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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.
RED
Dufresne.
Brooks nods, never missing a beat. He rolls his cart to Andy's
cell, mutters through the bars:
BROOKS
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.
44 INT -- RED'S CELL -- NIGHT (1947) 44
Red unfolds the slip of paper. Penciled neatly on it is a single
word: "Thanks."
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.
BOB
DUFRESNE! WE'RE LOW ON HEXLITE!
HEAD ON BACK AND FETCH US UP SOME!
Andy nods. He leaves the line, weaving his way through the laundry
room and into --
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.
ANDY
You get this in your eyes, it blinds you.
BOGS
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:
BOGS
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...
RED (V.O.)
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.
RED (V.O.)
He never said who did it...but we all knew.
PRISON MONTAGE: (1947 through 1949)
47 Andy plods through his days. Working. Eating. Chipping and
47
shaping his rocks after lights-out...
RED (V.O.)
Things went on like that for a while. Prison life consists of
routine, and then more routine.
48 Andy walks the yard, face swollen and bruised. 48
RED (V.O.)
Every so often, Andy would show up with fresh bruises.
49 Andy eats breakfast. A few tables over, Bogs blows him a kiss.
49
RED (V.O.)
The Sisters kept at him. Sometimes he was able to fight them off...
sometimes not.
50 Andy backs into a corner in some dingy part of the prison,
wildly swinging a rake at his tormentors.
RED (V.O.)
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.
RED (V.O.)
Half the time it landed him in the infirmary...
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.
RED (V.O.)
...the other half, it landed him in solitary. Warden Norton's
"grain &
drain" vacation. Bread, water, and all the privacy you could
want.
52 INT -- PRISON LAUNDRY -- DAY (1949) 52
Andy is working the line.
RED (V.O.)
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...
53 EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1949) 53
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. We're gonna be taking
names in this steel bucket here...
Red glances around at his friends. Andy also catches his eye.
RED (V.O.)
It was outdoor detail, and May is one damn fine month to be workin'
outdoors.
54 EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1949) 54
Cons shuffle past, dropping slips of paper into a bucket.
RED (V.O.)
More than a hundred men volunteered for the job.
Red saunters to a guard named TIM YOUNGBLOOD, mutters
discreetly in his ear.
55 EXT -- PRISON YARD -- DAY (1949) 55
Youngblood is pulling names and reading them off. Red exchanges
grins with Andy and the others.
RED (V.O.)
Wouldn't you know it? Me and some fellas I know were among the
names called.
56 INT -- PRISON CORRIDOR -- NIGHT (1949) 56
Red slips Youngblood six packs of cigarettes.
RED (V.O.)
Only cost us a pack of smokes per man. I made my usual twenty
percent, of course.
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 --
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:
HADLEY
...so 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.
YOUNGBLOOD
Damn, Byron. Sorry to hear that.
HADLEY
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.
TROUT
A million bucks? 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' a lottery...
(off Hadley's shitty look)
...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.
TROUT
Oh. Hadn't thought of that.
HADLEY
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...
MERT
And drive it, if they're old enough.
HADLEY
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.
HEYWOOD
Poor Byron. What terrible fuckin' luck. Imagine inheriting thirty
five thousand dollars.
RED
Crying shame. Some folks got it awful bad.
Red glances over -- and is shocked to see Andy standing up, listening
to the guards talk.
RED
Hey, you nuts? Keep your eyes on your pail!
Andy tosses his Padd in the bucket and strolls toward Hadley.
RED
Andy! Come back! Shit!
SNOOZE
What's he doing?
FLOYD
Gettin' himself killed.
RED
God damn it...
HEYWOOD
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.
ANDY
Mr. Hadley. Do you trust your wife?
HADLEY
That's funny. You're gonna look funnier suckin' my dick with no
fuckin' teeth.
ANDY
What I mean is, do you think she'd go behind your back? Try to
hamstring you?
HADLZY
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
Oh God, he's gonna do it, he's gonna throw him off the roof...
SNOOZE
Oh shit, oh fuck, oh Jesus...
ANDY
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.
HADLEY
You better start making sense.
ANDY
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.
HADLEY
Naw, that ain't right! Tax free?
ANDY
Tax free. IRS can't touch one cent.
The cons are pausing work, stunned by this business discussion.
HADLEY
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?
ANDY
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.
HADLEY
Fuckin'-A. I don't need no smart wife-killin' banker to show me
where
the bear shit in the buckwheat.
ANDY
Of course not. But you will need somebody to set up the tax-free
gift, and that'll cost you. A lawyer, for example...
HADLEY
Ambulance-chaaing, highway-robbing cocksuckers!
ANDY
...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.
TROUT
(guffawing)
Co-workers! Get him! That's rich, ain't it? Co-workers...
Hadley freezes him with a look. Andy presses on:
ANDY
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.
HADLEY
What are you jimmies starin' at?
Back to work, goddamn it!
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