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turning to page one
...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...
FADE TO BLACK
WE HOLD IN BLACKNESS as THUMPING SOUNDS grow louder...
RED (V.O.)
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.
RED (V.O.) (CONT'D)
In 1959, the folks up Augusta way
finally clued in to the fact they
couldn't buy him off with just a
dollar check. Appropriations
Committee voted an annual payment
of dollars, just to shut him up.