Sunday, September 25, 2011

Mr. Monk and the Garbage Strike – Monk Transcript 5.2

Mr Monk and the Garbage StrikeThe City of San Francisco is littered with trash.

Reporter: The longest garbage strike in the history of San Francisco continues, and there is still no end in sight. On every street corner the trash continues to pile up. Negotiations between the city and the sanitation workers have completely broken down. So, how are residents coping? Well, so far the people of San Francisco can be very proud of themselves. No one is panicking. In fact, it seems everybody is rising to the occasion, coming together and taking this latest crisis in stride.

Adrian Monk is in his house covering his nose with a handkerchief. Natalie Teeger lights up an incense to mask the stench.

Natalie: See. That’s better, right?
Monk: No, please, not incense. That smells worse than garbage.
Natalie: Okay, fine, I’ll put it out.
Monk: Oh, Natalie, what am I gonna do? The whole city reeks.
Natalie: I’m starting to get used to it.
Monk: You are, really? Then you’re gonna love hell. All right, look, listen, I’ve got to get out of town. Let’s just get in the car, and go somewhere upwind, please.
Natalie: Mr. Monk, I can’t just leave. I have Julie here. It’s a school week.
Monk: Well, we’ll take her with us. I’ll teach the girl. I’ll tutor the girl. She’s not up to fractions yet, is she? Continue reading...

A huge vehicle passes by.

Monk: Listen. Listen, that’s a truck. That sounds like a garbage truck, right?
Natalie: Mr. Monk, it’s not a garbage truck.

Monk looks outside.

Monk: They’ve settled the strike! It’s all over! Turn on the news. Ah, false alarm. It’s a bus.

Natalie turns on the TV. Jimmy Cusack, Jr, the president of the sanitation workers union, is at a press conference.

Cusack: All we want. All we’ve ever wanted is a fair contract for ourselves and for our families. This union is willing to stay out for as long as it takes! Two weeks, two months. We will never back down. We will never surrender.
Monk: It’s all his fault. Jimmy Cusack. Hate that guy. I wish he was dead.
Natalie: Don’t say that.
Monk: I do. I wish he was dead.
Natalie: Yeah, what if something happened to him? You’d feel terrible.
Monk: No, I wouldn’t.
Natalie: Yeah, you would.
Monk: No, I wouldn’t.
Natalie: Yeah, you would.
Reporter on TV: Is very much for real, and shows no signs of coming to an end.

A cleaning lady enters the office of Jimmy Cusack, Jr.

Cleaning Lady: Oh, Mr. Cusack, I didn’t see you. Mr. Cusack?

The cleaning lady looks at Mr. Cusack sitting on his chair, and finds that he has a bullet hole in his right temple. The cleaning lady screams in Spanish and runs out the office.

Adrian Monk is at his house stacking up boxes when somebody knocks on the door.

Delivery Man: Yeah, you called for a pick-up?
Monk: Yeah, thank you. Right there. Thank you.

The delivery man with his hand truck enters the house.

Monk: Watch the woodwork.
Delivery Man: Uh, there’s no address on these.
Monk: I know. Just send them anywhere. It doesn’t matter.
Delivery Man: Well, we can’t just send them anywhere, Sir. We got to have an address.
Monk: Don’t you guys have a depot place, where you can just put them in the corner?
Delivery Man: Put them in the corner?
Monk: Oh, okay, okay. All right, uh, what’s your address?
Delivery Man: Have a nice day, Sir.
Monk: All right, okay! All right, okay. Hold on. Hold on.

Adrian Monk writes an address on the packing slip.

Monk: Okay, just a second. All right, okay, there it is, there’s the address. And that’s where you send it, right there.

The delivery man hauls the boxes with his hand truck, and makes his way out.

Monk: Thank you very…watch the woodwork, watch the trim.

Natalie Teeger arrives.

Natalie: What were you doing?
Monk: Ah, nothing. Nothing.
Natalie: Where’s your garbage? Did you just mail your garbage to somebody?
Monk: These are desperate times, Natalie. Desperate times.

Natalie shows Mr. Monk the newspaper.

Monk: What?
Natalie: Are you happy?
Monk: Mmm, no.
Natalie: You got your wish.

Natalie gives Mr. Monk the newspaper with the headline “Union Boss Found Dead – Apparent Suicide”.

Monk: Jimmy Cusack…what, wait, whoa. You think I did this?
Natalie: Yeah, I think you did with your karma. You said you wanted the guy dead.
Monk: Oh, I was joking. It’s a figure of speech!
Natalie: Mr. Monk, you need to be careful what you wish for. Look. Because of his death, the union has stopped all negotiations. Nobody’s talking. The strike’s gonna go on for years. Good job.

The sanitation workers are at their union meeting.

Workers: Union! Union! Union! Union! Union!
Union Rep: I’ve known Jimmy Cusack…I’ve known Jimmy Cusack my whole life. His old man and my old man came up together. They rode the same truck! Now, Jimmy had a temper and Jimmy had his problems, but he was not suicidal, no way, no how.

The workers shout in agreement.

Union Rep: Mayor Nicholson, and his lap dogs down at the police department. They’re telling us the case is closed.

