Script 4

ANDY'S CELL -- NIGHTAndy finds the cardboard tube lying on his bunk. Next to a small piece of paper.(V.O.) RED: Rita Hayworth herself.

(Andy opens the tube and pulls out a large rolled poster. He uncurls it in his hands. The poster is Rita Hayworth. Andy picks up the scrap of paper. It reads: "No charge. Welcome back." Andy smiles).
CELLBLOCK FIVE
(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:
ERNIE: Heads up. They're tossin' cells. Heads up. They're tossin' cells.
(The Warden is calling for cells to be open, "119, 123." Cells are opened, occupants displaced, items scattered, mattresses overturned. Whatever contraband is found gets tossed out onto the cellblock floor. Mostly harmless stuff).
ANDYS CELL
(Andy is reading his Bible. Hadley comes in and says...
HADLEY: On your feet. Face the wall.
(Hadley destroys Andy's cell looking for anything, he finishes and says to Andy...).
HADLEY: Turn around, face the warden.
(Norton looks down and see's Andy's Bible in his hand. He reaches and takes it from him).
NORTON: I'm pleased to see you reading this. Any favorite passages?
ANDY: "Watch ye therefore, for ye know not when the master of the house cometh."
NORTON: (smiles) Mark 13:35. I've always liked that one. 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."
ANDY: John. Chapter 8, verse 12.
NORTON: I hear you're good with numbers. How nice. A man should have a skill.
HADLEY: You wanna explain this?
(Andy glances over. Hadley is holding up a rock blanket, a polishing cloth roughly the size of an oven mitt).
ANDY: 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 Norton).
HADLEY: Pretty clean. Some contraband here, nothing to get in a twist over.
(Norton nods, strolls to the poster of Rita).
NORTON: 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).NORTON: I almost forgot.

(He reaches through the bars and returns the Bible to Andy).
NORTON: I'd hate to deprive you of this. Salvation lies within.
ANDY: Yes sir.
(Norton and his men walk away).
(V.O.) RED: Tossin' cells was just an excuse. Truth is, Norton wanted to size Andy up.
WARDEN NORTON'S OFFICE
(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 him that reads: "HIS JUDGMENT COMETH AND THAT RIGHT SOON").
NORTON: My wife made that in church group.
ANDY: It's very nice, sir.
NORTON: You enjoy working in the laundry?
ANDY: No, sir. Not especially.
NORTON: Well, perhaps we can find something more befitting a man of your education.
MAIN BUILDING -- STORAGE ROOMS
(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).
ANDY: Hey, Jake. Where's Brooks?
(Brooks Hatlen pokes his head out of the back room).
BROOKS: Andy! Thought I heard you out here!
ANDY: I've been reassigned to you.
BROOKS: I know, they told me. Ain't that a kick in the head? Well, I'll give you the dime tour. Come on.
SHAWSHANK PRISON LIBRARY
Brooks leads Andy into the bleakest back room of all. Rough plank shelves are lined with books. Brooks' private domain.
BROOKS: Here she is, the Shawshank Prison Library. National Geographic, Reader's Digest Condensed books, Louis L'Amours, Look Magazine, Erle Stanley Gardners. Every evening I pile the cart and make my rounds. I write down the names on this clipboard here. Easy, peasy, Japanesey. Any questions?
(Andy pauses. Something about this doesn't make any sense).
ANDY: Brooks? How long have you been librarian?
BROOKS: I came here in at 5. That me librarian in 1912.
ANDY: In all that time, have you ever had an assistant?
BROOKS: Ah, no. Not much to it really.
ANDY: So why now? Why me?
BROOKS: I dunno. Be nice to have some comp'ny down here for a change.
(offscreen) HADLEY: Dufresne!
(Andy steps back into the outer rooms and finds Hadley with another GUARD, a fellow named DEKINS).
HADLEY: That's him. That's the one.
(Hadley exits. Dekins approaches Andy ominously. Andy stands his ground, waiting for whatever comes next. Finally:
DEKINS: I'm Dekins. I was, uh, thinkin' 'bout maybe settin' up some kinda trust fund for my kids' educations.
ANDY: Ah, I see. Well, why, um, why don't we have a seat and talk it over? Brooks, do you have a piece of paper and a pencile
(Brooks gets and brings it to him).
ANDY: Thanks.
(Andy grabs a desk standing on end and tilt it to the floor. They find chairs and settle in).
ANDY: So, Mr. Dekins...
MESS HALL -- DAY
(Everyone is listening to Brooks tell the story).
BROOKS: And then Andy says, "Mr. Dekins, do you want your sons to go to Harvard or Yale?" FLOYD: He didn't say that! BROOKS: God is my witness, he did. Dekins, he just blinks for a second, then laughs himself silly. Afterward, he actually shook Andy's hand. HEYWOOD: My ass!

