It's from a screenplay, so the formatting mght be weird (italics indicate directions):
NEW YORK CITY - 1941
A young man’s charming New York accent provides voice-over narration. His words are accompanied by a series of short clips.
NARRATOR
This is Jerry Marshall
Jerry Marshall is sitting in church with his wife and young boy.
NARRATOR
Jerry was a good guy, or so I’ve been told.
Jerry and his family are posing for a picture.
NARRATOR
He had a wife, Darla, and a son, Potter.
We see Jerry’s house from the outside. The camera DOLLIES into the front door, where we see he and his wife cooking dinner as Potter listens to the radio.
NARRATOR
Jerry had a good home; he was good on his mortgage too. He made a damned good living brokering stocks on Wall Street. Still, he preferred a simple life after 5 p.m and all weekend. He may work with a bunch of sonuvabitches, but at home Jerry was a regular paterfamilias.
Back at the church, a MAN leans up from the pew behind Jerry and whispers in his ear.
NARRATOR
But all that money he wasn’t spending was burning a hole in Jerry’s pocket. See, a lifetime of 9-5 Uncle Sam-approved gambling gave Jerry the itch.
Jerry and the man walk into an inconspicuous BAR. Inside the man nods to the old BARTENDER, a heavy-set man with a cigarette perched upon a scowl that seems etched into his face. Jerry follows the man as they turn and walk through a heavy door across from the bar. Jerry and his friend stand as the door closes behind them. Jerry’s eyes begin to light up. A YOUNG MAN walks past him, pushing a small bundle of dollars into a paper bag, then placing the bag in his inside jacket pocket. A warm light seems to glow on Jerry’s face as he breaks out into a smile.
NARRATOR
Jerry came home late that night. And the night after, and for the next three weeks. See, that cold December night in 1941, Jerry discovered the greatest joy afforded to any man who was smart enough to take it: The promise of riches without the work. The spoils of kings without the toil and sweat of man.
We see Jerry hiding small stacks of dollar bills under his mattress.
NARRATOR
Jerry gambled 6 days a week. Kept the sabbath for his and the Lord. Thought it would buy him some good luck in that back room at the bar. And hell, it did. Jerry bought a new home, with a pool. Jerry bought a new suit. Three new suits. Jerry bought a brand-new Ford automobile. Jerry took vacations with his family. A lot. Jerry’s hot streak began to run out. Jerry’s money dried up quick. Jerry was betting money he didn’t have. Jerry sold his car. Jerry’s bank account closed and he began to drink. A lot. Jerry’s wife left him and took the kid with her. Jerry sold his house. Jerry wanted to win it all back.
We see Jerry sweating and glancing nervously from side to side in that backroom. He runs to a table in the center of the room, scoops a pile of money in his arms and makes a run for the door. Two large men block the exit.
NARRATOR
Jerry ran into the red one night and tried to run off with what he could.
Jerry is tied to a wooden chair in a dark basement. The two large men simultaneously swing sledgehammers into his kneecaps.
NARRATOR
So Jerry got two broken kneecaps and a lead lobotomy.
One of the men lifts a pistol. We ZOOM between the gun and Jerry’s forehead, until all we can see is a blank wall. Then it goes black.
NARRATOR
Why? Because of fucking pinball.
TITLE SCREEN