The mediator, a woman who'd probably seen worse than both World Wars, cleared her throat. "All right, Ms. Campbell, Mr. Green, would you like to start?"
Mitchell smiled with the confidence of a man who'd practiced it in the mirror. "Certainly. My client, Ms. Campbell, experienced severe distress due to Mr. Reed's reckless use of a dangerous device, namely a motorized boat equipped with unauthorized remote systems capable of trapping individuals."
Donna leaned forward. "Unauthorized by whom?"
"By common sense," Mitchell said.
Donna's eyebrow twitched upward. "Not a statute I'm familiar with."
Skyler shifted dramatically. "He lured me! That boat was left unattended, unsecured, like an invitation to the community! I was simply checking for safety hazards—"
"I took a slow sip of my coffee, and then decided to steal it," I said.
Her sunglasses turned in my direction. "'Operated,'" she corrected, "without permission! I thought it was community property!"
"Funny," Donna said, flipping open a folder thick enough to stun a bear, "because two weeks ago you told him—and this is your voice on video—'Technically, it's not part of the HOA, but we treat it like one.'"
Skyler froze.
Mitchell cleared his throat. "That statement was, uh, taken out of context."
Donna smiled like a predator stretching. "Oh, there's context. I've got the whole conversation here." She slid a USB drive across the table. "Timestamped, with corresponding GPS data showing Ms. Campbell entering my client's private property thirty-six minutes later."
Mitchell hesitated. "We're not disputing her presence. We're disputing intent."
"Intent to what, float in circles?" I asked.
Skyler's lips pressed thin. "He trapped me! That boat locked me in! I was helpless!"