Frank Darabont

                        Based upon the story 
                Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption
                       by Stephen King

    A dark, empty room. 

    The door bursts open. A MAN and WOMAN enter, drunk and 
    giggling, horny as hell. No sooner is the door shut than 
    they're all over each other, ripping at clothes, pawing at 
    flesh, mouths locked together. 

    He gropes for a lamp, tries to turn it on, knocks it over 
    instead. Hell with it. He's got more urgent things to do, like 
    getting her blouse open and his hands on her breasts. She 
    arches, moaning, fumbling with his fly. He slams her against 
    the wall, ripping her skirt. We hear fabric tear. 

    He enters her right then and there, roughly, up against the 
    wall. She cries out, hitting her head against the wall but not 
    caring, grinding against him, clawing his back, shivering with 
    the sensations running through her. He carries her across the 
    room with her legs wrapped around him. They fall onto the bed. 

    CAMERA PULLS BACK, exiting through the window, traveling 
    smoothly outside... 

<b>2    EXT -- CABIN -- NIGHT (1946) 2
</b> reveal the bungalow, remote in a wooded area, the 
    lovers' cries spilling into the night... 

    ...and we drift down a wooded path, the sounds of rutting 
    passion growing fainter, mingling now with the night sounds of 
    crickets and hoot owls... 

    ...and we begin to hear FAINT MUSIC in the woods, tinny and
    incongruous, and still we keep PULLING BACK until... 

    ...a car is revealed. A 1946 Plymouth. Parked in a clearing. 

<b>3    INT -- PLYMOUTH -- NIGHT (1946) 3
    ANDY DUFRESNE, mid-20's, wire rim glasses, three-piece suit. 
    Under normal circumstances a respectable, solid citizen; hardly
    dangerous, perhaps even meek. But these circumstances are far 
    from normal. He is disheveled, unshaven, and very drunk. A 
    cigarette smolders in his mouth. His eyes, flinty and hard, are 
    riveted to the bungalow up the path. 

    He can hear them fucking from here. 

    He raises a bottle of bourbon and knocks it back. The radio 
    plays softly, painfully romantic, taunting him: 

        You stepped out of a dream... 
        You are too wonderful... 
        To be what you seem... 

    He opens the glove compartment, pulls out an object wrapped
    in a rag. He lays it in his lap and unwraps it carefully --

    -- revealing a .38 revolver. Oily, black, evil. 

    He grabs a box of bullets. Spills them everywhere, all over 
    the seats and floor. Clumsy. He picks bullets off his lap, 
    loading them into the gun, one by one, methodical and grim. 
    Six in the chamber. His gaze goes back to the bungalow. 

    He shuts off the radio. Abrupt silence, except for the distant 
    lovers' moans. He takes another shot of bourbon courage, then 
    opens the door and steps from the car. 

<b>4    EXT -- PLYMOUTH -- NIGHT (1946) 4
    His wingtip shoes crunch on gravel. Loose bullets scatter to 
    the ground. The bourbon bottle drops and shatters. 

    He starts up the path, unsteady on his feet. The closer he 
    gets, the louder the lovemaking becomes. Louder and more 
    frenzied. The lovers are reaching a climax, their sounds of 
    passion degenerating into rhythmic gasps and grunts. 

<b>                WOMAN (O.S.) 
</b>        Oh god...oh god...oh god... 

    Andy lurches to a stop, listening. The woman cries out in 
    orgasm. The sound slams into Andy's brain like an icepick. He 
    shuts his eyes tightly, wishing the sound would stop. 

    It finally does, dying away like a siren until all that's left 
    is the shallow gasping and panting of post-coitus. We hear 
    languorous laughter, moans of satisfaction. 

<b>                WOMAN (O.S.) 
</b>        Oh god...that's sooo're 
        the best...the best I ever had... 

    Andy just stands and listens, devastated. He doesn't look like 
    much of a killer now; he's just a sad little man on a dirt 
    path in the woods, tears streaming down his face, a loaded gun 
    held loosely at his side. A pathetic figure, really. 

<b>5    INT -- COURTROOM -- DAY (1946) 5
    THE JURY listens like a gallery of mannequins on display, 
    pale-faced and stupefied. 

<b>                D.A. (O.S.) 
</b>        Mr. Dufresne, describe the 
        confrontation you had with your 
        wife the night she was murdered. 

    is on the witness stand, hands folded, suit and tie pressed, 
    hair meticulously combed. He speaks in soft, measured tones: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It was very bitter. She said she 
        was glad I knew, that she hated all 
        the sneaking around. She said she 
        wanted a divorce in Reno. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        What was your response? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I told her I would not grant one. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>            (refers to his notes) 
        I'll see you in Hell before I see
        you in Reno. Those were the words 
        you used, Mr. Dufresne, according 
        to the testimony of your neighbors. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        If they say so. I really don't 
        remember. I was upset. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        What happened after you and your 
        wife argued? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        She packed a bag and went to stay 
        with Mr. Quentin. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        Glenn Quentin. The golf pro at the 
        Falmouth Hills Country Club. The 
        man you had recently discovered was 
        her lover. 
            (Andy nods) 
        Did you follow her? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I went to a few bars first. Later, 
        I decided to drive to Mr. Quentin's 
        home and confront them. They 
        weren't I parked my car 
        in the turnout...and waited. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        With what intention? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I'm not sure. I was confused. Drunk. 
        I think mostly I wanted to scare them. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        You had a gun with you? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Yes. I did. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        When they arrived, you went up 
        to the house and murdered them? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        No. I was sobering up. I realized 
        she wasn't worth it. I decided to 
        let her have her quickie divorce. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        Quickie divorce indeed. A .38 
        caliber divorce, wrapped in a 
        handtowel to muffle the shots, 
        isn't that what you mean? And then 
        you shot her lover! 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I did not. I got back in the car 
        and drove home to sleep it off. 
        Along the way, I stopped and threw 
        my gun into the Royal River. I feel 
        I've been very clear on this point. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        Yes, you have. Where I get hazy, 
        though, is the part where the 
        cleaning woman shows up the next 
        morning and finds your wife and her 
        lover in bed, riddled with .38 
        caliber bullets. Does that strike 
        you as a fantastic coincidence, Mr. 
        Dufresne, or is it just me? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (softly) 
        Yes. It does. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        I'm sorry, Mr. Dufresne, I don't 
        think the jury heard that. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Yes. It does. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        Does what? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Strike me as a fantastic coincidence. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        On that, sir, we are in accord... 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        You claim you threw your gun into 
        the Royal River before the murders 
        took place. That's rather convenient. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It's the truth. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        You recall Lt. Mincher's testimony? 
        He and his men dragged that river 
        for three days and nary a gun was 
        found. So no comparison can be made 
        between your gun and the bullets 
        taken from the bloodstained corpses 
        of the victims. That's also rather 
        convenient, isn't it, Mr. Dufresne? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (faint, bitter smile) 
        Since I am innocent of this crime, 
        sir, I find it decidedly inconvenient 
        the gun was never found. 

<b>6    INT -- COURTROOM -- DAY (1946) 6
    The D.A. holds the jury spellbound with his closing summation:

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        Ladies and gentlemen, you've heard 
        all the evidence, you know all the 
        facts. We have the accused at the 
        scene of the crime. We have foot 
        prints. Tire tracks. Bullets 
        scattered on the ground which bear 
        his fingerprints. A broken bourbon 
        bottle, likewise with fingerprints. 
        Most of all, we have a beautiful 
        young woman and her lover lying 
        dead in each other's arms. They had 
        sinned. But was their crime so 
        great as to merit a death sentence? 

    He gestures to Andy sitting quietly with his ATTORNEY. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        I suspect Mr. Dufresne's answer to 
        that would be yes. I further 
        suspect he carried out that 
        sentence on the night of September 
        21st, this year of our Lord, 1946, 
        by pumping four bullets into his 
        wife and another four into Glenn 
        Quentin. And while you think about 
        that, think about this... 

    He picks up a revolver, spins the cylinder before their eyes 
    like a carnival barker spinning a wheel of fortune. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        A revolver holds six bullets, not 
        eight. I submit to you this was not 
        a hot-blooded crime of passion! 
        That could at least be understood, 
        if not condoned. No, this was 
        revenge of a much more brutal and 
        cold-blooded nature. Consider! Four 
        bullets per victim! Not six shots 
        fired, but eight! That means he 
        fired the gun empty...and then 
        stopped to reload so he could shoot 
        each of them again! An extra bullet 
        per lover...right in the head. 
            (a few JURORS shiver) 
        I'm done talking. You people are 
        all decent, God-fearing Christian 
        folk. You know what to do. 

<b>7    INT -- JURY ROOM -- DAY (1946) 7
    CAMERA TRACKS down a long table, moving from one JUROR to the 
    next. These decent, God-fearing Christians are chowing down on 
    a nice fried chicken dinner provided them by the county, 
    smacking greasy lips and gnawing cobbettes of corn. 

<b>                VOICE (O.S.) 
</b>        Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty... 

    We find the FOREMAN at the head of the table, sorting votes. 

<b>8    INT -- COURTROOM -- DAY (1946) 8
    Andy stands before the dias. THE JUDGE peers down, framed by a 
    carved frieze of blind Lady Justice on the wall. 

<b>                JUDGE 
</b>        You strike me as a particularly icy 
        and remorseless man, Mr. Dufresne. 
        It chills my blood just to look at 
        you. By the power vested in me by 
        the State of Maine, I hereby order 
        you to serve two life sentences, 
        back to back, one for each of your 
        victims. So be it. 

    He raps his gavel as we 

    slides open with an enormous CLANG. A stark room waits beyond.
    CAMERA PUSHES through. SEVEN HUMORLESS MEN sit side by side at
    a long table. An empty chair faces them. We are now in: 

    RED enters, removes his cap and waits by the chair. 

<b>                MAN #1 
</b>        Sit. 

    Red sits, tries not to slouch. The chair is uncomfortable. 

<b>                MAN #2 
</b>        We see by your file you've served 
        twenty years of a life sentence. 

<b>                MAN #3 
</b>        You feel you've been rehabilitated? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Yes, sir. Absolutely. I've learned 
        my lesson. I can honestly say I'm a 
        changed man. I'm no longer a danger 
        to society. That's the God's honest 
        truth. No doubt about it. 

    The men just stare at him. One stifles a yawn. 

    A big rubber stamp slams down: "REJECTED" in red ink. 

    High stone walls topped with snaky concertina wire, set off at
    intervals by looming guard towers. Over a hundred CONS are 
    in the yard. Playing catch, shooting craps, jawing at each 
    other, making deals. Exercise period. 

    RED emerges into fading daylight, slouches low-key through the 
    activity, worn cap on his head, exchanging hellos and doing 
    minor business. He's an important man here. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        There's a con like me in every prison 
        in America, I guess. I'm the guy who 
        can get it for you. Cigarettes, a 
        bag of reefer if you're partial, a 
        bottle of brandy to celebrate your 
        kid's high school graduation. Damn 
        near anything, within reason. 

    He slips somebody a pack of smokes, smooth sleight-of-hand.

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Yes sir, I'm a regular Sears & 

    TWO SHORT SIREN BLASTS issue from the main tower, drawing 
    everybody's attention to the loading dock. The outer gate 
    swings open...revealing a gray prison bus outside. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        So when Andy Dufresne came to me in 
        1949 and asked me to smuggle Rita 
        Hayworth into the prison for him, I 
        told him no problem. And it wasn't. 

<b>                CON 
</b>        Fresh fish! Fresh fish today! 

    Most cons crowd to the fence to gawk and jeer, but Red and his 
    group mount the bleachers and settle in comfortably. 

<b>11    INT -- PRISON BUS -- DUSK (1947) 11
    Andy sits in back, wearing steel collar and chains. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy came to Shawshank Prison in 
        early 1947 for murdering his wife 
        and the fella she was bangin'. 

    The bus lurches forward, RUMBLES through the gates. Andy gazes 
    around, swallowed by prison walls. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        On the outside, he'd been vice- 
        president of a large Portland bank. 
        Good work for a man as young as he 
        was, when you consider how 
        conservative banks were back then. 

<b>                TOWER GUARD 
</b>        All clear! 

    GUARDS approach the bus with carbines. The door jerks open. 
    The new fish disembark, chained together single-file, blinking 
    sourly at their surroundings. Andy stumbles against the MAN in 
    front of him, almost drags him down. 

    BYRON HADLEY, captain of the guard, slams his baton into 
    Andy's back. Andy goes to his knees, gasping in pain. JEERS 
    and SHOUTS from the spectators. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        On your feet before I fuck you up 
        so bad you never walk again. 

<b>13     ON THE BLEACHERS 13
<b>                RED 
</b>        There they are, boys. The Human 
        Charm Bracelet. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Never seen such a sorry-lookin' 
        heap of maggot shit in my life. 

<b>                JIGGER 
</b>        Comin' from you, Heywood, you being 
        so pretty and all... 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Takin' bets today, Red? 

<b>                RED 
</b>            (pulls notepad and pencil) 
        Bear Catholic? Pope shit in the woods? 
        Smokes or coin, bettor's choice. 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Smokes. Put me down for two. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        High roller. Who's your horse? 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        That gangly sack of shit, third 
        from the front. He'll be the first. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Bullshit. I'll take that action. 

<b>                ERNIE 
</b>        Me too. 

    Other hands go up. Red jots the names. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        You're out some smokes, son. Take 
        my word. 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        You're so smart, you call it. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        I say that chubby fat-ass...let's 
        see...fifth from the front. Put me 
        down for a quarter deck. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        That's five cigarettes on Fat-Ass. 
        Any takers? 

    More hands go up. Andy and the others are paraded along, 
    forced by their chains to take tiny baby steps, flinching 
    under the barrage of jeers and shouts. The old-timers are 
    shaking the fence, trying to make the newcomers shit their 
    pants. Some of the new fish shout back, but mostly they look 
    terrified. Especially Andy. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I must admit I didn't think much of 
        Andy first time I laid eyes on him. 
        He might'a been important on the 
        outside, but in here he was just a 
        little turd in prison grays. Looked 
        like a stiff breeze could blow him 
        over. That was my first impression 
        of the man. 

<b>                SKEET 
</b>        What say, Red? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Little fella on the end. Definitely. 
        I stake half a pack. Any takers? 

<b>                SNOOZE 
</b>        Rich bet. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        C'mon, boys, who's gonna prove me 
            (hands go up) 
        Floyd, Skeet, Joe, Heywood. Four brave 
        souls, ten smokes apiece. That's it, 
        gentlemen, this window's closed. 

    Red pockets his notepad. A VOICE comes over the P.A. speakers:

                VOICE (amplified) 
        Return to your cellblocks for 
        evening count. 

<b>14    INT -- ADMITTING AREA -- DUSK (1947) 14
    The new fish are marched in. Guards unlock the shackles. The
    chains drop away, rattling to the stone floor. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Eyes front. 

    WARDEN SAMUEL NORTON strolls forth, a colorless man in a gray
    suit and a church pin in his lapel. He looks like he could 
    piss ice water. He appraises the newcomers with flinty eyes.

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        This is Mr. Hadley, captain of the 
        guard. I am Mr. Norton, the warden. 
        You are sinners and scum, that's 
        why they sent you to me. Rule 
        number one: no blaspheming. I'll 
        not have the Lord's name taken in 
        vain in my prison. The other rules 
        you'll figure out as you go along. 
        Any questions? 

<b>                CON 
</b>        When do we eat? 

    Cued by Norton's glance, Hadley steps up to the con and screams
    right in his face: 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b><b>        YOU EAT WHEN WE SAY YOU EAT! YOU 
</b><b>        DICK MOTHERFUCKER! 
    Hadley rams the tip of his club into the con's belly. The 
    man falls to his knees, gasping and clutching himself. 
    Hadley takes his place at Norton's side again. Softly: 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Any other questions? 
            (there are none) 
        I believe in two things. Discipline 
        and the Bible. Here, you'll receive 
            (holds up a Bible) 
        Put your faith in the Lord. Your 
        ass belongs to me. Welcome to 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Off with them clothes! And I didn't 
        say take all day doing it, did I? 

    The men shed their clothes. Within seconds, all stand naked. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        First man into the shower! 

    Hadley shoves the FIRST CON into a steel cage open at the 
    front. TWO GUARDS open up with a fire hose. The con is slammed 
    against the back of the cage, sputtering and hollering. 
    Seconds later, the water is cut and the con yanked out. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Delouse that piece of shit! Next 
        man in! 

    The con gets a huge scoop of white delousing powder thrown all
    over him. Gasping and coughing, blinking powder from his eyes,
    he gets shoved to a trustee's cage. The TRUSTEE slides a short
    stack of items through the slot -- prison clothes and a Bible.
    All the men are processed quickly -- a blast of water, powder,
    clothes and a Bible... 

<b>15    INT -- INFIRMARY -- NIGHT (1947) 15
    A naked CON steps before a DOCTOR and gets a cursory exam. 
    A penlight is shined in his eyes, ears, nose, and throat. 

<b>                DOCTOR 
</b>        Bend over. 

    The con does. A GUARD with a penlight in his teeth spreads his 
    cheeks, peers up his ass, and nods. Andy is next up. He gets 
    the same treatment. 

<b>16    INT -- PRISON CHAPEL -- NIGHT (1947) 16
    CAMERA TRACKS the naked newcomers shivering on hard wooden 
    chairs, clothes on their laps, Bibles open. 

<b>                CHAPLAIN (O.S.) 
</b>        ...maketh me to lie down in green 
        pastures. He leadeth me beside the 
        still waters. He restoreth my soul... 

<b>17    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1947) 17
    Three tiers to a side, concrete and steel, gray and imposing. 
    Andy and the others are marched in, still naked, carrying 
    their clothes and Bibles. The CONS in their cells greet them 
    with TAUNTS, JEERS, and LAUGHTER. One by one, the new men are 
    shown to their cells and locked in with a CLANG OF STEEL. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The first night's the toughest, no 
        doubt about it. They march you in 
        naked as the day you're born, fresh 
        from a Bible reading, skin burning 
        and half-blind from that delousing 
        shit they throw on you... 

    Red watches from his cell, arms slung over the crossbars, 
    cigarette dangling from his fingers. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...and when they put you in that 
        cell, when those bars slam home, 
        that's when you know it's for real. 
        Old life blown away in the blink of 
        an eye...a long cold season in hell 
        stretching out ahead...nothing 
        left but all the time in the world 
        to think about it. 

    Red listens to the CLANGING below. He watches Andy and a few 
    others being brought up to the 2nd tier. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Most new fish come close to madness 
        the first night. Somebody always 
        breaks down crying. Happens every 
        time. The only question is, who's 
        it gonna be? 

    Andy is led past and given a cell at the end of the tier. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        It's as good a thing to bet on as 
        any, I guess. I had my money on 
        Andy Dufresne... 

<b>18    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 18
    The bars slam home. Andy is alone in his cell, clutching his 
    clothes. He gazes around at his new surroundings, taking it 
    in. He slowly begins to dress himself... 

<b>19    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- NIGHT (1947) 19
    A malignant stone growth on the Maine landscape. The moon 
    hangs low and baleful in a dead sky. The headlight of a 
    PASSING TRAIN cuts through the night. 

<b>20    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 20
    Red lies on his bunk below us, tossing his baseball toward the 
    ceiling and catching it again. He pauses, listening. FOOTSTEPS 
    approach below, unhurried, echoing hollowly on stone. 

<b>21    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1947) 21
    LOW ANGLE. A CELLBLOCK GUARD strolls into frame. 

<b>                GUARD 
</b>        That's lights out! Good night, ladies. 

    The lights bump off in sequence. The guard exits, footsteps
    echoing away. Darkness now. Silence. CAMERA CRANES UP the 
    tiers toward Red's cell. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I remember my first night. Seems a 
        long time ago now. 

    Red looms from the darkness, leans on the bars. Listens. 
    Waits. From somewhere below comes faint, ghastly tittering.
    VOICES drift through the cellblock, taunting: 

<b>                VARIOUS VOICES (O.S.) 
</b>        Fishee fishee fisheeee...You're 
        gonna like it here, new fish. A 
        whooole lot...Make you wish your 
        daddies never dicked your 
        mommies...You takin' this down, new 
        fish? Gonna be a quiz later. 
            (somebody LAUGHS) 
        Sshhh. Keep it down. The screws'll 
        hear...Fishee fishee fisheeee... 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The boys always go fishin' with 
        first-timers...and they don't quit 
        till they reel someone in. 

    The VOICES keep on, sly and creepy in the dark... 

<b>22    INT -- VARIOUS CELLS -- NIGHT (1947) 22
</b>    thru thru 25
    2g ...while the new cons go quietly crazy in their cells. One man
    paces like a caged animal...another sits gnawing his cuticles
    bloody...a third is weeping silently...a fourth is dry-heaving
    into the toilet... 

<b>26    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 26
    Red waits at the bars. Smoking. Listening. He cranes his head,
    peers down toward Andy's cell. Nothing. Not a peep. 

<b>                HEYWOOD (O.S.) 
</b>        Fat-Ass...oh, Faaaat-Ass. Talk to 
        me, boy. I know you're in there. I 
        can hear you breathin'. Now don't 
        you listen to these nitwits, hear? 

