I stared at the screen.
Then laughed.
"Visible frontage."
Apparently, property law had become contagious.
I printed the email.
Then I printed Janet's confirmation.
I put both into a folder.
HOA CORRESPONDENCE.
It was an old engineering habit.
Document everything.
Don't rely on memory.
Don't argue from emotion.
Build the evidence first.
Three days later, the fines began.
Day three.
Day four.
Day five.
Yellow envelopes appeared on my door before sunrise.
A post appeared on the neighborhood forum:
NON-COMPLIANT PROPERTY THREATENS OAKREST AESTHETIC
Someone had posted a photograph of my house.
My address had been cropped, but anyone in the neighborhood could recognize it.
Then came the surveillance.
Doug photographed my mailbox.
Another board member photographed my lawn.
Someone photographed my driveway.
Neighbors began avoiding eye contact.
One woman crossed the street when she saw me walking.
Then I found an anonymous note in my mailbox.
They did this to the Wagners too.
Underneath:
Don't back down.
I didn't intend to.
I went back to the county records.
This time I wanted everything.
Not just my property.
The entire HOA.
The Missing Amendment
The county recorder's office smelled like old paper and stale coffee.
I spent hours reviewing filings.
The Oakrest Meadows charter had last been properly recorded in 2010.
There was an attempted expansion in 2018.
I found the document.
PROPOSED AMENDMENT — PENDING SUBMISSION.
It had never been finalized.
The county had returned it for revision.
Nobody had resubmitted it.
For six years, Oakrest Meadows had apparently been enforcing its rules beyond its legally recorded boundary.
I requested a certified copy.
Then I found something even more interesting.