Adrian Monk was not a religious man, that is, he never went to church. But that didn't mean that he didn't believe. It simply meant that the last time that he had reached out to God with any depth at all had been when he prayed for Trudy, in her last minutes of life. Everyone knew how that ended, and from that moment forward Monk had a disconnect on spiritual matters.

He had been raised in a devout home by a mother who took him and Ambrose to church at least once a week until the time that their father left. After that, she hardly went at all, and neither did he or Ambrose. And yet, the lessons were not lost.

The next time he was active in religious matters was when he was an adult and had met Trudy Ellison. The Ellisons were respectable Presbyterians, which was different in some ways from the church he grew up in, but the same in other ways. Trudy had a wise old pastor, an older man named Dekker who was old-school in his beliefs, having studied under Van Til at Westminster Seminary. Monk professed a certain faith at that time and used to enjoy the Sunday sermons since theology intrigued him. Instinctively, he knew that this life was not by chance and that there was order to it all, but he could never quite wrap his mind around who God was, nor could he grasp His attributes. But he enjoyed trying. He knew God had at last given him his wife and the life of his dreams and he was most grateful. And, for a while, he was very happy.

Then he lost Trudy.

After that, Monk felt estranged - estranged from God - estranged from faith. In his mind, another father had abandoned him and he was once again alone. He withdrew into himself and shut the whole world out, and there he would have stayed if it hadn't been for his friend.

Leland wasn't particularly religious either, but was more so than Monk. He at least went to church on a semi-regular basis and it seemed to help him. And, after Adrian began to recover from his psychological breakdown, there were times when he found himself desperately wanting to believe like his friend- such as the time he stood in front of a fountain outside of a monastery and pondered what would happen if he drank of that water that so many had proclaimed had given them life. And yet, he resisted.

Was he angry? Probably so. Was he hurt? Definitely. Could he trust? Ah, therein was the rub. He couldn't trust, not after the life he knew as a child and not after his wife was brutally taken from him.

And, yet, here he was – faced with the reality of eternity lying before him and being asked to do that which he knew which he could not do, at least not on his own – have faith in God that everything would be okay.

This was a hard thing given the fact that too often in Adrian's life such was not the case. It wasn't okay when his father abandoned the family and left him as an eight-year-old child to be the 'man' of the family, although he survived. It wasn't okay when he was bullied and treated as an outcast growing up, though he made it through it. It wasn't okay when he met the woman of his dreams only to lose her in a car bomb seven years into their marriage. It wasn't okay that he lost his senses, or that someone had tried to kill him, or that someone had framed Julie, or that they had burned down the Teeger home – no, all of that was not okay, or at least not as he would have wanted it all to be. And yet, there they were. Each of these events had happened to him or to those whom he loved and they all pointed to the glaring truth that bad things happened and happened often to people he knew as good. There was nothing that could reverse time and stop them from happening and nothing could make the pain of them go away and they underscored Monk's biggest question through it all – where was God?

As he stood inside the quiet chapel on this day, all of these things fought for primacy within Adrian Monk's mind and heart and on any other day he would have continued on the path he was on. It was easier that way, he thought. But this was no ordinary day. Today, one of his closest friends lay dying in a room just down the hallway and barring a miracle would not likely recover. So, as hard as it was, Monk knew he needed to act.

Leland had gone out on a limb for him many a time; so today, he would do the same for Leland. Monk looked down at the threshold and then up ahead, then he took a step forward and entered the room - taking a chance on faith and hoping for a joyous end.

The room was simple with subdued lighting and cream-colored walls that were meant to bring a feeling of warmth and comfort to those who would enter. A backlit stained-glass window depicting an abstract sunburst was on the opposing wall to the entrance and a kneeler's bench for those whose tradition it was to kneel was placed before it. The Gideons had left a Bible on a podium off to the side and a Torah was there as well. There were a few pamphlets on the wall offering non-denominational and secular words of comfort and peace, but beyond that, the furnishings were very sparse with nothing at all to detract from the room's purpose. It was a sanctuary. A retreat. And a place for troubled souls to rest a while and gather their wits about them. This was something Monk knew he needed and something for which he was willing to strive.