The workers boo.

Union Rep: Here’s what we say. Mayor Nicholson, you can go to hell.

The workers exclaim in agreement.

Workers: Union! Union! Union! Union! Union! Union! Union!

The microphone feeds back. Everybody stops chanting and looks at Mr. Monk at the mic.

Monk: Hello? My name is Adrian Monk. Uh, I am not technically a sanitation worker although I have always felt like one in spirit. I recognize a lot of you, Ronnie, Morris.
Union Rep: Excuse me, Sir? We appreciate your support, but this is a closed meeting.
Monk: I won’t be long. I just wanted to say you’ve made your point. Congratulations, we get it now. You can all go back to work. Union!
Union Rep: Wait a minute! What about our contract?
Workers: Yeah!
Monk: Okay, I know money is important.
Worker: Damn right!
Monk: But that’s not why you guys became garbage men, is it? You’re doing God’s work out there. You’re keeping the streets clean for the people. Right? You do it, say it with me, “for the people.”

Two of the union reps discuss with each other.

Monk: Well, let me tell you something. The people are suffering. People…people are going a little nuts out there. The people can’t wash the stink off their hands. The people are having trouble sleeping. The people woke up this morning, at 5 o’clock, couldn’t get back to sleep because it smelled like a buffalo had died in the people’s closet.

Workers exclaim.

Union Rep: Sir, excuse me. Excuse me, Sir? Are you Adrian Monk, the detective?
Monk: Yeah, that’s right.

Mr. Monk is walking down a hallway with the Union Reps.

Union Rep: We’ve heard a lot about you Mr. Monk. You’re a great detective, and from what we can tell you’re an honest man.
Union Rep #2: You’re on your own, right? You’re not working for the cops?
Monk: I’m a private consultant.
Union Rep: Good, then you’ll be an objective voice. We want to hire you.
Monk: Hire me?
Union Rep: We want you to look into what happened to Jimmy Cusack.
Union Rep #2: If you say it’s a suicide that’ll be good enough for us. We’ll go back to the bargaining table.
Monk: I’m pretty sure it was a suicide.
Union Rep: How can you tell? Don’t you have to, you know, look around, investigate?
Monk: Yeah. Right.

Adrian Monk with Natalie, Captain Stottlemeyer, Randy Disher, and two union employees survey the office of Jimmy Cusack.

Monk: Jimmy Cusack was sitting there.
Stottlemeyer: Yup.
Monk: Okay.

Monk looks at the crumbs on one of the chairs.

Monk: But there was somebody else here, and they…he had his feet up.

Monk points at the scuff marks on the desk, and looks at the bowl of mixed nuts.

Monk: And he ate all the cashews.
Natalie: What does that mean?
Monk: He probably liked the cashews best.

Monk starts coughing.

Stottlemeyer: You okay?
Monk: Yeah, I’m just…it’s just hard to think.
Natalie: He hates the smell. It’s the smell.

Captain Stottlemeyer closes the open window.

Monk: Okay. Give me the timeline.
Stottlemeyer: I got it right here. Cusack was last seen alive in here sitting at his desk at around 9:30. The cleaning crew found him this morning at 7 o’clock.
Disher: The coroner said the body had been cold about seven hours.
Monk: So, midnight…was he upset about something or depressed?
Stottlemeyer: Besides the whole city hating his guts, as a matter of fact he was, Ron? This is Ron Neely. He’s the chief accountant with the union.
Stottlemeyer: Adrian Monk.
Ron: I was going through the books yesterday getting ready for the next round of talks, and I found a few irregularities.
Stottlemeyer: Three hundred grand from the pension fund went “poof.”
Ron: 304.2, actually.
Stottlemeyer: Yep.
Ron: I called Jimmy about midnight, and asked him about it.
Monk: What, what did he say?
Ron: He kind of groaned, and then he said,”What took you so long?”
Monk: This sounds like suicide.
Stottlemeyer: but you are the independent investigator, and you have to decide for yourself.

Captain Stottlemeyer hands Adrian Monk the case file.

Monk: I’m gonna say suicide.
Stottlemeyer: Suicide it is.
Disher: Thank you, Mr. Neely.

All prepare to leave.

Natalie: No, no, no, no.
Monk: That was easy.
Natalie: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, no, no, no, you haven’t even looked around.
Monk: I did. I looked around.
Natalie: No, no, no. You didn’t do the thing, you know. With your hands. With your hands.

Adrian Monk and Natalie Teeger return to Jimmy Cusack’s office.

Natalie: Come on. Come on.

Mr. Monk begins looking around. He notices a picture of Jimmy Cusack playing tennis.

Monk: He was left-handed?

Natalie looks at the crime photo with Jimmy Cusack holding the gun on his right hand.

Monk: He’s holding the gun in his right hand.
Natalie: His left hand was bandaged.
Monk: So, he probably sprained his wrist. Couldn’t hold the gun in his left…

Mr. Monk returns to the chair where the corpse was found.

Natalie: What? What?
Monk: The bullet hole and the blood spatter. He must have been sitting all the way back in this chair. How did he raise his arm? There’s no room.

Mr. Monk inspects the bullets.

