“Do not reset the inverter,” she warned.
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because the moment those panels begin producing power again, they’ll know I failed.”
“Who will know?”
Helen slowly turned her gaze toward the second-story upstairs window of her own house. “My granddaughter is still inside.”
Her sixteen-year-old granddaughter, Naomi, had moved in with her three months earlier. Naomi rarely ventured outside, and Helen had explained that the girl was recovering from a deeply frightening incident at her previous school. I had assumed the teenager simply wanted privacy and time to heal.
Now, Helen stared at Naomi’s bedroom window as if someone else might be watching it too.
Officer June Alvarez arrived six minutes later, sirens wailing before cutting off in the driveway. She ordered Helen down from the roof and promptly placed her in handcuffs. Helen did not resist or offer excuses; she admitted everything immediately.
“Yes, I damaged the panels,” she told the officer. “All four times. And I will do it again if he turns them back on.”
June asked her why. Helen looked directly past the officer, locking eyes with me.