Melody McKnight's attorney wheeled Melody into the courtroom and moved her directly to the witness stand. As she entered the room, Julie bowed her head and began to shake, but Powell's assistant Denise placed a hand of solidarity on her back, steadying her a bit. Randy Disher then leaned forward and whispered in Julie's ear, not to worry, they wouldn't let her hurt her again. Taking a deep breath, Julie regained composure and looked confidently ahead as Adrian's words echoed in her head Never let them see weakness.

Melody was sworn in and looked nervously around the courtroom, assiduously avoiding the Teegers as Harrison Powell looked over some papers on the table and then made his approach.

"Good morning, Miss McKnight. My name is Harrison Powell and I am representing Miss Julie Teeger who sits right over there. If you don't mind, I have a few questions that I would like to ask you about your relationship to Joshua Landrum and anything that you might be aware of concerning his murder."

Melody shifted in her seat but remained silent, still avoiding eye contact with the Teegers. Powell continued.

"Now, Missss Melody McKnight," he stated, emphasizing the 'Miss' part with an elongated 's' sound and a pause, "Were you acquainted with the deceased, Josh Landrum, at any time prior to his death?"

"Yes." she said quietly, volunteering nothing more.

"And what exactly was that relationship?" Powell asked.

Melody paused. "Josh and I went to the same high school together and then we were in the same theater group at Berkeley."

"Were you friends?" Powell asked.

"We knew each other." Melody stated.

"Missss Melody McKnight, before we go any further, you should be aware that we have witnesses who are prepared to swear under oath that you knew Josh quite well and at one time were indeed friends." Powell stated.

Melody pursed her lips and began twisting her state-issued orange jumpsuit in her hand. "Okay. Yes, I knew Josh, quite well, and yes, we were once friends."

"When did you breakup?" Powell asked. "That is, your friendship...when did it break up?"

Melody licked her lips and then looked up at the judge. "May I have a glass of water?"

Henderson looked back at one of his interns who went in back to retrieve a glass from outside the courtroom.

"I...I guess we were still friends at the time he was killed." Melody said.

"Oh? Is that a fact?" he said.

"Yes." Melody replied, tightening her jaw and looking at Powell with steely eyes. "It is."

"Alright. How often did you see Josh?" he asked. "A few times a week, every day?"

"Daily." she responded.

"And would you characterize your relationship with him as...friendly?" he asked.

"Yes. I already said Josh and I were...friends." she said, looking down.

"Did you ever fight?" he asked.

"What?" she asked.

"You know, fight. Sometimes even the best of friends fight. It doesn't mean they aren't friends; it just means they don't agree on everything and have to work it out."

Randy and Natalie gave each other a knowing glance and Randy nodded and smiled at her. Natalie smiled back and they returned their eyes to the witness stand.

"Josh was not a guy who would fight with people. He just wasn't. He was gentle...and sweet." she said, trailing off towards the end.

"Okay, but you disagreed." he stated.

"I don't recall." Melody said.

"You don't recall disagreeing with Josh on anything? Nothing at all?"

"Objection, your honor." Melody's counsel said looking towards Henderson. "Asked, and answered."

"Sustained." Henderson stated.

Powell nodded and walked away from the bench for the moment as he considered the next angle. Turning on his heal he crossed his arm in front of him and stroked his jaw with the other hand. "When was the last time you saw Joshua Landrum?" he asked.

She looked over at him. "At the theater, on the day he was killed." she stated.

"And where were you at the time of the murder?" he asked.

"I was with my sister." she lied.

"That would be Jenna Ryan?" he asked.

"Yes. We called her Annie." she said, giving a mock sniffle as she did.

"The same woman who, along with yourself, kidnapped my client yesterday - the same woman who shot a police commander."

"Objection, your honor. Mr. Powell is digging into areas that pertain to a different case and is therefore jeopardizing my client's right to a fair trial."

"Sustained. Try to stick to the current case, Mr. Powell."

"Yes, your honor." he said. "So, you stated that you were with your sister. The same sister that fell to her death yesterday at the theater, is that correct?"

"Yes." Melody stated.

"Were you and your sister close?" he asked.

She paused. "Not particularly. Annie was away much of the time that I was growing up and I hardly knew her."

"You say she was away. Where was she?" he asked.

