Then looked toward me.
“Interesting lady.”
I laughed.
“You have no idea.”
The camera worked perfectly.
For the first two weeks, the recordings showed little more than ordinary activity.
Our pool contractor arriving.
Leaves moving in the breeze.
My daughter carrying towels toward the patio.
My wife watering flowers.
The occasional delivery worker approaching the side gate.
Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, the camera recorded something strange.
Two unfamiliar men appeared outside the gate.
One held a clipboard.
The other carried a measuring device.
They studied the keypad.
Looked toward the pool.
Then walked along the fence examining the property's exterior.
I received a motion alert while working.
When I opened the video, I didn't recognize either man.
I contacted the security company that maintained our gate.
They confirmed that no appointment had been scheduled.
I saved the recording.
Then asked the HOA whether it had authorized any inspection of my property.
The association management company replied that it had no record of a scheduled visit.
I thought that was the end of it.
Until I reviewed the security footage after the window shattered.
Because the Tuesday recording wasn't simply a suspicious visit.
The two men had been preparing for an event I knew nothing about.
And one of them had been carrying a list of access codes that didn't belong to the association at all.
The day before she shattered my window, the HOA president sent one final email.
Its subject line read:
URGENT — COMMUNITY POOL ACCESS COMPLIANCE.
I opened it during my lunch break.
The message stated that the association had received complaints about my refusal to provide emergency access to the pool area.
It further claimed that the HOA's temporary amenity program required designated representatives to enter the property for inspection.
I read the email twice.
Then a third time.
There was no temporary amenity agreement.
At least, none that I'd signed.
Our attorney had already demanded proof of any arrangement.
The association hadn't provided it.
Now the president was asserting that such an arrangement existed.
I forwarded the message to our attorney.
Then called her.
She answered after the second ring.
“This is becoming ridiculous,” I said.
She had already read the forwarded email.
“I agree that the claim requires explanation.”
I paced beside my desk.
“She keeps saying there's an agreement. There isn't.”
“Then we need the document she claims creates the right of access.”
I stopped.
“What if she's just bluffing?”
“Then she should stop representing the property as available.”
My attorney paused.
“But if she's showing third parties a purported agreement, that's a separate issue.”