Monk: These are the bullets from the gun. That’s strange.
Natalie: What?
Monk: No fingerprints. They’ve been wiped clean. Why would anyone who’s about to kill himself, wipe the fingerprints off the bullets.
Natalie: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you saying? It was murder?
Monk: Yeah.

Captain Stottlemeyer and Lt. Disher steps out of the sanitation workers union office. They are followed by Monk, Natalie, Ron Neely, and the union rep.

Reporters: Captain! Captain!

Monk starts coughing.

Monk: Oh, man!
Reporter: Mr. Monk, who hired you?
Monk: Well, the sanitation union asked me to look at the evidence.
Reporter: And what do you think? Was the coroner right?
Monk: Well.

A guy throws something in the trashcan, and runs inside the building. Mr. Monk looks at the man as he passed Ron Neely.

Monk: Uh.
Reporter: Mr. Monk, was this suicide or murder?
Monk: No, no, no, no. There was no murder. This was definitely suicide. Let’s try and get everybody back to the bargaining table, and get all this garbage off the street.
Reporter: Okay, thank you.
Monk: Thank you.

Captain Stottlemeyer holds a press conference at the police station.

Stottlemeyer: Of course, there’ll be a formal inquest, but as of this moment, the police department is completely satisfied that Union President Jimmy Cusack died by his own hand. Now, that conclusion has just been verified by Adrian Monk, a distinguished independent investigator.
Reporter: Captain, Captain! So you’re saying the case is closed?
Stottlemeyer: It is. As far as I’m concerned, the case is closed. Thank you.

Adrian Monk returns home with a disappointed Natalie Teeger. Adrian Monk goes to his bathroom. Natalie follows him.

Monk: What?
Natalie: You know what. Mr. Monk, I’m so disappointed in you.
Monk: What took you so long?
Natalie: Mr. Monk, you lied back there about a murder case!
Monk: Okay, look. I’m not a hundred percent sure it was murder. It could have been suicide. Detective Thurber agrees with me.
Natalie: Mr. Monk, I was with you. You showed me all the evidence. The blood on the chair. No fingerprints on the bullets.
Monk: Natalie, obviously, you don’t understand. Some things are bigger than the truth.
Natalie: Like what?
Monk: Like that mountain of garbage out there! The truth is buried alive out there.
Natalie: Look at me. Look at me. Seriously. I don’t think that I could work for a dishonest man.
Monk: It was for the greater good. You heard that right, the greater good. Turn on the news! They resumed negotiations. Everybody’s talking again. I am the hero here.
Natalie: You are not a hero, Mr. Monk. You are letting a killer go free so you can get your garbage picked up.
Monk: Okay, Natalie. Let me explain one more time about the greater good.

Natalie and Mr. Monk drop by the police station.

Natalie: You think I’m joking, Mr. Monk? I’m not kidding, okay? Now, come on.
Monk: Okay, now is not a good time, they’re busy.
Natalie: Okay, you know what? I know you think that I’m joking. I’m not going to show up tomorrow. No, this is it.
Monk: All right.
Natalie: Tell them.
Monk: Okay.
Stottlemeyer: What?

Monk speaks under his breath.

Monk: It was murder.
Natalie: Louder.
Monk: It was murder.
Stottlemeyer: You’re not talking about the Jimmy Cusack case, are you?
Natalie: Yeah, Mr. Monk here saw some stuff at the crime scene he’s failed to mention. He thinks it’s a homicide.
Monk: It was for the G.G. The greater good! The G.G. Captain, the stench out there, the stench! I can’t think straight. A smell like that can kill. People die from smells everyday. That’s a fact.

Captain Stottlemeyer glares at Mr. Monk.

Monk: That is a beautiful suit.
Stottlemeyer: Monk! Twenty minutes ago, I went on the record defending your suicide theory. I was on TV! My name was across the screen! I’m gonna look like an idiot.

Captain Stottlemeyer turns to Lt. Disher.

Stottlemeyer: Call Larry Cutler at the mayor’s office. Get him on the phone right now. Dial fast.
Disher: I’m dialing.
Stottlemeyer: Dial like the wind!
Monk: Are you happy?
Natalie: Someone had to do it.

Lt. Disher is on the phone.

Disher: Larry, hey, it’s Randy Disher.
Stottlemeyer: Hey, Larry.
Disher: Yeah, I’m here with Adrian Monk. Listen. He’s having second thoughts about the Jimmy Cusack suicide.
Monk: Why do I have to be so good.
Disher: I know. I know.
Monk: Why can’t I be like a regular detective, like…

Mr. Monk looks at Captain Stottlemeyer. Lt. Disher hangs up the phone, and turns to Monk.

Disher: The Deputy Mayor wants to see you.

A guide tours a group of kids around City Hall.

Tour guide: This is the main rotunda, the heart of City Hall. The acoustics in this room are a little bit quirky. I need two volunteers.

No one volunteers. The tour guide picks the two kids in front.

Tour guide: Okay, you two. Go over there.

The kids walk over to The Whisper Spot.

Tour guide: Keep going. Okay, now whisper something to each other. Be very quiet.

The kids whisper at each other.

