third take, I'm satisfied and seize upon the next idea. I ask Nathan to stand on the spot where Gene was lying the last time he saw him. We place a folding chair there and Nathan sits down. When the camera is rolling, I ask, "Now, Nathan, what was your initial reaction when you heard gunfire?"
"I couldn't believe it. They threw Gene down, on the ground, and there were at least four DEA agents standing above him. His hands were already behind his back, not yet handcuffed. He had no weapon. There was a shotgun and two 9-millimeters in the truck, but we had not removed them. I don't care what the DEA said later, Gene was unarmed."
"But when you heard the gunshots?"
"I stopped in my tracks and yelled something like, 'What is that? What's happening?' I yelled for Gene, but the agents shoved me forward, down the trail. I couldn't look back - I was too far away. At one point, I said, 'I wanna see my brother,' but they just laughed and kept pushing me into the darkness. We finally got to a van and they shoved me inside. They drove me to the jail in Bluefield, and the whole time I'm asking about my brother. 'What happened to my brother? Where is Gene? What have you done with Gene?' "
"Let's cut for a minute," I say to Slade. I look at Nathan. "It's okay to show some emotion here, Nathan. Think of the people watching this film. What do you want them to feel as they listen to this awful story? Anger? Bitterness? Sadness? It's up to you to convey these feelings, so let's try it again, but this time with some emotion. Can you do it?"
"I'll try."
"Roll it, Slade. Now, Nathan, how did you first learn that your brother was dead?"
"The next morning at the jail, a deputy came in with some paperwork. I asked him about Gene, and he said, 'Your brother's dead. Tried to run from the DEA, and they shot him down.' Just like that. No sympathy, no concern, nothing." Nathan pauses and swallows hard. His lips begin to quiver and his eyes are moist. Behind the camera, I give him a thumbs-up. He continues: "I didn't know what to say. I was in shock. Gene didn't try to run. Gene was murdered." He wipes a tear with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry," he says softly, and the kid is really in pain. There's no acting here, just real emotion.
"Cut," I say, and we take a break. Gwen rushes in with a brush and some tissue. "Beautiful, just beautiful," she says. Nathan stands and walks to the creek, lost in his thoughts. I tell Slade to start rolling again.
We spend three hours at the site, shooting and reshooting scenes that I create on the fly, and by 1:00 p.m. we're hungry and tired. We find a fast-food place in Bluefield and choke down burgers and fries. Riding back to Radford, the three of us are silent until I tell Gwen to call Tad Carsloff, one of my partners in Miami. Carsloff's name was mentioned by the CRS secretary when Nathan called our home office number two days earlier.
Feigning a real conversation, Gwen says, "Hello, Tad, it's Gwen. Great. You? Yeah, well, we're riding back to Radford with Nathan. We spent the morning at the site where his brother was murdered, pretty powerful stuff. Nathan did a fantastic job of narration. He doesn't need the script, it just comes natural." I sneak a look at Nathan behind the wheel. He cannot suppress a smug little smile.
Gwen continues with her one-way dialogue. "His mother?" A pause. "She hasn't budged yet. Nathan says she wants no part of the film and doesn't approve. Reed wants to try again tomorrow." A pause. "He's thinking of going to their hometown, to film the grave site, talk to old friends, maybe some guys he worked with, you know, that sort of thing." A pause as she listens intently to nothing. "Yes, things couldn't be better here. Reed is thrilled with the first two days and Nathan is just wonderful to work with. Really powerful stuff. Reed says he'll call later this afternoon. Ciao."
We ride in silence for a mile or two as Nathan soaks up the praise. Finally, he says, "So we're going to Willow Gap tomorrow?"
"Yes, but you don't have to go if you don't want to," I say. "I figure after two days you've had enough of this."
"So you're finished with me?" he asks sadly.
"Oh no. After tomorrow, I'm going home to Miami and I'll spend a few days looking at footage. We'll begin the editing, trying to whittle things down. Then, in a couple of weeks, whenever you can work us in, we'll be back for another round of shooting."
"Have you told Nathan about Tad's idea?" Gwen says from the backseat.
"No, not yet."
"I think it's brilliant," she says.
"What is it?" Nathan asks.
"Tad is the best editor in the company, and we collaborate on everything. Because this film involves three or four different families, different murders, he has suggested we bring you guys together, same place, same time, and just let the cameras run. Put you all in a room, in a very comfortable setting, and let the conversation begin. No script, no direction, just the facts, as brutal as they are. As I've told you, we have researched half a dozen cases, and they are all remarkably similar. We'll pick the best three or four - "
"Yours is definitely the best," Gwen interjects.
"And let you, the victims, compare stories. Tad thinks this could be beyond powerful."
"He's right," Gwen chirps. "I would love to see it."
"I tend to agree," I say.
"Where would we meet?" Nathan says, practically on board.
"We're not that far along, but probably Miami."
"Have you been to South Beach, Nathan?" Gwen asks.
"No."
"Oh, boy. For a single guy, thirty years old, you will not want to leave. The partying is nonstop and the girls are ... How would you describe them, Reed?"
"Haven't noticed," I say, on script.
"Right. Let's just say they are beautiful and hot."
"This is not about partying," I say, scolding my assistant. "We could also do it in the D.C. area, which would probably be more convenient to the families."
Nathan says nothing, but I know he's voting for South Beach.
Vanessa and I spend the afternoon in a hotel room in Pulaski, Virginia, a half hour southwest of Radford. We go over my notes from Fort Carson and try anxiously to figure out what made Nathan suspicious. To hear him utter the name Malcolm Bannister was chilling enough; now we need to understand why. Malcolm pinched his nose when he was thinking. He tapped his fingers together when he listened. He cocked his head slightly to the right when he was amused. He dipped his chin when he was skeptical. He stuck his right index finger into his right temple when he was bored with a conversation.
"Just keep your hands still and away from your face," Vanessa advises. "And speak lower."
"Was my voice too high?"
"It tends to go back to normal when you're talking a lot. Stay quieter. Not as many words."
We argue about the seriousness of his suspicion. Vanessa is convinced Nathan is fully on board and looking forward to a trip to Miami. She is certain no one from my past could recognize me now. I tend to agree, but I'm still stunned by the reality that Nathan uttered my old name. I can almost believe he had a twinkle in his eye when he did so, as if to say, "I know who you are, and I know why you're here."
Chapter 32
Nathan insists on going with us to his hometown of Willow Gap, so for the second morning we work our way through the mountains as he drives and Gwen gushes about the reactions in Miami. She says to Nathan that Tad Carsloff and other important people down there in the home office watched all of our footage last night and are beyond thrilled. They simply love Nathan on camera and are convinced he is the turning point in the production of our documentary. More important, one of our major investors is visiting Miami and happened to watch the tape from Virginia. The guy is so impressed with Nathan and the entire film so far that he is willing to double down on his money. The guy's worth a bundle and thinks the movie should run at least ninety minutes. It could lead to indictments within the DEA. It could explode into a scandal like Washington has never seen.