Dr. Scott, in his light blue 1959 DeSoto coupe, is being pursued by two plainclothes officers in an unmarked police car through the streets of downtown Miami. Spinning blue flights are flashing atop their vehicle, a black 1958 Chevy Impala, which makes it look like The Beaver and his family could come exiting from it at any time. The woman and boy from the pink, two-story Colonial house, however, are in the backseat, pointing to the doctor fleeing in the car ahead.
Traffic is so congested along the main drag that Dr. Scott finally abandons his car at a roadblock, squeezes past a few more stalled cars, and races down an alley. The officers also abandon their vehicle and give chase to the doctor.
Sorry that they’re not physically fit, the cops chase, with some difficulty, the wanted man, over backyard fences, through several lines of hanging laundry, across a yard containing a pair of Dobermans who also briefly give chase, down a narrow ravine, through an embankment of a dried-up river bed, past groups of vacationers, shoppers and tourists in the business district, beneath the trains stationed in Overtown, and across Port Boulevard towards Dodge Island.
Dr. Scott loses his pursuers after being briskly followed several blocks up and around Seaman’s Park. He then finally quicksteps up the gangplank of the Queen Victoria II berthed in the Port of Miami, trying to appear as normal as everyone else. Using a handkerchief to wipe the rivers of sweat streaming down his face, he casually marches forward with the other visitors as if he’d planned this outing for months.