Before leaving, Victoria had walked toward the side of the house.
She had stopped beside the utility box.
She had looked around.
Then she had taken a photograph.
Ethan frowned.
Why would the HOA president care about his electrical box?
He saved the footage to three different locations.
Then he called his brother.
"Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"I think Victoria just made a very expensive mistake."
"What happened?"
Ethan looked at the broken scoreboard.
"She gave me evidence."
By eight the next morning, Ethan had received three emails.
The first was from the HOA.
The second was from the architectural review committee.
The third was from Victoria herself.
The HOA email was titled:
NOTICE OF UNAUTHORIZED EXTERIOR MODIFICATION
Ethan read it twice.
Then he laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was almost impressive.
The notice claimed that the basketball scoreboard had never received proper approval.
It also claimed that Ethan had violated three separate community standards.
The first concerned visual obstruction.
The second concerned electrical installations.
The third concerned "commercial recreational equipment."
Ethan opened the attached photograph.
Someone had photographed the scoreboard from the street.
The angle made it look enormous.
Ethan knew exactly where the photographer had stood.
The photograph had been taken from the entrance to the neighborhood.
At that distance, the scoreboard looked taller than it actually was.
He opened his own photographs.
From inside his yard, the scoreboard was clearly attached to a residential basketball court.
It wasn't commercial.
It wasn't visible above the privacy fence except from a narrow angle.
And most importantly, it had been approved.
Ethan searched his email archive.
March 14.
March 17.
March 22.
April 3.
He found everything.
The application.
The architectural drawings.
The contractor's license.
The electrical permit.
The final inspection.
And the approval letter.
He forwarded all of it to the HOA board.
Then he wrote:
"Please explain how an installation approved by the architectural committee became an unauthorized modification."
He received no answer for four hours.
At noon, Victoria called.
Ethan watched the phone ring.
He let it go to voicemail.
Thirty seconds later, she called again.
He answered.
"Hello?"
"You need to stop escalating this."
"Escalating what?"
"The scoreboard."
"You destroyed it."
"I removed an unauthorized structure."
"You hit it twice with a metal tool."
Silence.
Then Victoria said:
"You're making this personal."
"No. You're making it personal."
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"I have the recording."
Another silence.
Ethan leaned back.
"Is there anything else you'd like to say?"
Victoria's voice became colder.
"The camera doesn't prove what you think it proves."
"It proves you entered my backyard."
"Your gate was open."
"It was latched."
"That's irrelevant."
"It isn't."
"Listen to me, Ethan. You live in a community."
"I know."
"You don't get to build whatever you want."
"I didn't."
"You're refusing to cooperate."
"I'm asking for the rule."
"The rule is in the covenants."
"Which section?"
Victoria didn't answer.
"Which section, Victoria?"
"Section 8."
"Section 8 concerns fences."
"It also concerns accessory structures."
"No, it doesn't."
"You've clearly made up your mind."
"No. I read the document."
Victoria hung up.
Ethan stared at the phone.
Five minutes later, his brother Mike arrived.
Mike had been Ethan's closest friend since childhood.
He walked into the backyard carrying two coffees.
He stopped when he saw the scoreboard.
"Damn."
"Yeah."
Mike walked around the damaged equipment.
"How bad?"
"Six thousand dollars."
Mike whistled.
"She actually did that?"
"I have it on camera."
"Then why are you still standing here?"
"Because this isn't just about six thousand dollars."
Mike looked at him.
"What else?"
Ethan pointed toward the side of the house.
"She photographed the electrical box."
Mike frowned.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
They went inside.
For the next three hours, they reviewed every document associated with the basketball court.
Then Mike noticed something.
"Wait."
"What?"
"This permit."
He pointed at the electrical permit.
"What's wrong?"
"The permit number."
Ethan leaned closer.
Mike zoomed in.
"Look at the date."
Ethan did.
The permit had been issued two weeks before Victoria became HOA president.
Mike looked at him.
"Maybe she didn't know."
"She reviewed the file."
"Then why destroy the scoreboard?"
Ethan didn't answer.
Mike opened another document.
The contractor's invoice.
Then another.
The architectural committee minutes.
Then another.
The HOA meeting records.
A pattern began to emerge.
Every time Ethan had submitted something related to the basketball court, one particular board member had objected.
Victoria.
Not before she became president.