Chapter 7

When he returned home, the eastern sky was already tinged with the first light of dawn, but Murphy felt no hint of sleepiness. He went to his workspace, turned on his laptop, and picked up the police scanner he had brought from his car. He began to read the user manual stored on the computer and the police codes used by the Los Angeles Police Department.

The memories of the previous Murphy told him that to make money as a freelance journalist, this tool was essential.

As soon as any incident occurred, this police scanner could capture every public communication from the LAPD.

For example, if there was a car accident last night and someone called the police, the control center would contact the nearest police officers via the in-car scanner, instructing them to reach the scene as quickly as possible.

With this police scanner, Murphy could receive similar messages, select the ones he wanted, and rush to the scene to take photos.

However, the police often used codes, which were incomprehensible to those who didn't know them.

The previous Murphy had been thoughtful enough to record the types and meanings of the LAPD police codes in detail on the laptop.

For instance, Code 148 represented a refusal to be arrested, Code 187 represented a murder, and Code 211 represented an armed robbery, and so on...

After studying the police codes for a while and researching the use of the police scanner, Murphy finally couldn't resist the heavy eyelids and went to another room to sleep.

He slept until the afternoon. After buying some fast food downstairs to solve his dinner problem, Murphy returned to the dilapidated building, sat in front of his laptop, and focused on typing, continuing to refine the script he had been working on for a long time.

Even though he knew the chances of a new script being sold were extremely low, Murphy did not give up hope.

Over the next half month, Murphy quit his job at the auto repair shop. His life was divided into two parts: after dinner, he would drive around West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and Santa Monica with his handheld camera and police scanner, looking for any valuable news leads. Whenever he received useful information from the police scanner, he would rush to the scene as quickly as possible to take photos. The previous Murphy's familiarity with the entire Los Angeles area played a crucial role.

On the other hand, after returning to the dilapidated apartment in the early morning, Murphy would sleep for a while, then get up in the afternoon to refine his script or check job advertisements, not missing any opportunity to truly enter Hollywood.

Perhaps his luck had turned, or perhaps a job where he didn't have to deal with others' moods suited him better. Murphy's work and life over the past ten days had been much smoother than before. He had shot nearly twenty videos of car accidents, fires, and fights, most of which were successfully sold to Fox Los Angeles' Channel 6.

Especially, he had the good fortune to shoot a video of Madonna Ciccone and British director Guy Ritchie on a date in West Hollywood, which was sold to Fox Entertainment Channel through Cara, earning him three thousand dollars.

With a relatively stable income, the first thing Murphy did was pay off his debts, returning the car, the borrowed phone, and the dollars to Ross. He then bought the necessary replacements from the second-hand market, especially a used Ford car, which he modified with a camera mount on the passenger side to enable shooting while driving.

He also printed multiple copies of the two scripts he had organized and mailed them to the six major Hollywood studios and dozens of other film companies and studios. The results were not surprising; he received no responses.

Additionally, Murphy had attended several auditions, but they were not ideal. His history of causing problems for a British director and his criminal record made these production teams hesitant to use him.

Nearly a month after his release, Murphy had successfully solved his basic survival issues, but entering Hollywood remained a distant dream.

Los Angeles in August was dry and scorching, and even though the sun had shifted to the sea, the temperature was still alarmingly high. Murphy parked his car on the Santa Monica Coastal Boulevard, and the sea breeze blowing in through the open windows brought a rare coolness.

Checking the time, Murphy picked up his phone and dialed a number again.

"Hello..."

Unlike the busy signal ten minutes ago, a formal voice answered, "This is the 20th Century Fox Review Department."

"Excuse me, I'm a screenwriter," Murphy said as simply as possible. "My name is Murphy Stanton, and I submitted a script to your company. I'd like to know the result of your review."

"Thank you for your support of 20th Century Fox," the voice on the other end was polite and calm. "Sir, we will contact you after we have reviewed your script."

Murphy wanted to say more, but the other party politely said a few more words and then hung up.

"Again!"

Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, Murphy felt somewhat frustrated. "Why do all the film companies do this?"

The person on the phone didn't even ask the name of the script he had submitted!

