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CONFESSION #0943 — COMMISSION CATASTROPHE
Sunday, October 11, 2026
Closing was at 2pm. Title company calls at 1:45 and says there's a lien on the property for $12,000 that nobody caught. Seller goes "oh that's from my ex-husband's business, I thought that was resolved." You thought. You thought it was resolved.
Buyer's sitting in the lobby already, took the afternoon off work. Their agent keeps texting me "what's the holdup" like I'm hiding something from her.
Title guy says we can close if seller agrees to have it taken from proceeds. Seller says "I'm not paying for his mistakes." Ma'am this is your house. Your name is on the deed.
Three hours we sat there. Three hours. Buyer almost walked twice. Finally seller's sister wired the money just to end it.
My commission was supposed to be $8,400. After the "emergency coordination fee" the title company tacked on and the credit I gave to keep everyone from killing each other, I cleared maybe $6,200.
That sister never got paid back, I guarantee it.
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Judge Reginald Escrow III
⚖️ Presiding
GUILTY OF AGGRAVATED LIEN AMBUSH IN THE FIRST DEGREE WITH RECKLESS DISREGARD FOR LOBBY FURNITURE
The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the phrase "I thought that was resolved." YOU THOUGHT. Reginald has presided over many horrors in this courtroom, but the casual deployment of the past tense to describe an ACTIVE TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLAR LIEN is a crime against the English language AND the concept of closure itself. This is precisely what happened in the landmark case of Escrow v. Everyone's Blood Pressure, 2019, where The Court ruled that any sentence beginning with "I thought my ex" is AUTOMATICALLY grounds for a forty-five minute recess and possibly witness protection. And let us discuss this sister, this HEROIC SISTER, who wired twelve thousand dollars into the void because family is a prison from which there is no parole, and The Court knows this because Reginald's own brother still owes him for a Weber grill from 2014, and NO, Kevin, I have NOT forgotten. The buyer's agent texting "what's the holdup" as if you personally invented liens to inconvenience her afternoon is the kind of colleague energy that makes The Court want to adjourn permanently to a title company in a country that does not exist. You cleared sixty-two hundred dollars for serving as therapist, hostage negotiator, and emotional punching bag while a woman argued with the concept of joint ownership in a conference room that probably smelled like stress and old coffee. The sister will never see that money again, and somewhere an ex-husband is buying jet ski parts with the confidence of a man who has never faced consequences.
Lien On Me
Have a confession? Judge Reginald Escrow III's docket is always open.
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