It's early evening on April 13, 1933.

Bonnie Parker, a slight 22-year-old woman, perches on a mattress on the floor of a small

sitting room.

She leaning over a notebook, copying out her poetry.

They're mostly verses she's written while travelling over the last few months with her boyfriend.

Now after two weeks renting this apartment, it's time to hit the road again.

Her boyfriend's brother is banging around in the garage downstairs, preparing his car.

His wife, Blanche, bustles around the apartment packing for their departure.

Bonnie tries to concentrate on her poetry.

Above the other noise is she hears a car pull into the driveway.

Her boyfriend, Clyde Barrow, has returned.

She knows the neighbor's curtains will be twitching again.

Her eyes flick to the door, anxious for her beloved to appear.

Instead, there's another sound outside, a shout, then the crack of a gunshot, deafening

on the suburban street.

Another follows, but Bonnie is already on her feet and sprinting to the window.

One glance down the street tells her all she needs to know.

A police car has pulled up opposite.

Another is blocking the drive.

She throws open the window, grabbing a large machine gun propped against the wall.

It's enormous in her slender arms, but she knows her way around it.

She leans out and takes aim.

...