Throughout the day, Murphy, who had been waiting anxiously, had called several film companies, and the responses were all similar. The people who answered the phone were polite, but their words sounded like routine formalities.

Looking at the sun in the west, which was getting closer to the horizon, Murphy sighed deeply. He was almost certain that submitting scripts was not a reliable path. The chances of a new script by a newcomer being adopted were no greater than winning a few million dollars in the lottery.

Without connections, money, or fame, and with no capital to offer, even someone with his special experiences would find it extremely difficult to shine in the highly pragmatic world of Hollywood in a short time.

Was there a more absurd joke than a new script causing a frenzy among people and companies?

By this point, Murphy had basically given up on the idea of achieving quick success through his script and was more determined to take steady, practical steps forward.

The sun finally set into the sea. After a simple dinner, Murphy returned to his car, turned on the police scanner, and, as he had done in the past, filtered through the police signals for useful information. However, his luck was not good tonight, and he did not receive any valuable leads until it was completely dark.

Starting the car, Murphy drove towards the Santa Monica Valley. While the security in the United States was indeed poor, this was mainly in the city center. In areas like Santa Monica and West Hollywood, where the wealthy and elite lived, the police's attention and deployment were much better than in Latino or Black communities.

The security in wealthy areas was continuously improving, while the security in slums was getting worse. This was Murphy's observation based on his experiences.

However, unless there was a large-scale conflict or a series of murders in the slums, the news from there had little value. The general public, like in any other country, enjoyed seeing the elite and the wealthy suffer, a sentiment rooted in anti-elitism and psychology.

But as the security in wealthy areas improved, such news appeared less frequently on television, which highlighted the value of Murphy's work. After all, scarcity commands a higher price.

Since selling his first video, Murphy spent most of his working hours in the relatively affluent areas near the sea and the valley. Even if there were emergencies in the city center, he rarely rushed there.

The Ford car sped east along Santa Monica's Seventh Street. Murphy kept his eyes on the road and his ears tuned to every sound from the police scanner. Perhaps his recent good luck had run out, and he did not receive any information worth rushing to, even after circling Santa Monica.

As the night deepened, this bustling area of Santa Monica saw an increase in traffic. Murphy also drove through the streets lined with bars and nightclubs, hoping to get lucky and encounter a Hollywood star causing a drunken scene.

While Santa Monica was home to many Hollywood stars, such good fortune was not a daily occurrence. After circling the area without any results, Murphy left and headed to the Santa Monica Valley to try his luck.

The residents of the Santa Monica Valley were all wealthy. For someone in Murphy's profession, buying property here was out of the question in the short term.

Murphy drove slowly along the main road, and the entire valley seemed unusually quiet. While ordinary people might enjoy the tranquility, Murphy did not.

"Something should happen soon, even a burglary would be fine."

Holding the steering wheel, Murphy kept muttering to himself, hoping that something unexpected or violent would happen in this quiet residential area so he could capture some valuable footage and at least cover his fuel costs for the night.

After buying the used Ford and paying for the camera mount, and hiring a lawyer, Murphy didn't have much money left. In his current situation, the most pressing need was to make another big score to avoid running out of funds.

Unfortunately, even as he was about to leave the Santa Monica Valley, the police scanner did not provide any valuable leads. Instead, there was a car accident in West Hollywood, and the police command center was calling for nearby patrol cars to respond quickly.

Murphy couldn't help but step on the gas, preparing to go there. It wasn't far, and if he arrived in time, he might capture some valuable footage, at least enough to cover his fuel costs.

Just as Murphy stepped on the gas and the car began to speed up, the police scanner suddenly blared an urgent female voice.

"All units in Santa Monica, there is a 211 incident at 17 Bill Road in the Valley! I repeat, this is a 211 incident..."

Hearing this, Murphy didn't hesitate. He immediately hit the brakes, turned around, and sped back the way he came.

Bill Road was not far from the main road he was on, only three intersections away.

The Ford car sped like a black lightning bolt. Murphy, who was driving, was not only alert but also clearly excited.

A 211 incident meant an armed robbery. If he remembered correctly, the area around Bill Road in the Valley was home to very wealthy people.

How much could a news story about an armed robbery of an extremely wealthy person fetch?

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