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- [00:02]
Vanessa Richardson
Hi listeners, it's Vanessa. Before we get into today's episode, I want to tell you about another show I think you'll love. Hidden history with Dr. Harini Bhat. Every Monday, Dr. Bhat goes where history gets mysterious. Vanished civilizations, doomsday prophecies, paranormal phenomena and events that science still can't fully explain. Dr. Bot treats these moments like open case files. Not myths, not superstition, just incomplete explanations waiting for a closer look. Hidden History drops every Monday. Follow now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you listen, so you never miss a mystery. This is crime house. Picture this. It's May 2001. You're in a young woman's apartment in Washington, D.C. the police have just gotten a welfare check call from her parents out in California. Their daughter hasn't been in touch for five days. The officer who shows up finds her apartment unlocked, suitcases on the floor, half packed, her wallet sitting right there on a surface inside. No signs of struggle, no note. Just nothing. Like she stepped out to grab coffee and never came back. Now here's where it gets really strange. When her parents go through her phone records trying to figure out who she last talked to, they find one number that shows up more than almost anyone else. They dial it and it goes to voicemail for someone they never expected. Someone with power, someone with secrets. And someone who seemed highly motivated to keep them hidden. Foreign. From UFO cults and mass suicides to secret CIA experiments, presidential assassinations and murderous doctors, these aren't just theories. They're real stories that blur the line between fact and fiction. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I'll explore the real people at the center of the world's most shocking events and nefarious organizations. These cases are wild and I want to hear what you think. At the end of each episode. Leave a comment wherever you listen. Be sure to rate, review and follow so we can continue building this community together. And for ad free access to all three episodes, subscribe to Crime House plus on Apple Podcasts. Today we're starting something special. A two part series on the disappearance and murder of Chandra Levy. She was 24 years old, a government intern from Modesto, California. And in May 2001, she disappeared from her Washington D.C. apartment without a trace. In today's part one, I'll tell you all about Chandra herself, who she was, how she ended up in the orbit of one of the most powerful men in Washington and the last weeks of her life before she vanished. Then part two is about what came after an investigation that spiraled into one of the biggest political scandals of the early 2000s, a man convicted of murder and then set free, and a case that has never officially been solved. All that and more coming up.
- [03:35]
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- [04:03]
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- [04:32]
Vanessa Richardson
Chandra Levy grew up in Modesto, California, a mid sized city in California's Central Valley, about 90 miles east of San Francisco. It's the kind of place people leave when they have bigger plans. And Chandra had very big plans. Her parents, Robert and Susan Levy, looked pretty conventional from the outside. Robert was an oncologist. Susan raised horses and ran the household. But they were actually unconventional in a lot of ways. They were Jewish, but they also brought Buddhism, Hinduism and Pentecostal Christianity into how they raised their kids. When their daughter was born on April 14, 1977, they named her Chandra, the Sanskrit word for moon. And the way they raised Chandra and her brother Adam matched that spirit entirely. This family traveled not like two weeks in Orlando, I mean Tanzania, Machu Picchu, Jerusalem, the rainforests of Costa Rica. The Levies were the kind of family who wanted their kids to have a real sense of the world. For a while, Chandra resisted. She was a cautious kid. For instance, on a camping trip to Yosemite, she actually slept in the car instead of a tent because she was convinced a bear was going to come for her. And honestly, I can't blame her. But then something shifted. When Chandra was 12, Susan signed her up for a 10 day rock climbing camp despite her objections, and Chandra stuck it out. By the end of the program, she was the only girl who finished. That stubborn streak was going to become a defining feature. That's the detail I keep coming back to not the fear, the finishing. That is a very specific type of personality. Not the loudest in the room, not the most naturally gifted, but the one who's still there at the end. That kind of resilience followed Chandra into high school. She knew she wanted to pursue some kind of public service after finishing school. And she felt like that path led to a career in law enforcement. She volunteered as a police Explorer with the Modesto Police Department, doing things like answering phones and filing, but also occasionally going on ride alongs with officers. She was doing adult work while most of