JOE GOLDBERG (40s, disheveled but eerily calm) sits in a plastic chair. His hands are uncuffed. That’s the first sign something is wrong. On the table is a leather-bound journal—his. And a single key.
MARIENNE (30s, eyes hollow, jaw tight) stands across from him, arms crossed. A guard in a black tactical vest lurks by the door. you s04 h255
MARIENNE: “Goodbye, Joe.”