Six Feet

The official survey appeared on the clubhouse projector.

The fence was clearly drawn across my property.

Grace spoke first.

“The licensed survey confirms that Mrs. Holloway's fence encroaches approximately six feet onto Mr. Mercer's property.”

Denise leaned toward the microphone.

“I dispute the methodology.”

Marcus stood.

“You're welcome to hire your own licensed surveyor.”

Denise glared at him.

“But until then, the original plat, recorded documents, county records, and new survey all agree.”

He pointed toward the screen.

“The fence is on my client's land.”

The HOA management representative cleared his throat.

“Our office has found no record of an HOA boundary adjustment.”

Denise turned toward him.

“You weren't here when those interpretations were made.”

He shook his head.

“Internal interpretations don't change recorded property lines.”

That sentence landed hard.

Then Grace began reading my violations.

Trash bin.

Motorcycle cover.

Flower bed.

Garage door.

Hostile communications.

One by one.

They sounded ridiculous.

Then Marcus displayed a timeline.

Fence warning.

Fence construction.

Property objection.

County records request.

HOA violation.

Additional violations.

Attorney letter.

Survey.

The pattern was obvious.

The violations had increased after I challenged the fence.

Denise stood.

“I acted in the best interest of this community.”

Mrs. Alvarez rose from the third row.

“No.”

Everyone turned.

Mrs. Alvarez pointed toward the screen.

“You acted in the best interest of your backyard.”

The room erupted in applause.

Denise turned red.

“This is inappropriate.”

Paul stood.

“What is inappropriate is fining a man for proving you took six feet of his land.”