Category: Sound of Freedom

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Pitcairn Island For Pedophiles

INT. A DIMLY LIT DINER – NIGHT

The place is almost empty. Rain streaks down the windows. FRANK CASTLE sits across from MEL GIBSON, who stirs his coffee slowly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

FRANK CASTLE
My old man, Frank Castiglione Sr… Sicilian, hard as nails, but wise. He’d sit me down as a kid and say, “Frankie, Moses didn’t carve exceptions into those Commandments. The Pope says we must not kill. Period.”

(he leans in closer, voice lowering)
He told me, “If you want to stop the wicked, don’t spill their blood. Put ‘em all on an island. Surround it with the Coast Guard. Let them rot.”

MEL GIBSON
(chuckles darkly)
That’s… Old Testament thinking without the blood. Sounds like exile, not justice.

FRANK CASTLE
Maybe. But the worst of the worst—guys like Jacob Rothschild, Epstein—they don’t belong in the streets, Mel.
(leans back)
Alcatraz. Locked down. That was Trump’s idea, not mine.

MEL GIBSON
So you’re saying the Punisher… doesn’t punish?

FRANK CASTLE
I’m saying my father taught me restraint. But the world keeps pushing me to cross the line.

(Mel studies Frank, the coffee trembling slightly in his hand. The rain intensifies. A moral question hangs between them like a storm cloud.)

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Sound Of Freedom: Jon Benet Ramsey

[Setting: A dimly lit bar in Denver. Whiskey glasses sweat on the table. The three men lean in close, voices low but sharp. Outside, snow drifts against the window. The name “Ramsey” hangs heavy in the air.]

Frank Castle (The Punisher):
I’ve been digging. The girl’s case—JonBenét. Files buried, cops told to look the other way. You know what I found? A trail that doesn’t lead to her family alone. It leads up the ladder. Way up.

Mel Gibson:
Figures. Hollywood’s just a circus compared to that tent. Power protects power. The bigger the monster, the tighter the silence.

Jim Caviezel:
Exactly. That’s the darkness I’ve been screaming about. It’s not just corruption—it’s ritual. It’s systemic.

Castle:
Here’s the kicker. You ever wonder why Gordon Ramsay, the loudest mouth in the kitchen, suddenly knows when to shut up? He’s got a brand worth billions. But in this game… you either keep quiet, or you get cancelled.

Gibson:
You’re saying he’s tied in?

Castle:
Not tied in. Cornered. They use leverage. Tell him: “You speak out about the wrong name—maybe a president, maybe a kid-snatcher-in-chief—and poof, Kitchen Nightmares turns into your nightmare. Next headline? Gordon had an ‘accident.’ Maybe he ‘jumped.’ Maybe he ‘overdosed.’ You’ve read those obituaries before.”

Caviezel (clenching fist):
Suicide that isn’t suicide. I’ve seen it too many times.

Castle (gravelly, low):
Yeah. Our so-called leader—Joe Biden. They whisper about his ‘touch.’ They whisper about worse. But nobody dares say it in the open. Because they all know the rules: shut your mouth, or they shut it for you.

Gibson (grim smile):
That’s why truth becomes myth. They bury it under scandals, tabloids, distractions. Meanwhile, the machine runs.

Caviezel:
So what’s the play, Frank?

Castle (downing his whiskey):
The play? Same as always. Find the ones pulling the strings. Cut them. One by one. Till there’s no more strings left to pull.

[The men fall silent. Outside, the snow keeps falling. Inside, the weight of unspoken names and buried truths lingers like gunpowder in the air.]

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