There was no wheel-boot provision.
And there was no authority to immobilize cars on private residential driveways.
Patricia crossed her arms.
"The board delegated enforcement discretion."
Treasurer Samuel Ortiz shook his head.
"For fines and notices."
"Enforcement is enforcement."
"No," Laura said.
Every head turned.
"Delegated authority is not unlimited."
Patricia stared at the attorney.
Laura continued.
"The board never approved a private-driveway immobilization program."
Patricia reached into her folder.
"We have a contractor."
"That isn't the same thing."
Laura displayed a contract.
It had been signed eight months earlier.
Patricia Whitmore — President
Annual projected cost:
$28,000
Samuel stared at it.
"I've never seen this."
Patricia replied sharply.
"You approved compliance services generally."
"For photography."
"Same vendor."
"Photography isn't wheel immobilization."
The room erupted.
Margaret called for order.
Laura displayed another document.
A pricing sheet from Desert Compliance Services.
Photo documentation — $35
Warning placard — $45
Common-area boot placement — $165
Then the final line appeared.
PRIVATE LOT IMMOBILIZATION — CLIENT MUST CONFIRM LEGAL AUTHORITY
Marcus stared at the sentence.
Laura turned toward Patricia.
"You confirmed legal authority?"
Patricia didn't answer.
Then came the contractor records.
Seventeen private residential addresses had been manually reclassified as association-controlled parking.
All seventeen changes had been performed through Patricia's administrator account.
Residents began shouting.
Janice Porter, a seventy-one-year-old homeowner, stood.
"My grandson's car was booted during Thanksgiving."
Patricia immediately replied.
"The vehicle was unregistered."
Janice turned toward Laura.
"Was registration required?"
Laura shook her head.
"Not under the current written rules."
Janice's face fell.
"I paid three hundred dollars."
The room became quiet.
Another resident stood.
David Ramsey.
"A home-health nurse visiting my wife was booted during an emergency."
He had paid the removal fee.
Another resident described a daughter's rental car.
Another described a contractor's truck during storm repairs.
One after another, the stories appeared.
Seventeen addresses.
Fifteen payments.
Thousands of dollars.
Marcus finally understood why the boots were so effective.
A warning could be disputed.
A fine could be appealed.
But a locked wheel created immediate inconvenience.
People paid first because they needed their cars.
Then they gave up.
Margaret looked toward Patricia.
"Why did you create this program?"
Patricia lifted her chin.
"Because people stopped respecting the rules."
"What rules?"
"Our parking standards."
"What specific rule?"
"Residents were bringing too many vehicles into the neighborhood."
"What rule?"
Patricia's face reddened.
"You can't govern a community if every decision becomes a legal debate."
Marcus spoke from the audience.
"You can if you only enforce rules that actually exist."
The room erupted in applause.
Patricia pointed at him.
"This entire spectacle exists because you brought an attorney into the situation."
Marcus stood.
"She's my cousin."
Patricia blinked.
"She wasn't there to trap you."
"I didn't say that."
"You said I manipulated the incident."