I am a full-time thriller writer, screenwriter, and award-winning writer/director.
I am a former soldier and police officer, and much of my work is inspired by real-world events and personal experiences. My writing has been described as bold and uncompromising. My protagonists are often ‘everyman’ tales, and I enjoy writing Man vs Machinestories that reflect the struggles of ordinary people living in an uncertain and unforgiving world.
My most recent film is An American Attorney in London, which has screened at the Raindance film festival in London, Festival of Cinema New York, Tri-Cities International Film Festival, Cinema on the Bayou Film Festival, Marina del Rey Film Festival, Orlando Film Festival, Queens World Film Festival, among other venues.
I am currently working on my tenth novel, three of which have attracted the attention of major film and TV producers.
I have developed treatments for an Oscar-winning producer.
I am currently marketing my latest feature film script, Brutus.
Tel: 0207 488 4171
My literary works include:
INVASION: THE LOST CHAPTERS
THE HORSE AT THE GATES
THE ANGOLA DECEPTION
An American Attorney on London
INTERVIEW ROOM - LATER
Small, stuffy, a table and four chairs, sound-proofed walls. A MAN (50’s), black hair, olive-skin, trimmed beard, dark suit over a white shirt, sits alone, still. This is MALIK.
Enter LEEDUFFY, (48) uniformed, burly, irritable. Duffy hates people, especially piss-taking foreigners. He slaps a legal pad on the table, shakes off his hi-vis coat, sits.
I believe you’re travelling without a valid passport.
Malik says nothing. Duffy’s seen it all before.
If you cannot speak English an interpreter will be provided to you at the earliest opportunity. That could mean a period of detention before you’re processed. Do you understand?
Malik stares. Duffy clicks his pen, evaluates.
I think you understand me perfectly well, chum. You probably think this country is a soft touch, right? That we roll out the red carpet for anyone who --
My name is Malik.
See? That was easy enough.
And you are Lee Charles Duffy, delivered unto this world on the fifth night of Ha’raak.
A child born of darkness.
Now married to a whore.
Malik cocks his head, bird-like, stares into the distance.
Even now she lays with a man. They couple like wild beasts.
A stranger. They are always strangers, no?
He pleasures her in ways that you cannot. Your impotence has driven her into the arms of many.
(stands, slams the table)
Shut your fucking mouth!
Malik’s hand whips out, grabs Duffy’s wrist.
Hey! What are --
And Duffy freezes. The dead air THROBS with an unseen power. Duffy trembles, his eyes fixed on some unimaginable horror.
Beneath the table, urine runs over Duffy’s shoe.
The overheads flicker and dim, then blaze back into life. Malik releases him. Duffy slumps back into his chair.
We must leave this place.
Duffy looks up. A dead-eyed automaton. He stands, leaves the room. Malik follows, slipping on Duffy’s hi-vis coat.
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