Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Mr. Monk Goes to the Asylum – Monk Transcript 1.5

Adrian Monk in a straitjacketA whistling Adrian Monk enters his unlit apartment carrying a bag of groceries. He turns on the light and unloads the grocery bag. Using a spatula he separates his groceries. He then starts searching for something in the kitchen cabinets. He dials Sharona Fleming.

At Sharona Fleming’s house, her son Benjy is playing with the glow in the dark poster he made.  Continue reading...

Benjy: Mom, check it out. It glows in the dark.
Sharona: Stop playing with the lights.

Sharona Fleming answers the phone.

Sharona: Hello?

Sharona Fleming talks to her son.

Sharona: Will you stop playing with the lights?
Mr. Monk: Hi, it’s me. Where do I keep the large casserole dish? I can’t find it anywhere.
Sharona: Right of the sink, upper middle cabinet.
Mr. Monk: Right of the sink. Upper middle?

Adrian Monk looks at the cabinet.

Mr. Monk: No. No. The popcorn maker’s in there.
Benjy: Look. You can write secret messages.

Benjy turns off the light and a “Hi MOM” message glows from his poster.

Sharona: You’re gonna spill all that. Take it outside.

Sharona Fleming resumes her phone conversation with Adrian Monk.

Sharona: What is?
Mr. Monk: Popcorn maker.
Sharona: You don’t have a popcorn maker.
Mr. Monk: I think I do. I’m lookin’ right at it.
Sharona: Adrian. You’re in the wrong house.
Mr. Monk: Are you sure?
Sharona: Yes, I am sure. I am looking at my caller ID. Adrian! Get out of the house!

A door opens.

Man: Would you put that phone down, sir?

Two policemen with the real homeowners behind them approach Adrian Monk.
The next morning, Dr. Kroger is in a police car with Adrian Monk and Sharona Fleming at the backseat.

Guard: How you doin’? You’re clear. Go ahead.

Sharona Fleming turns to Adrian Monk.

Sharona: Don’t worry. It’s gonna be all right.

They enter the Medford Psychiatric Institute.

Dr. Kroger: You’re going to be fine. They just want to spend 48 hours with you to observe and evaluate.

Adrian Monk notices a sign board.

Mr. Monk: Gee, that “B” – it’s broken. Looks like an “R”.

Adrian Monk begins to fix the sign.

Mr. Monk: It’s all—
Dr. Kroger: Adrian. Adrian. You’re gonna have to take this thing seriously. Judge Hackman says you’re lucky those people didn’t press charges…or shoot you. Now, the—the director’s name is Morris Lancaster. He’s one of the top psychiatrists in the country.
Sharona: Morris Lancaster? Yeah. He’s good. I saw him on CNN.

An orderly calls from behind.

Orderly: Who’s the referring doctor?
Dr. Kroger: Me, I’m Dr. Kroger.
Orderly: You need to sign here and here.
Sharona: Adrian, he’s very good. He’s a very good doctor.
Orderly: Mr. Monk. How are you?
Mr. Monk: I don’t know. You tell me.

Adrian Monk chuckles.

Orderly: My name is Oliver. I’m gonna take you to see Dr. Lancaster. He’s anxious to meet you.

Oliver shakes Adrian Monk’s hand. Sharona Fleming pulls out a wipe from her purse.

Sharona: Oliver, listen. There’s some things you should know.

Sharona Fleming hands the wipe to Adrian Monk. He wipes his hands.

Sharona: I’ve been taking care of this man for four years.

Sharona Fleming pulls out a bag of wipes from her purse.

Sharona: Um, these are his moist towelettes—for germs.

Sharona Fleming hands the most towelettes to Oliver.

Sharona: He takes three showers every day with this star-shaped nozzle. This is the nozzle. And he needs a five watt night light for sleeping. Anything more, he won’t sleep and dark-colored pillowcases.
Mr. Monk: Sharona?
Sharona: Nothing light, okay?
Mr. Monk: Sharona?
Sharona: What?
Mr. Monk: You’re scaring the man.
Sharona: No, I’m not.
Mr. Monk: Well, you’re scaring me.
Oliver: Ma’am, your friend’s in good hands. I’m going to look after him personally. You can trust me.
Sharona: Mm-hmm.
Mr. Monk: See? I’m gonna be okay. You’re worrying more than I am.
Sharona: Look. I can’t protect you here, Adrian.
Mr. Monk: What could happen? It’s a hospital.
Dr. Kroger: This is all gonna be over before you even know it.
Sharona: I’m goin’, okay?

Adrian Monk watches as Sharona Fleming and Dr. Kroger leave.
Morris Lancaster is in his office talking with Adrian Monk.

Dr. Lancaster: Neurotriptyline, Mr. Monk. It’s a very mild sedative. It’s a little bit like warm milk. You do drink mil, don’t you?
Mr. Monk: Never.
Dr. Lancaster: Ah well, you just have to take my word for it.
Mr. Monk: I’d rather not take any medication while I’m in here.
Dr. Lancaster: Why do you say that?
Mr. Monk: Because I don’t need it. I shouldn’t even be here. I know you—you probably have heard that before.
Dr. Lancaster: Why don’t you grab a seat, and we’ll talk about it.

Adrian Monk looks at the two seats.

Mr. Monk: This..is a test, isn’t it?
Dr. Lancaster: What do you mean?
Mr. Monk: You want to see which chair I pick.
Dr. Lancaster: No, Adrian. It’s not a test. Just grab a seat.

