Timeline.
Motion events.
Delivery truck.
Cat near the fence.
Wind moving a patio umbrella.
Then:
4:17 A.M. — SIDE GATE MOTION
He frowned.
They were all asleep at 4:17.
He opened it.
The screen loaded.
For three seconds, nothing moved.
Then a figure appeared.
The Homeowner stopped breathing.
A woman walked along the exterior side path.
She wore a bright-orange satin pajama set beneath a loose robe.
Disposable gloves covered her hands.
A protective mask covered the lower half of her face.
Her blonde bob was mostly hidden beneath a scarf, but not completely.
She looked toward the street.
Then toward his windows.
Then reached for the side gate.
Locked.
She tried once.
Stopped.
Looked over her shoulder again.
Then climbed.
Slowly.
Awkwardly.
But deliberately.
The patrol officer leaned closer.
“You recognize her?”
The Homeowner did not answer immediately.
He wanted to be wrong.
Then she landed inside his backyard.
Turned.
The camera caught her profile.
Even behind the mask, he knew her.
The posture.
The haircut.
The orange clothing.
The expensive watch.
HOA President.
The officer looked toward him.
“Sir?”
The Homeowner’s jaw tightened.
“That’s the HOA President.”
The officer frowned.
“Your HOA President?”
“Yes.”
“What is she doing?”
They watched.
The HOA President crossed the patio.
She did not hesitate like someone unfamiliar with the property.
She walked directly to the pool.
Reached inside a plastic shopping bag.
Removed a small bottle.
The security footage did not provide enough resolution to read the label.
But the action was clear.
She crouched.
Unscrewed the cap.
Poured something into the water.
The Homeowner stood absolutely still.
The officer immediately raised one hand.
“Don’t go outside.”
The Homeowner barely heard him.
On screen, the HOA President looked around.
Closed the bottle.
Placed it back inside the bag.
Then stopped.
She seemed to hear something.
She hurried toward the side fence.
While climbing back over, the plastic bag snagged.
Something fell.
Small.
The bottle.
It rolled behind a decorative planter.
The HOA President did not notice.
She disappeared.
The recording ended.
The Homeowner stared at the blank playback screen.
The patrol officer had already called his supervisor.
“Sir.”
No answer.
“Sir.”
The Homeowner looked at him.
“I need you to stay inside.”
The Homeowner’s voice came out dangerously quiet.
“She put something in my pool.”
“I understand.”
“My children were in that water.”
“I understand.”