Then she said the sentence that made me realize the story was much bigger than our porch.
"You have no idea what those packages are worth."
I stopped.
"What does that mean?"
She blinked.
Then her face changed.
"Nothing."
I stepped back.
"No, ma'am. You said something."
She shook her head.
"I meant the liability. The association has responsibilities."
I looked toward her.
"Then you won't mind explaining those responsibilities to the people reviewing the complaints."
Her expression hardened again.
She reached for her handbag.
Then she looked toward the street.
For the first time, she seemed to notice that my neighbor across the road was standing near his porch.
Holding a phone.
Recording.
And the woman who had spent months acting as though everyone else was beneath her suddenly understood that there might be more than one camera watching.
The police arrived about twenty minutes later.
By then, the HOA president had retreated to the sidewalk, where she stood beside her luxury SUV making frantic telephone calls. The purple stain covered most of the front of her blazer, one sleeve, and the upper half of her white trousers. Her hands were still blotched with color, although she'd stopped trying to scrub them with tissues.
I had gone inside long enough to put on jeans and a gray T-shirt.
My wife was at work, and our son was still at school.
I was grateful for both.
The last thing I wanted was my family becoming the audience for another confrontation with a woman who clearly wasn't thinking carefully about her actions.
Two officers approached.
The president immediately raised her voice.
"Thank God you're here!"
One officer looked toward her.
"Ma'am, what's happening?"
She pointed at me.
"That man attacked me with chemicals!"
I took a breath.
The officer glanced toward the purple stains.
"Are you injured?"
She hesitated.
"My clothes are ruined!"
"Are you experiencing any medical symptoms?"
She looked irritated.
"He set a trap!"
The officer nodded slowly.
"We'll get everyone's account."
Then he turned toward me.
"Sir?"
I explained that the woman had removed a package addressed to me from my front porch, refused to return it, shoved me near the doorway, and thrown the box onto the driveway. I told him the contents included a harmless water-based marking color and that it had spilled when the package struck the ground.
I didn't minimize my involvement.
I explained that the box was a decoy I'd placed to document what happened to deliveries.
The officer listened carefully.
Then he asked whether I'd intended for the woman to be covered in dye.
I considered the question.
"I anticipated that the color could mark anyone who mishandled the contents. I didn't anticipate her throwing the package across the driveway."