The screen is black. We hear the crackle of an old radio dial. A deep, weathered voice (40s, gravelly) speaks: “Crockett County, Texas. Population 4,002... and falling. The only thing more dried up than the riverbed is the hope of anyone under 25. This is the voice you’re not supposed to hear. This is Radio Free Crockett.”
The signal interferes with Sheriff , Patricia’s nephew, who is trying to coordinate a drug bust. The sheriff traces the interference to the garage. He shows up with a crowbar and smashes the transmitter. “No more games, Cal.”
He splices the audio with a distorted synth beat. They climb the BBQ shack tower under a lightning storm. Luna flips the switch.
We see CALEB “CAL” JONES (17) , a lanky mechanic’s son, welding a piece of scrap metal behind his father’s garage. He’s building a radio antenna. His best friend, LUNA VASQUEZ (17) , a punk-rock coder with a prosthetic leg, runs a wire from an old laptop to a salvaged transmitter.
The screen is black. We hear the crackle of an old radio dial. A deep, weathered voice (40s, gravelly) speaks: “Crockett County, Texas. Population 4,002... and falling. The only thing more dried up than the riverbed is the hope of anyone under 25. This is the voice you’re not supposed to hear. This is Radio Free Crockett.”
The signal interferes with Sheriff , Patricia’s nephew, who is trying to coordinate a drug bust. The sheriff traces the interference to the garage. He shows up with a crowbar and smashes the transmitter. “No more games, Cal.”
He splices the audio with a distorted synth beat. They climb the BBQ shack tower under a lightning storm. Luna flips the switch.
We see CALEB “CAL” JONES (17) , a lanky mechanic’s son, welding a piece of scrap metal behind his father’s garage. He’s building a radio antenna. His best friend, LUNA VASQUEZ (17) , a punk-rock coder with a prosthetic leg, runs a wire from an old laptop to a salvaged transmitter.