Read Carefully. I’d love your input on this. 👇🏼

I’ve been working on something privately for a while now.

I’m doing this on my own time, and I’m curious to see where it leads.

"I’ve been quiet lately because I’ve been deep in the heart of Kentucky writing a new project.

I finally feel ready to share a 'First Look' at my script,

THE CAMPTON TRADITION.

This story is dark, Southern, and explores how far we go for the ones we love."

The Hook: "Can a family legacy justify a body count?"

The Meat: It follows a woman who is the perfect mother and housewife by day, but has secretly been a killer in her small town for 20 years. The real twist happens when she's finally caught—instead of falling apart, her family of cops and lawyers consolidates to protect her and their legacy.

The Call to Action: If you found out your 'perfect' mother was a killer, would you turn her in, or would you help her bury the evidence? Let’s settle this in the comments.

SCENE 1

EXT. KY-15 – OUTSIDE CAMPTON – NIGHT (1998)

A thick, humid Kentucky night. The air is heavy with the sound of crickets and the smell of damp pine.

A rusted 1990 Chevy Malibu is pulled off onto the grass shoulder. The engine is ticking as it cools.

INT. CHEVY MALIBU – CONTINUOUS

JANE (22) sits in the driver’s seat. Her hair is pulled back in a tight, sensible ponytail. She looks like she just came from church—except for the dark, wet stains on her blouse.

Next to her, slumped against the passenger door, is a

YOUNG MAN (20s). He is unconscious.

Jane isn't breathing hard. She isn't crying. She is looking at her hands. A small, jagged cut on her palm is bleeding. She holds her hand over the man’s lap, watching a drop of her blood fall and disappear into his jeans.

JANE

(a soft, flat whisper)

Oh.

She reaches into the glove box and pulls out a serrated KNIFE. She touches the tip of the blade to the skin of his neck, right at the jawline.

She makes a small, triangular notch. Then, she slides the blade downward.

Zip. The sound is like a zipper opening. A look of profound peace settles over her face. She has found the thing she’s been missing.

EXT. CAMPTON ROAD – LATER

The Malibu pulls away slowly, its headlights cutting through the fog. The passenger seat is empty.