Boy: This is so boring.
Girl: Yeah, I know.

Everyone hears their conversation.

Boy: I hope they have a gift shop.
Tour guide: It’s called the whisper spot. Isn’t that cool? All right, come with me. Now, I want to show you the mailroom.

Captain Stottlemeyer with Lt. Disher, Adrian Monk and Natalie Teeger arrive at City Hall.

Stottlemeyer: They’re with me.
Monk: Uh, I still smell it.
Natalie: Well, it’s the same air. Did you think City Hall was some kind of magical place, like the land of Oz, where nothing bad ever happens?
Monk: Yes, yes, I did.
Disher: I did, too.

Larry Cutler receives them.

Stottlemyer: Larry.
Larry: Captain Stottlemeyer.
Stottlemeyer: How are you doing?
Larry: It’s the worst week of my life. Thanks for asking. I’m 30 years old, and I’m eating antacids like they’re M&Ms. Is this Monk?
Monk: Yes, hello. I didn’t quite understand about the M&Ms.
Larry: It was a joke, Mr. Monk. But here’s a real joke. Twenty minutes ago the union hears a rumor about you changing your mind. Boom. It all hit the fan. Negotiations are kaput. The union walked out. Nobody’s talking. It’s over.

The mayor’s secretary knocks, and opens the door to the mayor’s office.

Secretary: Mr. Mayor, I’m so sorry. There’s a man here. He says he’s a former detective. He’s out there mumbling something about his wife and a car bomb.

Adrian Monk enters the office.

Monk: Mr. Mayor, I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you’re very busy. My name’s Adrian Monk.

A security guard comes between Mr. Monk and the Mayor.

Mayor: Wait, Detective Monk? Come on in. Dennis, it’s fine. Karen, it’s okay. Mr. Monk is on our team. I hope. So, Adrian Monk, we meet at last.
Monk: Yeah.
Mayor: My predecessor, Mayor Dunway, said some really great things about you. You have an amazing track record, but please, sit down.
Monk: I, uh…I’m okay.

Adrian Monk cleans up the Mayor’s desk before taking a seat.

Mayor: My garbage hasn’t been collected either. We’re all in this together, Mr. Monk. Did you talk to the deputy mayor?
Monk: Yes, I did.
Mayor: He explained the situation.
Monk: Right.
Mayor: Frankly, we’re stuck. Nobody’s talking. Nobody trusts anybody. We gotta solve this Jimmy Cusack case ASAP. What do you think?

The Mayor takes a seat, and picks up a bowl of nuts.

Monk: Okay, here’s the thing, Mr. Mayor.

The Mayor puts his feet up.

Monk: Even if I do find the man who killed Jimmy Cusack, even if the strike ends tomorrow, it’s not gonna solve the big problem.
Mayor: What problem is that?
Monk: Your honor, we have got to, um…you’ve got to face facts. The city is ruined forever. It’s a total loss. Even if we clean up all the garbage tomorrow, we’ll never get the stink out. It’s like the dining room carpet when the cat makes a B.M. on there. What do you do? You don’t have any choice really. You got to replace the carpet. You got to…you got to get rid of the cat. You can never eat in that dining room again, can you? No, you can’t. But I do have a plan. I have a plan.
Mayor: Oh good.
Monk: Yes, Sir. It just came to me last night in a vision. One, we evacuate the city. Every man, woman and child.
Mayor: Evacuate?
Monk: Two, we burn it down. We just burn it. Scorched earth. Then just to be safe, we collect all the ashes, and what do we do? We burn the ashes. Three, we bring everybody back, and we start over. Think of it, just think of it. We rebuild San Francisco from scratch. Start fresh, everything clean, everything’s brand new. Gonna have that new city smell, fresh off the lot! We can even straighten out Lombard Street while we’re at it.
Mayor: Maybe.
Monk: Yeah, but sir, if you don’t write it down, you’ll forget it.
Mayor: Oh, I don’t think I’m gonna forget this.
Monk: So, you’ll think about it.
Mayor: Oh, yes, yes, absolutely. I promise.

Mr. Monk prepares to leave.

Mayor: Yeah, but Mr. Monk, I’m gonna need you to promise me something.
Monk: Anything.
Mayor: I want you to promise that you’re gonna get some sleep before you start working on this murder case.

Mr. Monk scoffs turns around then stops.

Mayor: Are you okay?

Mr. Monk turns around, and points at the table.

Monk: Scuff marks?
Mayor: Oh, yeah, yeah. New shoes. No big deal.
Monk: You like cashews?
Mayor: Oh, yeah, my wife says I like them too much. Here, help yourself.
Monk: No, no thanks. I’m going to go back to Jimmy Cusack’s office, have a look around.
Mayor: Oh, yeah.
Monk: Never been there? Jimmy Cusack’s office?
Mayor: No, never have. Well, you let me know if you find something, now. Keep me in the loop.
Monk: That’s funny, Sir. I was talking to somebody. They said, they thought they saw you there the night he died.
Mayor: Well, they’re mistaken. What would I be doing in Jimmy Cusack’s office? He hated my guts. Everybody knew that. I’m afraid I’m going to have to make some calls right now so good luck to you, Mr. Monk.
Monk: Yeah.
Mayor: Anything you need, be sure and let me know.