Adrian Monk takes a seat.

Dr. Lancaster: Oh, the left chair. Very interesting. Hmm. I’m just kidding. Relax. It’s just a joke.

Adrian Monk chuckles. He sets his eye on the big fish hanging on the wall.

Mr. Monk: That’s a marlin, isn’t it?
Dr. Lancaster: Mm-hmm, that’s right. It’s one of two things I managed to catch in Mexico in ’97.
Mr. Monk: What was the other?
Dr. Lancaster: Dysentery.
Mr. Monk: What about last week? Did you catch anything?
Dr. Lancaster: Pardon me?
Mr. Monk: You just got back from another fishing trip. You were in South America. Unless I’m wrong, which, you know, I’m not.
Dr. Lancaster: I was in Argentina, but how did you know all that?
Mr. Monk: You have needle marks on your arm. It’s obviously an inoculation. And your “In” box is pretty ful.
Dr. Lancaster: And South America?
Mr. Monk: The Customs seal on the cigar box. It’s dated last week.
Dr. Lancaster: But how did you know it was specifically a fishing trip?
Mr. Monk: You have a blister on the index finger of your right hand just above the knuckle.

Adrian Monk stands up and makes his way to the fishing rod.

Mr. Monk: On most fishing rods, the line chafes the index finger just above the knuckle.
Dr. Lancaster: Well, that’s very impressive. We both have similar jobs. We both analyze clues and solve problems. Only you look outward, and I look inward. So, now. It’s my turn. So, sit.

Morris Lancaster clears his throat and takes the seat beside Adrian Monk.

Dr. Lancaster: What were you doing in Trudy’s old house yesterday? Your late wife lived there for—
Mr. Monk: Yeah, I—I don’t know why I go there.
Dr. Lancaster: Well, I’m gonna hazard a guess. I think you went there yesterday to cook Trudy dinner.
Mr. Monk: To cook, Tr—well, that’s absurd.
Dr. Lancaster: Your file says that you’re allergic to tomatoes. So, the chicken cacciatore was for her, wasn’t it? And I’ll bet you it was her favorite meal.
Mr. Monk: That’s right.

Adrian Monk holds back his tears and chuckles.

Mr. Monk: That’s right.
Dr. Lancaster: So—so, um, what was so significant about yesterday?
Mr. Monk: No. Nothing.
Dr. Lancaster: August 12th. Unless I’m wrong—which, you know, I’m not—

Adrian Monk chuckles.

Dr. Lancaster: The date has some significance.
Mr. Monk: Our anniversary. Not our wedding anniversary. It was the day we met. It was the day we met.
Dr. Lancaster: You know, it—it’s not unhealthy or wrong to observe an anniversary, but we’re gonna find a way for you to do it privately. Would that be okay?
Mr. Monk: Yes, please.
Dr. Lancaster: I think that your analytical powers, they’re dazzling. But I think you use them as a prop.
Mr. Monk: A prop?
Dr. Lancaster: As a way to avoid dealing with your real problems. So, while you’re here. Do me a favor. Don’t be a detective. Let me be the detective. Okay?

Adrian Monk sighs.

Mr. Monk: Yes, sir.

The orderly, Oliver, shows Adrian Monk around the hospital.

Oliver: Here’s the bathroom.
Mr. Monk: You mean it’s a communal bathroom? Every-everyone uses it?
Oliver: You got a problem with that?
Mr. Monk: No. No.
Oliver: This is you.
Mr. Monk: Oh. Oh.

Adrian Monk enters his room.

Oliver: Here’s your schedule. The events underlined are not optional. They’re mandatory. It means you have to go.
Mr. Monk: I know what “mandatory” means.
Oliver: Lights out at 9 o’clock. Any questions?
Mr. Monk: Can I make a phone call?
Oliver: You’re allowed one outgoing phone call everyday. Your time starts 11:25 am. If you’re late, you’re gonna have to wait till tomorrow. Do you want the door open or shut?
Mr. Monk: Shut.

Oliver prepares to close the door.

Mr. Monk: Um—uh, open. No. Wait. Shu—shut. Shut. No. Op-Op—Op-Op—definitely open. Just open.

Oliver closes the door.

Mr. Monk: Definitely open. Open.

Adrian Monk looks at himself on the mirror. A man enters the room.

Man: Oh, hey. How you doin’? I’m John.
Mr. Monk: Adrian Monk.
John: Guess we’re roommates then. What are you in for?
Mr. Monk: Uh, just—just observation really.
John: Likewise. Observation and evaluation. The old O and E. Seventy-two hours?
Mr. Monk: Forty eight.
John: Yeah. Me too. Just got here myself yesterday morning. So, what do you do for a living, Mr. Monk?
Mr. Monk: I’m a—I’m a detective.
John: You’re kidding, right?
Mr. Monk: What?
John: That’s what I do. I’m a detective.
Mr. Monk: Really?
John: Seven years, Sonoma County. Lieutenant, second-grade, homicide.
Mr. Monk: Really?

John laughs.

John: This is unbelievable.
Mr. Monk: That’s a lot of laundry for a guy who just got here yesterday.
John: Thanks. Thanks a lot. Come one. Let me give you a grand tour.

Adrian Monk somewhat unwillingly follows John.

John: The cafeteria closes at 7:00. It’s buffet style. This is the Music Room. And if you go through these doors, down the hall, that’ll take you to the infirmary. This is the Monkey Room. Funny story about how it got its name.
Mr. Monk: What is it?
John: We don’t know. We just know there’s a funny story.
Mr. Monk: What’s all this?

