A brief discussion about holiday lighting guidelines, maximum two strands of icicle lights per roofline, which I'm sure was a great comfort to everyone present.
I sat with the folder on my lap and listened.
Then Diane introduced what she called a proposed amendment to the community governance framework.
Specifically, she was putting forward a motion to revise Section 7.4 of the CC&Rs, the drainage maintenance clause that her board had been using to justify three years of pump discharge onto private lots.
The proposed revision would add the following language, "including discharge onto adjacent residential properties during periods of elevated retention pond volume as determined at the discretion of the board."
I want to make sure you understand what she was doing.
She was trying to rewrite the rules retroactively to make legal what she had already been doing illegally.
She was trying to close the door after the water had already come through, so to speak.
And she was doing it in a room full of people who had been paying fines for wind chimes and Amazon packages, expecting them to vote yes.
I raised my hand.
Diane looked at me with the expression of someone who has touched a stove burner and is now watching their hand to see how bad the burn is going to be.
"Yes," she said.
"I have one question about the proposed amendment," I said. "Does the board intend for this language to apply retroactively, specifically to claims for property damage that predate the amendment?"
Silence.
Diane's attorney, sitting against the wall to her right, wrote something on his notepad.
"That's not the purpose of this discussion," Diane said.
"I understand. I just want the board's position on retroactivity to be clear for the record since there are active damage claims pending."
"This meeting is not the venue for individual grievances," she said, louder now.
"Noted," I said.
I wrote something in my notebook.
I did not say what.
The vote on the amendment proceeded.
It passed four to zero among board members.
No homeowner vote was required under the current bylaws for CC&R amendments below a certain threshold, a structural convenience that Diane had apparently exploited before.
I recorded the vote in my notebook with the date and time.
What happened next was not something I had staged, but I had known it was coming because I had made the call three weeks prior and followed up that morning to confirm the timing.
Fifteen minutes before the meeting was scheduled to end, the door opened.
A man in a county-issued jacket walked in, looked around the room briefly, and approached the board table.
He handed Diane a sealed envelope and said in a voice that carried clearly to all 40 homeowners present, "Notice of violation. Maplewood Commons Homeowners Association, regarding unpermitted stormwater infrastructure installation at the above-referenced property. A compliance officer will be in contact within 30 days."
He left.
The room was very quiet for a moment.
Diane held the envelope.
Glenn stared at the table.
Forty homeowners looked at each other, at the board, at the door the officer had just walked out of.
Nobody said anything for what felt like a full 10 seconds.
Then the meeting ended.
I walked to my car with Callahan.
He said, "Good timing."
I said it was a coincidence.
He smiled in a way that suggested he didn't believe me and that he was fine with that.
The civil complaint was filed the following morning.
Trespass.
The pump station sat on my land without a recorded easement authorizing its presence.
Private nuisance.
The chronic flooding had constituted an ongoing interference with my use and enjoyment of my property for three years.
Property damage.
$22,000, supported by a licensed structural engineer's report.
Attached exhibits.
The certified survey.
The engineer's report.
The HOA's own letter stating they had no obligation to remediate.
The 1987 plat showing the recorded easement.
The county permit discrepancy documentation.
The camera footage.
The certified mail delivery confirmations going back to the first letter.
All of it.
The full folder, filed with the county court and served on the HOA board and their attorney the same day.
Diane's attorney called Callahan the following afternoon.
"They'd like to discuss a settlement," Callahan told me.
"Tell them we'll see them in court," I said.
The county approved my drainage restoration engineering plans four days later.
The plans, stamped by my colleague's PE license, described the restoration of the stormwater easement to its recorded 1987 flow path.
The work would occur entirely on my property.
It would restore a recorded, county-filed easement.
It required no HOA permission.
The county stormwater office reviewed the plans, confirmed they were consistent with the 1987 plat, and noted in their approval letter that the restoration would also resolve the unpermitted discharge violation.
I called the excavation crew and gave them a start date.
That weekend, I walked down to Eleanor's house and told her what was happening.
I showed her the civil complaint, the county approval, the plat.
She read through each document slowly, moving her lips slightly, the way people do when they want to make sure they're understanding every word.
Harold came in from the other room and stood behind her, reading over her shoulder.
When she finished, she looked up at me.
"Are you sure this is all legal?" she asked.
I showed her the county approval stamp, the PE stamp on the engineering plans, the recorded plat with the flow path drawn by a surveyor in 1987.
Harold read it in silence for a long moment.
Then he looked up at me with an expression I still think about sometimes.
"Son," he said, "what do you do for a living?"
I smiled.
"I'll tell you after," I said.
The county approved my drainage restoration plans on a Wednesday.
I scheduled the crew for the following Monday.
I didn't tell the HOA.