<b>27    INT -- FAT-ASS' CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 27
    Fat-Ass is crying, trying not to hyperventilate. 

<b>                HEYWOOD (O.S.) 
</b>        This ain't such a bad place. I'll 
        introduce you around, make you feel 
        right at home. I know some big ol' 
        bull queers who'd love to make your 
        acquaintance...especially that big 
        white mushy butt of yours... 

    And that's it. Fat-Ass lets out a LOUD WAIL of despair: 

<b>                FAT-ASS 
</b><b>        OH GOD! I DON'T BELONG HERE! I 
</b><b>        WANNA GO HOME! 
<b>28    INT -- HEYWOOD'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 28
<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b><b>        AND IT'S FAT-ASS BY A NOSE.' 
<b>29    INT -- CELLBLOCK -- NIGHT (1947) 29
    The place goes nuts. Fat-Ass throws himself screaming against
    the bars. The entire block starts CHANTING: 

<b>                VOICES 
</b>        Fresh fish...fresh fish...fresh 
        fish...fresh fish... 

<b>                FAT-ASS 
</b><b>        I WANNA GO HOME! I WANT MY MOTHER.' 
<b>                VOICE (O.S.) 
</b>        I had your mother! She wasn't that 

    The lights bump on. GUARDS pour in, led by Hadley himself.

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        What the Christ is this happy shit? 

<b>                VOICE (O.S.) 
</b>        He took the Lord's name in vain! 
        I'm tellin' the warden! 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>            (to the unseen wit) 
        You'll be tellin' him with my baton 
        up your ass! 

    Hadley arrives at Fat-Ass' cell, bellowing through the bars:

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        What's your malfunction you fat 
        fuckin' barrel of monkey-spunk? 

<b>                FAT-ASS 
</b><b>        PLEASE! THIS AIN'T RIGHT! I AIN'T 
</b><b>        SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! NOT ME! 
<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        I ain't gonna count to three! Not 
        even to one! Now shut the fuck up 
        'fore I sing you a lullabye! 

    Fat-Ass keeps blubbering and wailing. Total freak-out. Hadley 
    draws his baton, gestures to his men. Open it. 

    A GUARD unlocks the cell. Hadley pulls Fat-Ass out and starts 
    beating him with the baton, brutally raining blows. Fat-Ass 
    falls, tries to crawl. 

    The place goes dead silent. All we hear now is the dull
    THWACK-THWACK-THWACK of the baton. Fat-ass passes out. Hadley
    gets in a few more licks and finally stops. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Get this tub of shit down to the 
            (peers around) 
        If I hear so much as a mouse fart 
        in here the rest of the night, by 
        God and Sonny Jesus, you'll all 
        visit the infirmary. Every last 
        motherfucker here. 

    The guards wrestle Fat-Ass onto a stretcher and carry him off. 
    FOOTSTEPS echo away. Lights off. Darkness again. Silence. 

<b>30    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 30
    Red stares through the bars at the main floor below, eyes 
    riveted to the small puddle of blood where Fat-Ass went down. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        His first night in the joint, Andy 
        Dufresne cost me two packs of 
        cigarettes. He never made a sound... 

<b>31    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- MORNING (1947) 31
    LOUD BUZZER. The master locks are thrown -- KA-THUMP! The cons 
    step from their cells, lining the tiers. The GUARDS holler 
    their head-counts to the HEAD BULL, who jots on a clipboard. 
    Red peers at Andy, checking him out. Andy stands in line, 
    collar buttoned, hair combed. 

<b>32    INT -- MESS HALL -- MORNING (1947) 32
    Andy goes through the breakfast line, gets a scoop of glop on
    his tray. WE PAN ANDY through the noise and confusion...and 
    discover BOGS DIAMOND and ROOSTER MacBRIDE watching Andy go 
    by. Bogs sizes Andy up with a salacious gleam in his eye, 
    mutters something to Rooster. Rooster laughs. 

    Andy finds a table occupied by Red and his regulars, chooses
    a spot at the end where nobody is sitting. Ignoring their 
    stares, he picks up his spoon -- and pauses, seeing something
    in his food. He carefully fishes it out with his fingers. 

    It's a squirming maggot. Andy grimaces, unsure what to do with
    it. BROOKS HATLEN is sitting closest to Andy. At age 65, he's
    a senior citizen, a long-standing resident. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        You gonna eat that? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Hadn't planned on it. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        You mind? 

    Andy passes the maggot to Brooks. Brooks examines it, rolling
    it between his fingertips like a man checking out a fine 
    cigar. Andy is riveted with apprehension. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Mmm. Nice and ripe. 

    Andy can't bear to watch. Brooks opens up his sweater and 
    feeds the maggot to a baby crow nestled in an inside pocket.
    Andy breathes a sigh of relief. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Jake says thanks. Fell out of his 
        nest over by the plate shop. I'm 
        lookin' after him till he's old 
        enough to fly. 

    Andy nods, proceeds to eat. Carefully. Heywood approaches.

<b>                JIGGER 
</b>        Oh, Christ, here he comes. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Mornin', boys. It's a fine mornin'. 
        You know why it's fine? 

    Heywood plops his tray down, sits. The men start pulling out
    cigarettes and handing them down. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        That's right, send 'em all down. I 
        wanna see 'em lined up in a row, 
        pretty as a chorus line. 

    An impressive pile forms. Heywood bends down and inhales
    deeply, smelling the aroma. Rapture. 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Smell my ass... 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Gee, Red. Terrible shame, your 
        horse comin' in last and all. 
        Hell, I sure do love that horse of 
        mine. I believe I owe that boy a 
        big sloppy kiss when I see him. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Give him some'a your cigarettes 
        instead, cheap bastard. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Say Tyrell, you pull infirmary duty 
        this week? How's that winnin' horse 
        of mine, anyway? 

<b>                TYRELL 
</b>        Dead. 
            (the men fall silent) 
        Hadley busted his head pretty good. 
        Doc already went home for the 
        night. Poor bastard lay there till 
        this morning. By then... 

    He shakes his head, turns back to his food. The silence
    mounts. Heywood glances around. Men resume eating. Softly:

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What was his name? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        What? What'd you say? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I was wondering if anyone knew his 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        What the fuck you care, new fish? 
            (resumes eating) 
        Doesn't matter what his fuckin' 
        name was. He's dead. 

<b>33    INT -- PRISON LAUNDRY -- DAY (1947) 33
    A DEAFENING NOISE of industrial washers and presses. Andy works
    the laundry line. A nightmarish job. He's new at it. BOB, the
    con foreman, elbows him aside and shows him how it's done. 

<b>34    INT -- SHOWERS -- DAY (1947) 34
    Shower heads mounted in bare concrete. Andy showers with a
    dozen or more men. No modesty here. At least the water is good
    and hot, soothing his tortured muscles. 

    Bogs looms from the billowing steam, smiling, checking Andy up
    and down. Rooster and PETE appear from the sides. The Sisters.

<b>                BOGS 
    You're some sweet punk. You been 
    broke in yet? 

    Andy tries to step past them. He gets shoved around, nothing
    serious, just some slap and tickle. Jackals sizing up prey.

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        Hard to get. I like that. 

    Andy breaks free, flushed and shaking. He hurries off, leaving
    the three Sisters laughing. 

<b>35    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 35
    Andy lies staring at the darkness, unable to sleep. 

<b>36    EXT -- EXERCISE YARD -- DAY (1947) 36
    Exercise period. Red plays catch with Heywood and Jigger, 
    lazily tossing a baseball around. Red notices Andy off to the
    side. Nods hello. Andy takes this as a cue to amble over. 
    Heywood and Jigger pause, watching. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (offers his hand) 
        Hello. I'm Andy Dufresne. 

    Red glances at the hand, ignores it. The game continues.

<b>                RED 
</b>        The wife-killin' banker. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        How do you know that? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I keep my ear to the ground. Why'd 
        you do it? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I didn't, since you ask. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Hell, you'll fit right in, then. 
            (off Andy's look) 
        Everyone's innocent in here, don't 
        you know that? Heywood! What are 
        you in for, boy? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Didn't do it! Lawyer fucked me! 

    Red gives Andy a look. See? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What else have you heard? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        People say you're a cold fish. They 
        say you think your shit smells 
        sweeter than ordinary. That true? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What do you think? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Ain't made up my mind yet. 

    Heywood nudges Jigger. Watch this. He winds up and throws the
    ball hard -- right at Andy's head. Andy sees it coming out of
    the corner of his eye, whirls and catches it. Beat. He sends
    the ball right back, zinging it into Heywood's hands. Heywood
    drops the ball and grimaces, wringing his stung hands. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I understand you're a man who knows 
        how to get things. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I'm known to locate certain things 
        from time to time. They seem to 
        fall into my hands. Maybe it's 
        'cause I'm Irish. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I wonder if you could get me a 

<b>                RED 
</b>        What is it and why? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You make your customers' motives a 
        part of your business? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        If you wanted a toothbrush, I 
        wouldn't ask questions. I'd just 
        quote a price. A toothbrush, see, 
        is a non-lethal sort of object. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Fair enough. A rock-hammer is about 
        eight or nine inches long. Looks 
        like a miniature pickaxe, with a 
        small sharp pick on one end, and a 
        blunt hammerhead on the other. It's 
        for rocks. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Rocks. 

    Andy squats, motions Red to join him. Andy grabs a handful of
    dirt and sifts it through his hands. He finds a pebble and
    rubs it clean. It has a nice milky glow. He tosses it to Red.

<b>                RED 
</b>        Quartz? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Quartz, sure. And look. Mica. Shale. 
        Silted granite. There's some graded 
        limestone, from when they cut this 
        place out of the hill. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        So? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I'm a rockhound. At least I was, in 
        my old life. I'd like to be again, 
        on a limited scale. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Yeah, that or maybe plant your toy 
        in somebody's skull? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I have no enemies here. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        No? Just wait. 

    Red flicks his gaze past Andy. Bogs is watching them. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Word gets around. The Sisters have 
        taken a real shine to you, yes they 
        have. Especially Bogs. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Tell me something. Would it help if 
        I explained to them I'm not 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Neither are they. You have to be 
        human first. They don't qualify. 
            (off Andy's look) 
        Bull queers take by force, that's 
        all they want or understand. I'd 
        grow eyes in the back of my head if 
        I were you. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Thanks for the advice. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        That comes free. But you understand 
        my concern. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        If there's trouble, I doubt a rock- 
        hammer will do me any good. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Then I guess you wanna escape. 
        Tunnel under the wall maybe? 
            (Andy laughs politely) 
        I miss the joke. What's so funny? 

<b>                ANDY 
    You'll know when you see the rock- 

<b>                RED 
</b>        What's this item usually go for? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Seven dollars in any rock and gem shop.

<b>                RED 
</b>        My standard mark-up's twenty 
        percent, but we're talkin' about a 
        special object. Risk goes up, price 
        goes up. Call it ten bucks even. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Ten it is. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I'll see what I can do. 
            (rises, slapping dust) 
        But it's a waste of money. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Oh? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Folks who run this place love 
        surprise inspections. They turn a 
        blind eye to some things, but not 
        a gadget like that. They'll find 
        it, and you'll lose it. Mention my 
        name, we'll never do business 
        again. Not for a pair of shoelaces 
        or a stick of gum. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I understand. Thank you, Mr...? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Red. The name's Red. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Red. I'm Andy. Pleasure doing 
        business with you. 

    They shake. Andy strolls off. Red watches him go. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I could see why some of the boys 
        took him for snobby. He had a quiet 
        way about him, a walk and a talk 
        that just wasn't normal around 
        here. He strolled. like a man in a 
        park without a care or worry. Like 
        he had on an invisible coat that 
        would shield him from this place. 
            (resumes playing catch) 
        Yes, I think it would be fair to 
        say I liked Andy from the start. 

<b>37    INT -- MESS HALL -- DAY (1947) 37
    Red gets his breakfast and heads for a table. Andy falls in
    step, slips him a tightly-folded square of paper. 

<b>38    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 38
    Lying on his bunk, Red unfolds the square. A ten dollar bill.

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        He was a man who adapted fast. 

<b>39    EXT -- LOADING DOCK -- DAY (1947) 39
    Under watchful supervision, CONS are off-loading bags of dirty
    laundry from an "Eliot Nursing Home" truck. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Years later, I found out he'd 
        brought in quite a bit more than 
        just ten dollars... 

    A certain bag hits the ground. The TRUCK DRIVER shoots a look 
    at a black con, LEONARD, then ambles over to a GUARD to shoot 
    the shit. Leonard loads the bag onto a cart... 

<b>40    INT -- PRISON LAUNDRY -- DAY (1947) 40
    Bags are being unloaded. We find Leonard working the line. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        When they check you into this 
        hotel, one of the bellhops bends 
        you over and looks up your works, 
        just to make sure you're not 
        carrying anything. But a truly 
        determined man can get an object 
        quite a ways up there. 

    Leonard slips a small paper-wrapped package out of the laundry 
    bag, hides it under his apron, and keeps sorting... 


    Red deposits his dirty bundle and moves down the line to where 
    the clean sheets are being handed out. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        That's how Andy joined our happy 
        little Shawshank family with more 
        than five hundred dollars on his 
        person. Determination. 

    Leonard catches Red's eye, turns and grabs a specific stack of 
    clean sheets. He hands it across to Red -- 

    -- and more than clean laundry changes hands. Two packs of
    cigarettes slide out of Red's hand into Leonard's. 

<b>42    INT -- RED'S CELL -- DAY (1947) 42
    Red slips the package out of his sheets, carefully checks to 
    make sure nobody's coming, then rips it open. He pulls out the 
    rock-hammer. It's just as Andy described. Red laughs softly. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy was right. I finally got the 
        joke. It would take a man about six 
        hundred years to tunnel under the 
        wall with one of these. 

<b>43    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- 2ND TIER -- NIGHT (1947) 43
    Brooks Hatlen pushes a cart of books from cell to cell. The 
    rolling library. He finds Red waiting for him. Red slips the 
    rock-hammer, wrapped in a towel, through the bars and onto the
    cart. Next comes six cigarettes to pay for postage. 

<b>                RED 

    Brooks nods, never missing a beat. He rolls his cart to 
    Andy's cell, mutters through the bars: 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Middle shelf, wrapped in a towel. 

    Andy's hand snakes through the bars and makes the object 
    disappear. The hand comes back and deposits a small slip of 
    folded paper along with more cigarettes. Brooks turns his cart
    around and goes back. He pauses, sorting his books long enough
    for Red to snag the slip of paper. Brooks continues on, 
    scooping the cigarettes off the cart and into his pocket. 

<b>44    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 44
    Red unfolds the slip of paper. Penciled neatly on it is a 
    single word: "Thanks." 

<b>45    INT -- PRISON LAUNDRY -- DAY (1947) 45
    We are assaulted by the deafening noise of the laundry line. 
    Andy is doing his job, getting good at it. 

<b>                BOB 
    Andy nods. He leaves the line, weaving his way through the 
    laundry room and into -- 

<b>46    INT -- BACK ROOMS/STOCK AREA -- DAY (1947) 46
    -- a dark, tangled maze of rooms and corridors, boilers and
    furnaces, sump pumps, old washing machines, pallets of 
    cleaning supplies and detergents, you name it. Andy hefts a 
    cardboard drum of Hexlite off the stack, turns around -- 

    -- and finds Bogs Diamond in the aisle. blocking his way.
    Rooster looms from the shadows to his right, Pete Verness
    on the left. A frozen beat. Andy slams the Hexlite to the
    floor, rips off the top, and scoops out a double handful.

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You get this in your eyes, it 
        blinds you. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        Honey, hush. 

    Andy backs up, holding them at bay, trying to maneuver through 
    the maze. The Sisters keep coming, tense and guarded, eyes 
    riveted and gauging his every move, trying to outflank him. 
    Andy trips on some old gaint sugglies. That's all it takes. 
    They're on him in an instant, kicking and stomping. 

    Andy gets yanked to his feet. Bogs applies a chokehold from 
    behind. They propel him across the room and slam him against 
    an old four-pocket machine, bending him over it. Rooster jams 
    a rag into Andy's mouth and secures it with a steel pipe, like 
    a horse bit. Andy kicks and struggles, but Rooster and Pete 
    have his arms firmly pinned. Bogs whispers in Andy's ear: 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        That's it, fight. Better that way. 

    Andy starts screaming, muffled by the rag. CAMERA PULLS BACK, 
    SLOWLY WIDENING. The big Washex blocks our view. All we see 
    is Andy's screaming face and the men holding him down... 

    ...and CAMERA DRIFTS FROM THE ROOM, leaving the dark place 
    and the dingy act behind...MOVING up empty corridors, past 
    concrete walls and steel pipes... 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I wish I could tell you that Andy 
        fought the good fight, and the 
        Sisters let him be. I wish I could 
        tell you that, but prison is no 
        fairy-tale world. 

    WE EMERGE into the prison laundry past a guard, WIDENING for 
    a final view of the line. The giant steel "mangler" is 
    slapping down in brutal rhythm. The sound is deafening. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        He never said who did it...but we 
        all knew. 

    PRISON MONTAGE: (1947 through 1949) 

</b>    shaping his rocks after lights-out... 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Things went on like that for a 
        while. Prison life consists of 
        routine, and then more routine. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Every so often, Andy would show up 
        with fresh bruises. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The Sisters kept at him. Sometimes 
        he was able to fight them off... 
        sometimes not. 

</b>    wildly swinging a rake at his tormentors. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        He always fought, that's what I 
        remember. He fought because he knew 
        if he didn't fight, it would make 
        it that much easier not to fight 
        the next time. 

    The rake connects, snapping off over somebody's skull. They 
    beat the hell out of him. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Half the time it landed him in the 

<b>51    INT -- SOLITARY CONFINEMENT ("THE HOLE") -- NIGHT (1949) 51 
    A stone closet. No bed, sink, or lights. Just a toilet with no 
    seat. Andy sits on bare concrete, bruised face lit by a faint 
    ray of light falling through the tiny slit in the steel door. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...the other half, it landed him in 
        solitary. Warden Norton's "grain & 
        drain" vacation. Bread, water, and 
        all the privacy you could want. 

<b>52    INT -- PRISON LAUNDRY -- DAY (1949) 52
    Andy is working the line. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        And that's how it went for Andy. That 
        was his routine. I do believe those 
        first two years were the worst for 
        him. And I also believe if things 
        had gone on that way, this place 
        would have got the best of him. 
        But then, in the spring of 1949, 
        the powers-that-be decided that... 

<b>53    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1949) 53
    Warden Norton addresses the assembled cons via bullhorn: 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        ...the roof of the license-plate 
        factory needs resurfacing. I need a 
        dozen volunteers for a week's work. 
        We're gonna be taking names in this 
        steel bucket here... 

    Red glances around at his friends. Andy also catches his eye.

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        It was outdoor detail, and May is 
        one damn fine month to be workin' 

<b>54    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1949) 54
    Cons shuffle past, dropping slips of paper into a bucket. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        More than a hundred men volunteered 
        for the job. 

    Red saunters to a guard named TIM YOUNGBLOOD, mutters 
    discreetly in his ear. 

<b>55    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1949) 55
    Youngblood is pulling names and reading them off. Red 
    exchanges grins with Andy and the others. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Wouldn't you know it? Me and some 
        fellas I know were among the names 

<b>56    INT -- PRISON CORRIDOR -- NIGHT (1949) 56
    Red slips Youngblood six packs of cigarettes. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Only cost us a pack of smokes per 
        man. I made my usual twenty 
        percent, of course. 

<b>57    EXT -- LICENSE PLATE FACTORY -- DAY (1949) 57
    A tar-cooker bubbles and smokes. TWO CONS dip up a bucket of
    tar and tie a rope to the handle. The rope goes taught. CAMERA
    FOLLOWS the bucket of tar up the side of the building to -- 

<b>58     THE ROOF 58
    -- where it is relayed to the work detail. the men are dipping
    big Padd brushes and spreading the tar. ANGLZ OVER to Byron 
    Hadley bitching sourly to his fellow guards: 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b> this shithead lawyer calls 
        long distance from Texas, and he 
        says, Byron Hadley? I say, yeah. He 
        says, sorry to inform you, but your 
        brother just died. 

<b>                YOUNGBLOOD 
</b>        Damn, Byron. Sorry to hear that. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        I ain't. He was an asshole. Run off 
        years ago, family ain't heard of him 
        since. Figured him for dead anyway. 
        So this lawyer prick says, your 
        brother died a rich man. Oil wells 
        and shit, close to a million bucks. 
        Jesus, it's frigging incredible how 
        lucky some assholes can get. 

<b>                TROUT 
</b>        A million bucks? Jeez-Louise! You 
        get any of that? 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Thirty five thousand. That's what 
        he left me. 

<b>                TROUT 
</b>        Dollars? Holy shit, that's great! 
        Like winnin' a lottery... 
            (off Hadley's shitty look) 
        ...ain't it? 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Dumbshit. What do you figger the 
        government's gonna do to me? Take a 
        big wet bite out of my ass, is what. 

<b>                TROUT 
</b>        Oh. Hadn't thought of that. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Maybe leave me enough to buy a new 
        car with. Then what happens? You 
        pay tax on the car. Repairs and 
        maintenance. Goddamn kids pesterin' 
        you to take 'em for a ride... 

