I worked around armed people every day.
I noticed it because everything surrounding the gun was wrong.
His belt was assembled like someone had ordered “police equipment” from five different websites.
Magazine pouch facing the wrong direction.
Handcuff case positioned awkwardly.
Cheap radio with no shoulder microphone.
Flashlight.
Baton.
Black semi-automatic pistol.
Tactical pants.
Black polo.
Patches.
One shoulder read:
COMMUNITY ENFORCEMENT
The other:
POLICE
No city.
No county.
No state.
His badge said:
SPECIAL OFFICER
That phrase can mean different things depending on jurisdiction.
In Georgia, it did not give him what his costume implied.
He walked toward me.
“You Brooks?”
I was sitting on the porch step drinking coffee.
Lily had gone inside for lemonade.
“Yes.”
“Stand up.”
I did not.
“Who are you?”
His jaw tightened.
“Officer Mercer.”
“With what agency?”
“Pine Hollow Community Enforcement.”
“That isn't a law-enforcement agency.”
His shoulders squared.
“You want to argue?”
“No.”
“Then stand.”
I stood.
Not because he had authority.
Because I wanted to see what he thought his authority was.
He pulled folded paper from a cargo pocket.
“Daniel Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“You have outstanding community penalties totaling one thousand eight hundred fifty dollars.”
I took the paper.
Official-looking letterhead.
HOA logo.
Bold red heading.
FINAL ENFORCEMENT NOTICE
Violations included:
Unauthorized structural modification.
Repeated parking violation.
Visual nuisance.
Hostile conduct toward board officials.
Interference with association documentation.
Refusal to comply.
The last one fascinated me.
“Refusal to comply with what?”
“Board directives.”
“There was one conversation.”
Mercer shrugged.
“Not my problem.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To collect.”
I looked at him.
“You collect HOA fines?”
“I enforce orders.”
“Court orders?”
“Community orders.”
“No such thing.”
That irritated him.
He stepped closer.
“Pay it.”
“No.”
“Remove the swing.”
“No.”
“Move the truck.”
“No.”
“Think real hard before your next answer.”
I folded the notice.
“You've been recording this?”
His body camera blinked.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
His expression changed slightly.
Most people probably disliked being recorded by him.
I welcomed it.
“Are you a sworn law-enforcement officer?”
He stared.
“What?”
“Simple question.”
“You don't ask me questions.”
“Who commissioned you?”
His hand moved toward his gun.
Not drawing.
Resting.
That was enough for my nervous system to change gears.
Every detail sharpened.