I was living in Los Angeles writing spec scripts and producing a lot of TV ads. I
had worked with a friend of mine for the better part of a year producing a film
for National Geographic on the Great Lakes that won gold at the New York Film
Festival. I had also been the last ghostwriter to work on NIGHTMARE ON ELM
STREET 4 before it went into production three weeks later. And that's when I
got a seemingly innocent call from another friend of mine who ran a political
consulting firm. He had a problem, a small race for county sheriff in New
Jersey. Because the two candidates were virtually unknown, he needed someone to
shoot surveillance footage of the acting sheriff for a negative ad. The problem
was that there were rumors the sheriff had mob connections, and the city was
essentially a ghetto, the poorest, most rundown city in New Jersey.
I
agreed to help and spoke with a shadowy political operative who seemed to know
everything about the sheriff's schedule. He told me that the man owned a black
Lincoln, parked it on the side of the building, and walked out the front door
everyday at exactly 3:00 p.m. Even better, there was a parking garage directly
across the lot where we could hide with a camera.
The
man winked and snickered. Warning shots were beginning to go off in my mind.
Everything about everything seemed dangerous and wrong ...
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