The younger officer had walked over to the side gate and looked into the backyard, where there were very obviously a few dozen plastic eggs scattered around and zero hazards of any kind. He came back and murmured something to his partner. The older officer turned back to Doris, and his whole tone had changed. “Ma’am, did you enter their property today?” “I had every right to. I’m on the board.” “That’s not what I asked. Did you walk onto their property through that gate?” “Yes, but—” “Did they invite you onto their property?” “That’s not the point. There was a disturbance.” “And did the homeowner ask you to leave?” Doris’s mouth opened and closed.
Here is where she made it so much worse for herself. Instead of doing the smart thing and saying, yeah, officer, I’ll go home now, she dug in. She said, “I don’t have to leave. I’m the treasurer. I have the authority in this community, and I’m not going to be intimidated.” “You don’t have authority over their backyard,” the officer said. “Nobody on an HOA board does. You entered private property you don’t own. You were asked to leave, and you refused. I’m telling you now, officially, that you need to go home. Do you understand?” And she said no. She said, and I will never forget this, “No. I will not be told what to do by people who have no respect for this community. I’m within my rights, and I’m not leaving until this situation is properly handled.”
There was a little pause where I think even the cops could not believe it. The older officer tilted his head like he was giving her one more chance to be a normal person. He said, “Ma’am, I’m directing you to leave this property and return to your home. If you refuse, I’m going to have to place you under arrest for trespassing. This is your last warning. Go home.” And Doris, treasurer of the HOA, queen of the cul-de-sac, the woman who had spent months making my family feel like criminals for existing, crossed her arms and said, “I’m not going anywhere.”