Adrian Monk and John enter a hallway where construction work is being done.

John: They’re tearing down the old wall. They’re bringin’ it up to code. It’s a pretty big project. I used to be in construction myself.
Mr. Monk: Before you became a cop.
John: Exactly. Yeah.

The two walk by a hallway with pictures hanging on the wall.

Mr. Monk: Who’s this?
John: This is Doris Medford. She was the first director here. These are all the other directors.

John points at each photograph.

John: Dead. Dead. Dead.

John points at Morris Lancaster’s photo.

John: Not dead…yet.

A woman walks by.

Woman: Hello, Wurster.
John: Torch. She burned her boyfriend’s house down.

John Wurster opens the door to a padded room.

John: This is the Quiet Room. Don’t get sent here. Oh, boy.
Mr. Monk: What’s this?
John: This is the Medical Supply Room. Gives me the creeps.
Mr. Monk: Why?
John: There was a murder here.
Mr. Monk: Oh, really. A murder.
John: An unsolved murder. Conrad Gould, the assistant director, well, he was killed right here four years ago.

Adrian Monk looks inside the Medical Supply Room.

Mr. Monk: Uh-huh.
John: He was a great guy. Gave me magazines. Playboys.
Mr. Monk: Right.
John: Hey. Hey, maybe we can solve it together, huh?
Mr. Monk: Yeah, sure. Great.
John: Yeah.
Mr. Monk: What--What happened exactly?

A flashback ensues.

John: Well, Dr. Gould was taking inventory, like he did every night. A patient named Bill LaFrankie was waiting for him.

In the flashback, Bill LaFrankie steps out of the shadows and shoots the Doctor Gould three times.

John: Capped him in the chest. Then he fled S.O.C.
Mr. Monk: “S.O.C.”?
John: Yeah, “Scene of the crime”. It’s cop talk.

Flashback resumes, where Bill LaFrankie lies dead on the ground.

John: They found him in the woods the next morning. He was dead. He shot himself up with Demerol.
Mr. Monk: Uh, I’m a little confused. Why would you call it an unsolved murder?
John: Well, I wasn’t 100% satisfied with the official version.
Mr. Monk: You weren’t?
John: No, sir. They never found the gun first of all. Plus, Bill LaFrankie was my roommate. He was a devout Buddhist. He wouldn’t hurt a spider. Speaking of spiders, there was a guy here named Jim Robertello about two—two years ago. No. About three years ago. No, no, no. Two years—two or three—about two and a half years ago maybe.
Mr. Monk: It doesn’t really matter.
John: It doesn’t really matter how many years ago it was. But he had a spider named Jesse—Jesse the spider. And Jesse—everytime you played a Willie Nelson record, he would start dancing.

John Wurster starts dancing.

John: He’d go into it. Fabulous dancer. Cha cha—

Oliver sees the two.

Oliver: What’s goin’ on?
John: He’d get all his arms—oh, hey, Oliver.
Oliver: This is a restricted area, Wurster. You know that.
John: Well yeah, I was just telling Mr. Monk about Dr. Gould.
Oliver: That’s ancient history. Mr. Monk has enough problems.

Oliver turns to Adrian Monk.

Oliver: You’re late. Time for art therapy.

Oliver and Adrian Monk leave. John continues to walk at the construction site.

John: Hey, fellas. Carry on.

Morris Lancaster talks to his patients in art therapy.

Dr. Lancaster: Remember, this is supposed to be a self portrait. How do you feel about yourself? Look deep inside. There’s no right or wrong.
Man: It’s a little erogenous.

Morris Lancaster looks over a patient’s work.

Dr. Lancaster: Very good. I love those eyes.
Mr. Monk: Excuse me, Doctor. Is there a sink nearby?

A woman patient sighs.

Mr. Monk: I—I—I need to wash up.
Woman patient: Will you shut him up! He has been whining since he walked in here. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. I have charcoal on my hands!
Dr. Lancaster: Jane, what did we talk about yesterday?
Jane: Controlling the urge to lash out.
Dr. Lancaster: Do you have something you wanna say to Mr. Monk?

Jane breathes deeply.

Jane: Sorry.
Mr. Monk: That’s okay. I do have a little charcoal on my hands.
Manny: Dr. Lancaster, guess what I’m painting.
Everybody: Santa Claus!
Dr. Lancaster: All right, all right.

Manny shows Morris Lancaster his work.

Dr. Lancaster: Huh. Well, you know this is supposed to be a self-portrait.

Morris Lancaster looks at the painting of a huge Santa Claus with a small boy at his feet.

Manny: That’s me.
Dr. Lancaster: Hmm. Why are you so small?
Manny: Everybody’s small compared to Santa.

Jane talks to Adrian Monk.

Jane: He actually sits up every night and waits for him.
Manny: I have a feeling he’s on his way. It’s definitely getting colder outside.
Jane: It’s August, whack job!
Dr. Lancaster: It’s all right. Back to work. Come on. Come on. Go ahead. Go ahead.

Adrian Monk turns his attention to his blank canvas.

Dr. Lancaster: Is there a problem, Mr. Monk?
Mr. Monk: I’m having a little trouble getting started.
Dr. Lancaster: Mm-hmm. Do you know why?
Mr. Monk: Mm—mm.
Dr. Lancaster: Maybe it’s because you’re afraid it won’t be perfect.

