Brooks bids farewell to his crow. That sounds like some sort of euphemism, but nope. He says good-bye to his actual bird.
Brooks steps through the gate and out of Shawshank Prison. Dressed in a suit and tie, he looks just like any other cute little old man. We know he's an ex-con, but we just want to put him in our pocket.
In a series of short scenes, Brooks tries to assimilate back into normal life, but it doesn't take. "The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry," and Brooks isn't a fan of the hustle and bustle.
Bagging groceries and feeding pigeons in the park gets old before too long, and Brooks decides he's ready to take a one-way ticket out of town.
He hangs himself in his room, and if you don't feel your heartstrings getting tugged awfully hard, you're probably a robot.
Andy and Red read the "so long" letter from Brooks in the prison yard, and Red says that the guy should have died inside Shawshank. We're not a fan of the place ourselves, but it's hard to disagree.
What do you know? After six years of letter writing, Andy finally wore the state down, and they responded with a donation of used books and records, and a check for $200 (no small sum in those days).
Andy's asked to get all the books out of the warden's office before he gets there and then is foolishly left alone for a few seconds. He puts one of the records on a phonograph, a beautiful opera duet, then locks a guard inside the bathroom while he's "pinching a loaf," and locks the other office door as well. He then turns on the P.A. microphone so the entire prison population can hear it.
All those hardened cons in the yard are transfixed by the soprano's voice.
Norton and the guards are not amused. Yep, that is definitely the warden's "not amused" face.