"She was with our father. David Ryan. He left home when I was a child and took off with Annie, who used Jenna as her stage name."

"In the theater?" he asked.

"Yes." she replied as the intern brought her water to her. She took a sip.

"Why did your father take off with your sister?" he asked.

Melody looked down at the witness stand, resting on hand on the top of it.

"He said she was talented and wanted to make her a star. He wanted them both to be stars."

"How did that make you feel, that your father abandoned you and took off with your sister?" he asked.

"I didn't like it." she said, tapping her fingers on the wood enclosure on the stand. "I resented it."

"Indeed. I would suspect you would. Anyone would." Powell noted. "Did they make it?"

"How's that?" she inquired.

"Did they make it? You know, 'make it big'? Did their careers take off and did they become stars?" he asked.

Melody chuckled and shook her head. "Hardly."

Powell smiled softly. "Why not? What happened?"

"She and my old man killed some guy." Melody said.

"They committed murder?" he asked.

"Yeah. Some guy in a play she was working in. They had some scheme to try to get Jenna noticed so they decided to fr…" she stopped.

"Go on." Powell said, crossing his hands in front of him and bouncing on his heels as if waiting. "Your father is incarcerated and your sister is dead. You get nobody in trouble by talking about this now. So please, tell us what happened."

She began again, slowly. "Daddy and Jenna gave the guy some sort of oil that he was allergic to and then Daddy pretended to be the doctor in attendance. The part of the scene that this happened in..."

"This was on stage?"

"Yes. The part of the scene involved the guy, I think his name was Hal or Al something, taking a bite of fruit. They had coated the fruit with the oil and when he had a reaction to it, daddy pretended to be a doctor and while he was busy 'checking' on the guy..." she said, making quotation marks with her fingers. "Daddy stabbed him and killed him. The actress that Jenna was understudy to was arrested for the crime, since she had stabbed him with a fake knife and the two of them had dated. Jenna and Daddy, they almost got away with it."

"What happened?" he asked.

"Adrian Monk happened." she replied.

"The detective?" he asked.

"Yeah. One in the same." she responded.

"So, Detective Monk discovered the plot and both your sister and father were arrested and sent to jail for murdering this 'Hal'?" he inquired.

"No. Daddy took the fall for Jenna. She went to jail for going after Monk with a real knife and trying to kill him." she answered.

"So, Jenna went to jail for attempted murder and David, your father, for murder one?"

"Yes." she said.

"How did you feel about this?" he asked.

She stopped for a moment and thought. "Well, I was only eleven and they had been gone a while. Interesting question. I guess, I felt if they did the crime, they should do the time. My stepfather had adopted me and he was my new father. This other man and I have had no connection since he left."

"And Adrian Monk? What were your thoughts about him?" he asked.

"I had nothing against him." she replied.

"But you knew of him and you knew what he did?"

"Yeah." she replied. "They used to do news stories on him and they would point out whenever he would solve a case."

"Were you aware of his relationship to Julie Teeger and her mother?" he asked.

She stopped for a moment and looked up at her lawyer who did not respond. "I...I think most people knew about it. They've been in the papers ever since she was arrested."

"No. Before that. Were you aware that Adrian Monk and the Teegers were close before she was arrested?" he asked.

"I was aware. I remember what happened last year with her Mom's boyfriend. That was all in the papers. Then, I heard my mother talk about how Monk and Ms. Teeger had begun to date. She was sort of surprised about it seeing that he mourned over his wife for so long." Melody replied.

"But that didn't bother you?"

"No. Why would it?" she responded.

"Just a question. How did Jenna, um...Annie...how did she respond to the news about Detective Monk?"

"About the explosion and all that stuff?"

"Yes. He nearly died." Powell replied.

"Yeah, well, she was hoping he would. She had no use for him and made that quite apparent around the house. Of course, Annie had little use for anyone except for herself. She was just that way." Melody answered.

"So, you weren't close to her?"

"No. She was a manipulator who only cared about herself." she responded.

"And yet, you were with her when Josh was killed. What were you doing?" he asked.

"How's that?"

"You and your sister. She...she worked in the light department, right - at the theater?"

"Yes." she responded.

"And you were makeup. You said you were together when Josh was killed...assuming you know when Josh was killed..."