<b>                MERT 
</b>        And drive it, if they're old enough. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        That's right, wanting to drive it, 
        wanting to learn on it, f'Chrissake! 
        Then at the end of the year, if you 
        figured the tax wrong, they make 
        you pay out of your own pocket. 
        Uncle Sam puts his hand in your 
        shirt and squeezes your tit till 
        it's purple. Always get the short 
        end. That's a fact. 
            (spits over the side) 
        Some brother. Shit. 

    The prisoners keep spreading tar, eyes on their work. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Poor Byron. What terrible fuckin' 
        luck. Imagine inheriting thirty 
        five thousand dollars. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Crying shame. Some folks got it 
        awful bad. 

    Red glances over -- and is shocked to see Andy standing up,
    listening to the guards talk. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Hey, you nuts? Keep your eyes on 
        your pail! 

    Andy tosses his Padd in the bucket and strolls toward Hadley.

<b>                RED 
</b>        Andy! Come back! Shit! 

<b>                SNOOZE 
</b>        What's he doing? 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Gettin' himself killed. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        God damn it... 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Just keep spreadin' tar... 

    The guards stiffen at Andy's approach. Youngblood's hand goes
    to his holster. The tower guards CLICK-CLACK their rifle 
    bolts. Hadley turns, stupefied to find Andy there. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Mr. Hadley. Do you trust your wife? 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        That's funny. You're gonna look 
        funnier suckin' my dick with no 
        fuckin' teeth. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What I mean is, do you think she'd 
        go behind your back? Try to 
        hamstring you? 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        That's it! Step aside, Mert. This 
        fucker's havin' hisself an accident. 

    Hadley grabs Andy's collar and propels him violently toward
    the edge of the roof. The cons furiously keep spreading tar.

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Oh God, he's gonna do it, he's 
        gonna throw him off the roof... 

<b>                SNOOZE 
</b>        Oh shit, oh fuck, oh Jesus... 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Because if you do trust her, there's 
        no reason in the world you can't 
        keep every cent of that money. 

    Hadley abruptly jerks Andy to a stop right at the edge. In 
    fact, Andy's past the edge, beyond his balance, shoetips 
    scraping the roof. The only thing between him and an ugly drop
    to the concrete is Hadley's grip on the front of his shirt.

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        You better start making sense. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        If you want to keep that money, all 
        of it, just give it to your wife. 
        See, the IRS allows you a one-time- 
        only gift to your spouse. It's good 
        up to sixty thousand dollars. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Naw, that ain't right! Tax free? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Tax free. IRS can't touch one cent. 

    The cons are pausing work, stunned by this business discussion.

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        You're the smart banker what shot 
        his wife. Why should I believe a 
        smart banker like you? So's I can 
        wind up in here with you? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It's perfectly legal. Go ask the 
        IRS, they'll say the same thing. 
        Actually, I feel silly telling you 
        all this. I'm sure you would have 
        investigated the matter yourself. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Fuckin'-A. I don't need no smart 
        wife-killin' banker to show me where 
        the bear shit in the buckwheat. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Of course not. But you will need 
        somebody to set up the tax-free 
        gift, and that'll cost you. A 
        lawyer, for example... 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Ambulance-chaaing, highway-robbing 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        ...or come to think of it, I 
        suppose I could set it up for you. 
        That would save you some money. 
        I'll write down the forms you need, 
        you can pick them up, and I'll 
        prepare them for your signature... 
        nearly free of charge. 
            (off Hadley's look) 
        I'd only ask three beers apiece for 
        my co-workers, if that seems fair. 

<b>                TROUT 
</b>            (guffawing) 
        Co-workers! Get him! That's rich, 
        ain't it? Co-workers... 

    Hadley freezes him with a look. Andy presses on: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I think a nan working outdoors 
        feels more like a man if he can 
        have a bottle of suds. That's only 
        my opinion. 

    The convicts stand gaping, all pretense of work gone. They
    look like they've been pole-axed. Hadley shoots them a look.

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        What are you jimmies starin' at? 
        Back to work, goddamn it! 

<b>59    EXT -- LICENSE PLATE FACTORY -- DAY (1949) 59
    As before, an object is hauled up the side of the building by
    rope -- only this time, it's a cooler of beer and ice. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        And that's how it came to pass, 
        that on the second-to-last day of 
        the job, the convict crew that 
        tarred the plate factory roof in 
        the spring of '49... 

<b>60    EXT -- ROOF -- SHORTLY LATER (1949) 60
    The cons are taking the sun and drinking beer. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...wound up sitting in a row at ten 
        o'clock in the morning, drinking icy 
        cold Black Label beer courtesy of 
        the hardest screw that ever walked 
        a turn at Shawshank State Prison. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Drink up, boys. While it's cold. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The colossal prick even managed to 
        sound magnanimous. 

    Red knocks back another sip, enjoying the bitter cold on his
    tongue and the warm sun on face. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        We sat and drank with the sun on 
        our shoulders, and felt like free 
        men. We could'a been tarring the 

    roof of one of our own houses. We 
    were the Lords of all Creation. 

    He glances over to Andy squatting apart from the others.

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        As for Andy, he spent that break 
        hunkered in the shade, a strange 
        little smile on his face, watching 
        us drink his beer. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>            (approaches with a beer) 
        Here's a cold one, Andy. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        No thanks. I gave up drinking. 

    Heywood drifts back to others, giving them a look. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        You could argue he'd done it to 
        curry favor with the guards. Or 
        maybe make a few friends among us 
        cons. Me, I think he did it just to 
        feel normal again...if only for a 
        short while. 

<b>61    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- THE BLEACHERS -- DAY (1949) 61
    Andy and Red play checkers. Red makes his move. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        King me. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Chess. Now there's a game of kings. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        ...and totally fuckin' 
        inexplicable. Hate that game. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Maybe you'll let me teach you 
        someday. I've been thinking of 
        getting a board together. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        You come to the right place. I'm 
        the man who can get things. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        We might do business on a board. But 
        the pieces, I'd like to carve those 
        myself. One side done in quartz... 
        the opposing side in limestone. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        That'd take you years. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Years I've got. What I don't have 
        are the rocks. Pickings here in the 
        exercise yard are pretty slim. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        How's that rock-hammer workin' out 
        anyway? Scratch your name on your 
        wall yet? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (smiles) 
        Not yet. I suppose I should. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Andy? I guess we're gettin' to be 
        friends, ain't we? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I suppose we are. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I ask a question? Why'd you do it? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I'm innocent, remember? Just like 
        everybody else here. 

    Red takes this as a gentle rebuff, keeps playing. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What are you in for, Red? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Murder. Same as you. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Innocent? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        The only guilty man in Shawshank. 

<b>62    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1949) 62
    Andy lies in his bunk after lights out, polishing a fragment 
    of quartz by the light of the moon. He pauses, glancing at 
    all the names scratched in the wall. He rises, makes sure 
    the coast is clear, and starts scratching his name into the 
    cement with his rock-hammer, adding to the record. 

<b>63     RAY MILLAND 63
    fills the screen in glorious (and scratchy) black & white, 
    suffering a bad case of DT's... 

<b>64    INT -- PRISON AUDITORIUM -- NIGHT (1949) 64
    ...while a CONVICT AUDIENCE hoots and catcalls, talking back 
    to the screen. We find Red slouched in a folding chair, 
    watching the movie. Andy enters, backlit by the flickering 
    glare of the projector, and takes a seat next to him. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Here's the good part. Bugs come out 
        of the walls to get his ass. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I know. I've seen it three times 
        this month already. 

    Ray Milland starts SCREAMING. The entire audience SCREAMS with 
    him, high-pitched and hysterical. Andy fidgets. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Can we talk business? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Sure. What do you want? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Rita Hayworth. Can you get her? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        No problem. Take a few weeks. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Weeks? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Don't have her stuffed down my 
        pants this very moment, sorry to 
        say. Relax. What are you so nervous 
        about? She's just a woman. 

    Andy nods, embarrassed. He gets up and hurries out. Red grins, 
    turns back to the movie. 

<b>65    INT -- AUDITORIUM CORRIDOR -- NIGHT (1949) 65
    Andy exits the theater and freezes in his tracks. Two dark 
    figures loom in the corridor, blocking his path. Rooster and 
    Pete. Andy turns back -- and runs right into Bogs. Instant 
    bear hug. The Sisters are on him like a flash. They kick a 
    door open and drag him into -- 

    -- where they confront the startled PROJECTIONIST, an old con
    blinking at them through thick bifocals. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        Take a walk. 

<b>                PROJECTIONIST 
</b>        I have to change reels. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        I said fuck off. 

    Terrified, the old man darts past and out the door. Pete slams 
    and locks it. Bogs shoves Andy to the center of the room. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I know. I've seen it three times 
        this month already. 

    Ray Milland starts SCREAMING. The entire audience SCREAMS witt 
    him, high-pitched and hysterical. Andy fidgets. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Can we talk business? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Sure. What do you want? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Rita Hayworth. Can you get her? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        No problem. Take a few weeks. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Weeks? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Don't have her stuffed down my 
        pants this very moment, sorry to 
        say. Relax. What are you so nervous 
        about? She's just a woman. 

    Andy nods, embarrassed. He gets up and hurries out. Red grins, 
    turns back to the movie. 

<b>65    INT -- AUDITORIUM CORRIDOR -- NIGHT (1949) 65
    Andy exits the theater and freezes in his tracks. Two dark 
    figures loom in the corridor, blocking his path. Rooster and 
    Pete. Andy turns back -- and runs right into Bogs. Instant 
    bear hug. The Sisters are on him like a flash. They kick a 
    door open and drag him into -- 

    -- where they confront the startled PROJECTIONIST, an old con
    blinking at them through thick bifocals. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        Take a walk. 

<b>                PROJECTIONIST 
</b>        I have to change reels. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        I said fuck off. 

    Terrified, the old man darts past and out the door. Pete slams 
    and locks it. Bogs shoves Andy to the center of the room. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        Ain't you gonna scream? 

    Andy sighs, cocks his head at the projector. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        They'd never hear me over that. 
        Let's get this over with. 

    Seemingly resigned, Andy turns around, leans on the rewind 
    bench -- and curls his fingers around a full 1.000 foot reel
    of 35mm film. Rooster licks his lips, pushes past the others.

<b>                ROOSTER 
</b>        Me first. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Okay. 

    Andy whips the reel of film around in a vicious arc, smashing
    it into Rooster's face and bouncing him off the wall. 

<b>                ROOSTER 
</b>        Fuck! Shit! He broke my nose! 

    Andy fights like hell, but is soon overpowered and forced to his
    knees. Bogs steps to Andy, pulls out an awl with a vicious 
    eight-inch spike, gives him a good long look at it. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        Now I'm gonna open my fly, and 
        you're gonna swallow what I give 
        you to swallow. And when you 
        d mine, you gonna swallow 
        Rooster's. You done broke his nose, 
        so he ought to have somethin' to 
        show for it. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Anything you put in my mouth, 
        you're going to lose. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        You don't understand. You do that, 
        I'll put all eight inches of this 
        steel ii your ear. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Okay. But you should know that 
        sudden serious brain injury causes 
        the victim to bite down. Hard. 
            (faint smile) 
        In fact, I understand the bite-reflex 
        is so strong the victim's jaws have 
        to be pried open with a crowbar. 

    The Sisters consider this carefully. The film runs out of the 
    projector, flapping on the reel. The screen goes white. 

<b>                BOGS 
</b>        You little fuck. 

    Andy gets a bootheel in the face. The Sisters start kicking 
    and beating the living shit out of him with anything they can 
    get their hands on. In the theater, the convicts are CHANTING 
    AND CLAPPING for the movie to come back on. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Bogs didn't put anything in Andy's 
        mouth, and neither did his friends. 
        What they did do is beat him within 
        an inch of his life... 

<b>67    INT -- INFIRMARY -- DAY (1949) 67
    Andy lies wrapped in bandages. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy spent a month in traction. 

<b>68    INT -- SOLITARY CONFINEMENT -- DAY (1949) 68
<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Bogs spent a week in the hole. 

    Bogs sits on bare concrete. The steel door slides open. 

<b>                GUARD 
</b>        Time's up, Bogs. 

<b>69    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- 3RD TIER -- DUSK (1949) 69
    Bogs comes up the stairs, smoking a cigarette. Not many 
    cons around; the place is virtually deserted. A VOICE 
    echoes dimly over the P.A. system: 

<b>                VOICE (O.S.) 
</b>        Return to your cellblocks for 
        evening count. 

    Bogs enters his cell. Dark in here. He fumbles for the light 
    cord, yanks it. The sudden light reveals Captain Hadley six 
    inches from his face, waiting for him. Mert steps in behind 
    Bogs. hemming him. 

    Before Bogs can even open his mouth to say "what the fuck," 
    Hadley rams the tip of his baton brutally into his solar 
    plexus. Bogs doubles over, gagging his wind out. 

<b>70     GROUND FLOOR 70
    Ernie comes slowly around the corner, rolling a steel mop 
    cart loaded with supplies. 

<b>71     2ND TIER 71
    Red is darning a sock in his open cell. He pauses, frowning, 
    hearing strange THUMPING sounds. What the hell is that? 

<b>72     3RD TIER 72
    It's Hadley and Mert methodically and brutally pulping Bogs 
    with their batons, and kicking the shit out of him for good 
    measure. He feebly tries to ward them off. 

<b>73     2ND TIER 73
    Puzzled, Red steps from his cell, following the sound. It 
    dawns on him that it's coming from above. He moves to the 
    railing and leans out, craning around to look up -- 

<b>74     RED'S POV 74
    -- just as Bogs flips over the railing and comes sailing

    directly toward us, eyes bugging out, SCREAMING as he falls. 

<b>75     RED (SLOW MOTION) 75
    jumps back as Bogs plummets past, missing him by inches, arms 
    swimming and trying to grab the railing (but missing that 
    too), SCREAMING aaaaalll the way down -- 

<b>76     GROUND FLOOR 76
    -- and impacting on Ernie's gassing mop cart in an enormous 
    eruption of solvents and cleansers. The cart is squashed flat, 
    shooting out from under Bogs and skidding across the cellblock 
    floor like a tiddly wink, kicking up sparks for thirty yards. 
    Ernie is left gaping in shock at Bogs and all the Bogs-related 
    wreckage at his feet. 

<b>77     2ND TIER 77
    Red is stunned. He very tentatively leans out and looks up. 
    Above him, Hadley and Mert lean on the 3rd tier railing. 
    Hadley tilts the cap back on his head, shakes his head. 

<b>                MERT 
</b>        Damn, Byron. Look'a that. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Poor fella must'a tripped. 

    A tiny drop of blood drips off the toe of Hadley's shoe and 

    splashes across Red's upturned cheek. He wipes it off, then 
    looks down at Bogs. Cons and guards are racing to the scene. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Two things never happened again 
        after that. The Sisters never laid 
        a finger on Andy again... 

<b>7B    EXT -- PRISON YARD/LOADING DOCK -- DAY (1949) 78
    Bogs, wheelchair-bound and wearing a neck brace, is loaded 
    onto an ambulance for transport. Behind the fence stand Red 
    and his friends, watching. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...and Bogs never walked again. They 
        transferred him to a minimum security 
        hospital upstate. To my knowledge, 
        he lived out the rest of his days 
        drinking his food through a straw. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I'm thinkin' Andy could use a nice 
        welcome back when he gets out of 
        the infirmary. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Sounds good to us. Figure we owe 
        him for the beer. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Man likes to play chess. Let's get 
        him some rocks. 

<b>79    EXT -- FIELD -- DAY (1949) 79
    A HUNDRED CONS at work. Hoes rise and fall in long waves. 
    GUARDS patrol on horseback. Heywood turns up a rocky chunk, 
    quickly shoves it down his pants. He maneuvers to Red and the 
    others, pulls out the chunk and shows it to them. 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        That ain't quartz. Nor limestone. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        What are you, fuckin' geologist? 

<b>                SNOOZE 
</b>        He's right, it ain't. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        What the hell is it then? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Horse apple. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Bullshit. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        No, horse shit. Petrified. 

    Cackling, the men go back to work. Heywood stares at the rock.
    He crumbles it in his hands. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Despite a few hitches, the boys 
        came through in fine style... 

<b>80    INT -- PRISON LAUNDRY -- BACK ROOM -- DAY (1949) 80
    A huge detergent box is filled with rocks, hidden in the 
    shadows behind a boiler furnace. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...and by the week Andy was due 
        back, we had enough rocks saved up 
        to keep him busy till Rapture. 

    ANGLE SHIFTS to Red as he plops a bag of "laundry" on the 
    floor. Leonard and Bob toss a few more down. Red starts 
    pulling out contraband, giving them their commissions. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Also got a big shipment in that 
        week. Cigarettes, chewing gum, 
        shoelaces, playing cards with naked 
        ladies on 'em, you name it... 
            (pulls a cardboard tube) 
        ...and, of course, the most 
        important item. 

<b>81    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1949) 81
    Andy, limping a bit, returns from the infirmary. Red watches 
    from his cell as Andy is brought up and locked away. 

<b>82    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1949) 82
    Andy finds the cardboard tube lying on his bunk. 

<b>                GUARD (O.S.) 
</b>        Lights out! 

    The lights go off. Andy opens the tube and pulls out a large 
    rolled poster. He lets it uncurl to the floor. A small scrap 
    of paper flutters out, landing at his feet. The poster is the
    famous Rita Hayworth pin-up -- one hand behind her head, eyes
    half closed, sulky lips parted. Andy picks up the scrap of 
    paper. It reads: "No charge. Welcome back." Alone in the dark,
    Andy smiles. 

<b>83    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- MORNING (1949) 83
    The BUZZER SOUNDS, the cells SLAM OPEN. Cons step from their
    cells. Andy catches Red's eye, nods his thanks. As the men 
    shuffle down to breakfast, Red glances into Andy's cell -- 

<b>84     RED'S POV -- DOLLYING PAST 84

    -- and sees Rita in her new place of honor on Andy's wall. 
    Sunlight casts a harsh barred shadow across her lovely face.

<b>85    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1949) 85
    Ernie is mopping the floor. He glances back and sees Warden 
    Norton approach the cellblock with an entourage of a DOZEN 
    GUARDS. Still mopping, Ernie mutters to the nearest cell: 

<b>                ERNIE 
</b>        Heads up. They're tossin' cells. 

    Word travels fast from cell to cell. Cons scramble to tidy up
    and hide things. Norton enters, nods to his men. The guards 
    pair off in all directions, making their choices at random. 

<b>                GUARD 
</b>        What kind'a contraband you hiding 
        in there, boy? 

    Cells are opened, occupants displaced, items scattered, 
    mattresses overturned. Whatever contraband is found gets 
    tossed out onto the cellblock floor. Mostly harmless stuff. 

    A GUARD pulls a sharpened screwdriver out of a mattress, 
    shoots a nasty look at the CON responsible. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Solitary. A week. Make sure he 
        takes his Bible. 

<b>                CON 
</b>        Too goddamn dark to read down there.

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Add another week for blasphemy. 

    The man is taken away. Norton's gaze goes up. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Let's try the second tier. 

<b>86     2ND TIER 86
    Norton arrives, makes a thin show of picking a cell at random.
    He motions at Andy on his bunk, reading his Bible. The door is
    unlocked. Norton enters, trailed by his men. Andy rises. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Good evening. 

    Norton gives a curt nod. Hadley and Trout start tossing the
    cell in a thorough search. Norton keeps his eyes on Andy,
    looking for a wrong glance or nervous blink. He takes the
    Bible out of Andy's hand. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I'm pleased to see you reading 
        this. Any favorite passages? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Watch ye therefore, for ye know not
        when the master of the house cometh. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>            (smiles) 
        Luke. Chapter 13, verse 35. I've 
        always liked that one. 
            (strolls the cell) 
        But I prefer: "I am the light of 
        the world. He that followeth me 
        shall not walk in darkness, but 
        shall have the light of life." 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        John. Chapter 8, verse 12. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I hear you're good with numbers. 
        How nice. A man should have a skill. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        You wanna explain this? 

    Andy glances over. Hadley is holding up a rock blanket, a
    polishing cloth roughly the size of an oven mitt. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It's called a rock blanket. It's 
        for shaping and polishing rocks. 
        Little hobby of mine. 

    Hadley glances at the rocks lining the window sill, turns to

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Looks pretty clean. Some contraband 
        here, nothing to get in a twist over. 

    Norton nods, strolls to the poster of Rita. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I can't say I approve of this... 
            (turns to Andy) 
        ...but I suppose exceptions can 
        always be made. 

    Norton exits, the guards follow. The cell door is slammed and
    locked. Norton pauses, turns back. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I almost forgot. 

    He reaches through the bars and returns the Bible to Andy. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I'd hate to deprive you of this. 
        Salvation lies within. 

    Norton and his men walk away. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Tossin' cells was just an excuse. 
        Truth is, Norton wanted to size 
        Andy up. 

<b>87    INT -- PRISON LAUNDRY -- DAY (1949) 87
    Andy is working the line. Hadley enters and confers briefly 
    with Bob. Bob nods, crosses to Andy, taps him. Andy turns, 
    removes an earplug. Bob shouts over the machine noise: 

<b>                BOB 
</b><b>        DUFRESNE! YOU'RE OFF THE LINE! 
<b>88    INT -- WARDEN NORTON'S OFFICE -- DAY (1949) 88
    Andy is led in. Norton is at his desk doing paperwork. Andy's
    eyes go to a framed needle-point sampler on the wall behind 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        My wife made that in church group. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It's very pretty, sir. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        You like working in the laundry? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        No, sir. Not especially. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Perhaps we can find something more 
        befitting a man of your education. 

