Donna's final blow came quietly. She opened her thin folder and withdrew a single printed sheet—a screenshot of Skyler's deleted Facebook post with the caption: This is what happens when neighbors weaponize technology.
"Your Honor," Donna said smoothly, "this post was uploaded from Ms. Campbell's account and circulated throughout the HOA. It has since been deleted, but the damage was done. My client was portrayed as a violent recluse. The sheriff's office even had to field nuisance calls about him. That's defamation."
The judge looked at Skyler over the rim of his glasses. "You wrote this?"
Skyler's voice dropped to a whisper. "It was... emotional."
"Most things are, Ms. Campbell," he said dryly. "But emotions don't override property law." He tapped the gavel once. "Case dismissed with prejudice. Ms. Campbell, you are to remove all posts and issue a public retraction within seventy-two hours. Mr. Reed, you're free to go."
Bang. Done.
Skyler's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for oxygen. Patricia packed up in silence, already mentally sending her bill.
Donna leaned over and whispered, "That was fun. Let's do it again sometime."
I grinned. "Next time, I'll bring popcorn."
Outside the courthouse, reporters weren't waiting—just three HOA board members clutching folders like shields. One of them was Cheryl Bennett. She caught my eye and smiled faintly.
"Guess she didn't make it easy on herself," she said.
"She never does."
"She's finished," Cheryl said. "The board's voting tonight. It's unanimous."
By the next morning, the results were official: Skyler Campbell removed as HOA president, effective immediately. The news spread like wildfire.
I didn't celebrate, not really. I just brewed another pot of coffee, took Ghost out for a quiet drift, and watched the neighborhood from a comfortable distance.