"It was in the paper." she responded.

"Of course. But you knew precisely where you were at that given moment. You didn't even hesitate. You were with a sister whom by your own admission you were not close to...I simply ask...doing what?" he asked.

"I...I think she might have been talking to me about makeup." she said.

"You think she might have been talking to you about makeup? So, let me see if I understand you. When Josh Landrum was killed at two o'clock in the afternoon, you can remember precisely where you are at the moment of death and who you were with and 'kind of, maybe remember' what you were talking about?"

"Yeah." she replied.

"But you don't recall getting into a heated argument with the deceased two days before at a cast party in front of a bevy of witnesses?" Powell asked.

"What?" she asked, squirming in her seat. "Josh and I didn't fight."

"You were photographed fighting." Powell stated to Melody's stunned silence. Powell continued.

"There are witnesses that stated that they saw you fighting at the cast party and there were photographs taken that night with Julie Teeger's cell phone that show said fight going on in the background. Unfortunately, her original cell phone was destroyed in an attack on her home a few weeks ago, and the photo album that contained the photos she had printed off was stolen in a break-in staged by your late boyfriend, Daniel Morgenstern. I don't suppose you know anything about any of those incidents do you, Missss Melody McKnight? Do you?"

"No. I don't." Melody replied, nervously.

"But you do recall the fight now, don't you?"

"I told you, I never fought with Joshua and you can't prove that I did." Melody said defiantly.

Powell nodded. "You're right. It would be very hard for me to prove with a photograph that you and Josh fought if I didn't have the photo album or the camera that took the photo. And...of course, the album is probably long gone, although the police are currently executing a search of your home under subpoena at this present moment, so if it exists and if Daniel gave it to you, as I suspect, you will most definitely have some explaining to do. As you will have when the pink Sperry topsiders that you usually wear when you are not in prison orange, are tested for the presence of petrol from the night you and Daniel attacked Julie's home to destroy the remaining evidence of your fight with Josh."

"Objection! Your honor, Mr. Powell is blathering on about things for which we have no evidence! Fires and photos. He has nothing on my client." Melody's attorney noted.

"I have to agree, Mr. Powell. Without evidence, this line of questioning appears to be badgering."

"That's okay, your honor. I withdraw the question, for now, but I reserve the right to return once some other facts are placed into the record."

"Tread carefully, counsellor."

"Thank you, your honor. Let's switch subjects for a moment. Aside from in the theater, where do you work?" he asked.


With the tiny chapel emptied of everyone but himself, Monk walked forward to the front and knelt on the prayer bench, as was his tradition when he was a boy. He closed his eyes, and bowed his head. He had prepared no eloquent, flowery speech because as he knelt there, he had no words, only tears. In fact, at first, he had nothing at all, just his own pain. So, he just knelt and in the quiet of the room, he let go of all pretense. His shoulders shook under the weight of his burden and he wondered what could he even say? He felt so broken. Finally, after several minutes of silence the words came and it wasn't at all like he had imagined. There was no formality, just the heartfelt petition of a weary soul spoken in the simplest of terms.

"God. It's me. Adrian…Monk."

He was quiet for a full thirty seconds more as he pondered his next words.

"I…I suppose you already know that, so….I…I guess I will get right to it. God. I know I haven't talked with you like this in a very long time. And, this may not be much of an excuse considering you're God and I'm…well, I'm me. But, after Trudy died, it's just been too hard.

I guess maybe it's a bit surprising to see me here; and maybe, you think I'm only here because I want something from you. And well, truthfully, that is the case. I do want something, and you're the only one who can give it.

But, I want you to know it's not anything selfish." He said quickly. "At least, not entirely selfish. It's really…well, it's for all of us – for me, for his wife, T.K., his boys, our friendships…" He stopped for a moment as he felt his anguish pool up in his eyes, spilling over the brim of his lower lids and rolling down his nose, and he raised one hand to wipe his face dry, then reached into his pocket for his handkerchief to dry his face. After a few moments, he composed himself a bit more and was able to continue.

"Lord, it's Leland, my friend."


Melody McKnight looked down at her jumpsuit and smoothed out its fabric then answered Powell's question about where she worked.

