She directed the small community laboratory used for water-quality monitoring and neighborhood runoff studies.
Allison stopped when she saw the pool.
Her face changed.
“Oh my God.”
Brenda immediately spoke.
“This is a private HOA enforcement issue.”
One officer looked at the broken gate.
Then at the hammer on the patio.
Then at Marcus.
“Sir, are you the homeowner?”
“Yes.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“No.”
“Stay separated.”
Marcus nodded.
Brenda folded her arms.
“I’m president of the association.”
The officer replied:
“That doesn’t answer whether anyone is hurt.”
“No.”
Allison walked toward the pool edge.
She did not touch anything.
Her eyes moved across the glass.
“Those are ours.”
Brenda looked at her.
“You can’t know that.”
Allison slowly raised the tablet.
“Yes, I can.”
The screen showed a security-camera still.
Brenda stood inside the laboratory storage room.
Same blouse.
Same pants.
Same gloves.
She was carrying a plastic crate.
Allison swiped.
Second image.
Brenda removing containers from a locked storage cabinet.
Third.
Inventory labels visible.
Allison looked directly at her.
“We already did. Every container in that pool is numbered, and the camera shows you taking them.”
Silence.
Marcus kept recording.
Brenda stared at the screen.
Her face lost color.
Officer Daniel Perez stepped closer.
“Ma’am, put your hands where I can see them.”
Brenda looked at him.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Hands visible.”
“I am the HOA president.”
“I heard you.”
“You don’t understand what he’s been doing.”
Perez glanced at Marcus.
“He appears to be standing in his backyard.”
Brenda pointed.
“He’s been violating association rules for months.”
“That is not relevant to my instruction.”
Allison lowered the tablet.
“Brenda, you were not authorized to enter the storage room.”
“I have master access.”
“No.”
“I’m board president.”
“You have access to administrative rooms.”
“I oversee the laboratory.”
“No, you don’t.”
Brenda stared at her.
Allison continued.
“The laboratory is operated under the environmental program charter. Access is restricted.”
“You report to the HOA.”
“I report administratively through the association and technically to the county grant program.”
Marcus looked at Allison.
That was new information.
Brenda looked confused too.
Allison pointed toward the pool.
“Those materials are part of controlled inventory.”
Brenda’s anger returned.
“Oh, please. They were old jars.”
“No.”
“Discarded samples.”
“No.”
“Broken equipment.”
“No.”
Allison’s voice remained calm.
“You took active inventory, smashed it somewhere else, placed it in a sack, broke into this yard, and dumped it into a residential swimming pool.”
Brenda opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Officer Perez looked at the hammer.
“Who used that?”
Marcus pointed.
“She did.”
Brenda snapped:
“He wouldn’t open the gate.”
Perez stared at her.