her classmates were figuring out promotions. And that gap in maturity showed Chandra wasn't really interested in dating boys her own age. She was drawn to older men. The more experienced officers of the department were the ones she connected with. And her big celebrity crush was Harrison Ford, who at this point was in his 50s. Now, Harrison Ford in his 50s is still Harrison Ford. So I'm not judging, but it tells you something about where Chandra's head was. She was drawn to authority, experience, and the kind of confidence that comes from actually having done things. The boys her own age probably felt like a different species. There's also something worth considering here. The Police Explorer program, the ride alongs, the gravitating toward older officers. Chandra was surrounding herself with power and learning how to move within it from a very young age. That's not a flaw. It's actually exactly what you'd want in someone building a career in law enforcement or public service. But it also meant she was primed almost from the start to be drawn to powerful men who took her seriously. She graduated high school in 1995, enrolled at San Francisco State University, and found herself in a metro area more than four times the size of Modesto. For someone who'd spent her whole life in the same mid sized Central Valley city, that shift must have felt enormous. New people, new pace. A city that never really slowed down. The world just kept getting bigger. And so did her ambitions. She started thinking about working for the FBI or even the CIA. She earned a criminal justice degree around 1999 and got into the graduate program at USC's School of Policy Planning and Development. Chandra wasn't the top student in her program. She was more B than straight A's. But she was relentless about her resume. She interned with the mayor of Los Angeles, then with the governor of California. That internship got her into state level political spaces and let her see how dealmaking actually worked at that level. And one experience in particular stuck with her. A tour of Folsom State Prison. That included sitting in on a parole hearing. Folsom is one of California's original maximum security facilities, and it's housed some of the most notorious criminals in American history. Think Charles Manson and Eric Menendez. We don't know exactly what the hearing was or who the inmate was, but something about being that close to the machinery of incarceration, actually watching it operate, watching a person's fate get decided in a room like that, seems to have crystallized something for her. It was the kind of experience that made the Federal Bureau of Prisons internship feel like more than just a line on a resume. And the summer after her final semester at usc, Chandra landed an internship with the Public affairs office of the Federal Bureau of prisons in Washington, D.C. for anyone with FBI or CIA ambitions, this was exactly the kind of credential that got you taken seriously. That fall, Chandra packed up and moved to D.C. in the fall of 2000. This was the final piece she needed to finish her master's degree. She'd been working toward this since she was a teenager, riding around in police cars in Modesto. Everything had been pointed at this. The degrees, the internships, the networking, the discipline, and. And now she was off to Washington, D.C. then she got there and immediately hit a wall. Chandra's paperwork was stuck in the bureaucratic machinery of a department managing over 200,000 inmates and staff. It would take weeks to clear. In the meantime, she answered phones and made coffee, which must have been a bit crushing when you've done everything right and this is the moment you've been building toward. But here's what's notable. Chandra didn't crumble. She didn't start job hunting somewhere easier. She showed up every day, did the unglamorous work, and stayed ready. That stubborn streak from the rock climbing camp was still there, and it wasn't long before her moment came. It was October 2000. A friend of Chandra's named Jennifer Baker, another USC grad student who still needed her final internship, called and suggested they go to Capitol Hill together to do some networking. Chandra was happy to come along. Any excuse to be in those buildings and make connections. They went to the Rayburn House Office Building, where most members of Congress keep their DC Offices, and their first stop was the office of their home district's representative, Congressman Gary Condit. They checked in at the reception desk and sat down to wait for a staffer. Instead, Condit came out himself. He was in his early 50s, twinkling eyes, an easy smile. If you squinted, you could see a resemblance to Harrison Ford. And Condit had the charisma to match. He said he always had time for his constituents, brought them both glasses of white grape juice, and personally walked them through the Capitol, including the gallery of the House chamber. When Jennifer mentioned she was looking for an internship, he didn't just offer to help, he offered her a job on his staff on the spot. Chandra already had her placement, but Condit made sure she left with something, too his direct office line