"I work in the Dean of the College of Arts at Berkeley's office. I'm an admin." she responded.

"And what sort of work do you do for the dean?" he asked.

"Um...I answer his phones, open his mail, take messages, make appointments..."

"So, you do computer work?" he asked.

"Yeah." she replied.

"So ,you have access to the Dean's office management software. Do you input grades?"

Melody shifted nervously in her chair and took a glass of water. "I do."

"What sort of grades did Josh Landrum have?" he asked.

"Objection your honor. Irrelevant." Melody's lawyer said.

"Overruled." Henderson replied. "You may answer."

"I don't know." she responded. "There were a lot of student grades to enter."

"What about Julie Teeger? Do you know what sort of grades she got?" he asked.

She smirked. "Yeah. Don't you know Julie is perfect at everything. She's been pulling As. She was not doing so well at calculus last semester but somehow she turned that around too."

"So...you recall the grades of Julie Teeger who, judging from the events of last night, which I know we're not going to talk about but which are pertinent to this case in that they show that you did not consider Julie a friend, yet you remember her grades, but don't know Josh's grades who you say was a friend. That's interesting. Why is that, Missss Melody McKnight?" he asked.

"No clue." Melody replied.

"You seem to forget your friend Josh quite a bit." Powell replied.

"Objection, your honor. Badgering the witness." the attorney said.

"Sustained. Mr. Powell..." Henderson warned.

"Yes, your honor. I'll change subjects."

"I hope this is going somewhere." Henderson stated.

"It is, your honor." Powell said. "Now, Melody. What do you know about stage props, specifically, prop weapons?"

Melody looked up at him with doe-like eyes. "Nothing. I'm just a makeup girl."

"Oh, but you're not just a makeup girl, now are you Misssss McKnight? Aren't you in your second semester at Berkeley studying to be a makeup and special effects artist for movies and theater? And isn't part of the first year curriculum a study of creating life like wounds on actors - and...wasn't one of your jobs on the play that is currently showing at the Edith Head Theater, the play that Josh Landrum and Julie Teeger had leading roles in, to create a realistic looking wound on Josh's leg for when Julie's character 'mock' shot Josh's character?"

Melody didn't respond.

"Wasn't that your role, Missss McKnight? Remember you are under oath."

"I suppose." she responded.

"And as a part of knowing about creating stage wounds, were you not trained last semester in the mechanics and use of stage guns?" he said.

"Yes. I was."

"Was it part of your responsibility to take care of the props in this play?" he asked.

"Only the ones pertaining to makeup. Blood packs. Things like that." she said.

"What about stage guns. Did you ever mess with those? he asked.

"Occasionally." she said.

"The day Josh was killed? What about then? Given the fact that the flash bang of the prop gun is a special effect. Were you responsible for anything related to stage weapons?" he asked.

"Yes. I loaded the gun with the blanks." she responded.

"Is that when you switched the gun?" he asked.


The dim lights in the chapel flickered ever so slightly, an action that normally would have caused Monk to obsess until it was corrected, but not in this moment. He didn't even notice. For in this solemn moment he was focused only on the conversation that he was having with the One whose presence he had scarcely felt.

"You see, God, my friend Leland," he continued. "You know him, Leland Stottlemeyer -he is hurt really bad and, well, he needs a miracle.

They say you perform miracles. Reverend Dekker used to tell us about how you sent Your Son to do them all the time. Sick people, lame, blind – even the cross is a miracle- and you know, I believed him, because I saw some of the miracles that You did in my own life, and then…well, so much happened, that I guess I just didn't want to believe in those any more. You…you didn't save Trudy and so, I thought maybe, miracles weren't for me. But I'm thinking maybe…I don't know, I gave up when I shouldn't have? I don't feel like I did, but I admit sometimes, I don't know, my 'feeler's broken.' What do feelings have to do with it anyway? You're God and You do what You want to, right?"

Monk shifted uncomfortably at that thought for a moment as words of the minister came back to him even as he prayed. "You do what you want to…and yet, what was that Psalm that Reverend Dekker used to recite? 'O taste and see… that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.'" Taste and see that You are good. Blessed are they that trust. Is that true, God? Because, if it is…I'm asking for You to bless us. I'm asking for you to bless us and I…I'm trying…I really am…I'm trying to trust You to do it, because I'm at the end of my rope here, God. I…I have no other answers…I can't fix this, but I think…You can. Will You heal my friend? Will You make him well again and bring him back to us? He's really important to all of us.