Mr. Monk runs to Natalie, Capt. Stottlemeyer, and Lt. Disher down at the lobby.

Natalie: There he is. What took you so long?
Monk: I was upstairs talking to the Mayor.
Stottlemeyer: You were in his office?
Monk: I just broke the Cusack case wide open.
Disher: You have a suspect?
Monk: Oh, yeah. I have a suspect.
Natalie: Well, who is it?
Monk: Okay, you can’t tell anybody. This is big. This is going to rip the city apart. Captain.

Lt. Randy Disher shushes Mr. Monk. Randy whispers.

Disher: Reporters. Over here.

Lt. Disher leads them away from reporters.

Monk: Okay.
Disher: Hang on. Hang on. Just a little bit further just to make sure.

Randy leads them further away such that they are now standing at The Whisper Spot. They all speak in a whisper.

Stottlemeyer: What is it?
Monk: Okay, but you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone until I am a hundred percent sure.
Natalie: Who’s he gonna tell?
Stottlemeyer: What?
Monk: Because if I am right, this is going to be the biggest story of the year.

The reports heard just what Monk said.

Monk: The Mayor was in Jimmy Cusack’s office the night he was killed.
Stottlemeyer: Are you saying the mayor is…Mayor Nicholson’s the guy?
Monk: I am saying he was involved. He is definitely hiding something.
Disher: Whoa. I mean, wow!
Natalie: What are we gonna do?
Stottlemeyer: I don’t know, but Monk is right. We have to be very careful. Nobody says a word. Not a…

Captain Stottlemeyer chances upon the sign that says The Whisper Spot.

Stottlemeyer: Oh, hell.

He turns to his side. The reporters with their camera crew run towards them.

Reporters: Captain!

The sanitation workers gather in front of City Hall.

Workers: Enough is enough! Enough is enough!
Union Rep: Mayor Nicholson! You cannot hide in there forever! We know what you did! You have blood on your hands! What do we want?
Workers: Justice for Jimmy!
Union Rep: What do we want?
Workers: Justice for Jimmy!
Union Rep: What do we want?
Workers: Justice for Jimmy!
Union Rep: Enough is enough!
Workers: Enough is enough! Enough is enough! Enough is Enough! Enough is enough!

Adrian Monk is at Dr. Kroger’s office.

Monk: Oh, I’ve done it again. Made the situation worse. The union wants the Mayor indicted for murder. The Mayor’s denying everything, and I haven’t slept in nine days.

A garbage bag falls down at the garden of Dr. Kroger’s office.

Monk: It keeps piling up. I always hated garbage even when I was a kid. We lived 2.2 miles from the city dump. I used to lie in bed smelling it. I had nightmares all the time about trash bags piling up outside higher and higher, until we couldn’t leave the house. We were buried alive.

Another garbage bag falls down the garden.

Monk: And now it’s coming true. Dr. Kroger?
Dr. Kroger: Adrian, have you been sending me your trash?

Monk scoffs.

Monk: No.
Dr. Kroger: See, I’ve been getting boxes of trash sent to me in the mail.
Monk: Really?
Dr. Kroger: Yeah, really. Now, Adrian, don’t deny it. It’s all sorted according to color and food groups. It’s your handwriting on the label. It’s upsetting my wife, it’s upsetting my children, and I want it to stop.

More garbage bags fall down the garden.

Dr. Kroger: Adrian, do you hear me? I want it to stop!
Monk: I want it to stop too.

Natalie and Mr. Monk stand at a corner of City Hall.

Natalie: Mr. Monk maybe we missed him.
Monk: No, he always uses this door to avoid the press. He’ll be out soon. He has to go home some time.
Natalie: Yeah, so do I. Oh, it looks like rain! That’ll help, right? It’ll wash away the stench?
Monk: Yeah. Contaminate the city’s water supply. Probably kill a half a million people.
Natalie: That’s the spirit.
Monk: Oh, Your Honor! Mr. Mayor!
Larry: That’s the guy. Get him out of here!
Monk: Sir, this will only take a minute.
Mayor: You know, let him through, I want to talk to this guy anyway. Mr. Monk, do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I’ve been accused of a lot of things. Matter of fact, I’ve been accused of just about everything. But this?

The Mayor shows Mr. Monk the newspaper headline “Mayor To Be Questioned In Murder”.

Larry: We asked you to look into a man’s death. We never expected you to accuse the Mayor of homicide.
Natalie: You have to understand, he’s having a really tough week.
Mayor: Tougher than this?

The Mayor shows them the newspaper headline again.

Monk: Here’s the thing. It might be months before there’s an indictment then there’s the trial, which could take forever. The union won’t go back to work until there’s a verdict.
Mayor: What do you want me to do?
Monk: Well, if it isn’t too inconvenient, I was thinking maybe you could confess, and then resign temporarily.

The Mayor and his staff walk away. They walk into the pouring rain to the Mayor’s car.