<b>89    INT -- MAIN BUILDING -- STORAGE ROOMS -- DAY (1949) 89
    A series of bleak rooms stacked high with unused filing 
    cabinets, desks, paint supplies, etc. Andy enters. He hears a
    FLUTTER OF WINGS. An adult crow lands on a filing cabinet and
    struts back and forth, checking him out. Andy smiles. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Hey, Jake. Where's Brooks? 

    Brooks Hatlen pokes his head out of the back room. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Andy! Thought I heard you out here! 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I've been reassigned to you. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        I know, they told me. Ain't that a 
        kick in the ass? Come on in, I'll 
        give you the dime tour. 

<b>90    INT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON LIBRARY -- DAY (1949) 90
    Brooks leads Andy into the bleakest back room of all. Rough
    plank shelves are lined with books. Brooks' private domain.

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Here she is, the Shawshank Prison 
        Library. Along this side, we got 
        the National Geographics. That 
        side, the Reader's Digest Condensed 
        books. Bottom shelf there, some 
        Louis L'Amours and Erle Stanley 
        Gardners. Every night I pile the 
        cart and make my rounds. I write 
        down the names on this clipboard 
        here. Well, that's it. Easy, peasy, 
        Japanesey. Any questions? 

    Andy pauses. Something about this doesn't make any sense.

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Brooks? How long have you been 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Since 1912. Yuh, over 37 years. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        In all that time, have you ever had 
        an assistant? 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Never needed one. Not much to it, 
        is there? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        So why now? Why me? 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        I dunno. Be nice to have some 
        comp'ny down here for a change. 

<b>                HADLEY (O.S.) 
</b>        Dufresne! 

</b>    another GUARD, a huge fellow named DEKINS. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        That's him. That's the one. 

    Hadley exits. Dekins approaches Andy ominously. Andy stands 
    his ground, waiting for whatever comes next. Finally: 

<b>                DEKINS 
</b>        I'm Dekins. I been, uh, thinkin' 
        'bout maybe settin' up some kinda 
        trust fund for my kids' educations. 

    Andy covers his surprise. Glances at Brooks. Brooks smiles.

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I see. Well. Why don't we have a 
        seat and talk it over? 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Pull down one'a them desks there. 

    Andy and Dekins grab a desk standing on end and tilt it to the
    floor. They find chairs and settle in. Brooks returns with a 
    tablet of paper and a pen, slides them before Andy. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What did you have in mind? A weekly 
        draw on your pay? 

<b>                DEKINS 
</b>        Yuh. I figured just stick it in the 
        bank, but Captain Hadley said check 
        with you first. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        He was right. You don't want your 
        money in a bank. 

<b>                DEKINS 
</b>        I don't? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What's that gonna earn you? Two and 
        a half, three percent a year? We 
        can do a lot better than that. 
            (wets his pen) 
        So tell me, Mr. Dekins. Where do 
        you want to send your kids? 
        Harvard? Yale? 

<b>92    INT -- MESS HALL -- DAY (1949) 92
<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        He didn't say that! 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        God is my witness. And Dekins, he 
        just blinks for a second, then 
        laughs his ass off. Afterward, he 
        actually shook Andy's hand. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        My ass! 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Shook his fuckin' hand. Just about 
        shit myself. All Andy needed was a 
        suit and tie, a jiggly little hula 
        girl on his desk, he would'a been 
        Mister Dufresne, if you please. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Makin' yourself some friends, Andy. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I wouldn't say "friends." I'm a 
        convicted murderer who provides 
        sound financial planning. That's a 
        wonderful pet to have. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Got you out of the laundry, didn't 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Maybe it can do more than that. 
            (off their looks) 
        How about expanding the library? 
        Get some new books in there. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        How you 'spect to do that, "Mr. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Ask the warden for funds. 

    LAUGHTER all around. Andy blinks at them. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Son, I've had six wardens through 
        here during my tenure, and I have 
        learned one great immutable truth 
        of the universe: ain't one of 'em 
        been born whose asshole don't 
        pucker up tight as a snare drum 
        when you ask for funds. 

<b>93    INT -- MAIN BUILDING HALLWAY -- DAY (1949) 93
    DOLLYING Norton and Andy up the hall: 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Not a dime. My budget's stretched 
        thin as it is. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I see. Perhaps I could write to the 
        State Senate and request funds 
        directly from them. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Far as them Republican boys in 
        Augusta are concerned, there's only 
        three ways to spend the taxpayer's 
        hard-earned when it come to prisons. 
        More walls. More bars. More guards. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Still, I'd like to try, with your 
        permission. I'll send a letter a 
        week. They can't ignore me forever. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        They sure can, but you write your 
        letters if it makes you happy. I'll 
        even mail 'em for you, how's that? 

<b>94    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1949) 94
    Andy is on his bunk, writing a letter. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        So Andy started writing a letter a 
        week, just like he said. 

    Andy pops his head in. The GUARD shakes his head. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        And just like Norton said, Andy got 
        no answers. But still he kept on. 

<b>96    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY/ANDY'S OFFICE -- DAY (1950) 96
    Andy is doing taxes. Mert Entwhistle is seated across from
    him. Other off-duty guards are waiting their turn. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The following April, Andy did tax 
        returns for half the guards at 

<b>97    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY -- ONE YEAR LATER (1951) 97
    Tax time again. Even more guards are waiting. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Year after that, he did them all... 
        including the warden's. 

<b>98    EXT -- BASEBALL DIAMOND -- DAY (1952) 98
    A BATTER in a "Noresby Marauders" baseball uniform WHACKS the
    ball high into left field and races for first. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Year after that, they rescheduled 
        the start of the intramural season 
        to coincide with tax season... 

<b>99    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY/ANDY'S OFFICE -- DAY (1952) 99
    The Batter sits across from Andy. The line winds out the door.

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The guards on the opposing teams 
        all remembered to bring their W-2's. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Moresby Prison issued you that gun, 
        but you actually had to pay for it? 

<b>                THE BATTER 
</b>        Damn right, and the holster too. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        See, that's all deductible. You get 
        to write that off. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Yes sir, Andy was a regular H&R 
        Block. In fact, he got so busy at 
        tax time, he was allowed a staff. 

    ANGLE SHIFTS to reveal Red and Brooks doing filing chores. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Say Red, could you hand me a stack 
        of those 1040s? 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Got me out of the wood shop a month 
        out of the year, and that was fine 
        by me. 

<b>100    INT -- GUARD DESK/NORTON'S OUTER OFFICE -- DAY (1953) 100
    Andy enters and drops a letter on the outgoing stack. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        And still he kept sending those 

<b>101    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1953) 101
    Dark. Andy's in his bunk, polishing a four-inch length of 
    quartz. It's a beautifully-crafted chess piece in the shape of 
    a horse's head, poise and nobility captured in gleaming stone. 

    He puts the knight on a chess board by his bed, adding it to 
    four pieces already there: a king, a queen, and two bishops. 
    He turns to Rita. Moonlight casts bars across her face. 

<b>102    EXT -- EXERCISE YARD -- DAY (1954) 102
    Floyd runs into the yard, scared and winded. He finds Andy and 
    Red on the bleachers. 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Red? Andy? It's Brooks. 

<b>103    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY/ANDY'S OFFICE -- DAY (1954) 103
    Floyd rushes in with Andy and Red at his heels. They find 
    Jigger and Snooze trying to calm Brooks, who has Heywood in a 
    chokehold and a knife to his throat. Heywood is terrified. 

<b>                JIGGER 
</b>        C'mon, Brooksie, why don't you just 
        calm the fuck down, okay? 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Goddamn miserable puke-eatin' sons 
        of whores! 

    He kicks a table over. Tax files explode through the air. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        What the hell's going on? 

<b>                SNOOZE 
</b>        You tell me, man. One second he was 
        fine, then out came the knife. I 
        better get the guards. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        No. We'll handle this. Ain't that 
        right, Brooks? Just settle down and 
        we'll talk about it, okay? 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Nothing left to talk about! It's all 
        talked out! Nothing left now but to 
        cut his fuckin' throat! 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Why? What's Heywood done to you? 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        That's what they want! It's the 
        price I gotta pay! 

    Andy steps forward, rivets Brooks with a gaze. Softly: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Brooks, you're not going to hurt 
        Heywood, we all know that. Even 
        Heywood knows it, right Heywood? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>            (nods, terrified) 
        Sure. I know that. Sure. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Why? Ask anyone, they'll tell you. 
        Brooks Hatlen is a reasonable man. 

<b>                RED 
</b>            (cuing nods all around) 
        Yeah, that's right. That's what 
        everybody says. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You're not fooling anybody, so just 
        put the damn knife down and stop 
        scaring the shit out of people. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        But it's the only way they'll let 
        me stay. 

    Brooks bursts into tears. The storm is over. Heywood staggers
    free, gasping for air. Andy takes the knife, passes it to Red.
    Brooks dissolves into Andy's arms with great heaving sobs.

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Take it easy. You'll be all right. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Him? What about me? Crazy old 
        fool! Goddamn near slit my throat! 

<b>                RED 
</b>        You've had worse from shaving. 
        What'd you do to set him off? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Nothin'! Just came in to say 
            (off their looks) 
        Ain't you heard? His parole came 

    Red and Andy exchange a surprised look. Andy wants to 
    understand. Red just motions to let it be for now. He puts his
    arm around Brooks, who sobs inconsolably. Softly: 

<b>                RED 
    Ain't that bad, old hoss. Won't be 
    long till you're squiring pretty 
    young girls on your arm and telling 
    'em lies. 

<b>104    EXT -- PRISON YARD BLEACHERS -- DUSK (1954) 104
<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I just don't understand what 
        happened in there, that's all. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Old man's crazy as a rat in a tin 
        shithouse, is what. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Heywood, enough. Ain't nothing 
        wrong with Brooksie. He's just 
        institutionalized, that's all. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Institutionalized, my ass. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Man's been here fifty years. This 
        place is all he knows. In here, 
        he's an important man, an educated 
        man. A librarian. Out there, he's 
        nothing but a used-up old con with 
        arthritis in both hands. Couldn't 
        even get a library card if he 
        applied. You see what I'm saying? 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Red, I do believe you're talking 
        out of your ass. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Believe what you want. These walls 
        are funny. First you hate 'em, then 
        you get used to 'em. After long 
        enough, you get so you depend on 
        'em. That's "institutionalized." 

<b>                JIGGER 
</b>        Shit. I could never get that way. 

<b>                ERNIE 
</b>            (softly) 
        Say that when you been inside as 
        long as Brooks has. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Goddamn right. They send you here 
        for life, and that's just what they 
        take. Part that counts, anyway. 

<b>105    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- DAWN (1954) 105
    The sun rises over gray stone. 

<b>106    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- DAWN (1954) 106
    ANGLE ON RITA POSTER. Sexy as ever. The rising sun sends 
    fingers of rosy light creeping across her face. 

<b>107    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAWN (1954) 107
    Brooks stands on a chair, poised at the bars of a window, 
    cradling Jake in his hands. 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        I can't take care of you no more. 
        You go on now. You're free. 

    He tosses Jake through the bars. The crow flaps away. 

<b>108    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- MAIN GATE -- DAY (1954) 108
    TWO SHORT SIREN BLASTS herald the opening of the gate. It 
    swings hugely open, revealing Brooks standing in his cheap 
    suit, carrying a cheap bag, wearing a cheap hat. 

    Brooks walks out, tears streaming down his face. He looks 
    back. Red, Andy, and others stand at the inner fence, seeing 
    him off. The massive gate closes, wiping them from view. 

<b>109    INT -- BUS -- DAY (1954) 109
    Brooks is riding the bus, clutching the seat before him, 
    gripped by terror of speed and motion. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        Dear Fellas. I can't believe how 
        fast things move on the outside. 

<b>110    EXT -- STREET -- PORTLAND, MAINE -- DAY (1954) 110
    Brooks looks like a kid trying to cross the street without his 
    parents. People and traffic a blur. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        I saw an automobile once when I was 
        young. Now they're everywhere. 

<b>111    EXT -- BREWSTER HOTEL -- DAY (1954) 111
    Brooks comes trudging up the sidewalk. He glances up as a 
    prop-driven airliner streaks in low overhead. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        The world went and got itself in a 
        big damn hurry. 

    He arrives at the Brewster. It ain't much to look at. 

<b>112    INT -- BREWSTER HOTEL -- DAY (1954) 112
    A WOMAN leads Brooks up the stairs toward the top floor. He 
    has trouble climbing so many stairs. 

<b>                WOMAN 
</b>        No music in your room after eight 
        p.m. No guests after nine. No 
        cooking except on the hotplate... 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        People even talk faster. And louder. 

<b>113    INT -- BROOKS' ROOM -- DAY (1954) 113
    Brooks enters. The room is small, old, dingy. Heavy wooden 
    beams cross the ceiling. An arched window affords a view of 
    Congress Street. Traffic noise drifts in. Brooks sets his bag 
    down. He doesn't quite know what to do. He just stands there, 
    like a man waiting for a bus. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        The parole board got me into this 
        halfway house called the Brewster, 
        and a job bagging groceries at the 

<b>114    INT -- FOODWAY MARKET -- DAY (1954) 114
    Loud. Jangling with PEOPLE and NOISE. Brooks is bagging 
    groceries. Registers are humming, kids are shrieking. 

<b>                WOMAN 
</b>        Make sure he double-bags. Last time 
        your man didn't double-bag and the 
        bottom near came out. 

<b>                MANAGER 
</b>        You double-bag like the lady says, 

<b>                BROOKS 
</b>        Yes sir, double-bag, surely will. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        It's hard work. I try to keep up, 
        but my hands hurt most of the time. 
        I don't think the store manager 
        likes me very much. 

<b>115    EXT -- PARK -- DAY (1954) 115
    Brooks sits alone on a bench, feeding pigeons. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        Sometimes after work I go to the 
        park and feed the birds. I keep 
        thinking Jake might show up and say 
        hello, but he never does. I hope 
        wherever he is, he's doing okay and 
        making new friends. 

<b>116    INT -- BROOKS' ROOM -- NIGHT (1954) 116
    Dark. Traffic outside. Brooks wakes up. Disoriented. Afraid.
    Somewhere in the night, a LOUD ARGUMENT is taking place. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        I have trouble sleeping at night. 
        The bed is too big. I have bad 
        dreams, like I'm falling. I wake 
        up scared. Sometimes it takes me a 
        while to remember where I am. 

<b>117    INT -- FOODWAY -- DAY (1954) 117
<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        Maybe I should get me a gun and rob 
        the Foodway, so they'd send me home. 
        I could shoot the manager while I 
        was at it, sort of like a bonus. 

<b>118    INT -- BROOKS' ROOM -- DAY (1954) 118
    Brooks is packing his worldly possessions into the carry bag. 
    Undershirts, socks, etc. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        But I guess I'm too old for that 
        sort of nonsense anymore. 

<b>119    INT -- BROOKS' ROOM -- SHORTLY LATER (1954) 119
    Brooks is dressed in his suit. He finishes knotting his tie, 
    puts his hat on his head. The letter lies on the desk, stampe3 
    and ready for mailing. His bag is by the door. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        I don't like it here. I'm tired of 
        being afraid all the time. I've 
        decided not to stay. 

    He takes one last look around. Only one thing left to do. He 
    steps to a wooden chair in the center of the room, pulls out s 
    pocketknife, and glances up at the ceiling beam. 

    He steps up onto the chair. It wobbles queasily. Now facing
    the beam, he carves a message into the wood: "Brooks Hatlen
    was here." He smiles with a sort of inner peace. 

<b>                BROOKS (V.O.) 
</b>        I doubt they'll kick up any fuss. 
        Not for an old crook like me. 

<b>120     TIGHT ON CHAIR 120
    His weight shifts on the wobbly chair -- and it goes out 
    from under him. His feet remain where they are, kicking feebly 
    in mid-air. His hat falls to the floor. 

    ANGLE WIDENS. Brooks has hanged himself. He swings gently, 
    facing the open window. Traffic noise floats up from below. 

<b>121    EXT -- EXERCISE YARD -- SHAWSHANK -- DAY (1954) 121
    Andy reads the letter to Red and the others: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        P.S. Tell Heywood I'm sorry I put a 
        knife to his throat. No hard feelings. 

    A long silence. Andy folds the letter, puts it away. Softly: 

<b>                RED 
</b>        He should'a died in here, goddamn it. 

<b>122    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY -- DAY (1954) 122
    Andy is sorting books on the cart. He replaces a stack on the
    shelf -- and pauses, noticing a line of ants crawling up the
    wood. He glances up. The ants disappear over the top. He pulls
    a chair over and stands on it, peers cautiously over. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Red! 

    Red steps in with an armload of files. Andy gingerly reaches
    in, grabs a black feathered wing, and pulls out a dead crow.

<b>                RED 
</b>            (softly) 
        Is that Jake? 

<b>123    INT -- WOOD SHOP -- DAY (1954) 123
    Red is making something at his bench, sanding and planing. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        It never would have occurred to us, 
        if not for Andy. It was his idea. 
        We all agreed it was the right 
        thing to do... 

<b>124    EXT -- FIELDS -- DAY (1954) 124
    Low hilly terrain all around. A HUNDRED CONS are at work in 
    the fields. GUARDS patrol with carbines, keeping a sharp eye.
    We find Andy, Red, and the boys working with picks and 
    shovels. They glance over to the pickup truck. Hadley's 
    chewing the fat with Mert and Youngblood. A WHISTLE BLOWS. 

<b>                GUARD 
</b>        Water break! Five minutes! 

    The work stops. Cons head for the pickup truck, where water is
    dispensed with dipper and pail. Red and the boys look to Andy.
    Andy nods. Now's the time. The group moves off through the 
    confusion, using it as cover. They head up the slope of a 
    nearby hill and quickly decide on a suitable spot. The 
    guards haven't noticed. 

    Jigger and Floyd start swinging picks into the soft earth, 
    quickly ripping out a hole. Red reaches into his jacket and 
    pulls out a beautiful wooden box, carefully stained and 
    varnished. He shows it around to nods of approval. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        That's real pretty, Red. Nice work. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Shovel man in. Watch the dirt. 

<b>124     CONTINUED 124
</b>    Heywood jumps in and starts spading out the hole. 

<b>125     BY THE TRUCK 125
    Youngblood glances up and sees the men on the slope. 

<b>                YOUNGBLOOD 
</b>        What the fuck. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>            (follows his gaze) 
</b><b>        ASSES OFF THAT SLOPE! 
</b>            (works his rifle bolt) 
</b><b>        SOMEBODY! 
    Suddenly, other cons start breaking away in groups, dozens of
    them heading toward the slope. The guards look around. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        What am I, talkin' to myself? 

<b>126     ON THE SLOPE 126
    Andy pulls a towel-wrapped bundle from his jacket and unfolds
    it. Jake. Andy lays him in the box, followed by Brook's 
    letter. Red places the casket in the hole. A moment of 
    silence. Andy gives Red with an encouraging nod. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Lord. Brooks was a sinner. Jake was 
        just a crow. Neither was much to 
        look at. Both got institutionalized. 
        See what you can do for 'em. Amen. 

    Muttered "amens" all around. The boys shovel dirt onto the 
    small grave and tamp it down. 

<b>127    INT -- SHAWSHANK CORRIDORS -- DAY (1955) 127
    RAPID DOLLY with Hadley. He's striding, pissed-off, a man on e
    mission. He straight-arms a door and emerges onto -- 

<b>128    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON WALL -- DAY (1955) 128
    -- the wall overlooking the exercise yard. He leans on the
    railing, scans the yard, sees Andy chatting with Red. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Dufresne! What the fuck did you do? 
            (Andy looks up) 
        Your ass, warden's office, now! 

    Andy shoots a worried look at Red, then heads off. 

<b>129    INT -- GUARD DESK/WARDEN'S OUTER OFFICE -- DAY (1955) 129
    Dozens of parcel boxes litter the floor. WILEY, the duty 
    guard, picks through them. Hadley enters, trailed by Andy.

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What is all this? 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        You tell me, fuck-stick! They're 
        addressed to you, every damn one! 

    Wiley thrusts an envelope at Andy. Andy just stares at it.

<b>                WILEY 
</b>        Well, take it. 

    Andy takes the envelope, pulls out a letter, reads: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Dear Mr. Dufresne. In response to
        your repeated inquiries, the State
        Senate has allocated the enclosed
        funds for your library project... "
            (stunned, examines check) 
        This is two hundred dollars. 

    Wiley grins. Hadley glares at him. The grin vanishes. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        In addition, the Library District
        has generously responded with a
        charitable donation of used books
        and sundries. We trust this will
        fill your needs. We now consider
        the matter closed. Please stop
        sending us letters. Yours truly,
        the State Comptroller's Office.

    Andy gazes around at the boxes. The riches of the world lay at
    his feet. His eyes mist with emotion at the sight. 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        I want all this cleared out before 
        the warden gets back, I shit you not. 