BROOKS: Shook his hand. I near soiled 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.
RED: Makin' yourself some friends, Andy.
ANDY: I wouldn't say "friends." I'm a convicted murderer who provides sound financial planning. It's a wonderful pet to have.
RED: Got you out of the laundry, didn't it?
ANDY: It might do more then that. How about expanding the library? Get some new books in there.
ERNIE: If your gonna ask for something, ask for a pool table.
HEYWOOD: Right. How you 'spect to do that, get new books in here "Mr. Dufresne-if-you-please?"
ANDY: Ask the warden for funds.
(LAUGHTER all around. Andy blinks at them).
BROOKS: Son, son, son. I've had six wardens through here during my tenure, and I have learned one immutable, universal truth: Ain't one of 'em been born whose ass don't pucker up tight as a snare drum when you ask for funds.
MAIN BUILDING HALLWAY
NORTON: Budget's stretched thin as it is. ANDY: I see. Perhaps I could write to the State Senate and request funds directly from them. NORTON: Far as they're concerned, there's only three ways to spend the taxpayer's hard-earned when it come to prisons: More walls. More bars. More guards. ANDY: Still, I'd like to try, with your permission. I'll send a letter a week. They can't ignore me forever.

NORTON: They sure can, but you write your letters if it makes you happy. I'll even mail 'em for you, how's that?
ANDY'S CELL
(Andy is writing a letter).
(V.O.) RED: So Andy started writing a letter a week, just like he said.
GUARD DESK/NORTON'S OUTER OFFICE -- DAY
(Andy pops his head in. The GUARD shakes his head).
(V.O.) RED: And just like Norton said, Andy got no answers.
PRISON LIBRARY/ANDY'S OFFICE -- DAY
(Andy is doing taxes).
(V.O.) RED: The following April, Andy did tax returns for half the guards at Shawshank.
WARDEN'S OFFICE - YEAR LATER
Andy and the Warden are sitting down doing takes.
(V.O.) RED: Year after that, he did them all... including the warden's.
PRISON LIBRARY -- ONE YEAR LATER
Tax time again. Even more guards are waiting.
(V.O.) RED: Year after that, they rescheduled the start of the intramural season to coincide with tax season..
(A cop in baseball uniform sits across from Andy. The line winds out the door).
(V.O.) RED: The guards on the opposing teams all remembered to bring their W-2's.
ANDY: So, Moresby Prison issued you your gun, but you actually had to pay for it?
BASEBALL COP: Damn right, and the holster too.
ANDY: See, that's all deductible. You get to write that off.
(V.O.) RED: Yes sir, Andy was a regular Cottage Industry. In fact, he got so busy at tax time, he was allowed a staff.
(Red is sitting at a desk, he's Andy's assistant).
ANDY: Hey Red, could you hand me a stack of those 1040s?
(V.O.) RED: Got me out of the wood shop a month out of the year, and that was fine by me.
GUARD DESK/NORTON'S OUTER OFFICE -- DAY
(Andy enters and drops a letter on the outgoing stack).
(V.O.) RED: And still he kept sending those letters...
EXERCISE YARD -- DAY
Floyd runs into the yard, scared and winded. He finds Andy and Red on the bleachers talking.
FLOYD: Red? Andy? It's Brooks.
PRISON LIBRARY/ANDY'S OFFICE -- DAY
(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).
JIGGER: Please Brooks just calm the fuck down, will ya?
BROOKS: Stay back, stay back, stay back g-d damnit! RED: What the hell's going on? JIGGER: You tell me, man. One second he was fine, then out came the knifes. RED: Brooks we can talk about this it, right? BROOKS: Nothing left to talk about g-d damnit! It's all talked out! I'm gonna cut his fuckin' throat!

