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turning to page one
turning to page one
Red enters, sits. 20 years older than when we first saw him.
MAN #1
Your file says you've served forty
years of a life sentence. You feel
you've been rehabilitated?
Red doesn't answer. Just stares off. Seconds tick by. The parole board exchanges glances. Somebody clears his throat.
MAN #1 (CONT'D)
Shall I repeat the question?
RED
I heard you. Rehabilitated. Let's
see now. You know, come to think of
it, I have no idea what that means.
MAN #2
Well, it means you're ready to
rejoin society as a--
RED
I know what you think it means. Me,
I think it's a made-up word, a poli-
tician's word. A word so young
fellas like you can wear a suit and
tie and have a job. What do you
really want to know? Am I sorry for
what I did?
MAN #2
Well...are you?
RED
Not a day goes by I don't feel
regret, and not because I'm in here
or because you think I should. I
look back on myself the way I
was...stupid kid who did that
terrible crime...wish I could talk
sense to him. Tell him how things
are. But I can't. That kid's long
gone, this old man is all that's
left, and I have to live with that.
(beat)
"Rehabilitated?" That's a bullshit
word, so you just go on ahead and
stamp that form there, sonny, and
stop wasting my damn time. Truth
is, I don't give a shit.
The parole board just stares. Red sits drumming his fingers.
CLOSEUP -- PAROLE FORM