and his email address. He told her to reach out anytime she needed advice. Picture that from Chandra's perspective. She's 23, she's been grinding since high school, and a sitting U.S. congressman just personally walked her around the Capitol building and told her to call him whenever she needed anything. For someone built the way Chandra was, that's everything. I want to be careful here. Not to make it sound naive. Chandra wasn't a passive person. She wasn't someone who got swept away easily. She'd spent years learning how power worked, how rooms worked, how to read people. But even people who understand exactly what's happening to them can still feel it. The thrill of being singled out by someone at the center of things is real, even when you're smart enough to see it clearly. She called him a few days later, and that call was about to change both their lives. Before I get there, though, I want to note something about the shape of Chandra's story up to this point. Because what strikes me is how linear it was. She had a plan. She followed it. She hit obstacles. She adapted. Police Explorer to SFSU to usc to the governor's office to Folsom Prison to Washington, D.C. every step was deliberate. Every connection she made was towards something. And now she had the direct line of a U.S. congressman who wanted to hear from her. On paper, this was the networking she'd been building for years finally paying off. The problem was this connection wasn't going to take her where she thought it was. There's never been a better time to get outside and experience the benefits of nature, discover nearby trails and explore the outdoors with alltrails. Download the free app today and find your outside
- [13:59]
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- [14:32]
Vanessa Richardson
So Gary Condit. Let's talk about him. He was a Democrat who represented one of the most conservative Districts in California, the Central Valley, which is farming country, deeply working class, and not exactly a hotbed of progressive politics. Condit's whole brand was that he was willing to buck his own party when his constituents values called for it. People liked that about him. He'd been in Congress since 1989, and by late 2000, his star was genuinely rising. He was the ringleader of a block of conservative Democrats called the Blue Blue Dogs. And with the margins in Congress razor thin after the Bush election, both parties were suddenly very interested in what Gary Condit wanted, which is all important context for what was happening with Chandra. For her, this wasn't just a man she found attractive. This was a man at the center of power, whose influence was genuinely growing. Getting close to someone like that isn't just romantic. It's also, in Washington, a career move. And for someone like Chandra, who'd spent years building a network and learning how power worked, the line between those two things probably felt thinner than it might for most people. When Chandra called his office, Condit picked up the thread easily. He gave her career advice, told her to think about learning a second language if the FBI or CIA was the goal. They bonded over both being from the Central Valley, the same flat agricultural stretch of California that most political Washington had never driven through, let alone lived in. There was a shorthand there, a shared frame of reference that probably made the whole conversation feel warmer than it should have. It was comfortable, easy. And before they hung up, he gave her something unexpected. His private phone number. Just before Thanksgiving, Chandra used it. She called him. He invited her over that night, and the affair began. Condit lived in Adams Morgan, one of DC's hippest neighborhoods. Restaurants, nightlife, the works. His building sat on a hill above Rock Creek park, an 1800 acre stretch of wooded trails that cuts right through the city. After that first night, Chandra was spending two or three nights a week there. He'd cook, or they'd order takeout, watch a movie, then go to bed. It had the rhythms of something comfortable and settled, a routine like people who'd been together for years. But that ease was an illusion, because maintaining it required Chandra to carry all the weight. She was the one keeping the secret. She was the one following the rules. She was the one making herself invisible so Condit could be comfortable and think about the math of that arrangement. Condit's life barely changed. He kept his apartment, his career, his wife, his public Persona. He was protected on every side. Chandra, meanwhile, was building her entire social life around someone who couldn't even be seen with her in a Cab. She was 23. She'd come to Washington to launch a career, and instead she was organizing her weeks around the schedule of a married man who needed her to be invisible. Condit had a whole system. They almost never spoke directly on the phone. She'd leave a message and he'd call back from somewhere private. On the rare occasions they went somewhere together, Chandra took a cab and Condit followed separately with a baseball cap pulled down over his face. And when she came to his building, she had specific