I agreed.
We prepared a written request for the hearing.
Included the vehicle documents.
Asked for the precise basis of the alleged violation.
And requested the association's procedures concerning vehicle removal.
Rebecca also sought confirmation that no towing would occur while the dispute was being reviewed without an independent lawful basis.
The management company acknowledged receiving the request.
Then another week passed.
No hearing date.
No substantive response.
Just silence.
I assumed the board was gathering documents.
In reality, Nolan and Patricia were approaching a towing company.
Whitaker Recovery Services had operated in the Phoenix metropolitan area for nearly eighteen years.
Its owner, Daniel Whitaker, was a forty-eight-year-old former diesel mechanic who built the company with a used flatbed truck and money borrowed against his house.
By the time I encountered him, he operated several recovery vehicles, employed drivers and dispatch personnel, and handled contracts involving roadside assistance, authorized private-property towing, and vehicle recovery.
He had a reputation for being demanding about safety.
His drivers complained that he expected paperwork to be complete before a truck moved.
His office manager complained that he personally reviewed too many unusual jobs.
But the company had survived because he understood that towing somebody's vehicle was serious.
A tow truck wasn't simply moving machinery.
It was taking control of property that might be somebody's transportation to work, family vehicle, or most valuable possession.
And if a crew acted without proper authorization, the consequences could be substantial.
Daniel had learned that early.
Years before, another towing company had wrongfully removed a vehicle from an apartment parking lot while the owner was out of town.
The dispute became expensive.
The customer lost access to the vehicle.
The company faced claims.
And the resulting publicity damaged its reputation.
Daniel never forgot the lesson.
He insisted on authorization checks.
Photographs.
Clear dispatch notes.
And additional approval for unusual removals.
But even careful businesses could develop weaknesses.
Whitaker Recovery used an electronic contractor portal that allowed approved property-management clients to submit service requests.
The portal required credentials.
Documents.
Contact information.
And internal review.
Several employees could access different parts of the system.
One former dispatcher, a man named Cody Vance, had helped configure parts of the company's contractor workflow.
Cody was technically skilled.
He understood software.
He knew how authorization documents were formatted.
And he left the company after a dispute involving attendance, performance, and access-control responsibilities.
His ordinary user account was disabled.
But an older contractor integration credential associated with a test environment remained active because the company had not completed a full access audit after changing software providers.
That detail meant little to the workers on the street.
It meant even less to me.
But to someone who knew about the portal, it was an opening.
And Cody knew Nolan Holloway.
They had worked together briefly on a vehicle transport project several years earlier.
When Nolan began searching for a towing company willing to handle HOA removals, Cody told him about Whitaker Recovery.
He also claimed he knew how to submit requests that looked as though they came from an established management client.
At first, Nolan thought the information might help him secure legitimate contracts.
Then his mother began pressuring him to arrange the removal of one particular blue pickup from one particular driveway.
The temptation became something else.