For someone in Clinic's particular peculiar situation, she's (mostly) modest.
The way she tells it, after the commune free-for-all, the feds let her ride up front in one of the SUVs. She didn't get to run the siren or anything, but they were definitely leaning towards her as an info source, rather than a card-carrying member of the cocaine ring that had infiltrated the commune.
I can picture Clinic.
Five years ago, her hair long, leaning against a door as the sun sets, and the desert landscape peels away outside an SUV window. Some dreamy introspective shit going on, it really settling in on her that things have changed for good, and meanwhile the SUV cab is filled with the sound of feds licking and slurping the dross of an eerily inexhaustible supply of cinnamon rolls from off their fingertips.