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turning to page one
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.
RED (V.O.)
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 to a POLICE PHOTOGRAPHER. His FLASHBULB GLARE produces:
A BLACK AND WHITE STILL PHOTO
of the hapless cops posing with Andy's reeking uniform and the worn rock-hammer. PUSH IN on the hammer.
RED (V.O.)
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.