Monk: Sir, sir, you were in Jimmy Cusack’s office that night. Why are you lying about that?
Larry: Sir, don’t answer that. The Mayor was at home Monday night with his wife all night from 8 o’clock on. If you have any other questions submit them to the district attorney’s office. Okay, let’s go, Sir.
Mayor: I see you found my umbrella, where was it?
Larry: It was in a drug store downtown on Vinton Street. Somebody turned it in.
Mayor: A drug store? I was never in any drug store! Here, take this.
Monk: Natalie. Natalie, was it raining Monday night?
Natalie: I think so, Mr. Monk. Why?

Captain Stottlemeyer, Lt. Disher, Mr. Monk and Natalie visit the drug store at Vinton Street.

Clerk: Oh, you mean the plaid umbrella, yeah. I found it Tuesday morning. I was punching out. It was right over here. It said “Property of City Hall” so…I dropped it off. Is there a reward?
Disher: Yeah, you did the right thing. That’s your reward.
Stottlemeyer: Jimmy Cusack was killed right around midnight, just up the street.
Monk: Do you have any more of these Odor-Eaters?
Clerk: How many do you need?
Monk: About a trillion.
Natalie: All right, Mr. Dekker, back to the umbrella. Did you notice who left it?
Dekker: No.
Stottlemeyer: Do you happen to have the sales receipts from that night?
Dekker: Maybe. Is there a reward?

Captain Stottlemeyer, Monk, Natalie and Lt. Disher go through the receipts.

Disher: Here’s one from 1 a.m., Sir.
Dekker: You wanna tell me what this is all about?
Stottlemeyer: No.
Dekker: Okay, fair enough.
Monk: Here it is. Here it is. 12:24 a.m. he paid cash. Bottled water, a pack of Belgian Gold cigarettes, and a wrist bandage. Of course. Here’s what happened.

Flashback ensues. Jimmy Cusack is sitting on his chair when the Mayor enters his office.

Monk: The Mayor snuck into Jimmy Cusack’s office, shot him in the head. He made it look like suicide.

Flashback: The Mayor shoots Jimmy Cusack in the head. He puts the gun on Jimmy Cusacks hand.

Monk: Then he realized that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Flashback: The Mayor notices the picture of Jimmy playing tennis.

Monk: ‘cause Jimmy Cusack was left-handed. Nobody would ever believe he would shoot himself with his right hand, but Jimmy Cusack was already dead. What could the Mayor do?
Captain: Put a bandage on the other wrist.

Flasbhack: The Mayor closes his umbrella and enters the drug store.

Monk: Exactly. He walked two blocks, came in here, bought the wrist bandage then he went back to Jimmy Cusack’s office.

Flashback: The Mayor hangs his umbrella on the counter as he takes a box of wrist bandage.
Monk: And made it look like Jimmy Cusack had a sprained left hand.

Flashback: The Mayor returns to Jimmy Cusack’s office, and puts the bandage on the victim’s left hand.

Monk: And it would have worked too except…
Natalie: He forgot his umbrella.
Stottlemeyer: Well, it should be easy enough to prove. He’s the Mayor for God’s sake.

Captain Stottlemeyer grabs the receipt from Monk, and shows it to the clerk.

Stottlemeyer: Who rang this up?
Dekker: Let’s see? It says, uh, “Cashier number one.” Oh that would be me.
Stottlemyer: Well, do you remember who you sold that to?
Dekker: Maybe I do.
Disher: There’s no reward.
Dekker: I have no idea. There’s so many people coming in here. It could have been anybody. We get all kinds in here.
Monk: Okay, what is it him?

Natalie shows the guy the picture of the Mayor on the front page of the newspaper.

Dekker: The Mayor? What would the Mayor be doing in my store at 12:30 in the morning?
Monk: Buying a wrist bandage.
Dekker: No, it wasn’t him.
Monk: It was him.
Dekker: It wasn’t him.
Monk: It was him!
Dekker: No, it wasn’t him!
Monk: It was him.
Dekker: Look, I’m not an idiot. I think I would notice if the Mayor of San Francisco was in my store at 12:30 in the morning. It wasn’t him.
Disher: So, you were wrong? ‘Cause usually when you say “Here’s what happened”, it’s pretty much what happened.
Monk: Captain, it’s the stench. It’s everywhere. I can’t possibly…
Stottlemeyer: It wasn’t the Mayor, Monk.
Monk: No.
Stottlemeyer: Aw, hell. I’m gonna have to go out to the press and retract everything!
Dekker: So, what’s the big deal? Like he’s never been wrong before?
Natalie: No. No, he hasn’t.

Natalie comforts Mr. Monk.

Natalie: It’s okay.

Captain Stottlemeyer and Lt. Disher rush to the street as Natalie runs towards them.

Natalie: Thank God you’re here. He’s having some sort of breakdown. He won’t even talk to me.
Stottlemeyer: What the hell’s he doing?

Mr. Monk, driving a garbage truck, honks at them.

Natalie: He’s cleaning up San Francisco single-handedly.
Monk: Hi Captain! Lieutenant!
Stottlemeyer: Where did he get the truck?
Natalie: He told the dispatcher it was a police emergency.
Disher: He’s like a vigilante. A garbage vigilante.
Stottlemeyer: You could say that, but don’t.

