"On Wednesday night," she said, "I sent the board an email requesting authority to pursue enforcement against the household at 9 Foxglove Court for what I described as a pattern of trespass. On Thursday, I taped a letter to that household's door, on this association's letterhead, accusing a seventeen-year-old boy of entering my property and stealing my daughter's clothing. I referred to the sheriff. I questioned whether his family was a good fit for our community." She paused. "I was wrong on every point. He did not enter my property. He did not steal anything. The clothing was being washed, at my daughter's request, because my own washer and dryer were broken and I had not had them repaired. I had not had them repaired because I lost my job in June, and I have been unable to afford it, and I did not tell anyone, including my daughter, including this board, because I was ashamed."
There was a sound in the room, not a gasp, more like a lot of people shifting in their seats at once.
"I'm telling you this," Ottoline went on, "not because I want sympathy. I don't. I'm telling you because I used my position on this board to try to punish a family for something that was my failure, not theirs, and you should know why. I am formally withdrawing the enforcement request. I'm withdrawing the letter. I have apologized to Dashiell Gilchrist privately and I'm apologizing to him now, publicly, because the accusation was made in writing on letterhead, and the apology should be at least that loud." She looked, for the first time, toward the left side of the room. "Dashiell, I'm sorry."
My son, scarlet, nodded once.
"I also want to propose," Ottoline said, opening the folio at last and taking out a single sheet, "that this board adopt a hardship waiver policy for fines, effective immediately and retroactive to 2021, so that any resident who was fined during a documented medical or financial emergency may apply to have that fine refunded. I've drafted the language. Radhika has a copy." She paused again. "Marvella, that would include the four hundred dollars for the Christmas lights. I should have voted against that fine. I didn't. I'm sorry for that too."
At the end of the second row, Mrs. Okereke put her hand over her mouth.
Ermengarde Quarrington had taken her reading glasses off. "That's very moving, Ottoline," she said, in a voice that was trying to decide which way the wind was blowing. "But I think the board still has to consider whether this kind of conduct is compatible with the office of President."
"I agree," said Ottoline. "You should consider it. I'll abstain."