{The two shake hands. Kodama looks on.}
ROSS: Exactly. We had some discussions with you about turning one of your cases that got some ink into a movie of the week.
MONK: This is my squeeze, I mean, this is Judge Jill Kodama.
KODAMA: (to Monk) Be cool. (She and Kagen shake hands) Good to meet you. I recall you wanted to make my character a Latina beer truck driver going to law school at night, because that would make Ivan more down, more like the working man.
KAGEN: The demographics you know.
MONK: What brings you here?
ROSS: We donate to the Legal Aid Council.
{Monk and Kodama look equally surprised.}
ROSS (cont’d): No, really. I’m at Ten-Shun now and we were developing a show a few months ago and their attorneys provided technical assistance to the project. My boss, Eddie Mast, took a liking to them and there you go.
{Ross has some of his drink.}
KODAMA: I’m glad you do, the LAC fills a necessary need.
{The two men nod in agreement. SANDI LOFTON, an aging beach bunny and reporter with the Hollywood Journal, appears at Ross’s elbow, butting in.}
LOFTON (to Ross): Is it true you’re considering doing a picture about bin Laden?
{Monk and Kodama perk up.}
ROSS (smiling): I shall demonstrate my usual blasé indifference to you, Sandi.
LOFTON: I heard this from our friends at the American Jewish Association. More than one of whom sits on your board, Alan. And it’s not just Jews who will be upset if this project goes forward.
{She turns to Monk.}
LOFTON (cont’d): What do you think?
MONK: I’m not completely sure, but if other warped people and events aren’t off limits, then why bin Laden? Wasn’t there a musical about the hijacking of that ship, the Achille Lauro?
LOFTON (jerks head at the sign): Figures a lawyer for this group of worn-out hippies and disillusioned revolutionaries with law degrees, that helps welfare cheats and renters duck their responsibilities would say that.
KODAMA (to Monk): Doggone dewy-eyed Taliban simp.
{Monk and Kodama exchange shit-eating grins. Lofton is unsure what to think while Ross looks bemused and tips his drink to someone else from the “industry.”}
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ROSS’S LOS FELIZ HOME/ESCAPE
ROOM BAR-NIGHT
INTERCUTTING
{Between Ross’s house and Escape Room Bar that Kagen exits.}
{Later that evening, Ross pulls up and parks his late model BMW Z-3 roadster in the driveway of his restored two-story Tudor on a cul-de-sac street in the quiet neighborhood. He gets out and walks toward his home, fishing his keys out of his pocket. There is weak illumination from a nearby lone streetlight. He passes a high shrub.}
ROSS
{-turns toward the shrub at a Sound.}
ROSS: Who’s there?
EXT. ESCAPE ROOM BAR,
CULVER CITY-NIGHT
{Walsh exits the bar, arm-in-arm with a tipsy middle-aged dyed blonde with frizzy hair and a dress too short for her age. They are laughing and kissing as they meander toward his car.}
AN SUV
{-screeches around a corner.}
EXT. ROSS’S LOS FELIZ HOME
{The exec now has a anxious look on his face as an INTRUDER, indistinct in the dim light, emerges from the shadow of the shrub}
ROSS: What is this?
INTRUDER: Judgment.
ROSS: For what?
EXT. ESCAPE ROOM BAR
{Kagen and the woman kiss and grope each other but react to a voice yelling from inside the SUV zooming by.}
VOICE (in SUV): Charlatan.
{A Molotov Cocktail is tossed and breaks near Kagen, exploding into flame.}
KAGEN: Fuck.
{The woman SCREAMS as Kagen beats out the fire that has ignited his sleeve from a splash of lit gas.}
EXT. ROSS’S LOS FELIZ HOUSE
INTRUDER: You know, traitor.
{Ross regains his nerve and charges. The Intruder is startled as he throws his Molotov Cocktail. The bottle explodes on Ross and he’s ablaze.}
ROSS: Oh God:
{Ross has enough presence of mind to drop and roll on the ground as the Intruder runs away.}
END INTERCUTTING
INT. KODAMA’S AND MONK’S HOUSE, BEDROOM,
SILVERLAKE-DAY
{It’s the next morning and the two are in bed under the covers making love in the tastefully appointed bedroom. Morning light creeps in beneath a partially drawn shade.}
CU
{-on one of the judge’s oil paintings hanging over the bed. The work depicts denizens of Skid Row at dusk. Some wear Mardi Gras party masks. In the background, there’s a building with a lit neon sign that reads: “Justice.” The Sounds of the couple’s passionate lovemaking can be heard.}
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. BEDROOM
{A little later and Monk exits the shower back into the bedroom. There’s a towel wrapped around his waist and he’s brushing his teeth. Kodama, in a slip, sits on the bed, using a blow dryer on her wet hair. The radio is on to the local NPR station.}
MONK: You meeting with the Asian Pacific Islander Caucus tonight aren’t you?
KODAMA (wearily): Yes, as you well know.
MONK: I ain’t player-hatin’ baby. I’m all for you running for the State Senate.
{He rases the dripping toothbrush above his head and pumps his fist.}
MONK (cont’d): I’ll door knock the ’hood till I’ve worn my shoes to my ankles for the one true Asian sister who’ll stand up for all our rights.
{Kodama makes a derisive sound as he re-enters the bathroom to finish his teeth-cleaning chore.}
MONK (cont’d, from the bathroom): You said you wanted to do something different than adjudicate.
KODAMA: That doesn’t mean-
{The RINGING phone cuts her off. She leans over and plucks the handset up. Monk re-enters the room.}
KODAMA (into handset): Hello?
{She listens then:}
KODAMA (cont’d): He’s right here, Nona.
MONK: What’s my mother want?
CUT TO:
EXT. MAGNOLIA AVENUE, SHERMAN OAKS-DAY
{Monk and Walsh Kagen, his arm bandaged but not in a sling, walk along the thoroughfare in the San Fernando Valley. Monk has his hands in his pockets and Walsh puffs on a thin Parodi cigar.}
KAGEN: Again, I’m sorry to have bothered your mother, but judges like cops have their addresses blocked by the phone company.
MONK: But they’re aren’t a whole lot of people with my last name.
KAGEN: Yeah, and Thelonious ain’t with us anymore.
MONK: And you’re willing to see if I can find out something about this attack on you and Ross the cops can’t?
KAGEN: According to the piece in this morning’s Journal, you were one of the last people seen talking to him.