"The door was open," she fired back instantly.
"Still private property."
She rolled her eyes. "You people always say that."
That line again? I noticed the tow truck driver looking more uncomfortable by the second.
"Sir, maybe you should just remove the truck and deal with the HOA later," he suggested carefully.
I smiled a little. "That's the thing," I said. "This isn't actually about the truck anymore."
Karen crossed her arms. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's about paperwork."
She laughed again. "You think paperwork scares me?"
I held up my phone and showed the screen for half a second. A confirmation message sat there: Complaint received. State Property Management Licensing Division.
Karen didn't get a good look at it, but the driver did. His eyebrows lifted. "You reported the HOA?" he asked.
"Not the HOA," I said calmly. I looked directly at Karen. "The management company."
For the first time since this started, Karen didn't speak immediately. That silence lasted maybe two seconds. Then she scoffed. "Good luck with that. They won't care."
But I noticed something small: her confidence had cracks now.
"You know what's funny?" I said casually.
"No, what?" she replied with attitude.
"The moment you put a wheel boot on a vehicle inside a locked structure, it becomes a different legal problem."
Karen laughed again, but it sounded forced now. "You're just making things up."
The tow truck driver cleared his throat. "Actually, he might not be."
Karen snapped her head toward him. "Excuse me?"
He shrugged. "I've done towing for 15 years. We never touch vehicles inside garages without a court order."
She stepped closer to him. "Are you refusing an HOA enforcement order?"
He raised both hands. "I'm just saying this feels wrong."
Karen's face started turning red. "Fine," she snapped. "I'll call the police and have him removed."