The stories kept coming.
By January twelfth, we had twenty-three signatures.
Twenty-three.
More than enough.
I filed the petition.
The clock started.
A special meeting had to be held within thirty days.
Bettina knew what I had done.
She knew about the legal letters.
She knew her financial records were being questioned.
And she knew her mandatory inspection was approaching.
Three days before the scheduled audit, she hired a private property inspector.
The inspector stood outside my property and photographed my gutters.
Then the driveway.
Then the landscaping.
Then the property line.
He was polite.
Professional.
And completely unaware that I already possessed a county certificate confirming compliance.
The next morning, I found a handwritten note taped to my front door.
It was from Bettina.
She accused me of harassment.
She demanded that I withdraw the petition.
Then came the threat.
If I refused, she would contact law enforcement.
I photographed the note.
Sent it to Cecily.
Then I made coffee.
I had no intention of withdrawing anything.
That afternoon, my phone vibrated.
A message from a blocked number.
Two words.
“Last chance.”
I forwarded it to Cecily.
Then I made a phone call.
Not to the HOA.
Not to my attorney.
To JoEllen Paske, a reporter for the Ridgecroft Courier.
“Can you meet me tomorrow morning?” I asked.
“What happened?”
“I think you should bring a notebook.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
She laughed.
“Now I'm interested.”
The second call went to my department.
I contacted the duty sergeant.
“I may have an unauthorized-entry dispute at my residence tomorrow morning.”
“Do you want a unit?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
I paused.
Then added:
“Don't treat it differently because of me.”
There was a brief silence.
“Understood, Chief.”
I hung up.
January fifteenth was coming.
Bettina believed it was the day she would inspect my property.
I knew it was the day the truth would inspect hers.
January fifteenth arrived cold and clear.
At 7:15 in the morning, JoEllen's car appeared two houses away.
At 7:30, Cecily arrived carrying coffee and a thick folder.
She looked around my living room.
“You ready?”
“Yes.”
“Everything documented?”
“Yes.”
“Original documents?”
“Yes.”
“County certificate?”
“Yes.”
“Financial records?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“You really are a detective.”
“I used to be.”
“Apparently you never stopped.”
We waited.
At 8:43, I heard the sound of a golf cart.
Cody appeared first.
He drove slowly down the street.
Then Bettina followed on foot.
Clipboard.
HOA fleece.
Measuring tape hanging from her belt.
She looked like someone preparing for battle.
She walked up my driveway and rang the bell.
I opened the door.
“Mr. Okafor,” she said, “the board is here to conduct your mandatory compliance inspection.”
“Good morning.”
“I need access to the rear yard.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You understand that this is an official HOA inspection?”
“I understand what you're claiming.”
“If you obstruct this process, I'll call the police.”
I nodded.
“You're welcome to.”
She stared at me.
Then pulled out her phone.
She called county dispatch.
I could hear only her side of the conversation.
She described me as a combative homeowner.
She said I was obstructing an official inspection.
She claimed she had authority to enter my property.
Then she waited.
Thirty seconds later, my phone vibrated.
A message.
“On our way, Chief. — Webb.”
I put my phone away.
Bettina looked at me.
“The police are coming.”
“I know.”
At 9:04, a police cruiser stopped outside my house.
Sergeant Antoinette Webb stepped out.
She had worked with me for six years.
But this morning she wasn't wearing the expression of an officer responding to a chief.
She was wearing the expression of an officer responding to a civil dispute.
She approached.
“Good morning.”
Bettina stepped forward.
“Thank you for coming. This homeowner is refusing to comply with an official HOA inspection.”
Webb looked at her.
“Your name?”
“Bettina Whitmore. HOA board president.”
“Okay.”
Webb looked at me.
“And you are?”
“Darnell Okafor.”
Webb gave me a tiny nod.
Bettina didn't notice.
Cecily stepped outside.
“Officer, the inspection procedure she's attempting to enforce is currently being challenged.”
Bettina interrupted.
“That isn't relevant.”
“It is when you're attempting to compel entry onto private property.”
“I have authority.”
Cecily opened her folder.
“Under which provision?”
Bettina stared at her.
“The board approved it.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
“I am the board president.”
“That's a position,” Cecily said. “Not unlimited authority.”
Bettina turned toward Webb.
“I want him removed.”
Webb remained calm.
“Why?”
“He's obstructing the inspection.”
“What law is he violating?”
Bettina opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
“Do you have a court order?” Webb asked.
“No.”
“A warrant?”
“No.”
“Is there an emergency?”
“No.”
Webb nodded.
“Then this appears to be a civil matter.”
Bettina's face reddened.
“This is an official HOA inspection!”
“And I understand that.”
“You need to make him cooperate.”
Webb looked at her.
“We don't enforce HOA inspection disputes through criminal law.”
Cecily stood beside me.
JoEllen was now taking notes from the sidewalk.
Bettina finally noticed her.
“Who is that?”
“JoEllen Paske,” the reporter said. “Ridgecroft Courier.”
Bettina's expression changed.
She looked back at me.
“You planned this.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Then why is a reporter here?”