The board remains concerned about ongoing activity at your property.
I replied:
Then the board is welcome to state its concerns specifically and in writing.
She never did.
Walter noticed everything.
One Saturday he walked over while I replaced a section of fence.
“You know she’s trying to get you to leave.”
I kept driving a screw.
“I know.”
“You planning to?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I smiled.
“You really enjoy watching neighborhood drama, don’t you?”
Walter looked offended.
“I am a retired electrical engineer.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It means I prefer the term observation.”
I laughed.
Walter had installed cameras after a series of package thefts two years earlier.
Not just doorbell cameras.
Real cameras.
One covered his driveway.
One watched his side yard.
Another sat beneath the eave of his detached garage.
And because our houses faced each other at a slight angle, that last camera could see part of my side gate.
What I didn’t know was that Walter had another camera.
That one would eventually save me.
The week before the police arrived, Diane’s behavior changed.
The citations stopped.
No emails.
No anonymous complaints.
Nothing.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, I became nervous.
When someone has spent months throwing rocks at your window and suddenly goes quiet, you start wondering where they went.
Tuesday afternoon, I found Diane standing near my side gate.
Not inside.
Just near it.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped slightly.
Then pointed toward my fence.
“Inspecting.”
“My fence?”
“Common-area visibility.”
“There’s no common area here.”
“The board has authority to inspect exterior conditions.”
“From the sidewalk.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
Then she walked away.
That night, I called Walter.
“Can your camera see my gate?”
“Most of it.”
“Keep it running.”
“It’s always running.”
“Thanks.”
There was a pause.
Then Walter said, “You expecting something?”
“I don’t know.”
I almost added another lock to the gate.
I didn’t.
That decision bothered me for months afterward.
But the truth is, another lock probably wouldn’t have mattered.
Diane came prepared.
Thursday morning, Emma and I left at 11:20.
Her orthodontist appointment was at one.
I had two estimates scheduled in Columbus afterward.
We were gone a little more than four hours.
At 1:47 p.m., Walter’s driveway camera recorded Diane walking out of her house.
She wore beige pants, a blue blouse, sunglasses, and pale disposable gloves.
She carried a canvas gardening bag.
At 1:49, she reached my side gate.
She looked toward the street.
Then toward Walter’s house.
Apparently satisfied nobody was watching, she removed something from the bag.
Bolt cutters.
The camera could not clearly see the lock.
But it could see her arms move.
It could see the gate shake.
Thirty seconds later, Diane stepped inside.
That alone was bad enough.
But it was only the beginning.
She remained in my backyard for six minutes.
At 1:56, she exited.
She wiped the outside gate handle with a cloth.
Then she walked home.