    Hadley exits. Andy touches the boxes like a love-struck man
    touching a beautiful woman. Wiley grins. 

<b>                WILEY 
</b>        Good for you, Andy. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Only took six years. 
        From now on, I send two letters a 
        week instead of one. 

<b>                WILEY 
</b>            (laughs, shakes his head) 
        I believe you're crazy enough. You 
        better get this stuff downstairs 
        like the Captain said. I'm gonna go 
        pinch a loaf. When I get back, this 
        is all gone, right? 

    Andy nods. Wiley disappears into the toilet, Jughead Comix in 
    hand. Alone now, Andy starts going through the boxes like a 
    starving man exploring packages of food. He doesn't know where 
    to turn first. He gets giddy, ripping boxes open and pulling 
    out books, touching them, smelling them. 

    He rips open another box. This one contains an old phonograph
    player, industrial gray and green, the words "Portland Public
    School District" stenciled on the side. The box also contains
    stacks and stacks of used record albums. 

    Andy reverently slips a stack from the box and starts flipping 
    through them. Used Nat King Coles, Bing Crosbys, etc. 
    He comes across a certain album -- Mozart's "Le Nozze de 
    Figaro." He pulls it from the stack, gazing upon it as a man 
    transfixed. It is a thing of beauty. It is the Grail. 

<b>130    INT -- BATHROOM -- DAY (1955) 130
    Wiley sits in one of the stalls, Jughead comic on his knees. 

<b>131    INT -- GUARD STATION/OUTER OFFICE -- DAY (1955) 131
    Andy wrestles the phonograph player onto the guards' desk, 
    sweeping things onto the floor in his haste. He plugs the 
    machine in. A red light warms up. The platter starts spinning. 

    He slides the Mozart album from its sleeve, lays it on the 
    platter, and lowers the tone arm to his favorite cut. The 
    needle HISSES in the groove...and the MUSIC begins, lilting 
    and gorgeous. Andy sinks into Wiley's chair, overcome by its 
    beauty. It is "Deutino: Che soave zeffiretto," a duet sung by 

    Susanna and the Contessa. 

<b>132    INT -- BATHROOM -- DAY (1955) 132
    Wiley pauses reading, puzzled. He thinks he hears music. 

<b>                WILEY 
</b>        Andy? You hear that? 

<b>133    INT -- GUARD STATION/OUTER OFFICE -- DAY (1955) 133
    Andy shoots a look at the bathroom...and smiles. Go for broke. 
    He lunges to his feet and barricades the front door, then the 
    bathroom. He returns to the desk and positions the P.A. 
    microphone. He works up his courage, then flicks all the 
    toggles to "on." A SQUEAL OF FEEDBACK echoes briefly... 

<b>134 INT/EXT -- VARIOUS P.A. SPEAKERS -- DAY (1955) 134
    ...and the Mozart is suddenly broadcast all over the prison. 

<b>135    INT -- BATHROOM -- DAY (1955) 135
    Wiley lunges to his feet, pants tangling around his ankles. 

    Cons all over the prison stop whatever they're doing, freezing 
    in mid-step to listen, gazing up at the speakers. 

</b>    thru yard...the numbing routine of prison life itself...all grinds thru
    just stands in place, listening to the MUSIC, hypnotized. 

<b>144    INT -- GUARD STATION -- DAY (1955) 144
    Andy is reclined in the chair, transported, arms fluidly 
    conducting the music. Ecstasy and rapture. Shawshank no 
    longer exists. It has been banished from the mind of men. 

<b>145    EXT -- EXERCISE YARD -- DAY (1955) 145
    CAMERA TRACKS along groups of men, all riveted. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I have no idea to this day what 
        them two Italian ladies were 
        singin' about. Truth is, I don't 
        want to know. Some things are best 
        left unsaid. I like to think they 
        were singin' about something so 
        beautiful it can't be expressed in 
        words, and makes your heart ache 
        because of it. 

    CAMERA brings us to Red. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I tell you, those voices soared. 
        Higher and farther than anybody in 
        a gray place dares to dream. It was 
        like some beautiful bird flapped 
        into our drab little cage and made 
        these walls dissolve away...and for 
        the briefest of moments -- every 
        last man at Shawshank felt free. 

<b>146    INT -- PRISON CORRIDOR -- DAY (1955) 146
    FAST DOLLY with Norton striding up the hallway with Hadley. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        It pissed the warden off something 

<b>147    INT -- GUARD STATION/OUTER OFFICE -- DAY (1955) 147
    Norton and Hadley break the door in. Andy looks up with a 
    sublime smile. We hear Wiley POUNDING on the bathroom door: 

<b>                WILEY (O.S.) 
</b><b>        LET ME OUUUUT! 
<b>148    INT -- SOLITARY WING -- DAY (1955) 148
    LOW ANGLE SLOW PUSH IN on the massive, rust-streaked steel 
    door. God, this is a terrible place to be. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy got two weeks in the hole for 
        that little stunt. 

<b>149    INT -- SOLITARY CONFINEMENT -- DAY (1955) 149
    Andy doesn't seem to mind. His arms sweep to the music still 
    playing in his head. We hear a FAINT ECHO of the soaring duet. 

<b>150    INT -- MESS HALL -- DAY (1955) 1 50
<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Couldn't play somethin' good, huh? 
        Hank Williams? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        They broke the door down before I 
        could take requests. 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Was it worth two weeks in the hole? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Easiest time I ever did. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Shit. No such thing as easy time in 
        the hole. A week seems like a year. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I had Mr. Mozart to keep me company. 
        Hardly felt the time at all. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Oh, they let you tote that record 
        player down there, huh? I could'a 
        swore they confiscated that stuff. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (taps his heart, his head) 
        The music was here...and here. 
        That's the one thing they can't 
        confiscate, not ever. That's the 
        beauty of it. Haven't you ever felt 
        that way about music, Red? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Played a mean harmonica as a younger 
        man. Lost my taste for it. Didn't 
        make much sense on the inside. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Here's where it makes most sense. 
        We need it so we don't forget. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Forget? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        That there are things in this world 
        not carved out of gray stone. That 
        there's a small place inside of us 
        they can never lock away, and that 
        place is called hope. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Hope is a dangerous thing. Drive a 
        man insane. It's got no place here. 
        Better get used to the idea. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (softly) 
        Like Brooks did? 

<b>151     AN IRON-BARRED DOOR 151
    slides open with an enormous CLANG. A stark room beyond. 
    CAMERA PUSHES through. SEVEN HUMORLESS MEN sit at a long 

    table. An empty chair faces them. We are again in: 

    Red enters, ten years older than when we first saw him at a 
    parole hearing. He removes his cap and sits. 

                MAN #l 
        It says here you've served thirty 
        years of a life sentence. 

<b>                MAN #2 
</b>        You feel you've been rehabilitated? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Yes sir, without a doubt. I can say 
        I'm a changed man. No danger to 
        society, that's the God's honest 
        truth. Absolutely rehabilitated. 

    A big rubber stamp slams down: "REJECTED." 

<b>152    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DUSK (1957) 152
    Red emerges into fading daylight. Andy's waiting for him.

<b>                RED 
</b>        Same old, same old. Thirty years. 
        Jesus. When you say it like that... 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You wonder where it went. I wonder 
        where ten years went. 

    Red nods, solemn. They settle in on the bleachers. Andy pulls 
    a small box from his sweater, hands it to Red. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Anniversary gift. Open it. 

    Red does. Inside the box, on a thin layer of cotton, is a 
    shiny new harmonica, bright aluminum and circus-red. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Had to go through one of your 
        competitors. Hope you don't mind. 
        Wanted it to be a surprise. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        It's very pretty, Andy. Thank you. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You gonna play something? 

<b>    --
    Red considers it, shakes his head. Softly: 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Not today. 

<b>153    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE/ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1957) 153
    Men line the tiers as the evening count is completed. The 
    convicts step into their cells. The master switch is thrown 
    and all the doors slam shut -- KA-THUMP! Andy finds a 
    cardboard tube on his bunk. The note reads: "A new girl for 
    your 10 year anniversary. From your pal. Red." 

<b>154    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- LATER (1957) 154
    Marilyn Monroe's face fills the screen. SLOW PULL BACK reveals
    the new poster: the famous shot from "The Seven Year Itch," 
    on the subway grate with skirt billowing up. Andy sits gazing 
    at her as lights-out commences... 

<b>155    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1957) 155
    ...and we find Red gazing blankly as darkness takes the 
    cellblock. Adding up the months, weeks, days... 

    He regards the harmonica like a man confronted with a Martian 
    artifact. He considers trying it out -- even holds it briefly 
    to his lips, almost embarrassed -- but puts it back in its box
    untested. And there the harmonica will stay... 

156     WE HOLD IN BLACKNESS as THUMPING SOUNDS grow louder... 156

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy was as good as his word. He 
        kept writing to the State Senate. 
        Two letters a week instead of one. 

    ...and the BLACKNESS disintegrates as a wall tumbles before 
    our eyes, revealing a WORK CREW with picks and sledgehammers, 
    faces obscured outlaw-style with kerchiefs against the dust. 
    Behind them are GUARDS overseeing the work. 

    Andy yanks his kerchief down, grinning in exhilaration. Red
    and the others follow suit. They step through the hole in the
    wall, exploring what used to be a sealed-off storage room. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        In 1959, the folks up Augusta way 
        finally clued in to the fact they 
        couldn't buy him off with just a 
        200 dollar check. Appropriations 
        Committee voted an annual payment of 
        500 dollars, just to shut him up. 

<b>157    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY -- DAY (1960) 157
    TRACKING the construction. Walls have been knocked down. Men 
    are painting, plastering, hammering. Lots of shelves going up.
    Red is head carpenter. We find him discussing plans with Andy.

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Those checks came once a year like 

<b>158    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY -- DAY (1960) 158
    Red and the boys are opening boxes, pulling out books. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        You'd be amazed how far Andy could 
        stretch it. He made deals with book 
        clubs, charity groups...he bought 
        remaindered books by the pound... 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Treasure Island. Robert Louis... 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (jotting) 
        ...Stevenson. Next? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I got here an auto repair manual, 
        and a book on soap carving. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Trade skills and hobbies, those go 
        under educational. Stack right 
        behind you. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        The Count of Monte Crisco... 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Cristo, you dumbshit. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b> Alexandree Dumb-ass. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Dumas. You boys'll like that one. 
        It's about a prison break. 

    Floyd tries to take the book. Heywood yanks it back. I saw it 
    first. Red shoots Andy a look. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Maybe that should go under 
        educational too. 

<b>159    INT -- WOOD SHOP -- DAY (1961) 159
    Red is making a sign, carefully routing letters into a long 
    plank of wood. It turns out to be -- 

<b>160    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY -- DAY (1963) 160
    -- the varnished wood sign over the archway: "Brooks Hatlen 
    Memorial Library." TILT DOWN to reveal the library in all its 
    completed glory: shelves lined with books, tables and chairs, 
    even a few potted plants. Heywood is wearing headphones, 
    listening to Hank Williams on the record player. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        By the year Kennedy was shot, Andy 
        had transformed a broom closet 
        smelling of turpentine into the 
        best prison library in New England. 

<b>161    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- DAY (1963) 161

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        That was also the year Warden Norton 
        instituted his famous "Inside-Out" 
        program. You may remember reading 
        about it. It made all the papers 
        and got his picture in LIFE magazine. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        ...a genuine, progressive advance 
        in corrections and rehabilitation. 
        Our inmates, properly supervised, 
        will be put to work outside these 
        walls performing all manner of 
        public service. Cutting pulpwood, 
        repairing bridges and causeways, 
        digging storm drains... 

    ANGLE TO Red and the boys listening from behind the fence. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        These men can learn the value of an 
        honest day's labor while providing 
        a valuable service to the community 
        -- and at a bare minimum of expense
        to Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Taxpayer! 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Sounds like road-gangin', you ask me. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Nobody asked you. 

<b>162    EXT -- HIGHWAY CONSTRUCTION SITE -- DAY (1963) 162
    A ROAD-GANG is grading a culvert with picks. There's dust and 
    the smell of sweat in the air. GUARDS patrol with sniper rifles,
    A pushy WOMAN REPORTER in an ugly hat bustles up the grade, 
    trailed by a PHOTOGRAPHER. 

<b>                WOMAN REPORTER 
</b>        You there! You men! We're gonna 
        take your picture now! 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Give us a break, lady. 

<b>                WOMAN REPORTER 
</b>        Don't you know who I am? I'm from 
        LIFE magazine! I was told I'd get 
        some co-operation out here! You 
        want me to report you to your 
        warden? Is that what you want? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>            (sighs) 
        No, ma'am. 

<b>                WOMAN REPORTER 
</b>        That's more like it! Now I want you 
        all in a row with big bright smiles 
        on your faces! Grab hold of your 
        tools and show 'em to me! 

    She turns, motioning her photographer up the grade. Heywood 
    glances around at the other men. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        You heard the lady. 

    Heywood unzips his pants, reaches inside. The others do 
    likewise. The woman turns back and is greeted by the sight of 
    a dozen men displaying their penises and smiling brightly. Her
    legs go wobbly and she sits heavily down on the dirt grade. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        C'mon! We're showin' our tools and 
        grinnin' like fools! Take the damn 

<b>163    INT -- SOLITARY CONFINZMENT -- NIGHT (1963) 163
    Heywood sits alone in the dark. He sighs. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        None of the inmates were invited to 
        express their views... 

<b>164    EXT -- WOODED FIELDS -- DAY (1965) 164
    A ROAD-GANG is pulling stumps, bogged down in mud. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        'Course, Norton failed to mention 
        to the press that "bare minimum of 
        expense" is a fairly loose term. 
        There are a hundred different ways 
        to skim off the top. Men, 
        materials, you name it. And, oh my 
        Lord, how the money rolled in... 

    Norton strolls into view with NED GRIMES at his heels. 

<b>                NED 
</b>        This keeps up, you're gonna put me 
        out of business! With this pool of 
        slave labor you got, you can 
        underbid any contractor in town. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Ned, we're providing a valuable 
        community service. 

<b>                NED 
</b>        That's fine for the papers, but I 
        got a family to feed. The State 
        don't pay my salary. Sam, we go 
        back a long way. I need this new 
        highway contract. I don't get it, I 
        go under. That's a fact. 
            (hands him a box) 
        Now you just have some'a this fine 
        pie my missus baked specially for 
        you, and you think about that. 

    Norton opens the box. Alongside the pie is an envelope. He
    runs his thumb across the thick stack of cash it contains.

    IN THE BACKGROUND, a winch cable SNAPS and whips through the
    air, damn near severing a man's leg. He goes down, screaming
    in mud and blood, pinned by a fallen tree stump. Men rush over
    to help him. Norton barely takes notice. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Ned, I wouldn't worry too much over 
        this contract. Seems to me I've 
        already got my boys committed 
        elsewhere. You be sure and thank 
        Maisie for this fine pie. 

<b>165    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- NIGHT (1965) 165
    ANGLE on Maisie's pie. Several pieces gone. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        And behind every shady deal, behind 
        every dollar earned... 

    TILT UP to Andy at the desk, munching thoughtfully as he 
    totals up figures on an adding machine. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...there was Andy, keeping the books. 

    Andy finishes preparing two bank deposits. Norton hovers near 
    the desk, keeping a watchful eye. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Two deposits, Casco Bank and New 
        England First. Night drop, like 

    Norton pockets the envelopes. Andy crosses to the wall safe 
    and shoves the ledger and sundry files inside. Norton locks 
    the safe, swings his wife's framed sampler back into place. He 
    cocks his thumb at some laundry and two suits in the corner. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Get my stuff down t'laundry. Two 
        suits for dry-clean and a bag of 
        whatnot. Tell 'em if they over- 
        starch my shirts again, they're 
        gonna hear about it from me. 
            (adjusts his tie) 
        How do I look? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Very nice. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Big charity to-do up Portland 
        way. Governor's gonna be there. 
            (indicates pie) 
        Want the rest of that? Woman can't 
        bake worth shit. 

<b>166    INT -- PRISON CORRIDOR -- NIGHT (1965) 166
    Andy trudges down the corridor with Norton's laundry, the pie 
    box under his arm. 

<b>167    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1965) 167
    TILT UP FROM PIE to find Red munching away as he helps Andy 
    sort books on the shelves. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Got his fingers in a lot of pies, 
        from what I hear. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What you hear isn't half of it. 
        He's got scams you haven't dreamed 
        of. Kickbacks on his kickbacks. 
        There's a river of dirty money 
        flowing through this place. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Money like that can be a problem. 
        Sooner or later you gotta explain 
        where it came from. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        That's where I come in. I channel 
        it, funnel it, filter it...stocks, 
        securities, tax free municipals... 
        I send that money out into the big 
        world. And when it comes back... 

<b>                RED 
</b>        It's clean as a virgin's whistle? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Cleaner. By the time Norton retires, 
        I will have made him a millionaire. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Jesus. They ever catch on, he's 
        gonna wind up wearing a number 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (smiles) 
        I thought you had more faith in me 
        than that. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I'm sure you're good, but all that 
        paper leaves a trail. Anybody gets 
        too curious -- FBI, IRS, whatever -- 
        that trail's gonna lead to somebody. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Sure it will. But not to me, and 
        certainly not to the warden. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Who then? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Peter Stevens. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Who? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        The silent, silent partner. He's 
        the guilty one, your Honor. The man 
        with the bank accounts. That's 
        where the filtering process starts. 
        They trace it back, all they're 
        gonna find is him. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Yeah, okay, but who the hell is he?

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        A phantom. An apparition. Second 
        cousin to Harvey the Rabbit. 
            (off Red's look) 
        I conjured him out of thin air. He 
        doesn't exist...except on paper. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        You can't just make a person up. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Sure you can, if you know how the 
        system works, and where the cracks 
        are. It's amazing what you can 
        accomplish by mail. Mr. Stevens has 
        a birth certificate, social 
        security card, driver's license. 
        They ever track those accounts, 
        they'll wind up chasing a figment 
        of my imagination. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Jesus. Did I say you were good? 
        You're Rembrandt. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It's funny. On the outside, I was 
        an honest man. Straight as an 
        arrow. I had to come to prison to 
        be a crook. 

<b>168    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DUSK (1965) 
<b>                RED 
</b>        Does it ever bother you? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I don't run the scams, Red, I just 
        process the profits. That's a fine 
        line, maybe. But I've also built 
        that library, and used it to help a 
        dozen guys get their high school 
        diplomas. Why do you think the 
        warden lets me do all that? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        To keep you happy and doing the 
        laundry. Money instead of sheets. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I work cheap. That's the trade-off. 

    TWO SIREN BLASTS draw their attention to the main gate. It 
    swings open, revealing a prison bus waiting outside. 

<b>169    INT -- PRISON BUS -- DUSK (1965) 169
    Among those on board is TOMMY WILLIAMS, a damn good-looking 
    kid in his mid-20's. The bus RUMBLES through the gate. 

<b>170    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DUSK (1965) 170
    The new fish disembark, chained together single-file. The old- 
    timers holler and shake the fence. A deafening gauntlet. 

<b>171    INT -- CELLBLOCK EIGHT -- NIGHT (1965) 171
    Tommy and the others are marched in naked and shivering, 
    covered with delousing powder, greeted by TAUNTS and JEERS. 

<b>172    INT -- TOMMY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1965) 172
    The bars slam with a STEEL CLANG. Tommy and his new CELLMATE 
    take in their new surroundings. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Well. Ain't this for shit? 

<b>173    INT -- PRISON CORRIDOR -- DAY (1965) 173
    DOLLYING Tommy as he struts along, combing his ducktail, 
    cigarette behind his ear. (We definitely need The Coasters or 
    Del Vikings on the soundtrack here. Maybe Jerry Lee Lewis.) 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Tommy Williams came to Shawshank in 
        1965 on a two year stretch for B&E. 
        Cops caught him sneakin' TV sets 
        out the back door of a JC Penney. 

<b>174    INT -- WOOD SHOP -- DAY (1965) 174
    A SHRIEKING BUZZSAW slices ten-foot lengths of wood. Red runs 
    the machine while some other OLD-TIMERS feed the wood. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Young punk, Mr. Rock n' Roll, cocky 
        as hell... 

    Tommy is hauling the cut wood off the conveyor and stacking it, 
    It's a ball-busting job, but the kid's a blur. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>            (slapping his gloves) 
        C'mon there, old boys! Movin' like 
        molasses! Makin' me look bad! 

    The old guys just grin and shake their heads. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        We liked him immediately. 

<b>175    INT -- MESS HALL -- DAY (1965) 175
    Tommy regales the old boys with his exploits: 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b> I'm backin' out the door, 
        right? Had the TV like this... 
            (mimes his grip) 
        Big ol' thing. Couldn't see shit. 
        Suddenly, here's this voice: 
        Freeze kid! Hands in the air! 
        Well I just stand there holdin' on 
        to that TV, so the voice says: "You 
        hear what I said, boy?" And I say, 
        Yes sir, I sure did! But if I drop
        this fuckin' thing, you got me on 
        destruction of property too!

    The whole table falls about laughing. 

<b>176    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1965) 176
    Poker game in progress. Tommy, Andy, Red and the boys. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        You did a stretch in Cashman too? 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Yeah. That was an easy ride, let me 
        tell you. Work programs, weekend 
        furloughs. Not like here. 

