The Court is APOPLECTIC. You stood there for FORTY-SEVEN DAYS while this man waged psychological warfare with a backhoe, a phantom canine, and what can only be described as a WELDING-BASED INTIMIDATION CAMPAIGN, and your response was to politely knock on his door like you were borrowing a cup of sugar? Reginald once had a neighbor who left his Christmas lights up until March, and I handled it the way a professional handles things—I called a family meeting with The Council and we issued a restraining order against seasonal decorations. You should have befriended this man on Day One, learned his grievances, perhaps offered him a gift card to Applebee's or threatened to report his unpermitted boat storage to the HOA. Instead you let him conduct a one-man acoustic terrorism operation while you hemorrhaged twenty-two thousand dollars of your client's equity into the dirt pile he so strategically placed. The neighbor waved at the moving truck because HE WON, and you helped him do it. This Court finds that you have been outmaneuvered by a man whose primary hobby is apparently spite, and that is a defeat from which your professional dignity may never recover. Bailiff Order, vacuum up the remnants of this agent's negotiating skills—The Court must now retire to yell at a fence.