Adrian Monk chuckles.

Dr. Lancaster: And you’re right. It won’t be perfect. Not everything is going to be perfect. But,come on. Why don’t you just draw something?

Morris Lancaster hands Adrian Monk a piece of chalk.

Dr. Lancaster: I’ve only got you for 48 hours.

Adrian Monk chuckles.

Man: It’s too small.

Adrian Monk takes the piece of chalk and draws on the canvas.

Dr. Lancaster: I like it. How does it feel?
Mr. Monk: It feels good.

It’s 3:45 am and Adrian Monk lie awake in his bed. He hears a woman screaming.

Man: Relax. Just relax.

Adrian Monk sits up.

Man: Hold her arms! Hold her arms!

The woman continues screaming. Adrian Monk makes his way to the door and opens it to watch the commotion.

Oliver: To the Quiet Room! Call Dr. Lancaster and tell him that Jane’s losing it!

Men restrain Jane, while a nurse dials on the phone.

Oliver: Try his cell phone!

Jane whimpers and screams.
The man who drew Santa is awakened by bells jingling. He looks out the window and takes a picture.
The next morning, Adrian Monk joins another therapy session.

Mr. Monk: I went to the Stop & Shop, but instead of walking home up Divisadero Street, I—I turned left, and I walked down Trudy’s old street to her house. Door was open, so I walked in.
Dr. Lancaster: And how did you feel being in the house again?
Mr. Monk: Content. Not a care in the world.
John: Adrian, when did this urge begin to manifest itself?
Dr. Lancaster: John, I’ll run the therapy session today, okay?
John: Fair enough.
Dr. Lancaster: And later, you and I can talk privately.

John Wurster clears his throat.

John: About Monk?
Dr. Lancaster: No, about your tendency to over empathize.
John: I feel like I’m back in medical school again.

The patient who believes in Santa, Manny, raises his hand.

Manny: Dr. Lancaster, can I go next?
Dr. Lancaster: Just a minute. Just a minute, okay? Go ahead.
Mr. Monk: I, uh, I really feel sorry for the Haskells.
John: Who are the Haskells?

Dr. Lancaster stops John Wurster.

John: Who are the Haskells?
Mr. Monk: The couple that live in the house. Nick and Josie. Sweet people, and uh, I—

Adrian Monk looks at Jane who is sitting beside him.

Mr. Monk: My wife had a necklace exactly like that.
Jane: Well, I’m not giving it to you if that’s what you’re getting at.

Manny raises his hand again.

Manny: Dr. Lancaster, can I please go next?

Dr. Lancaster gestures that he go on. John Wurster does the same.

Manny: Last night, I saw Santa Claus.

The group sighs.

Dr. Lancaster: All right, I’m sure we’d all like to hear about it.
Jane: Please!
Dr. Lancaster: Go ahead.
Manny: Okay. It was around 4 o’clock. I was asleep in my room. I heard sounds outside. They were footsteps on the roof.
Jane: And I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Everybody laughs.

Manny: It was him, as big as life. He was standing by the big chimney getting ready to slide down. Then…his cell phone rang.

Everybody laughs.

Mr. Monk: His cell phone?
Manny: Uh-huh. He answered it, and then he started talking to somebody. It’s true. I can prove it. I took his picture.
Dr. Lancaster: You. You took some pictures?
Manny: Yeah. I always keep my camera by the window.
Dr. Lancaster: Well, I’m sure we’d all like to see them when they get developed.
John: And…who’s next?

Adrian Monk plays cards with the other patients.

Mr. Monk: Well, that’s not a pair. Actually, that’s a jack, and this is a king.

The man rearranges the two cards.

Mr. Monk: Close enough.

Manny frantically searches for something.

Mr. Monk: What are you looking for?
Manny: My camera. I put it down right there. I know I did.
Mr. Monk: Manny, what time did you see, you know, Santa Claus last night?
Manny: 3:47 am exactly. I made a note. You wanna see where I saw him?

Adrian Monk goes with Manny to his room where he sees that the walls are covered with Santa Claus paraphernalia.

Manny: Everyone thinks it’s just a children’s story. Of course, the Macy’s Parade guy and the department store Santas are actors. I’m not an idiot. But there have been over 400 documented sightings of Saint Nicholas—scientifically documented. It’s on the Internet. So, you know it’s true.
Mr. Monk: Uh-huh.
Manny: Look. That’s an actual picture.

Manny points at a photograph.

Mr. Monk: Manny, that could be anything.
Manny: It’s Santa Claus.

Adrian Monk notices a hole by the light switch.

Mr. Monk: What happened here?
Manny: Mr. Richter. He didn’t wanna move. He had this room before me. He put up a big fight.
Mr. Monk: This happened recently?
Manny: Last week. I’ve been on the waiting list for this room for 11 years. Last week, Dr. Lancaster said I could have it.

Manny sighs.

Manny: I wish I had my camera. I had real proof.

Adrian Monk walks by the window.

Mr. Monk: This. This is where you saw him, huh?
Manny: Uh-huh. He was standing—

Manny sits by the window and points outside.

Manny: Right over there.

Adrian Monk looks out the window and to the chimney where Manny said he saw Santa Claus.

Mr. Monk: And then his cell phone rang.
Manny: He answered it and then he went back that way out of sight.
Mr. Monk: What’s that?
Manny: Where?
Mr. Monk: On the chimney. It looks like a rag or a piece of cloth.
Manny: Oh!

