The result was a cardboard package labeled LUXURY SPA PRODUCTS.
It contained no merchandise of value and no dangerous chemicals. Its harmless water-based marking color was meant to create visible evidence if the contents were mishandled, not to injure anyone. There were no explosives, projectiles, sharp objects, or mechanisms intended to strike a person.
I was aware that even harmless decoys could create legal and practical problems if used carelessly.
My intention was to record a package removal, not to force a confrontation.
I also knew that a new video wouldn't prove the circumstances of every earlier missing delivery.
That would require separate evidence.
Still, after months of evasive explanations, I wanted to see what happened when the HOA president encountered a box that looked exactly like the type of merchandise appearing in those suspicious resale listings.
I left it on my porch with my name and address clearly visible.
Then I went inside.
And waited.
The president arrived just after one in the afternoon.
I hadn't planned the timing.
I'd spent the morning cleaning the garage, replacing a light fixture, and working on a small repair in the backyard. Around lunchtime, I took a shower, changed my mind about shaving, and was drying off when my phone displayed a doorbell notification.
Movement detected.
Front porch.
I glanced at the screen.
The woman in the electric-blue blazer was walking toward my door.
I almost dropped the phone.
She looked ridiculous in the best possible way for a security recording.
Her platinum-blonde bob was immaculate.
Her oversized black sunglasses covered half her face.
A thick gold chain rested above a fitted black top, and the blazer's exaggerated shoulders made her appear even more imposing.
She wore white trousers and pointed high heels.
And she was staring directly at the box labeled LUXURY SPA PRODUCTS.
I watched her bend slightly.
She read the label.
Then she picked up the package.
For several seconds, she held it against her chest.
Then she turned toward the driveway.
I grabbed the nearest towel, wrapped it securely around my waist, and opened the front door.
"Excuse me!"
She stopped.
Her shoulders stiffened.
Then she turned.
Her eyes moved over me.
I was barefoot, shirtless, and wearing nothing but a white bath towel.
She curled her lip.
"Could you put on some clothes?"
I looked at the box.
"Could you put down my package?"
Her expression changed.
"This?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She lifted her chin.
"It's being collected under neighborhood security policy."
I stepped onto the porch.
"I'm not enrolled in that service."
She laughed.
"That doesn't matter."
I took a breath.
"It matters to me. Please put the box back."
She adjusted her grip.