She was smiling.
A garden hose rested in one hand.
He remembered her standing before the HOA board years earlier to protest a proposal that would remove the neighborhood's original walking path.
She wasn't a wealthy woman.
But she knew the recorded community documents and wasn't afraid to question decisions that affected her neighbors.
He smiled sadly.
"Grandma, you would've loved this argument."
Then he opened her old files.
She had kept years of association correspondence, including newsletters, assessment notices, and meeting summaries.
Most were ordinary.
Then he found a folder labeled Southern Green Space.
Inside were records from a neighborhood vote held several years earlier.
The residents had rejected a proposal to change the retention basin's use.
The vote wasn't close.
A substantial majority wanted the area preserved.
The sheriff stared at the documents.
Then noticed something else.
One page contained his grandmother's handwritten notes.
She'd underlined a paragraph concerning homeowner approval of changes to common property.
Beside it, she'd written:
Do not let anyone sell what belongs to all of us without asking.
The sheriff leaned backward.
For a long moment, he stared at the sentence.
Then he looked toward the new development map.
The president wasn't merely proposing a change residents might dislike.
She appeared to be exploring a transaction similar to one the community had already rejected.
And if the older restrictions remained effective, she might have a serious problem obtaining approval.
The following week, the attorney formally requested additional association records.
She asked for the special-assessment approvals, complete vendor contracts, bank reconciliations, meeting minutes, and documentation concerning the retention basin.
The request was submitted on behalf of affected homeowners through the procedures available under the association's governing documents and applicable law.
The response was hostile.
The HOA president accused the homeowners of harassment.
She claimed the association had already provided sufficient information.
Then she announced an emergency board meeting to address what she called a campaign of misinformation against neighborhood leadership.
The meeting was scheduled for a Thursday evening.
Residents arrived early.
The clubhouse filled quickly.
Several homeowners carried folders of disputed notices.
Others brought receipts, photographs, and printed copies of the development map.
The sheriff sat near the back.
He wore ordinary clothes.
A navy polo shirt.
Dark trousers.
And no badge.
He had come as a homeowner.
The president entered wearing an expensive orange dress and carrying a thick leather binder.
She stood behind the conference table.