Cease Fire 1985

A Vietnam Veteran, Tim Murphy Don Johnson fifteen years after returning home, is now married with children but is suddenly haunted by the memories of a war that refuses to stay in the past. Out of work and searching for a new path, he navigates life alongside another veteran, Luke Robert F. Lyons, who is separated and hoping to reconcile with his wife one day. What begins as a quiet struggle soon spills into the night, when Tim awakens to a terrifying sight: the supposed intruder in his house isn’t an ordinary thief, but the lingering horror of his time in the field. He crawls through the darkness with a knife, his movements mirroring the nightmare of combat, while his young son watches from the doorway, witnessing the fear and danger that seem to shrink the distance between home and war. The child’s frightened wetting of the bed is a stark reminder of the war’s reach into the most intimate corners of family life.

Paula Murphy Lisa Blount, Tim’s wife, sees the toll on her husband’s mind and understands that help is needed. She joins a women’s group, seeking support and a way to hold her family together, while Tim, reluctant and withdrawn, steps into a men’s group but keeps his thoughts locked away. The couple’s once-stable world begins to fray as Tim’s flashbacks intrude on everyday moments, turning ordinary tasks into tests of nerve and endurance.

Luke arrives one day with the hopeful news that he and his wife might repair their fractured relationship, but the dream collapses when divorce papers arrive that same night. Luke sits in a small, empty apartment, a gun close at hand, and the looming threat of violence in his eyes. He sees a figure, Charlie, and the situation at the Wire—where their unit could be overrun—feels hopeless. Tim rushes toward the danger when he hears the shot that ends Luke’s life, a moment that drives home the cost of war for a circle of friends and a family left behind. Luke’s funeral becomes a turning point, where Tim encounters Luke’s wife and son, and Paula reaches out in an effort to reconnect with the man she loves. But Tim is adrift, wandering toward a personal search for meaning and a way back to the people who need him most.

That night, Paula, while taking out the trash, spots Tim seated by the children’s swing set. She approaches with love and desperation, trying to understand the nightmare that has taken hold of him. He erupts, confessing a painful truth about the war and, in a moment of tension, tells her she’s going to the prom while he treads into the woods alone. The mortars begin to fall again, and Tim is pulled back into Vietnam’s rhythms—pain, fear, and visceral memory—before collapsing into the embrace of his wife, who refuses to let the family fracture beyond repair. Paula’s steadfast love helps anchor him as he stumbles through the fog, and she falls into his arms in a tearful, hopeful reunion.

The next day, Tim seeks help at the Veterans’ office, where he revisits a brutal patrol with three comrades, including Badman [Richard Chaves]. They search for a suspected POW camp and uncover a well whose contents are stark evidence of brutal war crimes—the bodies of 26 Americans, hands tied behind their backs and bullet holes in their heads, while rats pick at the rotting flesh. The scene is a brutal reminder of what they endured, a memory that intensifies the fight to stay human after war. They are suddenly attacked; mortars rain down, and Rafer [John Archie] is killed in the chaos as they scramble toward safety. They dash for a rescue Huey hovering overhead, hoping to reach safety. Gil [Jorge Gil] is struck as Tim helps him toward the helicopter, turning back for Badman, who is crawling toward the chopper as mortar fire intensifies. Tim orders the helicopter to wait, but the peril closes in—the mortars rage, the chopper strains to lift, and Badman’s scream cuts through the din. In that moment Tim faces an almost unbearable choice: stay and try to save his friend or climb aboard and leave him behind. The scene ends with Tim wrestling with the decision, haunted by the possibility of watching a comrade be captured, tortured, and mutilated—unless he can find the strength to change the course of what seems an inescapable fate.