about the "unacceptable rise in unauthorized trash can placements" when I stood up from the
back row.
"Excuse me, Madam President," I called out, my voice cutting through the stuffy room. Heads
turned. Margaret stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she recognized me. "I’d like to
motion to add a new item to the agenda regarding community security and unauthorized
property use."
"Out of order," Margaret snapped, banging a small wooden gavel she had bought for herself.
"Agenda items must be submitted two weeks in advance. Sit down."
"I think the community will want to hear this," I continued, walking slowly down the center
aisle. I held up a USB drive. "It concerns the unauthorized use of private property and the
illegal monetization of resident amenities." Murmurs broke out across the room. People were
tired of Margaret, and any challenge to her authority was prime entertainment.
Margaret’s face flushed red, but before she could shout me down again, one of the older
residents, a man named Arthur who had been fined for painting his door the wrong shade of
blue, stood up. "Let him speak! I motion to hear the man out." Several others chimed in with
their agreement. The bylaws stated that a majority vote from the floor could alter the agenda.
Margaret, realizing she was losing control of the room, glared at me.
"Fine. You have two minutes. And it better be good, or I will fine you for disrupting an official
meeting."
I walked up to the AV cart positioned near the front, which was connected to a large projector
used for displaying budget spreadsheets. "I have recently been dealing with a trespasser.
Someone has been accessing my locked backyard, using my pool, and worse, renting it out to
others for profit."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. "That's a police matter," Margaret said dismissively, though I
noticed a slight tremor in her voice. "Why are you wasting our time?"
"Because," I said, plugging the USB drive into the laptop, "the trespasser is sitting right there." I
pointed directly at Margaret.
I clicked play. The large screen behind the board lit up in brilliant 4K. The first clip showed
Margaret, in her floral swimsuit, unlocking my gate and strolling in with her cooler. The room
erupted. Margaret shot up from her chair, her face draining of all color. "Turn that off! That is
doctored! This is defamation!"
"Leave it on!" someone yelled from the crowd.
The next clip played—the HOA board party. The crowd roared with a mixture of laughter and