Deputy Hatcher: It would explain a lot.
Sheriff Butterfield: It would explain everything, including the deer. They were lickin' the salt.
Jimmy Belmont: Now, that is a nice story. See, that's all it is. Where's your proof? Physical proof. You don't have any, do you?
Adrian Monk: I think he's right.
Lieutenant Disher: Sheriff, do you have an evidence bag? Monk, your pen. This truck was never touched or moved, right? [removes key from the truck, blows on it] Yes. That's a fingerprint. See that? If this is your fingerprint, that means you were the last person to operate that vehicle. Is that proof enough?
Deputy Hatcher: Mr. Belmont, could you wait in the cruiser? You have the right to an attorney...
Sheriff Butterfield: Lieutenant Disher, do the people a favor, get your butt back to San Francisco. You are a cop. You don't belong here. Mr. Monk, I don't know where you belong. I got a feeling you don't know either. But if you're ever in Chambers County again, bring your dancing shoes. Gentlemen, now if you'll excuse me, I got a prisoner to process.