Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2GNE6XZ6ZPNTPX7WK50YGX

**Voice Sheet** **Setting:** *A small café in Alborn, MN. The scent of fresh apple pie hangs in the air. MARIE is at a corner table, the pictures on her digital camera screen a stark contrast to the cozy room. HUNTER stands opposite her, a solid, direct presence.* --- **Marie:** (Not looking up, muttering to herself in a soft, troubled voice) Non, ce n'est pas possible... L'angle est mauvais. Pourquoi aurais-je...? Pourquoi? **Hunter:** Ma'am? Excuse me, Miss? **Marie:** (Her head snaps up, eyes wide and glassy. She instinctively pulls the camera against her chest) Oh! Pardon, je ne vous avais pas vu arriver. **Hunter:** I'm Detective Hunter. Mind if I sit? I'm looking into the... well, the fireworks last night. At the old Miller barn. **Marie:** (Her face crumples the moment he says 'fireworks'. She shakes her head, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush) C'était horrible. Je n'aurais jamais dû être là. La lumière était parfaite pour des clichés du crépuscule, mais ensuite... le bruit. Un craquement, et puis les cris. J'ai vu une silhouette sur le toit avant que la charpente ne cède, juste une ombre. J'ai appuyé sur le déclencheur, un réflexe stupide, mais la photo est floue, inutile. **Hunter:** (Shifting his weight, his expression a mask of total incomprehension. He leans forward slightly, speaking slower and louder with each word, as if that might help) I'm sorry, I didn’t catch any of that. Are you... are you feeling okay? You were there? At the barn? **Marie:** (Rubs her temple, the language barrier mixing with her distress into a visible frustration. She tries to mime, holding up the camera and pointing at the screen, then gesturing to her own eyes and then out the window) Oui, oui! Là-bas! La grange! J'ai pris des photos... (She mimes the barn collapsing with her hands, a sharp, crashing sound) *BOUM!* Et une personne... évanouie. Disparue. **Hunter:** (Looks at where she points, then back at her, utterly lost. He tries to piece the mimed clues together) A photo? You have a photo of the person? You saw someone on the roof before the collapse? **Marie:** (Seeing a flicker of understanding, she nods frantically, relieved. She grabs a napkin and a pen and draws a crude square with a stick figure on top, showing it to him.) Exactement! Top of the... le toit! Sur le toit. Terrible. **Hunter:** (He sighs, a low, weary sound. The gravity of the situation presses down on his features) Okay. This is... it's a problem. I need that photo. A man is missing. A local man, Mr. Henderson. He was the one on the roof. See? (He takes out his own phone and shows her a picture of a friendly, older man.) You saw him? **Marie:** (Stares at the photo, her face losing any remaining color. She whispers in horror) Mon Dieu... C'était lui. La silhouette. **Hunter:** (Just as his phone buzzes, a sharp, insistent ring. He holds up a "wait" finger, his voice snapping to attention.) Hunter. Yeah? What is it? ...What do you mean, they found the truck but not him? No, don't move anything. Tape off the whole creek bed. I'm on my way. **Marie:** (Stands up as he does, clutching the napkin drawing.) Attendez! Et mon... ma photo? **Hunter:** (Pockets his phone, his mind already racing ahead. He gestures from her camera to his own eyes.) Miss. That photo. Don't delete it. Do *not* delete. I'll find someone. A translator. Ne... del-ete? Com-pren-dez? **Marie:** (Nods, a single, determined tear spilling over. She understands the tone, if not the words.) Oui. Je comprends. Je garde la photo. **Hunter:** (Gives her a brisk, grateful nod and places a ten-dollar bill on the table for her untouched coffee.) For you. Stay safe. Call 911 if you see anything. Just... just show them the photo. *Hunter strides out of the café, leaving Marie in a stunned, heavy silence, the camera a lead weight in her hands.*