Script 3

PRISON YARD -- DAY
Warden Norton addresses the assembled cons via bullhorn:
NORTON: ...the roof of the license-plate factory needs resurfacing. I need a dozen volunteers for a week's work. As you know, special detail cares with it, special privileges. All men interested line up along these tables...
(Voice Over, V.O.) RED: It was outdoor detail, and May is one damn fine month to be workin' outdoors.
PRISON YARD -- DAY
Cons shuffle past, dropping slips of paper into a bucket.
(V.O.) RED: More than a hundred men volunteered for the job.
(Red saunters to a guard named TIM YOUNGBLOOD, mutters discreetly in his ear).
COUPLE MINUTES LARTER....
YOUNGBLOOD: Wallas E. Unger, Ellis Redding
(V.O.) RED: Wouldn't you know it? Me and some fellas I know were among the names called.
YOUNGBLOOD: Andrew Dufresne
(V.O.) RED: Only cost us a pack of smokes per man. I made my usual twenty percent, of course.
ROOF OF LICENSE PLATE FACTORY -- DAY
HADLEY: ...so this big shot lawyer calls long distance from Texas, and I say, yeah. He says, sorry to inform you, but your brother just died.
YOUNGBLOOD: Damn, Byron. Sorry to hear that.
HADLEY: I'm not. He was an asshole. Run off years ago, figured him for dead anyway. So anyway, this lawyer fellow says, your brother died a rich man. Oil wells and shit, close to a million bucks.
TROUT: A million bucks?
HADLEY: Yeah, it's fucken incredible how lucky some assholes are.
TROUT: Jeez-Louise! You get any of that?
HADLEY: Thirty five thousand. That's what he left me.
TROUT: Dollars? Holy shit, that's great! Like winnin' the sweepstakes ...ain't it?
HADLEY: Dumbshit. What do you figger the government's gonna do to me? Take a big wet bite out of my ass, is what.
HEYWOOD: Poor Byron. Terrible fuckin' luck.
RED: Some people really got it awful bad.
(Red glances over -- and is shocked to see Andy standing up, listening to the guards talk).
RED: Andy, you nuts? Keep your eyes on your mop man, Andy!
HADLEY: Maybe leave me enough to buy a new car with. Then what ? You pay tax on the car. Repairs, maintenance. Damn kids pesterin' you to take 'em for a ride all the time. 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.
(Andy tosses his Padd in the bucket and strolls toward Hadley).
RED: Andy! Andy! Andy!
FLOYD: He's going to get himself killed.
HEYWOOD: Keep tarn...
(The guards stiffen at Andy's approach. Youngblood's hand goes to his holster. Hadley turns, stupefied to find Andy there).
ANDY: Mr. Hadley. Do you trust your wife?
HADLEY: Aw, that's funny. You're gonna look funnier suckin' my dick with no teeth.
ANDY: What I mean is, do you think she'd go behind your back? Try to hamstring you?
HADLEY: 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).
HEYWOOD: He's gonna push him off the roof. ANDY: Because if you do trust her, there's no reason you can't keep that 35,000! HADLEY: What did you say? ANDY: 35,000 HADLEY: 35,000

ANDY: All of it
HADLEY: All of it?
ANDY: Every penny
HADLEY: You better start making sense.
ANDY: If you want to keep all that money, give it to your wife. The IRS allows a one-time-only gift to your spouse up to sixty thousand dollars.
HADLEY: Bullshit, tax free?
ANDY: Tax free. IRS can't touch one cent.
HADLEY: You're that smart banker what killed his wife arn't ya? Why should I believe a smart banker like you? So I can end up in here with you?
(The cons are pausing work, stunned by this business discussion).
ANDY: It's perfectly legal. Go ask the IRS, they'll say the same thing. Actually, I feel stupid telling you all this. I'm sure you would have investigated the matter yourself.
(The cons are still watching blown away by what they see).
HADLEY: Ah, fuckin'-A. I don't need no smart wife-killin' banker to tell me where the bear shit in the buckwheat.
ANDY: Of course not. But you do need somebody to set up the tax-free gift for ya, and that'll cost you. A lawyer, for example...
HADLEY: Bunch of ballashing bastards!
ANDY: ...I suppose I could set them up for ya. That would save you some money. If you get the forms I'll prepare them for you... nearly free of charge. I'd only ask three beers apiece for each of my co-workers...
TROUT: (guffawing) Co-workers! Get him! That's rich, ain't it?
ANDY: I think a man working outdoors feels more like a man if he can have a bottle of suds. That's only my opinion. Sir.
(The convicts stand gaping, all pretense of work gone. They look like they've been pole-axed. Hadley shoots them a look).
HADLEY: What are you jimmies starin' at? Back to work!
LICENSE PLATE FACTORY -- DAY
(V.O.) RED: 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 wound up sitting in a row at ten o'clock in the morning, drinking icy cold Bohemmen style beer, courtesy of the hardest screw that ever walked a turn at Shawshank State Prison.
HADLEY: Drink up while it's cold ladies.
(V.O.) RED: The colossal prick even managed to sound magnanimous. We sat and drank with the sun on our shoulders, and felt like free men. Hell, we could'a been tarring the roof of one of our own houses. We were the Lords of all Creation. As for Andy, he spent that break hunkered in the shade, a strange little smile on his face, watching us drink his beer.
HEYWOOD: (approaches with a beer) Hey, want a cold one, Andy? ANDY: No thanks. I gave up drinking. (Heywood goes back to others)(V.O.) RED: 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.PRISON YARD -- THE BLEACHERS