instructions. If anyone else was in the elevator, she had to press the button for a different floor. If someone struck up a conversation, she was there to visit a sick friend. And the most important rule, if she ever told anyone about their relationship, he would end it and cut her off entirely. Think about what it actually means to live like that. You can't mention the person you're spending half your week with. You can't put their name in a text. You can't take a cab to the front of their building. Every time you see them, you are, in some small way, performing for an audience that you hope isn't watching. That kind of secrecy is exhausting, and it's also, for some people, intoxicating. Chandra followed the rules. When friends asked why she was never available anymore, she told them she'd started dating an FBI agent. But keeping something that exciting completely to yourself is genuinely hard. So she told one person, her aunt, Linda Zamski. Linda was her mother's sister in law, close enough to feel safe, far enough removed that the secret might actually hold. Linda promised to keep quiet, and she did. Meanwhile, Chandra wasn't just following Condit's rules, she was falling for him. She kept her schedule clear in case he called. She said no to plans with friends and colleagues on the chance that he might reach out. She was putting up with all of it because Condit was making her very big promises. He said he'd leave his wife when the time was right, that he'd even give up his congressional seat so they could build a life together. Chandra believed him. And I think that's the thing that's hardest to stomach about this whole arrangement. Not the secrecy, as controlling as that was, not even the power imbalance. It's that Chandra was genuinely invested. She wasn't just enjoying a fling with a powerful man, she was in it. She'd turned down plans and cleared her calendar and told her friends she was dating a fictional FBI agent, all so she could be available to someone who was never going to make the same sacrifice for her, that is a different kind of hurt than just being deceived. And for all the fantasies Condit was spinning, Chandra was about to get a harsh dose of reality. In January 2001, Chandra got a pair of tickets to George W. Bush's inaugural ball. Condit couldn't go with her, obviously, but throughout the affair, he'd been telling her she was free to see other men, which sounds generous, but really it was just a signal that she shouldn't take things too seriously. But Chandra wasn't interested in other men. She brought a friend named Robert Crickjin as her date. Right from the start, something was off. Chandra had Robert drive to Adams Morgan to pick up the tickets, but instead of going to Condit's building, she had him park at a gas station down the block. Then she got out of the car in the middle of a snowstorm in an evening gown and told him she'd be right back. She was back about 10 minutes later, tickets in hand, no explanation. The whole night. She was miserable. She went up to the balcony and stood there looking down at the crowd on the dance floor. Robert finally went up to find her and asked what was going on. She sighed, and finally she told him she was dating a congressman. Chandra wouldn't give a name, but looking at her up there alone, was watching the party she couldn't be part of. Robert felt genuinely bad for her. She was at one of the most glamorous events in Washington, and she was more alone than if she'd stayed home. Meanwhile, somewhere down on that dance floor, Gary Condit was having a very good night. He was the man of the moment in Congress, the key swing vote for Bush's $1.6 trillion tax cut being courted by both parties, his Inc influence at its absolute peak. He'd worked his whole career to get to exactly this moment, and the last thing he needed was anyone looking too closely at his personal life. So the pressure to keep Chandra invisible only intensified. He was more paranoid than ever. And Chandra, carrying all that secrecy, waiting by a phone he rarely called first. Watching him advance while she stayed hidden was running out of patience for it. A few months went by like this. Everything seemed to be on track. But that spring back in Modesto, everything changed in an instant. It was a beautiful spring morning. Chandra's mom, Susan, was in the yard talking to her handyman, Otis Thomas, while he worked on some rose bushes. They talked about their daughters a lot since they were both around the same age. Susan mentioned that Shonda Chandra had gotten friendly with a congressman in D.C. though she didn't know which one. Otis went quiet. He said he thought he might know who it was because seven years earlier, his daughter, who was 18 at the time, had also gotten friendly with a congressman. His name was Gary Condit. According to Otis, that situation had not ended well. His daughter had been pressured to see stay silent. She'd been scared enough to go into hiding. He didn't have every detail, but he looked Susan right in the eye and told her if Chandra's mystery congressman was Gary Condit, she needed to end it. Susan went straight inside and called Chandra. She asked her directly, are you seeing