Patricia sat at the long table at the front of the room, flanked by two lawyers. She gripped her gavel so hard her knuckles were white.
"This emergency meeting will come to order," she barked into the microphone. "We are here to address the ongoing harassment of the board by a new, disruptive resident."
Daniel stood up from the back row. He didn't walk to the microphone. He walked to the center aisle, holding a massive stack of printed packets. Marcus and Javier flanked him, handing the packets out to the residents.
"What are you doing?!" Patricia screamed. "Security! Remove them!"
Two hired guards stepped forward, but Javier, standing 6-foot-3 and built like a tank, simply crossed his arms and stared them down. The guards decided they didn't get paid enough and stepped back.
"My name is Daniel Brooks," he said, his voice projecting clearly across the silent room. "And I was fined $5,000 this week for a noise violation. But that's not why we're here."
He turned on a projector he had carried in. The screen behind Patricia lit up with the 1998 surveyor map.
"Arthur Henderson didn't die of natural causes. He was harassed into a heart attack by a woman who stole two million dollars from your reserve funds."
The room erupted.