Manny opens the window and climbs out.

Mr. Monk: Manny, just don’t fall. Falling is bad. You know that, right?

Manny makes his way up to the chimney.

Mr. Monk: Be careful.
Manny: Uh-huh.
Mr. Monk: There’s a lot of, you know, gravity out there.

Manny successfully makes it to the chimney.

Mr. Monk: Can you reach it?
Manny: I think so.

Manny takes the piece of cloth.

Mr. Monk: Okay, Manny. Look around. Are there any footprints?
Manny: I see mine.
Mr. Monk: Besides yours.

Manny looks at the roof and finds footprints other than his.

Manny: Yes! They’re all over. He was here!

Manny returns to his room.

Manny: This is proof, isn’t it? This is evidence. Oh, I can’t wait till my next session. This’ll shut ‘em up.
Mr. Monk: Actually, Manny, I think we should probably keep this just between you and me.
Manny: No. Why?
Mr. Monk: Well, maybe we’ll find more proof. And then, they’ll have to believe us.
Manny: Fine.
Mr. Monk: Good.

Manny puts the piece of cloth into a Ziploc.

Mr. Monk: And by the way, Manny. Were you here when Dr. Gould was murdered.
Manny: Oh, yeah. They quoted me in the newspaper. I’ll show you.

Manny shows Adrian Monk his scrapbook.

Manny: I saved all the articles.

Manny reads the article.

Manny: “An unidentified patient stated that Dr. Gould was very popular and would be greatly missed”.

Adrian Monk takes the article with the picture of Dr. Gould lying dead on the floor. The title reads “Junkie patient kills doc, self”.

Mr. Monk: Uh-huh.
Manny: That’s me—the “unidentified patient”.

Adrian Monk recreates the crime scene at the patient’s lounge.

Mr. Monk: This table needs to move over here, out of the way.

John Wurster and Manny carry the table to one side.

Mr. Monk: Perfect.
John: Right here.

Adrian Monk points at a cabinet.

Mr. Monk: Okay, this is the medical closet.
Patient: That’s the arts and crafts closet.
Mr. Monk: I know, but we’re pretending it’s the medical closet.
Patient: That’s the arts and crafts closet.
Mr. Monk: Okay, Manny, you’re Dr. Gould.
Manny: Okay.
Mr. Monk: You’re making your rounds. You’re coming down the hall.

Manny puts on a lab gown.

Manny: Uh-huh.

Manny cleans his ear with his pinky finger. The other patients whimper.

Manny: He used to clean his ear, remember?
Man: That’s what the doctor used to do.
Mr. Monk: You enter the Supply Room.

Manny walks to the cabinet.

Mr. Monk: There’s the cabinet. You unlock it.

Manny unlocks the cabinet. Adrian Monk turns to John Wurster who now dresses like him.

Mr. Monk: Okay, Johnny, you’re Bill LaFrankie.
John: Yeah.
Mr. Monk: You’re looking to steal some drugs.
John: Yeah.

John Wurster goes to where Adrian Monk says he should stand.

Mr. Monk: You sneak up on the doctor.

John Wurster walks close to Manny.

Mr. Monk: And..bang.

John Wurster pretends his hand is a gun.

John: Bang. Bang.

Manny is startled.

Mr. Monk: And Dr. Gould is dead.

Manny lies on the floor.

Mr. Monk: LaFrankie goes to steal the drugs.

John Wurster goes over to the cabinet and disarranges some objects.

Mr. Monk: And you run away. Run away.

John Wurster runs away as told then walks back to Adrian Monk.

Mr. Monk: Okay. Let me think.

Adrian Monk goes over the cabinet and studies the make-believe crime scene.

Mr. Monk: The keys.

Adrian Monk takes the keys hanging on the cabinet.

Mr. Monk: Manny left the keys in the door…which is what anybody would do.
John: Yeah.
Mr. Monk: But look at the picture.

Manny gets up to look at the picture at the newspaper article.

Mr. Monk: Look at where the keys are. The keys are still in the doctor’s pocket. I don’t think he ever opened the locker.
John: Maybe…LaFrankie shot him, took his keys and then opened it.
Mr. Monk: Why would an addict desperate for drugs return the keys to the doctor’s pocket? I don’t think LaFrankie did it. I think the killer had his own keys.
John: You mean the killer worked here?

Door opens and Oliver enters.

Oliver: What’s going on?
Jane: They’re killing Dr. Gould.

Oliver walks over to Adrian Monk and he hands over the newspaper clipping.
Morris Lancaster talks with Adrian Monk in his office.

Dr. Lancaster: Now, listen to me, Mr. Monk. Not only was Dr. Gould my colleague, he was my best friend. And I do not appreciate you joking about it.

Morris Lancaster hands Adrian Monk the newspaper clipping.

Mr. Monk: I wasn’t joking.
Dr. Lancaster: Mm-hmm.

Morris Lancaster takes back the newspaper clipping.

Dr. Lancaster: Do you know what delusion is? It’s a false belief sustained despite clear evidence to the contrary.

Adrian Monk turns his attention to the fishing rod.

Mr. Monk: The fishing line.
Dr. Lancaster: Pardon me? What?

Adrian Monk gets up from his chair and walks to the fishing rod by the cabinet.

Mr. Monk: There was a fishing line in this rod. Where did it go?
Dr. Lancaster: Well, what do you think happened to it? You think I used it to strangle somebody on the ward?

Jane barges in the room.

