He also arranged for a qualified security contractor to inspect the gate and advise him on its hardware.
But even after those steps, he continued finding signs that somebody had been inside.
And that was when the situation became personal.
The engineer's daughter stopped inviting friends to swim.
At first, she did not explain why.
One Friday afternoon, she came home from school carrying a folded invitation.
Her classmate had asked whether three girls could visit for an afternoon by the pool.
Ordinarily, she would have been excited.
Instead, she placed the invitation on the kitchen counter and said she did not want anyone coming over.
Her father looked up from his laptop.
"Everything okay?"
She nodded.
"Yeah."
He studied her.
She was a bright, thoughtful twelve-year-old Black American girl with long dark braids, expressive brown eyes, and her mother's habit of biting her lower lip when something worried her.
She had become more confident over the years since losing her mother.
She loved science.
Was learning to play the piano.
And had recently started helping her father test the pool water, carefully writing the readings in a small notebook.
But now she seemed anxious.
The engineer closed his laptop.
"Sweetheart?"
She looked toward him.
"Yes?"
"Did something happen?"
She hesitated.
Then reached for the folded invitation.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Finally, she whispered, "What if those ladies come back?"
His chest tightened.
He looked toward the backyard.
"The HOA ladies?"
She nodded.
"They were looking at the gate."
"I know."
She swallowed.
"And that blonde one said you don't understand the rules."
He remained still.
The girl continued.
"What if she comes while my friends are here?"
The engineer felt anger rise.
Not because his daughter had disobeyed him.
Because a woman he had repeatedly asked to respect his property had made a child afraid to enjoy her own home.