Captain Stottlemeyer: Hey, Monk. Thank you for coming. We caught a weird one here. I mean, this is off the charts.
Adrian Monk: What happened? What did you do here?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Oh, we rearranged the squad room. I guess I should start at the beginning. On friday, a woman named Martha Murphy was killed. She was hit by a baseball. She was power walking past the Little League field when a 12-year-old kid named Petey Cunningham knocked one over the fence and beaned her, left temple. I mean, what are the odds, right? A million to one? A billion to one, maybe.
Adrian Monk: You rearranged the squad room. Why?
Lieutenant Disher: It's supposed to be more efficient. We've, broken it down into five different units. It's actually working out pretty well.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Whatever. Listen, get this Yesterday, Martha's family flies in from Denver. They go to her house. They're gonna get Grandma's affairs in order. Guess what they found? It's the darnedest thing. In 30 years of law enforcement...
Adrian Monk: Here's what I don't understand. What was the problem with the way it was? The way it was before was the way, it's always been.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Monk, I haven't even gotten to the voodoo stuff yet.
Adrian Monk: I mean, it's so random, isn't it? You got all these arbitrary formations and... I mean, who can work like this? It's madness.
Captain Stottlemeyer: Okay! I don't know what I was thinking. Randy, let's put it back the way it was.
Lieutenant Disher: What, you mean right now? For how long?
Captain Stottlemeyer: Until Monk dies.