<b>                SNOOZE 
</b>        Sounds like you done time all over 
        New England. 

<b>                TOMNY 
</b>        Been in and out since I was 13. Name 
        the place, chances are I been there. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Perhaps it's time you considered a 
        new profession. 
            (the game stalls) 
        What I mean is, you don't seem to 
        be a very good thief. Maybe you 
        should try something else. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        What the hell you know about it, 
        Capone? What are you in for? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (wry glance to Red) 
        Everyone's innocent in here. Don't 
        you know that? 

    The tension breaks. Everyone laughs. 

<b>177    INT -- VISITOR'S ROOM -- DAY (1965) 177
    CAMERA TRAVELS the room. Chaotic. CONS are waiting their turn 
    or talking to visitors through a thick plexi shield. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        As it turns out, Tommy had himself 
        a young wife and new baby girl... 

    Tommy's at the end of the row, phone to his ear. Other side of
    the glass is BETH, near tears, fussing with a BABY on her lap.

<b>    BETH 
</b>    ...said we can stay with them, but 
    Joey's gettin' out of the service 
    next month, and they barely got 
    enough room as it is. Plus they got 
    Poppa workin' double shifts and the 
    baby cries half the night. I just 
    don't know where we're gonna go... 

    PUSH IN on Tommy's face as he listens. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Maybe it was the thought of them on 

    the streets...or his child growing 
    up not knowing her daddy... 

<b>178    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1965) 178
    Tommy enters, the strut gone from his step. A little scared. 
    He finds Andy filing library cards. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Whatever it was, something lit a 
        fire under that boy's ass. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        I'm thinkin' maybe I should try for 
        high school equivalency. Hear you 
        helped some fellas with that. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I don't waste time on losers, Tommy. 

<b>                TOMNY 
</b>            (tight) 
        I ain't no goddamn loser. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        That's a good start. If we do this, 
        we do it all the way. One hundred 
        percent. Nothing half-assed. 

    Tommy thinks about it, nods. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Thing is, see... 
            (leans in, mutters) 
        ...I don't read all that good. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (smiles) 
        Well. You've come to the right 
        place then. 

<b>179    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1965) 179
    We find Andy giving an impassioned reading: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        ...and the lamplight o'er him
        streaming throws his shadow on the
        floor...and my soul from out that
        shadow that lies floating on the
        floor, shall be lifted nevermore! "

    Andy slaps the book shut, immensely pleased with himself.

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        So this raven just sits there and 
        won't go away? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        That's right. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>            (beat) 
        Why don't that fella get hisself a 
        12-gauge and dust the fucker? 

<b>180    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1965) 180
    Tommy tries to read as Andy looks on: 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        The cat sh--The cat shh... 
            (glances up) 
        The cat shat on the welcome mat? 

    Andy shakes his head. Not exactly. 

<b>181    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1965) 181
    Andy chalks the alphabet on a blackboard. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        So Andy took Tommy under his wing. 
        Started walking him through his 

<b>182    INT -- MESS HALL -- DAY (1965) 182
    TRACK the table to Tommy and Andy. Discussing a book. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Tommy took to it pretty well, too. 
        Boy found brains he never knew he 

<b>183    EXT -- EXERCISE YARD BLEACHERS -- DAY (1965) 183
<b>                TOMNY 
</b>        The cat sh--shh--shimmied up the 
        tree and crept st--stel--stealthily 
        out on the limb... 

<b>184    INT -- WOOD SHOP -- DAY (1965) 184
    Tommy intent on a paperback, mouthing the words. Behind him,
    wood is piling up on the conveyor belt. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        After a while, you couldn't pry 
        those books out of hands. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Ass in gear, son! You're putting us 

    Tommy shoves the book in his back pocket and hurries over.

<b>185    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1965) 185
    Tommy writes a sentence on the blackboard. Andy steps in, 
    shows him how to reconstruct it. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Before long, Andy started him on 
        his course requirements. He really 
        liked the kid, that was part of it. 
        Gave him a thrill to help a 
        youngster crawl off the shitheap. 
        But that wasn't the only reason... 

<b>186    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 186
    TIGHT ANGLE on chessboard. Most of the pieces complete. PAN TO 
    Andy lying in his bunk, carefully polishing... 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Prison time is slow time. Sometimes 
        it feels like stop-time. So you do 
        what you can to keep going... 

    ...and we keep going past Andy in a SLOW PAN of the cell. 
    Sink. Toilet. Books. Outside the window bars, we hear another 
    TRAIN passing in the night... 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Some fellas collect stamps. Others 
        build matchstick houses. Andy built 
        a library. Now he needed a new project. 
        Tommy was it. It was the same reason 
        he spent years shaping and polishing 
        those rocks. The same reason he hung 
        his fantasy girlies on the wall... 

    ...STILL PANNING, past a chair, a sweater on a hook...and 
    finally to the place of honor on the wall... 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        In prison, a man'll do most 
        anything to keep his mind occupied. 

    ...where the latest poster turns out to be Racquel Welch ins
    fur bikini. Gorgeous. "One Million Years, B. C. " SLOW PUSH IN,

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        By 1966...right about the time 
        Tommy was getting ready to take his was lovely Racquel. 

<b>187    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1966) 187
    Tommy's taking the big test. Andy's monitoring the time. Deep 
    silence, save for Tommy's pencil-scribbling. A few old-timers 
    are browsing the shelves, sneaking looks their way. Tommy 
    tries to ignore them. Concentrate. 

    Andy clears his throat. Time's up. Tommy puts his pencil down, 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Well? 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Well. It's for shit. 
            (gets up in disgust) 
        Wasted a whole fuckin' year of my 
        time with this bullshit! 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        May not be as bad as you think. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        It's worse! I didn't get a fuckin' 
        thing right! Might as well be in 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        We'll see how the score comes out. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        I'll tell you how the goddamn 
        score comes out... 

    Tommy grabs the test, wads it, slam-dunks it into the trash.

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Two points! Right there! There's 
        your goddamn score! 
            (storms out) 
        Goddamn cats crawlin' up trees, 5 
        times 5 is 25, fuck this place, 
        fuck it! 

    Tommy is gone. Red and others stare. Andy gets up, pulls the 
    test from the trash, smoothes it out on the desk. 

<b>188    INT -- WOOD SHOP -- DAY (1966) 188
    Rest break. Tommy and Red sipping Cokes. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        I feel bad. I let him down. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        That's crap, son. He's proud of 
        you. Proud as a hen. 
            (off Tommy's look) 
        We been friends a long time. I know 
        him as good as anybody. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Smart fella, ain't he? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Smart as they come. Used to be a 
        banker on the outside. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        What's he in for anyway? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Murder. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        The hell you say. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        You wouldn't think, lookin' at him. 
        Caught his wife in bed with some 
        golf pro. Greased 'em both. C'mon, 
        boy, back to work... 

    SMASH! Red turns back. Tommy's Coke has slipped from his hand 
    and shattered on the floor. The kid's gone white as a sheet. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>            (bare whisper) 
        Oh my God... 

<b>189    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1966) 189
    Tommy sits before Andy and Red: 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        'Bout four years ago, I was in 
        Thomaston on a 2 to 3 stretch. 
        Stole a car. Dumbfuck thing to do. 
        Few months left to go, I get a new 
        cellmate in. Elmo Blatch. Big 
        twitchy fucker. Crazy eyes. Kind of 
        roomie you pray you don't get, know 
        what I'm sayin'? 6 to 12 for armed 
        burglary. Said he done hundreds of 
        jobs. Hard to believe, high-strung 
        as he was. Cut a loud fart, he'd go 
        three feet in the air. Talked all 
        the time, too, that's the other 
        thing. Never shut up. Places he'd 
        been, jobs he pulled, women he 
        fucked. Even people he killed. 
        People that gave him shit, that's 
        how he put it. One night, like a 
        joke, I say: "Yeah? Who'd you 
        kill?" So he says... 

<b>                BLATCH 
</b>        ...I got me this job one time 
        bussin' tables at a country club. 
        So I could case all the big rich 
        pricks that come in. I pick out 
        this guy, go in one night and do 
        his place. He wakes up and gives 
        me shit. So I killed him. Him and 
        the tasty bitch he was with. 
            (starts laughing) 
        That's the best part! She's fuckin' 
        this prick, see, this golf pro, but 
        she's married to some other guy! 
        Some hotshot banker. He's the one 
        they pinned it on! They got him 
        down-Maine somewhere doin' time for 
        the crime! Ain't that choice? 

    He throws his head back and ROARS with laughter. 

<b>191    INT -- PRISON LIBRARY -- DAY (1966) 191
    Silence. Tommy has finished his story. Red is stunned...but 
    Andy looks like he's been smacked with a two by four. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Andy? 

    Andy says nothing. Walks stiffly away. Doesn't look back. 

<b>192    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- DAY (1966) 192
<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Well. I have to say, that's the 
        most amazing story I ever heard. 
        What amazes me most is you were 
        taken in by it. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Sir? 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        It's obvious this fellow Williams 
        is impressed with you. He hears 
        your tale of woe and quite 
        naturally wants to cheer you up. 
        He's young, not terribly bright. 
        Not surprising he didn't know what 
        a state he'd put you in. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I think he's telling the truth. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Let's say for a moment Blatch does 
        exist. You think he'd just fall to 
        his knees and cry, "Yes, I did it! 
        I confess! By all means, please add
        a life term to my sentence!" 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It wouldn't matter. With Tommy's 
        testimony, I can get a new trial. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        That's assuming Blatch is even 
        still there. Chances are excellent 
        he'd be released by now. Excellent.

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        They'd have his last known address.
        Names of relatives... 
            (Norton shakes his head)
        Well it's a chance. isn't it? How
        can you be so obtuse? 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        What? What did you call me? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Obtuse! Is it deliberate? The 
        country club will have his old time
        cards! W-2s with his name on them! 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>            (rises) 
        Dufresne, if you want to indulge 
        this fantasy, that's your business.
        Don't make it mine. This meeting's 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Look, if it's the squeeze, don't 
        worry. I'd never say what goes on 
        in here. I'd be just as indictable 
        as you for laundering the money! 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Don't you ever mention money to me 
        again, you sorry son of a bitch! 
        Not in this office, not anywhere! 
            (slaps intercom) 
        Get in here! Now! 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I was just trying to rest your mind
        at ease, that's all. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>            (as GUARDS enter) 
        Solitary! A month! 

    Andy gets dragged away, kicking and screaming: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        What's the matter with you? It's my 
        chance to get out, don't you see 
        that? It's my life! Don't you 
        understand it's my life? 

<b>193    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1966) 193
    Mail call. Men crowd around as names are called out. Red and
    the boys are parked on the bleachers. 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        A month in the hole. Longest damn 
        stretch I ever heard of. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        It's my fault. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Like hell. You didn't pull the 
        trigger, and you didn't convict him. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Red? You saying Andy's innocent? I 
        mean for real innocent? 
            (Red nods) 
        Sweet Jesus. How long's he been in 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Since '47. Going on nineteen years. 

<b>                MAIL CALLER 
</b>        Thomas Williams! 

    Tommy raises his hand. The envelope gets tossed to him. He
    stares at it. Red peers over his shoulder. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Board of Education. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        The son of a bitch mailed it. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Looks that way. You gonna open it 
        or stick your thumb up your butt? 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Thumb up my butt sounds better. 

    He gets hemmed in by the older men. Red snatches the letter. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        C'mon, just throw it away. Will you 
        please? Just throw it away? 

    Red rips it open, scans the letter. Expressionless. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Well, shit. 

<b>194    INT -- VISITOR'S ROOM -- DAY (1966) 194
    Tommy makes his way through the chaos, finds Beth and the baby 
    waiting behind the thick plexi shield. He sits, doesn't pick 
    up the phone. Just stares at Beth. She doesn't know what to 
    make of it. 

    He presses a piece of paper against the glass. A high school 
    diploma. Her face lights up, blinking back tears. 

<b>195    INT -- SOLITARY WING -- NIGHT (1966) 195
    LOW ANGLE on steel door. Somewhere behind it, unseen, is Andy, 
    A rat scurries along the wall. FOOTSTEPS approach slowly. 

<b>196    INT -- SOLITARY -- NIGHT (1966) 196
    Andy listens in darkness. The FOOTSTEPS pause outside his 
    door. The slot opens. An ELDERLY GUARD peers in. 

<b>                ELDERLY GUARD 
</b>        Kid passed. C-plus average. Thought 
        you'd like to know. 

    The slot closes. The FOOTSTEPS recede. Andy smiles. 

<b>197    INT -- PRISON CORRIDOR -- NIGHT (1966) 197
    We find Tommy on evening work detail, mopping the floors with 
    bucket and pail. Mert Entwhistle comes into view. 

<b>                MERT 
</b>        Warden wants to talk. 

<b>198    EXT -- PRISON -- NIGHT (1966) 198
    A steel door rattles open. Mert leads Tommy outside to a gate, 
    unlocks it. Tommy looks around. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Out here? 

<b>                MERT 
</b>        That's what the man said. 

    Mert swings the gate open, sends Tommy through, turns and 
    heads back inside. Tommy proceeds out across a loading-dock
    access for the shops and mills. Some vehicles parked. The 
    place is deserted. He stops, sensing a presence. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Warden? 

    Norton steps into the light. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Tommy, we've got a situation here. 
        I think you can appreciate that. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Yes sir, I sure can. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I tell you, son, this really came 
        along and knocked my wind out. It's 
        got me up nights, that's the truth. 

    Norton pulls a pack of cigarettes, offers Tommy a smoke. Tommy
    takes one. Norton lights both cigarettes, pockets his lighter.

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        The right decision. Sometimes it's 
        hard to figure out what that is. 
        You understand? 
            (Tommy nods) 
        Think hard, Tommy. If I'm gonna 
        move on this, there can't be the 
        least little shred of doubt. I have 
        to know if you what you told 
        Dufresne was the truth. 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Yes sir. Absolutely. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Would you be willing to swear before 
        a judge and jury...having placed 
        your hand on the Good Book and taken 
        an oath before Almighty God Himself? 

<b>                TOMMY 
</b>        Just gimme that chance. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        That's what I thought. 

    Norton drops his cigarette. Crushes it out with the toe of his 
    shoe. Glances up toward the plate shop roof as -- 

    -- a rifle scope pops up into frame, jumping Tommy's image 
    into startling magnification, framed in the crosshairs. 

<b>200     THE SNIPER 200
    rapid-fires a carbine -- BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM! -- his face lit 
    up by the muzzle flashes. Captain Hadley. 

<b>201     TOMMY 201
    gets chewed to pieces by the gunfire. He smacks the ground in 
    a twitching, thrashing heap. Eyes wide and staring. Dead. 
    Surprise still stamped on his face. Silence now. Norton 
    turns, strolls into darkness. 

<b>202    INT -- SOLITARY WING -- DAY (1966) 202
    GUARDS approach Andy's cell. The door is unlocked. Andy 
    emerges slowly, blinking painfully at the light. 

<b>203 INT/EXT -- PRISON -- DAY (1966) 203
    Andy is marched along. Convicts stop to stare. 

<b>204    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- DAY (1966) 204
    Andy is led in. The door is closed. Alone with Norton. Softly, 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Terrible thing. Man that young, 
        less than a year to go, trying to 
        escape. Broke Captain Hadley's 
        heart to shoot him, truly it did. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I'm done. It stops right now. Get 
        H&R Block to declare your income. 

    Norton lunges to his feet, eyes sparkling with rage. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Nothing stops! NOTHING! 
        Or you will do the hardest time 
        there is. No more protection from 
        the guards. I'll pull you out of 
        that one-bunk Hilton and put you in 
<b>            (MORE) 
<b>    -
</b>                NORTON (cont.) 
        with the biggest bull queer I can 
        find. You'll think you got fucked 
        by a train! And the library? Gone! 
        Sealed off brick by brick! We'll 
        have us a little book-barbecue in 
        the yard! They'll see the flames 
        for miles! We'll dance around it 
        like wild Indians! Do you understand 
        me? Are you catching my drift? 

    SLOW PUSH IN on Andy's face. Eyes hollow. His beaten 
    expression says it all... 

<b>205    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1966) 205
    Red finds Andy sitting in the shadow of the high stone wall, 
    poking listlessly through the dust for small pebbles. Red 
    waits for some acknowledgment. Andy doesn't even look up. 
    Red hunkers down and joins him. Nothing is said for the 
    longest time. And then, softly: 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        My wife used to say I'm a hard man 
        to know. Like a closed book. 
        Complained about it all the time. 
        She was beautiful. I loved her. But 
        I guess I couldn't show it enough. 
        I killed her, Red. 

    Andy finally glances to Red, seeking a reaction. Silence. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        I didn't pull the trigger. But I 
        drove her away. That's why she 
        died. Because of me, the way I am. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        That don't make you a murderer. Bad 
        husband, maybe. 

    Andy smiles faintly in spite of himself. Red gives his 

    shoulder a squeeze. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Feel bad about it if you want. But 
        you didn't pull the trigger. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        No. I didn't. Someone else did, and 
        I wound up here. Bad luck, I guess. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Bad luck? Jesus. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        It floats around. Has to land on 
        somebody. Say a storm comes 
        through. Some folks sit in their 
        living rooms and enjoy the rain. 
        The house next door gets torn out 
        of the ground and smashed flat. It 
        was my turn, that's all. I was in 
        the path of the tornado. 
        I just had no idea the storm would 
        go on as long as it has. 
            (glances to him) 
        Think you'll ever get out of here? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Sure. When I got a long white beard 
        and about three marbles left 
        rolling around upstairs. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Tell you where I'd go. Zihuatanejo.

<b>                RED 
</b>        Zihuatanejo? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Mexico. Little place right on the 
        Pacific. You know what the Mexicans 
        say about the Pacific? They say it 
        has no memory. That's where I'd 
        like to finish out my life, Red. A 
        warm place with no memory. Open a 
        little hotel right on the beach. 
        Buy some worthless old boat and fix 
        it up like new. Take my guests out 
        charter fishing. 
        You know, a place like that, I'd 
        need a man who can get things. 

    Red stares at Andy, laughs. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Jesus, Andy. I couldn't hack it on 
        the outside. Been in here too long. 
        I'm an institutional man now. Like 
        old Brooks Hatlen was. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You underestimate yourself. 

<b>    -
<b>                RED 
</b>        Bullshit. In here I'm the guy who 
        can get it for you. Out there, all 
        you need are Yellow Pages. I 
        wouldn't know where to begin. 
            (derisive snort) 
        Pacific Ocean? Hell. Like to scare 
        me to death, somethin' that big. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Not me. I didn't shoot my wife and 
        I didn't shoot her lover, and 
        whatever mistakes I made I've paid 
        for and then some. That hotel and 
        that boat...I don't think it's too 
        much to want. To look at the stars 
        just after sunset. Touch the sand. 
        Wade in the water. Feel free. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Goddamn it, Andy, stop! Don't do 
        that to yourself! Talking shitty 
        pipedreams! Mexico's down there, 
        and you're in here, and that's the 
        way it is! 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You're right. It's down there, and 
        I'm in here. I guess it comes down 
        to a simple choice, really. Get 
        busy living or get busy dying. 

    Red snaps a look. What the hell does that mean? Andy rises and
    walks away. Red lunges to his feet. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Andy? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>            (turns back) 
        Red, if you ever get out of here, 
        do me a favor. There's this big 
        hayfield up near Buxton. You know 
        where Buxton is? 

<b>                RED 
</b>            (nods) 
        Lots of hayfields there. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        One in particular. Got a long rock 
        wall with a big oak at the north 
        end. Like something out of a Robert 
        Frost poem. It's where I asked my 
<b>            (MORE) 

                ANDY (cont.) 
        wife to marry me. We'd gone for a 
        picnic. We made love under that 
        tree. I asked and she said yes. 
        Promise me, Red. If you ever get 
        out, find that spot. In the base of 
        that wall you'll find a rock that 
        has no earthly business in a Maine 
        hayfield. A piece of black volcanic 
        glass. You'll find something buried 
        under it I want you to have. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        What? What's buried there? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You'll just have to pry up that 
        rock and see. 

    Andy turns and walks away. 

<b>206    INT -- MESS HALL -- DAY (1966) 
<b>                RED 
</b>        I tell you, the man was talkin' 
        crazy. I'm worried, I truly am. 

<b>                SKEET 
</b>        We ought to keep an eye on him. 

<b>                JIGGER 
</b>        That's fine, during the day. But 
        at night he's got that cell all to 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Oh Lord. Andy come down to the 
        loading dock today. Asked me for a 
        length of rope. Six foot long. 

<b>                SNOOZE 
</b>        Shit! You gave it to him? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Sure I did. I mean why wouldn't I?

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Christ! Remember Brooks Hatlen? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        How the hell was I s'pose to know? 

<b>                JIGGER 
</b>        Andy'd never do that. Never. 

    They all look to Red. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Every man's got a breaking point. 

<b>207    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- ANGLE ON P.A. -- DUSK (1966) 207
                VOICE (over P.A.) 
        Report to your cellblocks for 
        evening count. 

    BOOM DOWN to Red and the boys. Convicts drift past them.

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Where the hell is he? 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Probably still up in the warden's. 