Gary Condit? Chandra didn't deny it. She just wanted to know how Susan had found out. Susan told her everything Otis had said. Chandra told her to stay out of it. She was an adult. She could make her own choices. And she needed Susan to keep quiet. Susan was stuck. Chandra was 23. It wasn't Susan's place to tell her who to date. And she knew that any harder push might just drive Chandra further away. So she decided to respect her daughter's wishes and stay quiet. She didn't even tell her husband, Robert. But Susan and Robert were flying out to D.C. for Chandra's birthday in a few days. Maybe she could get through to her in person. On the night of April 14, Chandra's 24th birthday, the Levies gathered in D.C. it was supposed to be a celebration. Chandra was almost finished with her master's degree. She was in the middle of a prestigious internship. There was a lot to be proud of. But in a quiet moment, Susan pulled Chandra aside and asked again about Gary Condit. Chandra told her not to worry. She'd talked to Gary and he'd explained everything. When Susan asked what that meant, Chandra changed the subject. Susan left that dinner more worried than before. Explained everything is not an explanation. It's what you say when you don't want to explain anything at all. And I think Susan could see something that Chandra couldn't or wouldn't. Chandra was now 24. She was smart, she was capable. She had done everything right. But she was also in the middle of it. When you're inside something, when you're the one who's in love, the one who's made sacrifices, the one who's been promised things, it's almost impossible to see it clearly. Susan was on the outside. And what she could see that Chandra couldn't was a powerful older man who had told a young woman to keep him secret, given her a story to explain away someone else his daughter had known in hiding, and called that an explanation. And things were about to get more complicated. By April 2001, Condit had made his move. He'd sided with the Republicans on the tax cut and scored an invitation to to a White House luncheon at the President's own table. His wife Carolyn, was flying in to be with him. Carolyn didn't come to D.C. a lot, but when she did, Chandra had to disappear. So they had one final evening together on April 24, four days before Carolyn was scheduled to arrive. It wasn't the happiest time, because Chandra had some bad news. Her internship was over. Her supervisor had terminated it after Chandra went above her head to ask for a raise, although the version Chandra told Condit was that she was no longer technically a student and couldn't continue. Either way, she had to leave Washington and didn't know when she'd be back. But Chandra wasn't ready to let go. Condit was still saying he'd leave his wife, and she believed him. But for now, they had to say goodbye. He had to be with Carolyn. She was heading home for her graduation at from usc, the degree she'd spent years working toward, the whole reason she'd come to Washington in the first place. It's a strange thing to reconcile. She was about to graduate with a master's degree, which is a real achievement. And she was also, at the same moment, about to leave Washington without a job, without a clear future, and without the man she loved. The next few days were rough. Chandra didn't have close friends in D.C. and she couldn't lean on Condit. So on April 27, she called Robert Crichton, her date to the inaugural ball, and asked if he wanted to go out. He said he wasn't really feeling it, but she could come over for pizza and a movie. She said yes. Chandra told him about the internship ending. He asked why her congressman boyfriend wasn't helping her find something new. Surely a sitting member of Congress could pull some strings. She didn't have a good answer for that, but she still insisted he was going to leave his wife for her. Robert was skeptical. A man who genuinely wanted to be with you would help you find work. But a man who was stringing you along, he would let you figure it out yourself. Chandra didn't want to hear that, though. It was nearly 1am and she still wanted to keep talking. Eventually, Robert walked her out, flagged down a cab, and watched it disappear down the street. The next morning, April 28, Chandra emailed her landlord to cancel her lease. She was planning to move out on May 5th or 6th. Three days later, on May 1st, she emailed her mom a few flight options back to Modesto. She never followed up.
- [28:25]
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- [28:51]
Lloyd Lockridge
Hi, my name is Lloyd Lockridge and I'm the host of a new podcast from Odyssey called Family Lore. In this podcast, I'm going to have people on to tell unusual and sometimes far fetched stories about their families.
- [29:03]
Vanessa Richardson
I've heard my whole life that she invented the margarita and then we're going
- [29:06]
Lloyd Lockridge
to investigate those stories and find out how much of it is true. He gets a patent one month before the Wright Brothers oh my God. Please follow and listen to Family Lore, an Odyssey podcast available now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you get your shows.
