Hello…I’m Adrian…Monk. You can call me Adrian…Monk. I was once…am…am…a homicide detective with the San Francisco Police Department. I am on temporary leave, and have been for nearly ten years now, due to my obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), severely intensified by the death of my wife, Trudy. My reaction to her death interfered with my job, resulting in a still-current “suspension†(Is it just me or does everyone hate that word?) from the department.
I graduated from the University of California, Berkeley.
I am mourning my wife Trudy, who was killed by a car bomb in 1997. I have not yet fully solved the case, although Sharona, Disher, the Captain and I went to New York (God don’t ever go there…it’s just NOT sterile, and people drink milk there! They do I’m not kidding!) anyway, in New York we discovered the car bomb was built by Warrick Tennyson for a six-fingered man. I still haven’t found him, if you know any six-fingered males, can you write me? I’ve devoted the last nine years or more of my life to finding the man who killed my wife, and to consulting with San Francisco police detectives on various cases. We once thought she faked her own death, but this was actually a con set up to gain access to a storage locker in Trudy’s co-worker's possession. We caught the impostor Trudy unfortunately she got caught in between a gunfight and was fatally wounded. She died right in my arms.
I guess I have several phobias, including germs, heights, crowds, milk (definitely milk), and glaciers. I am lucky to have two wonderful assistants in my time who have had a hands-on role. My former assistant, Sharona Fleming, quit after several years of loyal service to her boss (yeah, just like that, don’t think she’s getting paid for all this time away) to go back to New Jersey and remarry her ex-husband. I kinda suffered depression following her departure, but rebounded upon the arrival of her replacement, Natalie Teeger.
Some people say my obsessive attention to minute detail cripples me socially, but I say it makes me a gifted detective and profiler; I have an uncanny ability to reconstruct entire crimes based on little more than scraps of detail that seem unimportant (if noticed at all) by my colleagues (it’s a gift…and a curse). Although I may appear defenseless, I am able to stand-up for myself physically when provoked.
I guess I have always been a little OCD, as everybody else would see it, but it intensified after Trudy’s murder. My parents were very strict and over-protective, which may also have contributed to my condition.
I have a brother, Ambrose who has only left his house twice in his life due to his extreme agoraphobia. I mean, come on, get over it, how can he expect to have a normal life cooped up in the house all his life. He can never have a normal life like you…and me!!! Our father, Jack Monk, (originally from New Hope, Pennsylvania) abandoned the family when we were children, I guess I believe the chaos and emotional instability brought about by our father's sudden absence created in us a pathological need for order and self-control. While Ambrose still believes in our father's return (to the point of setting an extra plate at the dinner table in case he comes back), I simply refuse to forgive him. I mean how can I?
My mother passed away in 1994. My father disappeared when I was eight years old. We never heard from him except once he left a note on Ambrose's door, saying he’s proud of Ambrose for leaving the house.
He did return to San Francisco in 2006, where he was arrested for running a red light and resisting arrest. I bailed him out (of course) but did not forgive him for leaving at first, but after solving a murder involving my father's boss, I guess we kinda bonded again.
I don’t like to brag, but as a car salesman once told me “If it’s true. It’s not bragging†right? I have solved well over 100 murders since the start of my career.
OK…OK so I was nicknamed "Captain Cool" in college, for defrosting the dorm refrigerator all the time that was let loose at a class reunion.
I can’t drink tap water, or any bottled water except the 'Sierra Springs' brand. I once went to Mexico and nearly dehydrated because I did not have access to this brand in Mexico. I had nothing to drink for 36 hours that time. It’s a miracle I survived
I play the clarinet and one of my proudest moments was playing at Trudy’s graveside with Willie Nelson, the Red-Headed Stranger. Trudy loved him. We both do.
My name "Adrian Monk" has 10 letters, which is my favorite number.
A couple of years ago I met with a toddler named Tommy, and was about to adopt him (the child previously having lived with a woman who was arrested for murder), but I realized I couldn't adopt Tommy as …you know…my issues prevented me from providing the attention and care a child needs. Trudy came back to me, Captain says it was a hallucinatory vision of Trudy, but I know it was really her. She told me that we should’ve had children during our time together, that was before my degeneration which began with Trudy's death.
I never drink alcohol, though I did have a sip of wine on our anniversary. This is probably because it was Trudy's favorite wine and I was on the location of our honeymoon, in Napa Valley. I was able to get 'buzzed' after one sip, complete with a hangover the next morning. I’ll never touch that stuff again.
I don’t really agree with all this OCD stuff, people keep talking about. I know I am different, but I am just as normal as the next guy…I just don’t see what everyone’s problem is.
Do you guys wanna come help me clean up, Julie spilt some milk in the kitchen. I will get the sterile gloves, the bleach, and disinfectant. You get the mop, cloths and floor cleaner. Bring SOME LARGE BAGGIES…you know for the gloves, mop head and cloths once we’re done. Well actually you’ll have to do it, cos well it’s milk and I just can’t…I mean I can’t.
Whatever you do be cautious in everything – it’s a jungle out there!!
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