Saturday, July 18, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and frankly Reginald needs a moment because this case has TRIGGERED something deep within the judicial psyche. You stood there, a licensed professional with ACTUAL COMPARABLE SALES DATA, and allowed yourself to be cross-examined by a woman whose credentials consist entirely of watching Flip or Flop while eating string cheese. This Court once ruled in Zillow v. Common Sense, 2021 that Zestimates constitute "algorithmic hallucinations with the legal weight of a fortune cookie" and yet HERE WE ARE AGAIN. The appraisal came in at three fifty-eight and she said appraisers are BIASED? The Court's own mother once told me my judicial robes made me look "like a cult leader at a graduation" and I did not allow her to renegotiate my LEGITIMACY. You surrendered eight thousand dollars to a number generated by a computer that thinks my neighbor's detached garage is a "bonus room" when it is CLEARLY a structure I am monitoring for code violations. The Court finds you guilty not of the mother's interference but of failing to dramatically slam down the MLS printouts and declare "MADAM THIS IS A COURT OF COMPARABLES" before muting her permanently. Reginald must now adjourn to compose a strongly worded letter to Zillow that they will not read.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself DEEPLY DISTURBED, not by the hole itself, but by the fact that you stood there, six weeks into your career, watching a grown woman weep about drywall while her father delivered what can only be described as a TED Talk on legal representation. Reginald himself once lost a ceiling fan to a seller who claimed it was "emotionally significant," and I will tell you what I told that ceiling fan's ghost: FIXTURES DO NOT HAVE FEELINGS, BUT CONTRACTS DO. The other agent's disappearance is textbook Arizona Protocol, a well-documented phenomenon where agents simply evaporate westward when confronted with consequences, see Ghosting v. Professional Responsibility, 2019, a case I ruled on from my car. Your buyer's father will hate you until the day he dies, and possibly afterward, depending on his beliefs about the afterlife, but this is not your fault so much as it is the natural order of real estate. The hole was two hundred dollars of fixture and four hundred dollars of repair, but the real cost was the look in that mother's eyes as she confronted the void, both literal and metaphorical. You closed the deal, which means capitalism won, and The Court must respect capitalism even when it leaves wires dangling from the ceiling like the exposed nerves of a broken dream. Case DISMISSED on grounds that everyone involved has already suffered enough, except the sellers, who are currently enjoying Arizona's inferior humidity levels and WILL answer for this when Reginald obtains extradition authority.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the sheer audacity on display here, though NOT from the confessor, no no no, from this PHANTOM MENACE of a buyer's agent who apparently stores her wiring instructions like Reginald stores his ex-wife's casserole recipes, which is to say INCORRECTLY and FROM A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT ERA OF MY LIFE. You paid for a HOTEL out of your own commission because this woman sent three hundred and forty thousand dollars to Phoenix like it was a POSTCARD TO A DISTANT AUNT, and then she had the UNMITIGATED GALL to leave you a two-star review, which The Court must note is the exact rating I once gave a ceiling fan that refused to oscillate with conviction. I cite here the landmark case of Wire Instructions v. Basic Professional Competence, 2019, in which the court held that if you are going to ruin lives with outdated documents you should at least have the DECENCY to answer your phone while doing so. The Court finds the confessor INNOCENT of all wrongdoing and instead issues a bench warrant for whoever taught that buyer's agent how to use email. This ruling is final, and Reginald must now go lie down because this one genuinely upset him.