The taller man who struck me had previously worked as a private security guard.
He was not a sworn police officer.
His partner had experience in vehicle repossession work.
Neither possessed the authority they claimed while confronting homeowners.
The company had purchased uniforms and equipment designed to resemble police gear, then deployed the men to communities where association leaders wanted aggressive collection methods.
Some services were ordinary and lawful.
Others were not.
The distinction was crucial because the same company could perform legitimate work while also participating in misconduct. Investigators needed to establish who knew about the fraudulent practices, who authorized them, and who benefited.
The financial records showed that the enforcement business received payments tied to collected HOA penalties.
In certain cases, contractors were paid additional amounts when residents signed agreements or transferred money after a visit.
That arrangement created a powerful incentive to intimidate people.
The more frightened the homeowner became, the more likely the company was to get paid.
The operation had turned fear into a business model.
And the HOA president had become one of its most enthusiastic clients.
The first major break came from the younger impostor.
I didn't interview him.
I didn't contact him.
And I had no role in negotiating whatever discussions took place between him, his attorney, and investigators.
But later proceedings revealed that he had agreed to provide information about the company's operations.
He explained that the team received lists of targeted residents and instructions describing the alleged violations. Those lists frequently included people who had questioned the HOA, refused to sign agreements, or disputed charges.
The contractors were told to present themselves as an official enforcement unit.
They were also given scripted phrases intended to make residents believe criminal consequences could follow nonpayment.
One of the documents found during the investigation described certain homeowners as high-resistance targets.
My name appeared on that list.
Beside it was a handwritten notation.
Retired federal law enforcement. Avoid discussion of credentials. Escalate compliance demonstration.
I stared at the notation when it was later disclosed to me.
For a moment, I felt cold.
The HOA president had known I was a retired FBI agent.
Or at least somebody involved in the operation had known.
She had chosen to confront me anyway.
That changed my understanding of the attack.