<b>                TOWER GUARD 
</b>            (via bullhorn) 
<b>                SKEET 
</b>        Christ. What do we do? 

<b>                FLOYD 
</b>        Nothing we can do. Not tonight. 

<b>                HEYWOOD 
</b>        Let's pull him aside tomorrow, all 
        of us. Have a word with him. Ain't 
        that right, Red? 

<b>                RED 
</b>            (unconvinced) 
        Yeah. Sure. That's right. 

<b>20B    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- NIGHT (1966) 208
    Andy's working away. Norton pokes his head in. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Lickety-split. I wanna get home. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Just about done, sir. 

    We follow Norton to his wife's sampler. He swings it aside, 
    works the combination dial, opens the wall safe. Andy moves up,
    shoves in the black ledger and files. Norton shuts the safe. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Three deposits tonight. 

    Andy hands him the envelopes. Norton heads for the door. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Get my stuff down t'laundry. And 
        shine my shoes. I want 'em lookin' 
        like mirrors. 
            (pauses at door) 
        Nice havin' you back, Andy. Place 
        just wasn't the same without you. 

    Norton exits. Andy turns to the laundry. He opens the shoebox. 
    Nice pair of dress shoes inside. He sighs, glances down at the 
    old ragged pair of work shoes on his own feet. 

<b>209    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- NIGHT (1966) 209
    Andy is diligently shining Norton's shoes. 

<b>210    INT -- PRISON CORRIDOR -- NIGHT (1966) 210
    Andy trudges down the hallway, laundry slung over his shoulder, 

<b>211    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1966) 211
    Andy nods to the GUARD. The guard BUZZES him through. 

<b>212    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 212
    Red hears Andy coming, moves to the bars. He watches Andy come 
    up to the second tier and pause before his cell. 

<b>                GUARD (O.S.) 
</b>        Open number twelve! 

    Andy gazes directly at Red. A beat of eye contact. Red shakes 
    his head. Don't do it. Andy smiles, eerily calm...and enters 
    his cell. The door closes. KA-THUMP! We hold on Red's face. 

<b>213    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 213
    Andy is polishing a chess piece. 

<b>                VOICE (O.S.) 
</b>        Lights out! 

    The lights bump off. He finishes polishing, holds up the piece 
    to admire. A pawn. He sets it down with the others -- and we 
    realize it's the final glance for the board. A full set. 

    He gazes up at Racquel and smiles. Pulls a six foot length of 
    rope from under his pillow. Lets it uncoil to the floor. 

<b>214    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 214
    Red sits in the dark, a bundle of nerves, trying to hold 

    himself still. He feels like he might scream or shake to 
    pieces. The seconds tick by, each an eternity. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I have had some long nights in 
        stir. Alone in the dark with 
        nothing but your thoughts, time can 
        draw out like a blade... 

    A FLASH OF LIGHTNING outside his window sends harsh barred 
    shadows jittering across the cell. A storm breaking. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        That was the longest night of my 

<b>215    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- MORNING (1966) 215
    KA-THUMP! The master lock is thrown. The cons emerge from 
    their cells and the headcount begins. Red looks back to see if 
    Andy's in line. He's not. Suddenly the count stalls: 

<b>                GUARD 
</b>        Man missing on tier two! Cell 12! 

    The head bull, HAIG, checks his list: 

<b>                HAIG 
</b>        Dufresne? Get your ass out here, 
        boy! You're holding up the show! 
            (no answer) 
        Don't make me come down there now! 
        I'll thump your skull for you! 

    Still no answer. Glaring, Haig stalks down the tier, clipboard 
    in hand. His men fall in behind. 

<b>                HAIG 
</b>        Dufresne, dammit, you're putting me 
        behind! You better be sick or dead 
        in there, I shit you not! 

    They arrive at bars. Their faces go slack. Stunned. Softly: 

<b>                HAIG 
    Oh my Holy God. 

<b>216     REVERSE ANGLE 216
    reveals the cell is empty. Everything neat and tidy. Even the 
    bunk is stowed. They wrench the door open and rush in, tossing 
    the cell in a panic as if Andy might be lurking under the 
    Kleenex or the toothpaste. CAMERA ROCKETS IN on Haig as he 
    spins toward us, bellowing at the top of his lungs: 

<b>                HAIG 
</b><b>        WHAT THE FUCK! 
<b>217    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- MORNING (1966) 217
    Norton is kicking back with the morning paper. He notices ha
    dingy his shoes are. He glances at the shoebox on the desk. 
    kicks his shoes off, opens the box -- and gulls out Andy's o
    grimy work shoes. He stares blankly. What the fuck indeed. 

    An ALARM STARTS BLARING throughout the prison. He looks up. 

<b>218    EXT -- PRISON -- DAY (1966) 218
    Norton and Hadley stride across the grounds, ALARM BLARING. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I want every man on that cellblock 
        questioned! Start with that friend 
        of his! 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        who? 

<b>219    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- RED'S CELL -- DAY (1966) 219
    Red watches as Norton storms up with an entourage of guards.

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Him. 

    Red's eyes widen. Guards yank him from his cell. 

<b>220    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- DAY (1966) 220
    Norton steps to the center of the room, working himself up 
    into a fine rage: 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        What do you mean "he just wasn't 
        here?" Don't say that to me, Haig! 
        Don't say that to me again! 

<b>                HAIG 
</b>        But sir! He wasn't! He isn't! 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I can see that, Haig! You think I'm 
        blind? Is that what you're saying? 
        Am I blind, Haig? 

<b>                HAIG 
</b>        No sir! 

    Norton grabs the clipboard and thrusts it at Hadley. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        What about you? You blind? Tell me 
        what this is! 

<b>                HADLEY 
</b>        Last night's count. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        You see Dufresne's name? I sure do! 
        Right there, see? "Dufresne." He 
        was in his cell at lights out! 
        Stands to reason he'd still be here 
        this morning! I want him found! Not 
        tomorrow, not after breakfast! Now! 

    Haig scurries out, gathering men. Norton spins to Red. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Well? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Well what? 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        I see you two all the time, you're 
        thick as thieves, you are! He 
        must'a said something! 

<b>                RED 
</b>        No sir, he didn't! 

    Norton spreads his arms evangelist-style, spins slowly around.

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Lord! It's a miracle! Man up and 
        vanished like a fart in the wind! 
        Nothin' left but some damn rocks on 
        the windowsill and that cupcake on 
        the wall! Let's ask her! Maybe she 
        knows! What say there, Fuzzy- 
        Britches? Feel like talking? Guess 
        not. Why should you be different? 

    Red exchanges looks with the guards. Even they're nervous. 
    Norton scoops a handful rocks off the sill. He hurls them at
    the wall one at a time, shattering them, punctuating his words:

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        It's a conspiracy! (SMASH) That's 
        what this is! (SMASH) It's one big 
        damn conspiracy! (SMASH) And 
        everyone's in on it! (SMASH) 
        Including her! 

    He sends the last rock whizzing right at Racquel. 
    No smash. 

    It takes a moment for this to sink in. All eyes go to her. The 
    rock went through her. There's a small hole in the poster 
    where her navel used to be. 

    You could hear a pin drop. Norton reaches up, sinks his finger 
    into the hole. He keeps pushing...and his entire hand 
    disappears into the wall. 

    as Norton rips the poster from before our eyes. Stunned faces 
    peer in. CAMERA PULLS SLOWLY reveal the long 
    crumbling tunnel in the wall. 

<b>222    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- MINUTES LATER (1966) 222
    RORY TREMONT, a guard barely out of his teens, tries not to 
    look nervous as they lash a rope around his chest. He's 
    getting instructions from six different people at once. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        They got this skinny kid named Rory 
        Tremont to go in the hole. He wasn't 
        much in the brains department, but 
        he possessed the one most important 
        qualification for the job... 
            (they slap a flashlight 
        in his hands) 
        ...he was willing to go. 

<b>223    INT -- TUNNEL -- DAY (1966) 223
    Rory squeezes down the tunnel on his belly. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Probably thought he'd win a Bronze 
        Star or something. 

<b>224    INT -- VERTICAL SHAFT -- DAY (1966) 224
    Dark as midnight. Concrete walls rise on both sides. If you 
    imagine them as two huge slices of bread, the meat of this 
    particular sandwich is about three feet of airspace and a dark
    tangle of pipes between the cellblocks. Rory's appears, shining
    his flashlight down the shaft. Somewhere, a rat SQUEAKS. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        It was his third day on the job. 

<b>                RORY 
</b>        Warden? There's a space here 
        between the walls 'bout three feet 
        across! Smells pretty damn bad! 

<b>                NORTON (O.S.) 
</b>        I don't care what it smells like! 

<b>                HADLEY (O.S.) 
</b>        Go on, boy! We got a hold of you! 

    Looking none too happy about it, Rory squeezes from the tunnel 
    and dangles into the shaft. He gets lowered, shining his 
    light, smothered by darkness. Not having a good time. 

<b>                RORY 
</b>        Hoo-whee! Smell's gettin' worse! 

<b>                NORTON (O.S.) 
</b>        Never mind, I said! Just keep going! 

<b>                RORY 
</b>        Smells pretty damn bad, Warden! In 
        fact, it smells just like shit. 

    His feet touch the ground -- or what he assumed was the 
    ground. It's not. In fact, it's just what it smells like. He 
    sinks in past his ankles. He slips and sits heavily in it. 

<b>                RORY 
</b>        Oh God, that's what it is, it's 
        shit. oh my God it's shit. pull me 
        out 'fore I blow my groceries, oh 
        shit it's shit, oh my Gawwwwwwd! 

<b>225    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- DAY (1966) 225
    Red and others listen to violent barfing from below. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        And then came the unmistakable 
        sound of Rory Tremont losing his 
        last few meals. The whole cellblock 
        heard it. I mean, it echoed. 

    That's it for Red. He starts laughing. Laughing, hell, he's 
    bellowing laughter, laughing so hard he has to hold himself, 
    laughing so hard tears are pouring down his cheeks. The look 
    of rage on Norton's face makes him laugh all the harder. 

<b>226    INT -- SOLITARY WING -- NIGHT (1966) 226
    Abrupt silence. LOW ANGLE on steel door. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I laughed myself right into 
        solitary. Two week stretch. 

<b>227    INT -- SOLITARY -- NIGHT (1966) 227
<b>                RED 
</b>        It's shit, it's shit, oh my God 
        it's shit... 

    He starts laughing all over again, fit to split. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy once talked about doing easy 
        time in the hole. Now I knew what 
        he meant. 

<b>228    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- WIDE SHOT -- DAY (1966) 228
    Virgin landscape. Charming rural road. Suddenly, State Police
    cruisers rocket up the road with SIRENS AND LIGHTS. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        In 1966, Andy Dufresne escaped from 
        Shawshank Prison. 

<b>229    EXT -- FIELD -- DAY (1966) 229
    Shawshank is half a mile distant. WE TRACK ALONG a muddy creel
    as STATE TROOPERS and PRISON GUARDS scour the brush. A TROOPEE
    fishes a prison uniform out of the creek with a long stick. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        All they found of him was a muddy 
        set of prison clothes, a bar of 
        soap, and an old rock-hammer damn 
        near worn down to the nub. 

    TROOPER g2 pulls the rock-hammer from the weeds. SWISH PAN 

    of the hapless cops posing with Andy's reeking uniform and the
    worn rock-hammer. PUSH IN on the hammer. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I remember thinking it would take a 
        man six hundred years to tunnel 
        through the wall with it. Andy did 
        it in less than twenty. 

<b>231    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1949) 231
    Once again, we see Andy using the rock-hammer to scratch his

    name into the cement. Suddenly, a palm-sized chunk of cement 
    pops free and hits the floor. He stares down at it. 

<b>232    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1949) 232
    Andy lies in the dark, studying the chunk of concrete in his 
    hands. Considering the possibilities. Wrestling with hope. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy loved geology. I imagine it 
        appealed to his meticulous nature. 
        An ice age here, a million years of 
        mountain-building there, plates of 
        bedrock grinding against each other 
        over a span of millennia... 

<b>233    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1949) 233
    Andy stands peering at the small hole left by the fallen 
    chunk. Carefully runs his fingertip over it. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Geology is the study of pressure 
        and time. That's all it takes, 
        really. Pressure and time. 

<b>234    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1951) 234
    Rita is now on the wall, hanging down over Andy's back. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        That and a big damn poster. 

    TRACK IN to reveal Andy scraping patiently at the concrete. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Like I said. In prison, a man'll do 
        most anything to keep his mind 

    He hears FOOTSTEPS approaching. He smoothes the poster down and 
    dives into bed. A GUARD strolls by a moment later, shining his 
    flashlight into the cell. 

<b>235    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1953) 235
    Andy strolls along, whistling softly, hands in both pockets. 
    TILT DOWN to his pantleg. Concrete grit trickles out. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        It turns out Andy's favorite hobby 
        was totin' his wall out into the 
        exercise yard a handful at a time... 

<b>236    INT -- 2ND TIER -- NIGHT (1962) 236
    A GUARD strolls the tier, shining his flashlight into the 
    cells. He pauses at Andy's bars, playing the beam over the 
    sleeping form huddled under the blankets. 


    We see what the guard doesn't: instead of Andy's head under 
    the blanket, it's a wadded-up pillow. The flashlight plays 
    across the cell, pinning Marilyn Monroe in a circle of light. 

    The light illuminates her face through the paper. WIDEN to 
    reveal Andy lying in his tunnel, holding his breath. The 
    light clicks off. The FOOTSTEPS move on. He gets back to work. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        While the rest of us slept, Andy 
        spent years workin' the nightshift... 

<b>239    INT -- SHAFT -- NIGHT (1965) 239
    BOOMING SLOWLY UP the shaft. Rats scurry the pipes. Suddenly, r
    piece of concrete the size of a quarter jumps free and plummets
    down the shaft as the rock-hammer pushes through. The pick 
    withdraws, replaced by Andy's peering eye. 

240     A SERIES OF DISSOLVES (1965 through 1966) 240

    takes us through the widening of the hole. First as big as a 
    tea cup. Then a saucer. Then a dinner plate. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Probably took him most of a year 
        just to get his head through. 

    Andy finally gets his head through, scraping his ears. He's 
    got a penlight clenched in his teeth. He peers down into the 
    shaft. At the very bottom, maybe 20 feet down, a big ceramic 
    pipe runs the length of the cellblock. Beneath its coat of 
    grime and dust, the word "SEWER" is stenciled. 

<b>241    EXT -- LOADING DOCK ACCESS -- NIGHT (1966) 241
    ANGLE LOOKING STRAIGHT DOWN. Below us, Tommy Williams lies 
    facedown at Norton's feet. Blood is spreading, fanning out oa 
    the pavement. Norton turns, strolls out of frame. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I guess after Tommy was killed, 
        Andy decided he'd been here just 
        about long enough. 

    Again we see: Andy working. Norton pokes his head in. 

<b>                NORTON 
</b>        Lickety-split. I wanna get home. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Just about done, sir. 

    Norton crosses to the wall safe and works the dial, his back 
    turned. This time, though, we stay on Andy: 

    He pulls up his sweater, yanks out a large black book and a 
    stack of files, lays them on the desk. He then grabs the real 
    ledger and files, jams them down his pants and smoothes his 
    sweater down. He picks up the bogus stack, crosses to Norton, 
    and shoves everything in. 

<b>243    INT -- HALLWAY -- NIGHT (1966) 243
    Norton exits his office and strolls off whistling. PUSH IN on 
    the open door. We see Andy at the guard's desk, pulling 
    Norton's dress shoes from their box. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy did like he was told. Buffed 
        those shoes to a high mirror shine. 

<b>244    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- MINUTES LATER (1966) 244
    Andy sorts through Norton's three suits. He pauses, checking 
    the gray pinstripe. Nice. 

<b>245    INT -- CELLBLOCK FIVE -- NIGHT (1966) 245
    The guard BUZZES Andy through. Andy walks toward us. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The guard simply didn't notice. 
        Neither did I. I mean, seriously, 
        how often do you really look at a 
        man's shoes? 

    TILT DOWN as he passes by. Yep, he's wearing Norton's shoes. 

<b>246    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 246
    The lights go out. Andy places the last chess piece. Gazes up 
    at Racquel. Smiles. Pulls the rope from under his pillow. 
    He stands and unbuttons his prison shirt, revealing Norton's 
    gray pinstripe suit underneath. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING floods the 
    cell, throwing wild shadows. 

<b>247    INT -- ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 247
    The storm rages. Andy, naked, carefully slips Norton's folded 
    suit into a large industrial Zip-Lock bag. Next to go in are the
    shoes, chess pieces (already in a smaller bag), black ledger en
    files. Last but not least, a bar of soap wrapped in a towel. 

<b>248    INT -- TUNNEL -- NIGHT (1966) 248
    Andy, again wearing prison clothes, inches down the tunnel. 

<b>249    INT -- SHAFT -- NIGHT (1966) 249
    Andy squeezes through the hole head-first, emerges to the waist,
    He reaches for the opposite wall, manages to snag a steel 
    conduit with his fingers. 

    Suddenly, a huge rat darts for his hand. Andy yanks away and 
    almost plummets head-first down the shaft. He dangles wildly 
    upside-down for a moment, arms windmilling, then gets his 
    hands pressed firmly against the opposite wall. The rat 
    scurries off, pissed. 

    Andy snags the conduit again. He contorts out of the hole and
    dangles into the shaft. We now see the purpose for the rope: the
    plastic bag hangs from his ankle with about two feet of slack,

    He kicks his legs across the shaft, gets his feet braced. Wit3
    his back against one wall and feet against the other, he 
    starts down the shaft. Sliding dangerously. Using pipes for 
    handholds. Flinching as rats dart this way and that, scurrying
    in the shadows. He drops the last few feet to the bottom. 

    He approaches the ceramic sewer pipe and kneels before it. 
    Pulls out the rock-hammer and says a quick silent prayer. 
    Raises the rock-hammer high and swings it down with all his 
    might. Once, twice -- third time lucky. An enormous eruption 
    of sewage cascades into the air as if rocket-propelled, the 
    Mount St. Helens of shit. Andy is instantly coated black. He 
    turns away and heaves his guts out. The shit keeps coming. 

<b>250    INT -- SEWER PIPE -- NIGHT (1966) 250
    Andy peers down through the hole, playing his penlight aroun5,
    The inside diameter is no more than two feet. Tight squeeze. 
    Coated with crud. It seems to go on for miles. 

    No turning back. He wriggles into the pipe and starts 
    crawling, plastic bag dragging behind. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy crawled to freedom through 
        five hundred yards of shit-smelling 
        foulness I can't even imagine. Or 
        maybe I just don't want to. 

<b>251    EXT -- FIELD -- NIGHT (1966) 251
    Rain is falling in solid sheets. Shawshank is half a mile 
    distant. BOOM DOWN to reveal the creek...and PUSH IN toward the 
    mouth of the sewer pipe that feeds into it. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Five hundred yards. The length of 
        five football fields. Just shy of 
        half a mile. 

    Fingers appear, thrusting through the heavy-gauge wire mesh 
    covering the mouth of the pipe. Andy's face looms from the 
    darkness, peering out at freedom. He wrenches the mesh loose, 
    pushes himself out, and plunges head-first into the creek. He 
    comes up sputtering for breath. The water is waist-deep. 

    He wades upstream, ripping his clothes from his body. He gets 
    his shirt off, spins it through the air over his head, flings 
    the shirt away. He raises his arms to the sky, turning slowly, 
    feeling the rain washing him clean. Exultant. Triumphant. A 
    FLASH OF LIGHTNING arcs from horizon to horizon. 

<b>252    INT -- ANDY'S TUNNEL -- DAY (1966) 252
    Once again, we see stunned faces as CAMERA PULLS BACK. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        The next morning, right about the 
        time Racquel was spilling her 
        little secret... 

<b>253    INT -- CASCO BANK OF PORTLAND -- MORNING (1966) 253
    The door opens. Spit-shined shoes enter. DOLLY the shoes to 
    the counter. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...a man nobody ever laid eyes on 
        before strolled into the Casco Bank 
        of Portland. Until that moment, he 
        didn't exist -- except on paper. 

<b>                FEMALE TELLER (O.S.) 
</b>        May I help you? 

    TILT UP to Andy. Smiling in Norton's gray pinstripe suit.

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        My name is Peter Stevens. I've come 
        to close out some accounts. 

<b>254    INT -- BANK -- SHORTLY LATER (1966) 254
    The teller is cutting a cashier's check while the MANAGER 

    carefully examines Mr. Stevens' various I.D.s. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        He had all the proper I.D. Driver's 
        license, birth certificate, social 
        security card. The signature was a 
        spot-on match. 

<b>                MANAGER 
    I must say I'm sorry to be losing 
    your business. I hope you'll enjoy 
    living abroad. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Thank you. I'm sure I will. 

<b>                TELLER 
</b>        Here's your cashier's check, sir. 
        Will there be anything else? 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        Please. Would you add this to your 
        outgoing mail? 

    He hands her a package, stamped and addressed. Gives them a 
    pleasant smile. Turns and strolls from the bank. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Mr. Stevens visited nearly a dozen 
        banks in the Portland area that 
        morning. All told, he blew town 
        with better than 370 thousand 
        dollars of Warden Norton's money. 
        Severance pay for nineteen years. 

