The judge sighed. "Proceed, if you can."
Doug flipped through his papers desperately. "Um, would you say your feelings toward the HOA are hostile?"
I shrugged. "I'd say they're mutual."
Someone in the gallery snorted so hard it echoed. The judge pounded his gavel once. "Order! Actually, no, don't. That was funny."
By the afternoon, Clare had spiraled from righteous fury into a full-blown meltdown. She accused me of wiretapping her SUV, colluding with the sheriff, and "psychological warfare through landscaping." Mara sat with her hands folded, letting Clare's monologue burn itself out.
When the judge finally cut her off, you could have heard a pin drop.
"Ms. Phillips," he said, voice calm but cold. "Do you have any verifiable evidence that Mr. Rogers acted unlawfully?"
Her eyes darted. "My word should be enough!"
"It isn't," he replied. "Not in this courtroom."
He turned to me. "Mr. Rogers, you've been patient through all this. Anything else you'd like to add?"
I pulled a folder from my bag: the laminated easement, the photos, the letters, the video stills of her tearing down my sign. "Just these, Your Honor. Proof that every inch of this land is mine, and proof that she's ignored every warning I gave."
The judge looked through them slowly, then set his glasses down. "I've seen enough."
He cleared his throat. "This court finds in favor of the plaintiff, Mr. Rogers. The Whispering Pines HOA and Ms. Phillips are ordered to pay damages for property destruction and harassment. Furthermore, the HOA will issue a formal written apology and is prohibited from accessing or modifying Mr. Rogers' land in any capacity."
Clare gasped like a fish out of water. "You can't do this! I'm the president of—"
"Not anymore," the judge interrupted. "Effective immediately, Ms. Phillips is removed from her position and barred from holding any HOA office for the next ten years."