mrs. bronson. we have her statement, plus a handwritten letter from mr. bronson. ld you. derek is sick. he could hardly write his own name. that's rather convenient, isn't it? it wasn't just me. mr. monk saw him, too. your honor, if i may. mr. monk. is this the man you saw? i believe it is. according to your testimony, you only saw him in a dimly lit bar and a parking garage. hardly ideal conditions. (monk) that's true. well, mr. bronson's nephews have been waiting a long time for this estate to be probated. i'm reluctant to make a decision based on one man's testimony. your honor, adrian monk is not just anyone. his memory and powers of observation are legendary. well, there's a lot at stake here. you say he has a great memory. mr. monk. would you mind standing up and turning around? could you describe my shirt? which one? [chuckling] which one? the shirt you're wearing, or the shirt your stenographer is wearing? that's your shirt, too, isn't it? uh-- you cut yourself shaving, and there's a tiny drop of blood on her collar. (judge) what are you implying? you were