"Evening, sir. We received a report about a stolen vehicle at this address."
Brenda materialized beside them like a suburban poltergeist. "That's him! That's the car thief! I just bought that exact Camaro yesterday for $45,000!"
I took a deep breath. My old man always said, Documentation beats desperation every time.
"Officers, I can prove ownership right now," I said calmly. I pulled out my phone and showed Rodriguez the restoration album. Rust bucket to rolling chassis to painted perfection.
"That's some serious craftsmanship," Rodriguez murmured, swiping through images of me installing the engine block.
"He's lying! Look at these!" Brenda thrust printed photos at Officer Chen. They were generic dealer stock photos—no VIN numbers, no actual paperwork.
"Ma'am, do you have purchase documentation? Bill of sale? Wire transfer receipts?" Chen asked, unimpressed.
Brenda’s face turned the color of a fire engine. "It's... it's all being processed!"
While she stammered, I dug out my garage workbench binder. I handed Rodriguez my DMV registration, my insurance policy, and finally, the nuclear option: a yellowed piece of legal paper, written in the shaky cursive of a 93-year-old widow.
1967 Chevrolet Camaro. Condition as is. $3,200 cash. Buyer assumes all responsibility. - Eleanor Hutchinson Estate
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear my neighbor's sprinkler system three houses down.
"Ma'am," Chen said, closing his notebook with the finality of a judge's gavel, "this gentleman has clear chain-of-ownership documentation. Your evidence appears to be internet printouts."