- [29:25]
Vanessa Richardson
Robert and Susan Levy didn't panic right away. Chandra had emailed her mom on May 1, 2001, with a few flight options. Home then. They didn't hear from her after that, but she was going through a lot. She'd call when she was ready. But then a day went by and another. They tried her cell, voicemail. They left messages, sent emails. Robert and Susan were still paying Chandra's phone bill, so they knew the line was active. It just wasn't being answered. For Susan especially, the waiting was loaded. She was carrying a secret. She knew about the affair with Gary Condit. She'd promised Chandra she'd stay quiet. And she had. Susan hadn't even told Robert. But with each day that passed and no word, that promise started feeling less like loyalty and more like complicity. By May 6, five days after Chandra's last known contact with anyone, Robert and Susan knew something was wrong. They called the Washington, D.C. metropolitan Police Department and reported their daughter missing. An officer went to check her apartment. Chandra hadn't been home in days, but nothing looked like she'd left. There were suitcases on the floor, partially packed. Her wallet was on a surface inside. Personal things scattered around, the way they are when you expect to be back soon. This wasn't someone who'd packed up and moved on. This was someone who'd walked out the door planning to come back and and never did. She'd emailed her landlord to Cancel her lease. She'd sent flight options to her mom. By every practical measure, she was thinking about the future. And yet here was the apartment, half packed, wallet inside, no goodbye. Whatever happened to Chandra Levy happened fast. And it happened close. I keep thinking about what it must have felt like for Robert and Susan. You spend days telling yourself, your daughter's just busy. She'll call. She always figures things out. And then an officer tells you what he found in that apartment. Her wallet is still there. Her things are still there. She left in the middle of packing. And every story you'd been telling yourself for five days just stops. While the police investigated the levies, worked every angle they could. They called the Bureau of Prisons. They called the FBI. They checked hospitals across D.C. for anyone matching Chandra's description. Young woman, dark, curly hair, athletic. Every call came back the same way. Nothing. But Robert and Susan had a few other ideas. Because they were paying Chandra's cell phone bill, they had access to her call records. Susan sat down and went through them number by number, looking for anyone who might know something. Most of the names meant nothing to her. Chandra had built a whole life in D.C. that her parents had only ever glimpsed from the edges. People from the Bureau of Prisons, USC contacts, names she'd collected at receptions and events. A world Susan had barely glimpsed. And then one number kept appearing. Not once or twice, over and over, month after month, more than almost anyone else in the whole call history. Whoever this was, they weren't a casual contact. They were at the center of Chandra's life. Susan stared at those digits. She'd kept her promise for weeks. Through Otis Thomas's warning in the garden, through the birthday dinner where Chandra said Condit had explained everything. Through five days of unanswered calls and growing dread, she had honored her daughter's wishes at every turn. But there was nothing left to protect now. Her daughter was missing. And that number, the number Chandra had called more than anyone, the number that told Susan exactly who had been at the center of her daughter's life in this city, was right there on the page. Susan had a feeling she knew whose it was, but she picked up the phone and dialed it anyway. Because you need to hear these things out loud. Before I tell you what she heard. I want to talk about something I keep coming back to. Susan stayed quiet. To honor her daughter's choice. That was love. But in doing so, she also sat on information that might have mattered earlier. There's no easy answer there. These are the kinds of choices people make in real life, without the benefit of knowing how things end. But I'm curious what you think. Is there a point where keeping someone secret does more harm than good? Leave a comment wherever you listen. I'd love to hear your stories. Now, though, there wasn't any more time for secrets. So Susan dialed. It rang once, twice, three times, and then it went to voicemail. She had reached the office of US Congressman Gary Condit. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Vanessa Richardson and this is Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes. Come back next time for part two of our series on Chandra Levy. We'll decode the episode together about the real people at the center of the world's most notorious cults, conspiracies and criminal acts. Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media, Rimehouse on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate, review and follow Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference. And to enhance your Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes listening experience, subscribe to Crime House plus on Apple Podcasts. You'll get every episode ad free plus exciting bonus content will be back on Wednesday. Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes is hosted by me, Vanessa Richardson, and is a Crime House original. Powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes team Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benedon, Natalie Pertzovsky, Lori Marinelli, Alyssa Fox, Kaylee Pine and Michael Lang. Thank you for listening. I'm Katie Ring, host of America's Most Infamous Crimes. Each week I take on one of the most notorious criminal cases in American history. Listen to and follow America's Most Infamous Crimes. Available now wherever you get your podcasts. Looking for your next listen? Check out hidden history with Dr. Harini Bhatti every Monday. Dr. Bot goes where history gets mysterious vanished civilizations, doomsday prophecies and events that science still can't fully explain. Follow Hidden History now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you listen.