<b>255    INT -- OFFICE -- DAY (1966) 255
    A MAN in shirtsleeves is going through the mail on his desk. 
    He finds Andy's package, rips it open. Pulls out the black 
    ledger and files. Scans a cover letter. Holy shit. He dashes 
    to his door and yanks it open, revealing the words on the 
    glass: "PORTLAND DAILY BUGLE -- Editor In Chief." 

<b>                MAN 
</b>        Hal! Dave! Get your butts in here! 

<b>256    INT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- DAY (1966) 256
    Norton walks slowly toward his office. Dazed. The morning 
    paper in his hand. He goes wordlessly past the DUTY GUARD into 
    his office. Shuts the door. Lays the paper on his desk. 

    The headline reads: "CORRUPTION AND MURDER AT SHAWSHANK." 
    Below that, the sub-headline: "D.A. Has Ledger. Indictments 
    Expected." Norton looks up as SIRENS SWELL in the distance.

<b>257    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- WIDE SHOT -- DAY (1966) 257
    For the second time, State Police cruisers go rocketing up the
    road with SIRENS AND LIGHTS. 

<b>258    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- DAY (1966) 258
    Norton opens his safe and pulls out the "ledger" -- it's 
    Andy's Bible. The title page is inscribed by hand: "Dear 
    Warden. You were right. Salvation lay within." Norton flips to
    the center of the book -- and finds the pages hollowed out in
    the shape of a rock-hammer. 

<b>259    EXT -- PRISON -- DAY (1966) 259
    Police cruisers everywhere. A media circus. REPORTERS jostle
    for position. A colorless DISTRICT ATTORNEY steps forward into
    CLOSEUP, flanked by a contingent of S.ATE TROOPERS. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        Byron Hadley? 

    ANGLE SHIFTS to reveal Captain Hadley. Staring. Waiting. 

<b>                D.A. 
</b>        You have the right to remain 
        silent. If you give up that 
        right, anything you say will be 
        used against you in court... 

    TROOPERS move in, cuffing Hadley's hands behind his back. The
    D.A. drones on. FLASHBULBS POP. Hadley says nothing. His face
    scrunches up. He begins to cry. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I wasn't there to see it, but I hear 
        Byron Hadley was sobbing like a 
        little girl when they took him away. 

    Hadley sobs all the way to the car. The D.A. snaps a gaze up
    toward Norton's window, motions his men to follow. 

<b>260    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- DAY (1966) 260
    Norton is staring out the window as they approach the 
    building. He goes to his desk, opens a drawer. Inside lies a
    revolver and a box of shells. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Norton had no intention of goin' 
        that quietly. 

<b>261    INT -- PRISON CORRIDORS -- DAY (1966) 261
    The D.A. marches along amidst a phalanx of TROOPERS. 

<b>262    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- DAY (1966) 262
    Norton sits blankly at his desk, revolver before him. The 
    doorknob rattles, a VOICE is heard: 

<b>                D.A. (O.S.) 
</b>        Samuel Norton? We have a warrant 
        for your arrest! Open up! 

    The POUNDING starts. Norton dumps the box of bullets out on thr
    desk. He starts sorting them to see which ones he likes. 

<b>263     OUTSIDE HIS OFFICE 263
    Troopers hustle the hapless duty guard to Norton's door as he
    fumbles nervously with a huge key ring. 

<b>                DUTY GUARD 
</b>        I'm not sure which one it is... 

    He starts trying keys in the lock. And as the keys go sliding
    in one after another... 

<b>264    INT -- NORTON'S OFFICE -- DAY (1966) 264
</b> do the bullets. Norton is riveted to the door. For every
    key, he loads another bullet. Methodical and grim. He gets the
    final bullet in just as the right key slams home. The door 
    bursts open. Men muscle in. Somebody SHOUTS. Troopers dive in
    all directions as Norton raises the gun -- 

    -- and jams it under his chin. his head snaps back as the wall
    goes red. His swivel chair does a slow half-turn and creaks to
    a final stop. Troopers rise slowly, gazing in horror. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I like to think the last thing that 
        went through his head...other than 
        that bullet...was to wonder how the 
        hell Andy Dufresne ever got the 
        best of him. 

    PUSH SLOWLY to the wall to reveal Mrs. Norton's framed sampler
    trickling blood and brains...and we get our final Bible lesson

<b>265    EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1966) 265
    Mail call. Red hears his name. They pass him a postcard. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Not long after the warden deprived 
        us of his company, I got a postcard 
        in the mail. It was blank. But the 
        postmark said, "McNary, Texas." 

<b>266    INT -- LIBRARY -- DAY (1966) 266
    Red sits with an atlas, tracing his finger down the page. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        McNary. Right on the border. That's 
        where Andy crossed. 
            (shuts the book) 
        When I picture him heading south in 
        his own car with the top down, it 
        makes me laugh all over again... 

<b>267    EXT -- MEXICO -- HIGHWAY -- DAY (1966) 267
    A red convertible rips along with Andy at the wheel, cigar 
    jutting from his grin, warm wind fluttering his tie. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy Dufresne, who crawled through 
        a river of shit and came out clean 
        on the other side. Andy Dufresne, 
        headed for the Pacific. 

<b>268    INT -- MESS HALL -- DAY (1966) 268
    Heywood is regaling the table with some anecdote about Andy. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Those of us who knew him best talk 
        about him often. I swear, the stuff 
        he pulled. It always makes us laugh. 

    A wild burst of laughter. PUSH IN on Red. Feeling melancholy.

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Sometimes it makes me sad, though, 
        Andy being gone. I have to remind 
        myself that some birds aren't meant 
        to be caged, that's all. Their 
        feathers are just too bright... 

<b>269    EXT -- FIELDS -- LATE DAY (1966) 269
    Convicts hoe the fields. Guards patrol on horseback. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...and when they fly away, the part 
        of you that knows it was a sin to 
        lock them up does rejoice...but still, 
        the place you live is that much more 
        drab and empty that they're gone. 

    A DISTANT RUMBLE OF THUNDER. Red pauses, gazes off. Storm 
    clouds coming in, backlit by the sun. A light drizzle begins. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I guess I just miss my friend. 

<b>270    INT -- PRISON CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 270
    Red is sleeping. He wakes with a start. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        But there are times I curse him for 
        the dreams he left behind... 

    He senses a presence, looks over his shoulder. There's a Rita 
    Hayworth poster on his wall. He gets out of bed. Rita just 

    keeps smiling, inscrutable. As Red watches, a brilliant 
    round glow builds behind the poster, shining from the 
    tunnel. The poster rips free, charred to ash in the blink 
    of an eye as a shaft of holy white light stabs into the 
    cell. Sunlight. Red staggers back against the glare. 

    A whirlwind kicks up, whipping everything into the air. The 
    hole in the wall is like a giant vacuum cleaner -- papers, 
    book, toiletries, bedding -- if it ain't nailed down, it gets 
    sucked down the hole toward the light. Red fights it, but the 
    suction drags him closer and closer... 

<b>271     RED'S POV 271
    ...and CAMERA rockets into the hole, getting sucked down an 
    endless tunnel at impossible speed, the ROAR of air mixing 
    with his drawn-out SCREAM, closer and closer to the light... 

    ...and erupting out the other side into total silence and a 
    beautiful white beach. The Pacific Ocean before us. Enormous. 
    Mind-blowing. Beautiful beyond description. All we hear now 
    are the gentle sound of waves. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        ...dreams where I am lost in a warm 
        place with no memory. 

    A lone figure stands at water's edge. CAMERA KEEPS MOVING, 
    coming up behind him and TRACKING AROUND to reveal -- Red. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        An ocean so big it strikes me dumb. 
        Waves so quiet they strike me deaf. 
        Sunshine so bright it strikes me 
        blind. It is a place that is blue 
        beyond reason. Bluer than can 
        possibly exist. Bluer than my mind 
        can possibly grasp. 

<b>272     AERIAL SHOT 272
    Nothing for a million miles but beach, sky, and water. Red is 
    a tiny speck at water's edge. Just another grain of sand. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I am terrified. There is no way home. 

<b>273    INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1966) 273
    Red wakes from the nightmare. He gets out of bed. Moves to the 
    barred window of his cell. Peers up at the stars. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Andy. I know you're in that place. 
        Look at the stars for me just after 
        sunset. Touch the sand...wade in 
        the water...and feel free. 

<b>274     AN IRON-BARRED DOOR 274
    slides open with an enormous CLANG. A stark room beyond. 
    CAMERA PUSHES through. SIX MEN AND ONE WOMAN sit at a long 
    table. An empty chair faces them. We are again in: 

    Red enters, sits. 20 years older than when we first saw him.

<b>                MAN #1 
</b>        Your file says you've served forty 
        years of a life sentence. You feel 
        you've been rehabilitated? 

    Red doesn't answer. Just stares off. Seconds tick by. The 
    parole board exchanges glances. Somebody clears his throat. 

<b>                MAN #1 
</b>        Shall I repeat the question? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I heard you. Rehabilitated. Let's 
        see now. You know, come to think of 
        it, I have no idea what that means. 

<b>                MAN #2 
</b>        Well, it means you're ready to 
        rejoin society as a-- 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I know what you think it means. Me, 
        I think it's a made-up word, a poli- 
        tician's word. A word so young fellas 
        like you can wear a suit and tie and 
        have a job. What do you really want 
        to know? Am I sorry for what I did? 

<b>    - ----- 
                MAN g2 
        Well...are you? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Not a day goes by I don't feel 
        regret, and not because I'm in here 
        or because you think I should. I 
        look back on myself the way I 
        was...stupid kid who did that 
        terrible crime...wish I could talk 
        sense to him. Tell him how things 
        are. But I can't. That kid's long 
        gone, this old man is all that's 
        left, and I have to live with that. 
        Rehabilitated? That's a bullshit 
        word, so you just go on ahead and 
        stamp that form there, sonny, and 
        stop wasting my damn time. Truth 
        is, I don't give a shit. 

    The parole board just stares. Red sits drumming his fingers. 

    A big rubber stamp SLAMS down -- and lifts away to reveal the 
    word "APPROVED" in red ink. 

<b>275    EXT -- SHAWSHANK PRISON -- DAY 275 
    TWO SHORT SIREN BLASTS herald the opening of the main gate. It 
    swings hugely open, revealing Red standing in his cheap suit, 
    carrying a cheap bag, wearing a cheap hat. He walks out, still 
    looking stunned. 

<b>276    INT -- BUS -- DAY 276 
    Red rides the bus, clutching the seat before him, gripped by 
    terror of speed and motion. 

    Red arrives at the Brewster, three stories high and even less 
    to look at than it used to be. 

<b>27B    INT -- BREWSTER -- LATE DAY 278 
    A BLACK WOMAN leads Red up the stairs toward the top floor. 

<b>279    INT -- RED'S ROOM -- LATE DAY 279 
    Small, old, dingy. An arched window with a view of Congress
    Street. Traffic noise floats up. Red enters and pauses, 
    staring up at the ceiling beam. Carved into the wood are the
    words: "Brooks Hatlen was here." 

<b>280    INT -- FOODWAY MARKET -- DAY 280
    Loud. Jangling with PEOPLE and NOISE. We find Red bagging 
    groceries. Registers are humming, kids are shrieking. Red 
    calls to the STORE MANAGER: 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Sir? Restroom break sir? 

<b>                MANAGER 
</b>            (motions him over) 
        You don't need to ask me every 
        time you go take a piss. Just go. 


    Red steps to the urinal, stares at himself in the wall mirror. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Thirty years I've been asking 
        permission to piss. I can't squeeze 
        a drop without say-so. 

    A strange east Indian guitar-whine begins. The Beatles. George 
    Harrison's "Within You Without You..." 

<b>282    EXT -- STREET -- DAY 282
    ...which carries through as Red walks. People and traffic. He 
    keeps looking at the women. An alien species. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Women, too, that's the other thing. 
        I forgot they were half the human 
        race. There's women everywhere, 
        every shape and size. I find myself 
        semi-hard most of the time, cursing 
        myself for a dirty old man. 

    TWO YOUNG WOMEN stroll by in cut-offs and t-shirts. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Not a brassiere to be seen, nipples 
        poking out at the world. Jeezus, 
        pleeze-us. Back in my day, a woman 
        out in public like that would have 
        been arrested and given a sanity 

<b>283    EXT -- PARK -- DUSK 283
    Red finds the park filled with HIPPIES. Hanging out. 
    Happening. Here's the source of the music: a radio. A HIPPIE 
    GIRL gyrates to the Beatles, stoned, in her own world. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        They're calling this the Summer of 
        Love. Summer of Loonies, you ask me. 

<b>284    INT -- PAROLE OFFICE -- DAY 284
    Red sits across from his PAROLE OFFICER. The P.O. is filling
    out his report. 

<b>                P.O. 
</b>        You staying out of the bars, Red? 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Yes sir. That I am. 

<b>                P.O. 
</b>        How you doing otherwise? Adjusting 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Things got different out here. 

<b>                P.O. 
</b>        Tell me about it. Young punks 
        protesting the war. You imagine? 
        Even my own kid. Oughtta bust his 
        fuckin' skull. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        Guess the world moved on. 

<b>285    INT -- FOODWAY -- DAY 285
    Bagging groceries. CHILDREN underfoot. One points a toy gun at
    Red, pumping the trigger. Red focuses on the gun, listening to
    it CLICKETY-CLACK. Sparky wheel grinding. 

    The kids get swept off by MOM. Red starts bagging the next 
    customer. SLOW PUSH IN on Red. Surrounded by MOTION and NOISE.
    Feeling like the eye of a hurricane. People everywhere, 
    whipping around him like a gale. Strange. Loud. Dizzying. It
    gets distorted and weird, slow and thick, pressing in on him
    from all sides. The noise level intensifies. The hollering of
    children deepens and distends into LOW EERIE HOWLS. 

    He's in the grip of a major anxiety attack. Tries to shake
    himself out of it. Can't. Fumbles the final items into the
    bag. Walks away. Trying not to panic. Trying not to run. 

    He makes his way through the store. Blinking sweat. He bumps
    into a lady's cart, mumbles an apology, keeps going. Breaks 
    into a trot. Down the aisle, cut to the left, through the door
    into the back rooms, faster and faster, running now, slamming
    through a door marked "Employees Only" into -- 

<b>286    INT -- EMPLOYEE RESTROOM -- DAY 286
    -- where he slams the door and leans heavily against it, 
    shutting everything out, breathing heavily. Alone now. 

    He goes to the sink, splashes his face, tries to calm down. 
    He can still hear them out there. They won't go away. He 
    glances around the restroom. Small. Not small enough. 

    He enters a stall. Locks the door. Puts the toilet lid down 
    and sits on the john. Better. He can actually reach out and 
    touch the walls now. They're close. Safe. Almost small enough. 
    He draws his feet up so he can't be seen if somebody walks in. 

    He'll just sit here for a while. Until he calms down. 

<b>287    EXT -- STREET -- DUSK 287
    Red is walking home. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        There is a harsh truth to face. 
        No way I'm gonna make it on the 

    He pauses at a pawnshop window. An array of handguns. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        All I do anymore is think of ways 
        to break my parole. 

    The SHOPKEEPER appears at the glass, locking the door and 
    flipping the sign: CLOSED. 

<b>288    INT -- RED'S ROOM -- NIGHT 288
    Red lies smoking in bed. Unable to sleep. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Terrible thing, to live in fear. 
        Brooks Hatlen knew it. Knew it all 
        too well. All I want is to be back 
        where things make sense. Where I 
        won't have to be afraid all the time. 

    He glances up at the ceiling beam. "Brooks Hatlen was here." 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Only one thing stops me. A promise 
        I made to Andy. 

<b>289    EXT -- COUNTRY ROAD -- MORNING 289
    A pickup truck rattles up the road trailing dust and pulls to 
    a stop. Red hops off the back, waves his thanks. The truck 

    drives on. Red starts walking. PAN TO a roadside sign: BUXTON. 

<b>290    EXT -- MAINE COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY 290
    High white clouds in a blazing blue sky. The trees fiery with 
    autumn color. Red walks the fields and back-roads, cheap 
    compass in hand. Looking for a certain hayfield. 

<b>291    EXT -- COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY 291
    Walking. Searching. The day turning late. Red finds himself 
    staring at a distant field. There's a long rock wall, like 
    something out o f a Robert Frost poem. Big oak tree. Red checks 
    his compass. North end. He crosses a dirt road into the field. 

<b>292    EXT -- HAYFIELD -- DAY 292
    Red walks the long rock wall, nearing the tree. A squirrel 
    scolds him from a low branch, scurries up higher. Red studies
    the base of the wall. Nothing unusual here. Just a bunch of
    rocks set in stone. He sighs. Fool's errand. Turns to go. 

    Something catches his eye. He walks back, squats, peering 
    closer. Wets a fingertip and rubs a stone. A layer of dust comes 
    off. Volcanic glass. Gleaming black. He tries to get the rock 
    out, anticipation growing. It won't come; it's too smooth. He 
    pulls a pocketknife and levers the rock free. It tumbles at his 
    feet, leaving a ragged hole. 

    Red leans down and solves the mystery at last, staring at the 
    object buried under the rock. Stunned. It's an envelope wrapped 
    in plastic. Written on it is a single word: "Red." 

    Red pulls the envelope out and rises. He just stares at it for 
    a while, almost afraid to open it. But open it he does. Inside 
    is a smaller envelope and a letter. Red begins to read: 

<b>                ANDY (V.O.) 
</b>        Dear Red. If you're reading this, 
        you've gotten out. And if you've 
        come this far, maybe you're willing 
        to come a little further. You 
        remember the name of the town, 
        don't you? I could use a good man 
        to help me get my project on 
        wheels. I'll keep an eye out for 
        you and the chessboard ready. 
        Remember, Red. Hope is a good 
        thing, maybe the best of things, 
        and no good thing ever dies. I will 
        be hoping that this letter finds 
        you, and finds you well. Your 
        friend. Andy. 

    By now, tears are spilling silently down Red's cheeks. He 
    opens the other envelope and fans out a stack of new fifty- 
    dollar bills. Twenty of them. A thousand dollars. 

<b>293    INT -- RED'S ROOM -- DAY (1967) 293
    Red is dressed in his suit. He finishes knotting his tie, puts 
    his hat on. His bag is by the door. He takes one last look 
    around. Only one thing left to do. He pulls a wooden chair to 
    the center of the room and gazes up at the ceiling beam. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Get busy living or get busy dying. 
        That is goddamn right. 

    He steps up on the chair. It wobbles under his weight. 

<b>294    INT -- BREWSTER -- RED'S DOOR -- DAY (1967) 294
    The door opens. Red exits with his bag and heads down the 
    stairs, leaving the door open. CAMERA PUSHES through, BOOMING 
    UP to the ceiling beam which reads: "Brooks Hatlen was here." 

    A new message has been carved alongside the old: "So was Red." 

<b>295    INT -- GREYHOUND BUS STATION -- DAY (1967) 295
    TRACKING SHOT reveals a long line of people at the counter. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        For the second time in my life, I 
        am guilty of committing a crime. 

    CAMERA brings us to Red, next in line, bag by his feet. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        Parole violation. I doubt they'll 
        toss up any roadblocks for that. 
        Not for an old crook like me. 

<b>                RED 
</b>            (steps up) 
        McNary, Texas? 

<b>296    EXT -- TRAVELING SHOT -- DAY (1967) 296
    A gorgeous New England landscape whizzes by, fields and trees 
    a blur of motion. ANGLE SHIFTS to reveal a Greyhound Sceni- 
    Cruiser barreling up the road, pulling abreast of us. CAMERA 
    TRAVELS from window to window, passing faces. We finally come 
    to Red gazing out at the passing landscape. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I find I am so excited I can barely 
        sit still or hold a thought in my 
        head. I think it is the excitement 
        only a free man can feel, a free 
        man at the start of a long journey 
        whose conclusion is uncertain... 
<b>        297 THE BUS 297
    ROARS past camera, dwindling to a mere speck on the horizon. 

<b>                RED (V.O.) 
</b>        I hope I can make it across the 
        border. I hope to see my friend 
        and shake his hand. I hope the 
        Pacific is as blue as it has been 
        in my dreams. 
        I hope. 

<b>298    EXT -- BEACH -- WIDE PANORAMIC SHOT -- DAY (1967) 298
    A distant boat lies on its side in the sand like an old wreck 
    that's been left to rot in the sun. There's someone out there. 

<b>299     CLOSER ON BOAT 299
    A MAN is meticulously stripping the old paint and varnish by 
    hand, face hidden with goggles and kerchief mask. 

    Red appears b.g., a distant figure walking out across the 
    sand, wearing his cheap suit and carrying his cheap bag. 

    The man on the boat pauses. Turns slowly around. Red arrives 
    with a smile as wide as the horizon. The other man raises his 
    goggles and pulls down his mask. Andy, of course. 

<b>                ANDY 
</b>        You look like a man who knows how 
        to get things. 

<b>                RED 
</b>        I'm known to locate certain things 
        from time to time. 

    Red shrugs off his jacket and picks up a sander. Together, 
    they start sanding the hull as we 

<b>    FADE OUT 
<b>    THE END

Shawshank Redemption, The

Writers :   Frank Darabont
Genres :   Drama

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