And I realized how badly I wished she were there.
The doctors confirmed that I had bruising and a shoulder injury that required rest and follow-up care, but no life-threatening injury was identified. I was relieved, although the pain made even simple movements uncomfortable for the next several days. My daughter insisted on staying at the house, and I eventually stopped arguing when she told me she'd already arranged to work remotely for part of the week.
She immediately began reorganizing my kitchen.
I watched from the doorway.
"Your mother used to do that."
She smiled.
"Somebody has to keep you from storing cereal next to the cleaning supplies."
I laughed.
"That's an efficient use of space."
She raised an eyebrow.
"That's a terrible use of space."
For the first time since the assault, I felt the tension begin to leave my shoulders.
Not the injured one.
The other.
But the case itself was only becoming more complicated.
The next morning, investigators returned to ask additional questions about the HOA notices, the threats, and the visit.
I gave a detailed witness statement.
I described the men accurately, including their uniforms and the commands they used. I explained where I had been standing, how the taller man approached, and what happened before the physical assault. I also identified the statements I remembered hearing from the HOA president, distinguishing those words from my interpretations of her motives.
That distinction mattered.
Experience had taught me how easily a witness could unintentionally mix observation with inference.
I wanted the investigators to have facts they could test.
Not conclusions they were expected to accept because of my former title.
The team had recordings from the lawful surveillance of my driveway, my personal security cameras, and several nearby witnesses.
They also had the paperwork the HOA president brought to the confrontation.
That paperwork would become one of the most important pieces of evidence.
Because it wasn't simply a violation notice.
It included a document purporting to authorize the removal of an occupant from the property.
And the signature on that document belonged to a judicial official who had never seen it.
The fraudulent order looked convincing at first glance.
It used formal language, a court-style heading, and an embossed-looking seal. It identified my address correctly, referred to unpaid association penalties, and directed enforcement personnel to secure the premises if necessary. The document also claimed that failure to comply could lead to detention for obstruction.