The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself VIBRATING WITH RECOGNITION, for Reginald too has known the pain of a neighbor who treats property lines like a personal religion. This buyer did not flee from mice — they fled from the SPECTER of mice conjured by a woman still nursing a grudge over three inches of fence that NO LONGER EXISTS. Three inches! The Court once ruled against a man for less — he moved his recycling bin four inches onto a shared driveway and I sentenced him to apologize to the concept of boundaries itself. But YOU, Agent, you stood there while this grocery store villain performed psychological warfare in a cardigan, and your defense is what — that the disclosure was clean? THE DISCLOSURE CANNOT PROTECT YOU FROM A WOMAN WHO SAYS "JUST BEING HONEST" LIKE IT IS A WEAPON. You should have stationed yourself in that driveway with a bullhorn and a laminated copy of the pest inspection. You should have introduced your buyers to that neighbor FIRST, under CONTROLLED CONDITIONS, perhaps with a mediator or at minimum a assertive Labrador. Instead twelve thousand dollars evaporated because you let a fence dispute from the Trump administration haunt a transaction like it was the ghost of Christmas Petty. The Court finds you guilty of inadequate neighbor reconnaissance, and also of not asking that woman at the grocery store why she is THE WAY THAT SHE IS. Reginald must now go water his lawn exactly one inch from his property line while making eye contact with Gerald.