RED: Heywood? Wait a minute, what's he done to you?
BROOKS: It's what they've done! I got no choice!
(Andy steps forward, rivets Brooks with a gaze. Softly:)
ANDY: Brooks, you're not going to hurt Heywood, we all know that. Even Heywood knows it, right Heywood?
HEYWOOD: (nods, terrified) Sure. I know that. Sure.
ANDY: You know why your not gonna hurt him? Cause he's a friend of yours and Brooks Hatlen is a reasonable man.
RED: (cuing nods all around) Yeah, that's right. Ain't that right guys?
ANDY: So put the knife down, Brooks, Brooks look at me, put the knife down! Brooks, look at his neck for God's sake, Brook's look at his neck, he's bleeding.
BROOKS: It's the only way they'll let me stay.
ANDY: Come on this is crazy, you don't want to do this, put the knife down.
ANDY: Take it easy. You'll be all right.
HEYWOOD: Him? Hell, what about me? Crazy old fool! G-ddamn near cut my throat!
RED: Oh shit, Heywood, you've had worse from shaving. What the hell you do to set him off anyway?
HEYWOOD: Nothin'! Just came in to say fare-thee-well. (off their looks) Ain't you heard? His parole came through!
PRISON YARD BLEACHERS -- DUSK
ANDY: I just don't understand what happened in there, that's all.
HEYWOOD: Old man's crazy as a rat in a tin shithouse, is what.
RED: Ah, Heywood, that's enough out of you.
SNOOZE: I heard he had you shitten in you pants.
HEYWOOD: Fuck you!
RED: Would you knock it off, Brooks ain't no bug... he's just... just Institutionalized.
HEYWOOD: Institutionalized, my ass.
RED: The man's been here fifty years Heywood, fifty years! This is all he knows. In here, he's an important man, he's an educated man. Outside he's nothing, Just a used up con with arthritis in both hands. Probably couldn't get a library card if he tried. You know what I'm trying to saying?
FLOYD: Red, I do believe you're talking out of your ass.
RED: You believe what you want, Floyd. But, I'm telling ya these walls are funny. First you hate 'em, then you get used to 'em. Enough, time passes, you get so you depend on 'em. That's "institutionalized."
JIGGER: Shit. I could never get that way.
ERNIE: Say that when you've been here as long as Brooks has.
RED: G-ddamn right. They send you here for life, and that's just what they take. Part that counts, anyway.
LIBRARY -- DAWN
(Brooks stands next to the window, poised at the bars, cradling Jake in his hands).
BROOKS: I can't take care of you no more, Jake. You go on now. You're free, you're free.
(He tosses Jake through the bars. The crow flaps away).
SHAWSHANK PRISON -- MAIN GATE -- DAY
(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).
BUS -- DAY
(Brooks is riding the bus, holding the seat in front of him, he's gripped by terror of speed and motion).
STREET -- PORTLAND, MAINE
(V.O.) BROOKS: Dear Fellas, I can't believe how fast things move on the outside. I saw an automobile once when I was a kid. But, now they're everywhere. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.
BROOKS' ROOM -- DAY
(Brooks enters. The room is small, old, dingy. Heavy wooden beams cross the ceiling. An arched window affords a view of Congress Street).
(V.O.) BROOKS: The parole board got me into this halfway house called the Brewer, and a job bagging groceries at the Foodway. It's hard work, and I try to keep up, but my hands hurt most of the time.
FOODWAY MARKET
WOMAN: Make sure he double-bags. Last time your man didn't double-bag and the bottom near came out.
MANAGER: Make sure you double-bag like the lady says, understand?
BROOKS: Yes sir, surely will.
(V.O.) BROOKS: I don't think the store manager likes me very much.
PARK(Brooks sits alone on a bench, feeding pigeons).(V.O.) BROOKS: Sometimes after work I go to the park and feed the birds. I keep thinking Jake just might show up and say hello, but he never does. I hope wherever he is, he's doing okay and making new friends.

BROOKS' ROOM -- NIGHT
(Dark. Traffic outside. Brooks wakes up. Disoriented. Afraid. Somewhere in the night, a LOUD ARGUMENT is taking place).
(V.O.) BROOKS: I have trouble sleeping at night. I have bad dreams, like I'm falling. I wake up scared. Sometimes it takes me a while to remember where I am.
FOODWAY -- DAY
(V.O.) BROOKS: 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.
BROOKS' ROOM -- DAY
(Brooks is packing his worldly possessions into the carry bag. Undershirts, socks, etc).
(V.O.) BROOKS: But I guess I'm too old for that sort of nonsense anymore.
BROOKS' ROOM -- SHORTLY LATER
Brooks is dressed in his suit. He finishes knotting his tie, puts his hat on his head. The letter lies on the desk, stamped and ready for mailing. His bag is by the door.
(V.O.) BROOKS: 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 was here." He smiles with a sort of inner peace).
(V.O.) BROOKS: I doubt they'll kick up any fuss. Not for an old crook like me.
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