Mr. Monk steps out of the garbage truck.

Stottlemeyer: Hey, Monk! How you doing?

Mr. Monk runs to the sidewalk and picks up the garbage bags.

Monk: So far, so fabulous. I’ve done seven, eight, nine houses.
Stottlemeyer: Well, good for you. It looks great.
Monk: Yeah.
Stottlemeyer: Uh, do you intend to clean up the entire city by yourself?
Monk:Well, that’s the plan, Stan. Street by street. One bag at a time. One bag at a time. One bag at a time.

Mr. Monk hops in the garbage truck.

Disher: Where are you gonna put all the garbage?
Monk: I got it all figured.

Mr. Monk starts driving slowly.

Monk: When this truck’s full, I’m going to drive it into the bay then come back get another truck keep driving them into the bay. One bag at a time. One truck at a time. One bag at a time. One truck at a time.

Mr. Monk hops out of the garbage truck.

Stottlemeyer: Well, so long as you got a plan.
Monk: Yeah!

Mr. Monk runs to the sidewalk to pick up more garbage.

Natalie: Mr. Monk, the case, remember? Jimmy Cusack?

Mr. Monk laughs.

Monk: Ah, I forgot to tell you. I solved that case about an hour ago.
Stottlemeyer: Wait what? You solved the case?
Monk: Take a look, take a look, take a little look!

Mr. Monk pulls out a flyer from his jumpsuit pocket.

Monk: This was stapled to a telephone pole. It was right in front of us the whole time.

Mr. Monk shows them a flyer on Alice Cooper’s concert.

Monk: He’s the guy.
Stottlemeyer: Who’s the guy?

Mr. Monk hops back into the garbage truck.

Disher: Alice Cooper?
Stottlemeyer: What? Are you telling us that Alice Cooper, the rock star, killed Jimmy Cusack?
Monk: First off, I don’t think Alice Cooper is his real name. But take a closer look. He is sitting in an antique wingback chair the same kind of chair Jimmy Cusack was sitting in when he was killed. Check this out.

Mr. Monk hops out of the garbage truck.

Monk: Check out the date. April 5th, Monday night. The same night as the murder. Coincidence?
Stottlemeyer: Yeah, coincidence.
Monk: Ah, no, we were looking at this case all wrong.

Mr. Monk grabs more garbage bags.

Monk: It was never about Cusack. It was never about the garbage strike. It was never about the sanitation union. It was about the chair. The antique chair! The antique wingback Cusack chair!

Mr. Monk hops back in the garbage truck.

Monk: Here’s what happened.

Flashback ensues.

Monk: It is no secret that rock and roll stars collect antiques especially antique chairs!

Flashback: Alice Cooper sitting on his antique wingback chair is reading the Chair Digest magazine.

Stottlemeyer: What the hell are you talking about?
Monk: Alice Cooper must have read about Jimmy Cusack’s handcrafted wingback chair.

Flashback: Alice Cooper reads the Chair Digest’s profile of Jimmy Cusack that shows a picture of him sitting on a wingback chair.

Monk: He was consumed with envy. He was consumed with resentment.

Flashback: Alice Cooper sees himself caressing Jimmy Cusack’s wingback chair.

Monk: Alice had to possess the fairest antique wingback chair in all the land.

Mr. Monk hops out of the garbage truck.

Disher: Should I be writing this down?
Stottlemeyer: Nope.

Flashback: Alice Cooper violently attacks Jimmy at his office, and shoots him in the head.

Monk: It’s true. Alice Cooper is a hippie, but he’s the bad kind of hippie. He’s the kind of hippie that breaks into people’s offices and beats them up, and shoots them in the head. Why? To steal their antique chairs.
Disher: Why didn’t he take the chair?
Monk: Hello? Had a bullet hole in it. Had blood on it. He didn’t want it anymore.
Disher: He could have washed it.
Stottlemeyer: Randy, I don’t think we need to stand here and pick apart the Alice-Cooper-wants-an-antique-chair theory.
Monk: If you will excuse me, I have a city to clean. One bag at a time! One bag at a time. One bag at a time.

Mr. Monk throws another garbage bag into the back of the truck then starts the compressor. However, instead of the truck eating the bags, it starts to push the bags out on to the street.

Monk: Oh! I got it. I got it. Hold on! It’s all up to me! I got it!

Mr. Monk tries to push all the bags back into the truck, but all of them come falling on him pushing him to the ground. The garbage piles up on Mr. Monk.

Monk: Oh, God! One bag at a time!
Disher: It might be time to call Dr. Kroger.
Stottlemeyer: I got an idea.
Monk: One bag at a time!
Stottlemeyer: Here, help me get him to the car.

Stottlemeyer steps inside a white room wearing an all white Hazmat suit. Mr. Monk wearing the same outfit follows him.

Barry: You can sit over there. Don’t touch anything.
Stottlemeyer: Thanks, Barry. Thank the old man, too.

Barry leaves Mr. Monk and Captain Stottlemeyer alone.