We, we've been through so much recently and our relationships are all a mess but now that I see him lying there in that hospital bed like he…" He began to weep again. "Almost like he's dead, God, I see how important it is that we let go of all of that stuff and get back to what's important. We need each other too much to be doing this to each other, and well, I want things to be right with all of us, because it can all be taken away in an instant. I know that now. So, while you're at it and doing miracles, would you please help us to pick up those pieces too and become friends like we once were?

Lord, I want to ask my Natalie to marry me and, well, our wedding just wouldn't feel complete without these people with us – especially Leland. So, I need you to fix that too. And, Julie's case. Let her get set free today. Poor Julie's just been through so much…she needs this to end, and well…I…"

Suddenly Monk felt a little self-conscious knowing that he had gone into the room just to maybe say a few words to Someone whom he wasn't sure was listening and had just spent the last fifteen minutes talking to and laying out all of his problems to expecting Him to fix them. He chuckled uncomfortably then smiled, looking up towards the stained glass.

"Sorry about all that…I guess, I kinda started talking about that and got carried away." Monk wiped his face and folded the handkerchief, placing it back in his pocket then shifted back into his prayerful stance. "Anyway, I guess that's all for now- healing Leland and helping us to all get past all the anger and hurt…oh, and Julie…and Natalie and me, bless us too. You've blessed me already just by bringing her to me after Trudy. I hope you will bless our marriage too…if she says yes.

In return, well…what can I give you? You're God. I could go to church some more, but I somehow think that's not really what you're after, so I guess I will just leave it at this…if You're there listening and You're really going to help in all this, I'll make sure that I don't wait over a decade to talk to You again. There was a time that I used to do this a lot and I miss it, truthfully, but I'm afraid. So, I guess there's that one more thing…help my fear. I pray all of these things with a sincere heart hoping in You. Amen."

Monk sat still for several silent seconds, gathering himself together. Then, he stood up to his feet and wiped his eyes. Walking out of the sanctuary, he checked his cell phone to see if there were any texts from Jared. There were none. It was now after one and he hoped to be hearing from Natalie soon, but so far, nothing there. So, he moved forward to his seat and calmly sat down. Taking a deep breath, he resolved to just rest and to try not to think about anything at all. Closing his eyes, he felt at peace. Regardless what happened next, he had done all he could do. The rest was up to God.


Melody's eyes shot up to Powell's face. "What do you mean?"

"Objection, your honor!"

"Miss McKnight, my client was found with gunpowder on her hands and her fingerprints were found on the gun that was the murder weapon that was laying by Joshua Landrum's side on the day of his murder. By your own admission, you were the last person to touch the gun used at the theater as you were the person who loaded that weapon. I would like to show that gun to the court if you will indulge me." he said as a clerk brought out the murder weapon in an evidence bag and Powell walked back to his table and picked up a couple of photographs.

"Your honor, the photo on the left is a photo taken from Julie Teeger's Facebook page from rehearsal the day that Josh Landrum was killed. Julie Teeger is in costume holding the weapon. Look carefully at the handle of that gun." he stated. "Now, I would like to draw your attention to this photograph, which I might note is taken from her understudy's Instagram account. Isn't social media terrific, Melody? You don't have to answer that. Note, her understudy Tara Akins is holding a gun in the exact same scene in a similar pose that Julie is in on the photo on the left - but note, the two handles are different. According to the director, they use the same gun and have for years. Yet, on the day of the rehearsal the gun was different. It was this gun your honor - the murder weapon. And it was loaded with a real blank, one that uses real gunpowder, by Miss McKnight's own admission, therefore insuring that not only would my client's hands end up with gunpowder on them, but her fingerprints would be all over the weapon when Melody switched it out to go kill Josh around forty minutes later."

"I object!" her attorney yelled.

"Overruled."

"Your honor, in the words of my esteemed client, here's what happened. Melody McKnight not only was not friends with Julie Teeger but she detested her, so much so that she was willing to frame her for the murder of Joshua Landrum."

