The Court is VIBRATING with a rage that transcends the merely judicial. You stand before Reginald not as the perpetrator but as the UNWITTING ACCOMPLICE to what can only be described as transactional manslaughter, and yet The Court finds your hands not entirely clean because you trusted a colleague who treats active real estate contracts like DENTIST APPOINTMENT REMINDER CARDS. Eight thousand dollars, counselor. EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS evaporated because someone had twelve transactions and apparently the organizational capacity of a GOLDEN RETRIEVER AT A SQUIRREL CONVENTION. The husband's calm questioning haunts The Court because Reginald recognizes that voice, that terrible flat investigative tone, as I once used it myself when a contractor installed my bathroom vanity seventeen inches off-center and claimed he measured twice. You see this agent at closings sometimes and you say NOTHING, you maintain PROFESSIONAL COURTESY, you probably even nod politely while children are being RIPPED FROM IMAGINARY FRIENDSHIPS THEY WERE PROMISED, and this collegial silence makes you complicit in a system where forgetting to mention a dead deal is treated as an oopsie rather than the FINANCIAL ASSAULT it represents. The crying wife and the too-calm husband will haunt your CRM database for eternity, as they should, as THE COUNCIL OF GAVELS DEMANDS. Reginald must now adjourn to compose a strongly worded letter to absolutely no one with the authority to do anything about this.