Jane: Dr. Lancaster! I’m sorry to interrupt, but I heard he was in here.

Jane confronts Adrian Monk.

Jane: Where is it?
Mr. Monk: What?
Jane: You know what! My necklace, the one you said reminded you of your wife. He stole it. I know he did.
Mr. Monk: This is ridiculous.
Jane: I took it off in the infirmary. That’s the last time I had it. You were in there!
Dr. Lancaster: Well, there’s a simple way to solve this. Adrian, empty your pockets.

Adrian Monk empties his pockets and finds Jane’s necklace in his suit pocket.

Mr. Monk: Oh, my God.
Jane: Thank you.

Jane angrily takes the necklace from Adrian Monk.

Jane: Very much!

Jane leaves and bangs the door on her way out.

Mr. Monk: How did that get there? I swear I…don’t remember taking it.
Dr. Lancaster: I know you don’t. I know.

Adrian Monk and Jane sit by the hallway.

Jane: I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was just like you when I got here. I was seeing things that weren’t there. The night Dr. Gould was murdered, I saw Bill LaFrankie running with a gun.
Mr. Monk: You did?
Jane: Mm-hmm. I was trying to get to a pay phone. But in my mind, I saw Dr. Lancaster with the gun, like I was…projecting my rage for Dr. Lancaster onto Bill LaFrankie.
Mr. Monk: I see.
Jane: Dr. Lancaster was tyring to help me, I resented him.
Mr. Monk: Me too.
Jane: Welcome to my world.

A nurse arrives.

Nurse: Time for your medication, Mr. Monk, Dr. Lancaster’s orders.

Adrian Monk lie in bed awake, thinking.

Mr. Monk: I’m slipping away. What’s wrong with me? Hold on, Monk. Hold on.

The next morning, Morris Lancaster talks to Sharona Fleming.

Dr. Lancaster: If anything, his behavior has deteriorated. We may have to keep him here longer than we thought.
Sharona: Well, how much longer?
Dr. Lancaster: That’s hard to say. It could be a month.
Sharona: A month?
Dr. Lancaster: It could be as long as a year.

Sharona Fleming and Morris Lancaster watch Adrian Monk standing in the garden.

Dr. Lancaster: Adrian is bipolar. He’s delusional and he’s paranoid. He sees murder mysteries everywhere he turns. In fact, he’s befriended another patient, and the two of them are trying to prove that Santa Claus really does exist.
Sharona: Santa Claus?
Dr. Lancaster: Mm-hmm. They went out on the roof collecting evidence. It would be funny if it wasn’t so…dysfunctional.

Morris Lancaster and Sharona Fleming meet Adrian Monk.

Dr. Lancaster: Adrian, look who’s here.
Sharona: Hey, boss. How you feelin’?
Mr. Monk: Ah, I feel good. I can’t—I can’t wait to go home.
Sharona: Well, we were just talking about that.
Dr. Lancaster: Adrian, would you mind if I showed your friend some of the artwork that you made yesterday?

Morris Lancaster shows Sharona Fleming Adrian’s artwork.

Dr. Lancaster: Oh, here it is. Wait a minute.

Morris Lancaster shows them a disturbed drawing.

Mr. Monk: Did I draw that?
Dr. Lancaster: You don’t remember? Isn’t that Trudy’s grave?
Sharona: Um, Dr. Lancaster said that you saw Santa Claus.

Adrian Monk scoffs.

Mr. Monk: No, we didn’t actually see him. Manny took a picture, but he lost the camera. But we found a piece of a red suit.
Dr. Lancaster: We’d love to see it, Adrian.

Morris Lancaster and Sharona Fleming watch as Adrian Monk frantically search for the piece of cloth that he put in his suit pocket. Adrian finds the plastic bag, but the cloth is nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Monk: It was here. It was in here. A little piece of fabric, you know, of Santa’s—Santa’s, you know, suit. Okay, no, no. It was a piece of…fabric, and—
Sharona: Doctor? Can I talk to you privately?
Mr. Monk: Like…Santa’s tuis.
Dr. Lancaster: Sure.

Morris Lancaster clears his throat and walks away. Sharona Fleming follows him, while Adrian Monk continues his frantic search.

Sharona: He’s not himself. He needs me. Look, I could be here two, three times a week, okay? I still have my license. Maybe they can give me a job here.
Dr. Lancaster: Sharona, I know you mean well, but the less contact Adrian has with his old life, the better.

They watch as Adrian Monk searches under his bed.

Dr. Lancaster: You can write him a letter. You can bring him something from home. I’m sure he’d like that, but no visits.

Adrian Monk looks under his mattress. Sharona Fleming approaches him.

Sharona: Look, Adrian. I—listen, I—I can’t take you home right now.
Mr. Monk: Sharona, look at his shoes, just look at his shoes.

Sharona Fleming looks at Morris Lancaster’s shoes.

Mr. Monk: They’re smudged. Could be soot. Those are boat shoes. They’re made for traction. And I think, he has been walking on the roof.
Sharona: Adrian, just try to listen to Dr. Lancaster, okay?
Mr. Monk: Ah.
Sharona: He’s a good man.
Mr. Monk: There was a doctor murdered here about four years ago—
Sharona: Adrian, will you calm down?
Mr.Monk: Named Gould. Conrad Gould.
Sharona: Please try and stay calm and sit. Just relax.
Mr. Monk: I think. I think, Lancaster had something to do with it. Am I…losing my mind?

