texts: I don't know what you're talking about.
labels: The fuck you don't.  No one calls me Pattee. That heavy-breathing sicko that called the other night could've only found out about me from you.  People are dying, Ross.  You got document after document here, right under your nose, that says why, and you haven't said word one about it.  I wanna know how the hell you sleep at night.