"Objection! My client is not on trial!"

"Overuled."

"Misssss Melody McKnight was part of the same play and knew all of the scenes, so on the day that they were to be rehearsing the scene where Julie's character shoot's Josh's character, she made sure that a real revolver capable of firing real bullets was substituted for the prop gun and she filled it with what was likely a half load blank which made a nice bang but also had enough powder in it to make a mess. She then lured both Josh and Julie to the pier, pulling Josh in first and shooting him while wearing a spare dress that the theater had on hand for Julie's character, in case the one she was wearing was lost or damaged. Oh, she also wore her sister's shoes just in case she would be suspected. Jenna had a notorious hatred for Adrian Monk so people would believe it was her. We have noted that Melody wears a size six and a half shoe to Jenna's nine. It's a perfect match. And, she wore a wig.

When Melody's boyfriend Daniel's body was recently found, remnants of said dress were found at the scene of that crime and a button was retained. She timed it all perfectly, knowing the schedule for trolley workers since Berkeley students often visit that pier. She made sure she was seen, at exactly two o'clock. But then disappeared when she saw Julie arrive and begin to look for Josh. The witness thought he saw my client, and he did, when she discovered the dead body of Josh Landrum, not before. The person he saw before was not Miss Teeger; rather, it was Miss McKnight." Powell stated.

"Plausible case, counselor. But, why would Miss McKnight want to kill Landrum?" Henderson asked.

"As the prior witness already testified, Melody was in love with Josh but Josh did not return that love and told her as much. Plus, there is the matter of his grades. We've already established that she had the ability to change his grades, and despite her apparent amnesia regarding this man that many will swear she wanted, we have multiple eyewitnesses to state that this is what she was arguing with Josh about during the cast party two days before the murder."

"But you haven't shown proof that there was an argument." the judge stated.

"That's right, your honor. I haven't shown proof in the form of the photos from the cell phone either directly from that phone or the photo album that was printed. Both are missing and one is destroyed. But, you see...there's this little invention called the cloud. Really quite brilliant. Infinite amount of space to store all sorts of stuff. Documents, contacts, and...oh yes, pictures. And it just so happens that Julie Teeger's photographs were religiously and faithfully backed up automatically to the cloud every Friday night." he stated as he walked over to his folder one last time and pulled out one last item. "That's where we found this photograph of Julie with her understudy." he said as he put the photo down on the witness stand. "Miss McKnight, would you care to tell us who you are arguing with in the background?"

Melody looked down at the photograph which had been blown up to eight by ten size for the court to see. Suddenly feeling sick, she looked up at her attorney. "I exercise my right to remain silent."

"I'll just bet you do." Powell smirked, as Julie turned and looked at her mother with tears in her eyes and the biggest smile Natalie had seen in a long time.


Adrian sat in the waiting room alone for about ten minutes after leaving the chapel. He had been so wired over the past twenty-four hours and had not slept well at all in the hospital, to the degree that when peace finally came, his body and mind started to relax and he began to doze. He had nodded off in his chair and had been asleep for five minutes when suddenly he felt two hands place themselves over his eyes. He jumped, his mind wondering what germy person had just touched him, and he spun around. Then he saw the most beautiful thing he had seen in months. It was Julie and Natalie, both with huge smiles on their faces. Julie wore no more ankle monitor and had been completely exonerated in court. Quickly he moved around the lobby chair and threw his arms around them both, and the three of them stood there, crying and talking and laughing and enjoying the feeling of that weight having been lifted. To truly be free was a gift beyond measure.

When that precious moment had passed and they briefly stepped away, Natalie reached into her purse with a small grimace, pulling out an envelope. It was from Harrison Powell.

"Here. I almost forgot." she said, handing him Powell's bill tightly enclosed within the attorney's letterhead.

Opening the envelop, Monk read the bill to himself and almost dropped the paper. It was an itemized list of hours spent working on the case, mileage, court fees and it all added up to $18,750.00. This expense would have shocked even the most liberal of spenders, but it was what followed next that nearly took his breath away. Amount owed. Zero. Covered pro-bono in exchange for legal lessons that law school could never provide. Thank you, Detective Monk. It has been an honor to know you. And it was signed in his own hand, Harrison Powell.