Sharona Fleming leaves. Adrian Monk looks out his windows. Sharona Fleming looks up to Adrian Monk’s window. Adrian watches as she gets in her car.
Sharona Fleming goes to the medical library.

Sharona: Excuse me.
Librarian: One second.

The librarian finishes what he’s reading and puts the book down.

Sharona: Hi, um, I’m told that Dr. Conrad Gould left all of his papers to your library, and I need to see his journals from 1998.
Librarian: Do you have an ID?
Sharona: Not on me. I left it in my car.
Librarian: I can look you up.
Sharona: Uh, well.

Sharona Fleming chuckles.

Sharona: Here’s the thing, I’m not actually enrolled here at the present time.
Librarian: Well, the library’s for students only.
Sharona: Oh, really?

Sharona sighs and finds a pile of books with the name Chet Abrams.

Sharona: Is there a Chet that works here?
Librarian: I’m Chet.
Sharona: Oh, my God. This is so funny. I was told to ask for you. See, I met this guy at a party who said that you were really cool and that you would let me do a little research here as a favor.
Chet: Uh, what guy?
Sharona: He was um—oh, he was tall, wore glasses.
Chet: Ross Kelton?
Sharona: That’s right. That’s right. Ross Kelton.
Chet: Ross Kelton said I was cool?
Sharona: Was he wrong?

Chet Abrams brings Sharona Fleming a storage box.

Chet: You wanted Gould’s personal journals, right?
Sharona: Mm-hmm.

Sharona Fleming opens the storage box.

Chet: Mind if I ask what for?
Sharona: Ross said you were cool.
Chet: Uh, right. Right, sorry.

Sharona Fleming goes through the journals. She sighs.

Sharona: Oh, God.

Sharona Fleming reads an excerpt from a journal.

Sharona: “Dr. Murdock has assured me that I am next in line for the directorship, a decision bound to be met with anger and derision by Dr.—“

The journal reads “Dr. Lancaster”.

Sharona: Oh, my God.

Sharona Fleming drops by the asylum to meet Morris Lancaster.

Sharona: Is it okay if he has a picture of Trudy? Maybe it’ll calm him down.

Sharona Fleming hands Morris Lancaster the brown envelope. He opens it and inspects the picture of Trudy.

Dr. Lancaster: I think he’ll like that. Here you go.

Morris Lancaster hands the envelope to Oliver.

Dr. Lancaster: Thanks. Nice to see you.

Morris Lancaster shakes Sharona Fleming’s hand.

Sharona: Thank you very much.
Dr. Lancaster: You bet. Thank you.
Sharona: I’ll see you soon.
Dr. Lancaster: I hope so.

Sharona Fleming walks away.
John Wurster is in his room reading a magazine.

John: Sometimes I wish I’d join the Rolling Stones when they asked me.

A man from the hallway yells.

Man: Lights out!

Adrian Monk turns off his lamp. A glow in the dark message on Trudy’s photograph can be read. It says “MONK--YOU’RE NOT CRAZY!” John Wurster sees the message and points to it.

John: Hey, check it out.

Adrian Monk takes the photograph.

John: What’s it say?

Adrian Monk reads the back of the photograph. “In Oct 1988 board of directors appointed Gould new director of the institute—Lancaster protested—wrote numerous letters denouncing Gould. YOU’RE IN DANGER! GET OUT.

Mr. Monk: It says I’m not crazy.
John: Anything there about me?

Adrian Monk sneaks in Morris Lancaster’s office. Meanwhile, Morris Lancaster is in the Medical Supply room. He turns off the light and notices the glow in the dark ink on his fingertips. Morris Lancaster enters his office and finds Adrian Monk sitting on his chair.

Dr. Lancaster: There you are. I warned you not to play detective in my hospital.
Mr. Monk: This is Bill LaFrankie’s file. There’s no way this man killed himself like they said.

Morris Lancaster calls down the hallway.

Dr. Lancaster: He’s in here!
Mr. Monk: He suffered from belonephobia. He had a pathological fear of needles.
Dr. Lancaster: You’re a smart man. Let’s see what kind of witness you are—

Morris Lancaster grabs the file from Adrian Monk.

Dr. Lancaster: With a functioning IQ of 17.

Oliver enters the room and grabs Adrian Monk.

Dr. Lancaster: Mr. Monk came here to try and kill me.
Mr. Monk: What? Wait.
Dr. Lancaster: I think he needs some time in the Quiet Room, Oliver.
Mr. Monk: No. Wait!
Dr. Lancaster: It’s for your own good, Adrian.

Adrian Monk wearing a straitjacket is left alone in the dark padded cell.
Morris Lancaster accompanied by Oliver enters the Quiet Room.

Dr. Lancaster: How much?
Oliver: Two c.c.’s of Thorazine.
Dr. Lancaster: Mm-hmm. Make it four.
Oliver: Four? Are you sure? He can’t weigh more than 160 pounds.
Dr. Lancaster: Did you just graduate from medical school in the last 45 minutes?
Oliver: No, sir.
Dr. Lancaster: Then do what the hell you’re told. Give this patient 4 c.c.’s of Thorazine.
Oliver: I gotta go upstairs and get some more.
Dr. Lancaster: Make it quick.

As Oliver is upstairs preparing the medication, Adrian Monk struggles to get out of his straitjacket. He manages to unwrap his arms. Oliver enters the Quiet Room and sees the straitjacket hanging on the window.

Oliver: What the hell?