Stottlemeyer: Feeling better?
Monk: Where are we?
Stottlemeyer: It’s called a fabrication room. This is where they assemble their new circuit boards. I know the guy in charge of their security. He owed me a favor.
Monk: I can’t smell anything.
Stottlemeyer: That’s right. They have their own oxygen supply. It is one hundred percent germ-free.
Monk: Germ-free?
Stottlemeyer: Adrian Monk, you are sitting in the cleanest room in the world.
Monk: It’s quiet, too.
Stottlemeyer: Yeah. Well, we haven’t got all day. They’re kicking us out at two o’clock. So, why don’t we just kick back and enjoy ourselves?

Captain Stottlemeyer takes out a yoyo and starts playing with it.

Monk: Ah, I can feel my head clearing up.
Stottlemeyer: That’s good.
Monk: It wasn’t Alice Cooper.
Stottlemeyer: I know.
Monk: Leland. I got it. I just got it.

Flashback ensues. Mr. Monk is at the drug store looking at a receipt.

Monk: Remember that receipt from the drug store? The guy that bought that wrist bandage also bought some cigarettes.
Stottlemeyer: That’s right. Belgian Gold.

Flashback: A guy throws something in the trash that caused a loud noise. Mr. Monk looks at him as he passes Ron Neely who was stashing a pack of Belgian Gold cigarettes in his pocket.

Monk: The union accountant, Ron Neely, was smoking imported cigarettes. The box said Belgian Gold.
Stottlemeyer: The accountant. Now you’re making sense. He ran the pension fund. He could have been skimming money for years.
Monk: And he was about to get caught. He knew they’d be going over the books as part of the negotiation. Here’s what happened. I mean, here’s what really happened.

Flashback: Ron Neely quickly walks up to Jimmy Cusack as he was sitting on his chair, and shoots him in the head.

Monk: Neely killed Cusack and made it look like a suicide.

Flashback: Ron puts the gun on Jimmy’s right hand when he notices the picture of Jimmy playing tennis.

Captain: But he screwed up, and he had to run out and buy a wrist bandage. That makes sense. But wait, he grabbed the Mayor’s umbrella.
Monk: Yes, he did.
Captain: How did he get that?

Flashback: Ron Neely grabs the Mayor’s umbrella sitting at Jimmy’s office.

Monk: The Mayor left it there.

Flashback: The Mayor eats from a bowl of mixed nuts at Jimmy’s office with his foot on the desk as he talks to Jimmy.

Monk: The Mayor was in Cusack’s office earlier that night. They were meeting secretly trying to settle the strike.

Flashback: The Mayor smiles, and shakes Jimmy’s hand.

Monk: Officially, the two sides were not supposed to be talking. That’s why the Mayor could never admit he was there.

Flashback: The Mayor grabs his coat, but leaves his umbrella.

Monk: It would have been political suicide.
Stottlemeyer: Monk, I have been burned twice this week already. Are you sure about this? I mean, are you absolutely sure?

Mr. Monk smiles.

Stottlemeyer: That’s good enough for me.

The San Francisco Chronicle’s front page shows a picture of Capt. Stottlemeyer arresting Ron Neely. Natalie is reading the newspaper outside with Mr. Monk waiting anxiously at the sidewalk.

Natalie: The Captain looks so happy!
Monk: Everybody’s happy, it’s a great day. Listen…here! Here they come! This is it. Here it comes. Get ready. Gentlemen! Hey, boys! Welcome back!

Mr. Monk and Natalie shower the street with confetti as the garbage truck arrives.

Monk: You’re a sight for sore eyes!

Mr. Monk and Natalie cheers.

Monk: It’s a great day! You’re a sight for sore eyes, gentlemen! Whoo! We missed you!

The garbage truck stops. The garbage men hop off the truck.

Garbage Man #1: Ho-ho! Mr. Monk, our hero.
Monk: Uh, no, you’re the hero!
Garbage Man #1: No, you’re the hero!
Monk: No, you’re the…we’re all heroes! Except for Natalie. One bag at a time, gentlemen! That’s the way we do it. Don’t forget the bag of water. Thank you, Morris, thank you guys, thanks so much.
Morris: No, we should be thanking you. You saved our pension fund.
Garbage Man #1: And you got us a brand new contract. Anything you want, Mr. Monk, you let us know.
Monk: All right. You guys do great work. Great work.

The garbage men hop on the truck, and prepare to leave.

Monk: Whoa, whoa, hold it. Excuse me, gentlemen. What about this? The confetti? You just can’t leave that there. Right? I mean you can’t leave that.

The garbage men reluctantly hop off the truck, and take their brooms.

Monk: Thank you, I wouldn’t have thrown it if I thought it was gonna stay in the street. How aobut we start back there, there’s a little bit in the corner there.

Natalie picks up a broom too, and starts sweeping.

Monk: Yeah, this is good, right here. Then you might want to make sure you get under the paper machine. Whoa, no, Natalie, don’t, don’t, don’t you do that. Let them do it. That’s their job.
Natalie: Sorry, Mr. Monk.
Monk: You work for me not for them.

This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “Mr. Monk and the Garbage Strike” episode was written by Andy Breckman and Daniel Gaeta. Monk is owned by Universal Media Studios in association with Mandeville Films and Touchstone Television.


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