(Andy and Red play checkers. Red makes his move).
RED: King me.
ANDY: Chess. Now there's a game of kings...
RED: What?
ANDY: ...Civilized... strategic...
RED: ...and total fuckin' mystery. I hate it.
ANDY: Maybe you'll let me teach you someday.
RED: (laughs) Sure.
ANDY: I've been thinking of getting a board together.
RED: Well, hey, you talking to the right man. I'm the guy who can get things, right.
ANDY: We might do business on a board. But I want to carve the pieces myself. One side in halabaster...the opposing side in soapstone. What'da think?
RED: I think it'll take years.
ANDY: Well, years I've got. What I don't have are the rocks. Pickings are pretty slim in the yard. Pebbles mostly.
RED: Andy, we're gettin' to be kinda friends, ain't we?
ANDY: Yeah, I guess.
RED: I ask you something? Why'd you do it?
ANDY: I'm innocent, Red. Just like everybody else here. What are you in for?
RED: Murder. Same as you.
ANDY: Innocent?
RED: The only guilty man in Shawshank.
ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHT
(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).
PRISON AUDITORIUM -- NIGHT
(...while a CONVICT AUDIENCE hoots and catcalls, talking back to the screen. We find Red in chair, watching the movie. Andy enters, backlit by the flickering glare of the projector, and takes behind him).
ANDY: Red.
RED: Ah, Wait, wait, wait, wait, here she comes, this is the part I really like, where she does that shit with her hair..
ANDY: I know. I've seen it three times this month. I understand your a man that knows how to get things?
RED: Yeah, I'm know to locate certain things from time to time, what ya want? ANDY: Rita Hayworth. Can you get her? RITA: (on the screen) So this is Johnny Farl? I've heard a lot about you Johnny Farl. RED: Take a few weeks. ANDY: Weeks? RED: Well, yeah Andy, I don't have her stuffed down the front of my pants, right now, sorry to say. But, I'll get her. Relax.

ANDY: Thanks.
AUDITORIUM CORRIDOR -- NIGHT
(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
THE PROJECTION BOOTH -- where they confront the startled PROJECTIONIST, an old con blinking at them through thick bifocals).
BOGS: Take a walk.
PROJECTIONIST: I have to change reels.
BOGS: 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).
BOGS: Ain't you gonna scream?
ANDY: 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. Andy whips the reel of film around in a vicious arc, smashing it into Rooster's face and bouncing him off the wall).
ROOSTER: He broke my fucken 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).
BOGS: Now I'm gonna open my fly, and you're gonna swallow what I give you to swallow. And when you swallow mine, your gonna swallow Rooster's. You done broke his nose, so he ought to have somethin' to show for it.
ANDY: Anything you put in my mouth, your going to lose.
BOGS: No, you understand, you do that, I'll put all eight inches of this steel in your ear.
ANDY: Alright. But you should know that sudden serious brain injury causes the victim to bite down. Hard. In fact, I understand the bite-reflex is so strong the victim's jaws have to be pried open with a crowbar.
BOGS: Where you get this shit?
ANDY: I read it (faint smile). You know how to read, you ignorant fuck?
BOGS: Honey... you shoudn't...
(The Sisters start kicking and beating the living shit out of him with anything they can get their hands on).
(V.O.) RED: 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. Andy spent a month in infirmary.
SOLITARY CONFINEMENT
(V.O.) RED: Bogs spent a week in the hole.
(Bogs sits on bare concrete. The steel door slides open).
GUARD: Time's up, Bogs.
BOGS: It's your world, boss.
CELLBLOCK FIVE -- 3RD TIER
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:
(off screen) VOICE: Return to your cellblocks for evening count. All prisoners report for lockdown.
BOGS: What?
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. Bogsdoubles over, gagging his wind out.
BOGS: No, no, no, help... me!
(But no help was to come...).
(V.O.) RED: Two things never happened again after that. The Sisters never laid a finger on Andy again...
PRISON YARD/LOADING DOCK
Bogs, wheelchair-bound and wearing a neck brace, is loaded onto an ambulance for transport. Behind the fence stand Red and his friends, watching.
(V.O.) RED: ...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.
RED: I'm thinkin' Andy could use a nice welcome back when he gets out of the infirmary.
HEYWOOD: Sounds good to us. I figure we owe him for the beer.
RED: Man likes to play chess. Let's get him some rocks.
www.shawshank.org
FIELD -- DAY
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.
HEYWOOD: I got one, I got one, look.
FLOYD: Haywood, that isn't soapstone.
HEYWOOD: What are you, fuckin' geologist?
SNOOZE: He's right, it ain't.
HEYWOOD: What the hell is it then?
RED: A horse apple.
HEYWOOD: Bullshit.
RED: No, horse shit. Petrified.
(Haywood brakes it in hand, wipes off his hands while the cons laugh).
(V.O.) RED: Despite a few hitches, the boys came through in fine style...
PRISON LAUNDRY -- BACK ROOM
A huge detergent box is filled with rocks, hidden in the shadows behind a boiler furnace.
(V.O.) RED: ...and by the week Andy was due back, we had enough rocks saved up to keep him busy till Rapture.
(Red 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).
(V.O.) RED: Also got a big shipment in that week. Cigarettes, chewing gum, sippen whisky, playing cards with naked ladies on 'em, you name it... (pulls a cardboard tube) ...and, of course, the most important item...