The Court has witnessed many horrors in its tenure upon this bench, but rarely has Reginald been so thoroughly SPIRITUALLY EXHAUSTED by a confession. You took listing photos for a man whose only claim to this property is that he once slept there and apparently knows where they keep the lockbox code, which by that logic I OWN a Marriott in Phoenix. The moment he uttered the phrase "well we're married so it's half mine" you should have FLED that property like it was engulfed in flames, because legally speaking IT WAS. Instead you nodded, you took NOTES, you photographed a kitchen he has no more right to sell than I have to sell the Grand Canyon, and now those images sit on your phone like evidence in a crime you have not yet fully committed but are CLEARLY CONSIDERING. And the BOAT, counsel, THE BOAT — thirty-two thousand dollars promised to a brother for a watercraft, proceeds from a home he does not own, listed by an agent he cannot hire, for a wife who will not call you back because SHE NEVER KNEW YOU EXISTED. I myself once promised my cousin Gerald proceeds from a settlement I did not receive for an injury I did not sustain, and that Thanksgiving haunts me still. Delete those photos IMMEDIATELY, block this man's number, and may God have mercy on whatever marina his brother is currently haunting. The Court must now go lie down.