Then she said:
“My neighbor is refusing to return property that belongs to us.”
I almost interrupted.
I didn't.
She continued.
“He's aggressive.”
I looked at her.
I hadn't raised my voice.
I hadn't stepped toward her.
I hadn't threatened her.
But she said it anyway.
“He's refusing to cooperate.”
The dispatcher asked something.
Bettina glanced at me.
“He's a large man.”
I raised an eyebrow.
She looked away.
Then she gave the dispatcher my name.
“Darnell Okafor.”
There was a pause.
The dispatcher asked her to repeat it.
“Darnell Okafor.”
Another pause.
Bettina frowned.
“What?”
The dispatcher apparently said something else.
Bettina looked irritated.
“Yes. That's correct.”
She hung up.
“Officers are coming.”
“Good.”
She turned.
Then stopped.
“You should know something.”
“What?”
“I've lived here twelve years.”
“I know.”
“People listen to me.”
“That isn't relevant.”
“You'll find out.”
She walked away.
I picked up the grocery bags.
Inside the house, I placed them on the kitchen counter.
Then I called my deputy chief.
“Marcus.”
“Chief?”
“I'm not calling as chief.”
There was a pause.
“That's never a good sentence.”
I smiled.
“I need you to send two patrol officers to Meadowlark Estates.”
“Why?”
“Keep it simple.”
“Chief—”
“Don't tell them who I am.”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
“And Marcus?”
“Yes?”
“Bring body cameras.”
The Patrol Cars
The first patrol car arrived eight minutes later.
Then another.
Bettina stood at the edge of her lawn.
Caleb stood beside her.
Several neighbors had come outside.
People always appeared when police cars arrived.
Not because they wanted trouble.
Because humans are curious.
The first officer approached.
“Good evening.”
Bettina immediately began talking.
“I am the HOA president.”
The officer looked at her.
“Okay.”
“This man has taken property belonging to my family.”
The officer looked at me.
“What property?”
“Groceries.”
The officer blinked.
“Groceries?”
“Yes.”