The cited rule didn't clearly authorize the demand.
And the timing was impossible to ignore.
Judith had entered my yard after midnight.
Now she wanted the camera removed before the weekend.
I forwarded the notice to Allison.
Then I replied that I disputed the alleged violation and requested the specific governing provision and any board authorization supporting it.
I didn't mention the nighttime footage.
I wanted the records preserved and the facts established before confronting her with what I'd seen.
That evening, Hannah and I reviewed the clips.
She recognized Judith immediately.
Then looked toward the blue case.
"What was that?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
She watched the man carry it toward the backyard.
For a moment, she seemed frightened.
"Do you think they left something here?"
I looked toward the shed.
The small storage structure stood beside our garage, near the narrow passage where the camera's view was partially blocked.
I hadn't noticed anything unusual inside.
But I hadn't searched it either.
I considered checking.
Then remembered Allison's advice to avoid disturbing potential evidence.
We decided to wait until morning, document the area carefully, and seek guidance about any suspicious item we found.
Hannah looked toward Lucy's bedroom.
Then whispered, "This is getting serious."
I nodded.
For the first time, I felt genuine unease about the safety of our home.
Not because I believed every HOA dispute led to danger.
But because two people had entered our property in the middle of the night, carrying something they hadn't brought back out in any footage I'd reviewed.
And the HOA president was now demanding the removal of the camera that recorded their visit.
Saturday began ordinarily.
Lucy woke excited about her soccer game.
Hannah made breakfast.
I checked the weather and packed the equipment bag.
Then Hannah received a call from her sister asking for help with an urgent family matter.
She left shortly before ten, promising to meet us at the soccer field.
I stayed home with Lucy.
At 10:35, I was washing breakfast dishes when I noticed my aluminum ladder was no longer standing beside the garage wall.
I looked through the window.
It had been moved beneath the side-entrance camera.
Judith was climbing it.
For one brief second, I thought she might be inspecting the device.
Then she raised the hammer.
And the first blow landed.
The next few seconds unfolded exactly as I'd later describe to the police.
The shattered lens.
The falling plastic.
My furious rush outside.