The gate opened.
The women entered.
They swam for nearly an hour.
Used the outdoor shower.
Moved his lounge chairs.
And departed.
The president locked the gate when they left.
As though closing it afterward somehow made the entry permissible.
The engineer watched the recording twice.
Then he called his attorney.
For several seconds, he could barely speak.
Finally, he said quietly.
"It's her."
The attorney asked.
"Who?"
"The HOA president."
A pause.
"She's been swimming in my pool."
The attorney remained silent for a moment.
Then asked whether the video had been preserved.
The engineer nodded.
"Yes."
His attorney advised him to keep the original data and avoid confronting the women alone.
They would document the incident, request an explanation from the association, and assess the available legal remedies.
The engineer agreed.
But before the letter could even be delivered, a second recording appeared.
This time, the women arrived just after midnight.
And they brought strangers.
There were five people in the second recording.
The HOA president.
Her two friends.
And two other women the homeowner did not recognize.
One carried an expensive bottle of sparkling wine.
The other wore a wide-brimmed sunhat despite the darkness.
They entered through the side gate.
Walked across the patio.
Then began arranging chairs around the pool.
The president moved confidently.
She clearly knew the layout.
She opened the outdoor storage cabinet.
Took out clean towels.
Adjusted the lighting.
And instructed the other women where to place their belongings.
The engineer watched from his hotel room, stunned.
The strangers appeared to be guests.
Not HOA inspectors.
Not maintenance workers.
Not emergency personnel.
Guests.
At one point, the woman with the sunhat raised her phone.
She appeared to be recording the backyard.
Then she said something the pool camera's audio captured.
"This is beautiful. I had no idea the HOA had a private retreat."
The engineer stopped the recording.