Adrian Monk is hiding behind the door holding the bed sheet he laid on the floor. Adrian pulls the sheet and Oliver who is standing on it slips and falls.

Oliver: Hey!

He runs out and locks Oliver in the Quiet Room.

Sharona on the phone: Hello?
Mr. Monk: I know who did it, Sharona. I can prove it. Call the police.

Adrian Monk is at Manny’s room. They both wait by the window.

Manny: I borrowed Mr. Carruther’s camera. It has eight pictures left. See the numbers?
Mr. Monk: Uh-huh.
Manny: Is Santa really coming?
Mr. Monk: Oh, yeah, he’ll be here.
Manny: What do you want for Christmas?
Mr. Monk: I just want two and two to be four again.

Bells jingling are heard. Manny gasps.

Manny: It’s him! Santa Claus!

Adrian Monk and Manny watch as a man dressed as Santa Claus makes his way to the chimney.

Mr. Monk: I knew it.
Manny: Well, what’s he doing?
Mr. Monk: He’s going fishing.

The man in a Santa suit lowers a fishing line down the chimney.

Manny: For what?
Mr. Monk: The gun, Manny. He has to find it before the construction crew stumbles onto it. Then he’ll get rid of it for good, and I’ll never be able to prove any of this.
Manny: I love you, Santa!

Manny opens the window.

Mr. Monk: Manny.
Manny: Oh!
Mr. Monk: Manny. Manny, no. No.

Manny tries to get out of the window, but Adrian Monk stops him.

Mr. Monk: No. No. Stay here. I need you to take pictures.

Adrian Monk climbs out the window.

Manny: I don’t understand what he’s doing.

Adrian Monk is now on the roof. He looks down.

Mr. Monk: Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

Adrian Monk turns to the man in the Santa suit.

Mr. Monk: How’s the fishing, Doctor?
Dr. Lancaster: Monk. How did you get up here?
Manny: Santa Claus!

Manny takes a picture.

Mr. Monk: This is why you put Manny in that room, ‘cause you knew you could spend all night up here and nobody would ever believe he really did see Santa Claus.
Dr. Lancaster: Nobody but you, Monk, and who’s gonna believe you? You’re clinically insane, remember?
Mr. Monk: We’ll find the gun, Doctor, right where you dropped it. And that’s all the proof I’ll need.

A flashback ensues.

Mr. Monk: You couldn’t stand it. The board of directors gave your job to Dr. Gould. You killed him.

In the flashback, Morris Lancaster hides in the Medical Supply room. Dr. Gould enters.

Dr. Lancaster: Dr. Gould.

Morris Lancaster shoots Dr. Gould on the chest three times.

Mr. Monk: You stole some drugs to make it look like a patient did it.

Morris Lancaster takes some drugs from the medical supply room. He then takes Bill LaFrankie into the woods.

Mr. Monk: You needed a fall guy. LaFrankie fit the bill. You probably got LaFrankie all doped up, then lured him into the woods where the cops found him the next day. You only had one problem—the murder weapon. It was registered in your name.

Morris Lancaster walks into the chimney and drops the gun in it.

Mr. Monk: You had to get rid of the gun before the cops showed up. And you found the perfect place to hide it.

Manny approaches Adrian Monk.

Manny: Hey! You can’t talk to Santa Claus like that.
Mr. Monk: Manny.

Manny walks closer to Santa Claus and takes his picture, but he slips.

Mr. Monk: Manny!
Manny: Santa! Help me!

Manny hangs on the edge of the roof. Morris Lancaster manages to retrieve the gun from the chimney.

Dr. Lancaster: Well, well, well. What have we here?

Adrian Monk helps Manny.

Mr. Monk: Manny, hang on. Just hang on.

Manny whimpers.

Manny: Wait a minute. You’re not really Santa Claus.

Morris Lancaster points the gun at Adrian Monk.

Manny: Monk, be careful! He’s not really Santa Claus.

Morris Lancaster pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. Police sirens are heard.

Mr. Monk: Gun’s been lodged in that chimney for four years. I’m guessing the chamber and the metal firing pin are completely oxidized.

The police park right under them.

Manny: Oh, look!
Man: Drop the gun, Santa! Put your hands up!

Morris Lancaster raises his arms and drops the gun.

Sharona: Adrian!

Adrian Monk looks down and finds Sharona Fleming who gave him an OK signal.

Man on police radio: Ten-four.
Mr. Monk: By the way, in case we don’t get a chance to talk later, I just want you to know—except for the murders and your trying to kill me—you really were the best doctor I ever had. Hang on, Manny. They’re coming to get you. And merry Christmas.

Adrian Monk is back in his house. He’s lying in his own bed. He takes the phone and dials Sharona Fleming.

Sharona: Hello?
Mr. Monk: Sharona. Don’t laugh, okay? I just need to be sure.
Sharona: Is there a skinny oak tree by the window?
Mr. Monk: Yes.
Sharona: Is there an armoire by the closet?
Mr. Monk: Uh-huh.
Sharona: And is Trudy’s picture on the nightstand?
Mr. Monk: Yup.
Sharona: Adrian. You’re in your own house. Now, go to sleep.
Mr. Monk: Thanks. Good news. I’m seriously considering you for Employee of the Month.
Sharona: Thanks, boss. I’ll see you tomorrow.

This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “Mr. Monk Goes to the Asylum” episode was written by Tom Scharpling and David Breckman. Monk is owned by Universal Media Studios in association with Mandeville Films and Touchstone Television.


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