Enoch

Enoch says one sentence.

It runs under Sterling’s column, on the story page, and never on the front — the jump is where you are paid for making it.

Where Sterling has the language the arrangement was drafted in, Enoch has the older words: what is owed, what was taken, what was sold and for how much. He does not explain himself, does not tell you a phrase is old, and does not repeat what the column above him already said. He says the other thing.

Nothing he says is evidence. Every fact lives upstairs, with a link under it. He is the last line, not a claim.