“I’m Linda Barrett. President of the Alder Ridge HOA.”
“Good morning.”
“Is there a problem residents should know about?”
“We’re investigating damage to communications equipment.”
Linda looked toward me.
“I see.”
Laura asked, “Do you have knowledge of the incident?”
“I was actually the person who first discovered it.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Grant opened a small notebook.
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“What time?”
“About seven.”
I said nothing.
Linda had told me “early.”
Now seven.
Grant asked, “Why were you in the alley?”
“I take morning walks.”
“Every day?”
“Most days.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Any vehicles?”
“No.”
“Did you touch the damaged line?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What did you do after finding it?”
“I documented the issue.”
“How?”
“Photographs.”
“Could we see them?”
A pause.
“Of course.”
Linda unlocked her phone.
Scrolled.
Handed it over.
Grant looked.
“What time were these taken?”
“Seven-ish.”
He zoomed.
“Metadata says 6:48 a.m.”
Linda smiled.
“Yes, that sounds right.”
“Who did you report it to?”
“The HOA.”
“You are the HOA president?”
“Yes.”
“So who specifically?”
Linda hesitated.
“I entered it into our maintenance documentation.”
“Did you contact the utility provider?”
“No.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“Property owner?”
“Not immediately.”
“Why?”
She straightened.
“There had been prior concerns about the installation.”
Laura asked, “What kind of concerns?”
“Appearance.”
Agent Grant looked at the cable.
“Appearance.”
“It was visually inconsistent with community standards.”
“Was the line on common HOA property?”
Linda’s confidence slipped slightly.
“The alley is shared access.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“The line runs adjacent to common access.”
“Who owns the utility easement?”
“I would need to check.”
Laura remained polite.
“Had you discussed this specific line with Mr. Mercer previously?”
Linda looked at me.
“Yes.”
“What was the nature of those discussions?”
“Routine compliance.”
I finally spoke.
“She questioned whether the provider installation needed HOA approval.”
Linda looked toward me sharply.
Laura turned.
“Did it?”
“No.”
“Was that resolved?”
“Yes.”
I handed Laura copies of the app messages.
She read them.
Linda crossed her arms.
“This is getting completely out of proportion.”
No one responded.
Laura gave the screenshots to Grant.
Then asked Linda, “Did you ever tell Mr. Mercer the installation should be removed?”
“I may have recommended aesthetic improvements.”
“Did you ever touch his telecommunications equipment?”
“No.”
“Did you ever instruct anyone else to touch it?”
“No.”
Linda answered quickly now.
Too quickly.
Grant wrote.
The interview ended.
Laura thanked her.
Linda walked back toward her house.
Her posture remained straight.
But the clipboard hung lower.
The investigators interviewed me next.
Where had I been?
Who knew about my work?
Had anyone threatened me?
Any disputes?
Any contractors?
Any enemies?
“Enemies is a strong word.”
“Anyone who might intentionally interfere with your service.”
I looked toward Linda’s house.
“I have an HOA president who dislikes my setup.”
“Has she threatened to damage it?”
“No.”
“Have you accused her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I gave them photographs.
Provider records.
Outage timestamp.
Neighborhood-app screenshots.
My work notification.
Everything.
Agent Grant looked genuinely pleased.
“You document for a living?”
“Basically.”
“Keep doing that.”
By ten-thirty, Mark had not repaired the line.
He was waiting for clearance to remove the severed segment.
My driveway now contained two MetroLink vehicles, three government vehicles, my car, and six adults discussing fiber like it was the center of the universe.
Then Tom Wheeler crossed the alley.
He looked uncomfortable.
His phone was in his hand.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
He looked toward Laura.
“Are you with the investigation?”
“Yes.”
Tom swallowed.
“I think I have something.”
Everything stopped.
Tom lived directly across the alley.
His detached garage faced mine at an angle.
He had installed a cheap motion-activated security camera after tools were stolen from his truck the previous year.
“I remembered Daniel’s post,” Tom said.
“So I checked the footage.”
He unlocked his phone.
“At two twelve Monday morning, it triggered.”
My network connection had failed at 2:14.
Laura took the phone.
The video was grainy.
Black-and-white night mode.
The alley glowed under a distant streetlight.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then a figure entered from the right.
Woman.
Medium height.
Hair pulled back.
Light jacket.
Something tucked beneath one arm.
She stopped near my service line.
Looked around.
Bent down.
The camera exposure flared slightly.
She remained there around forty seconds.
Then stood.
Moved closer to the pole.
Bent again.
Two minutes later, she walked out of frame.
No face clearly visible.
But I knew the walk.
Tom knew it too.
Then there was the object under her arm.
Rectangular.
Flat.
Clipboard.
Grant asked, “Do you have the original file?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll need a copy.”
Tom nodded.
Laura replayed the video.
Then checked the timestamp.
2:12:17.
My stomach sank.
Not because I was surprised.
Because suspicion became structure.
Laura looked toward Linda’s house.
“We need to speak with her again.”
The second conversation happened near Linda’s driveway.
I stayed away.
I couldn’t hear everything.
But I watched body language.
Grant asked something.
Linda shook her head.
Laura showed the phone.
Linda’s arms crossed.
Then uncrossed.
She looked toward the alley.
Spoke rapidly.
Grant asked another question.
Long pause.
Linda pointed toward her own house.
Laura said something.
Linda shook her head harder.
Eventually they all walked toward my side of the street.
Laura approached me.
“Mr. Mercer, we may need additional time before the physical evidence is released.”
“Okay.”
“MetroLink can provision temporary service meanwhile.”
“Fine.”
Linda stood twenty feet away.
Her face had changed.
Not dramatically.
But the certainty was gone.
Grant asked her again, this time within my hearing.
“You originally stated you discovered the damage around seven a.m.”
“Yes.”
“The video shows someone consistent with your appearance in the alley shortly after two a.m.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why didn’t you mention that?”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot being in the exact location of the damage five hours before discovering it?”
Linda’s jaw tightened.
“I walk when I can’t sleep.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Sometimes.”
“What were you carrying?”
“My clipboard.”