His home was a sanctuary. He had saved for years to afford the down payment, paying cash for the remaining mortgage with money from his book royalties and speaking fees. The house sat on nearly an acre with mature oak trees, a garden he tended himself, and enough space that he would never have to hear his neighbors' conversations or pool parties.
That Saturday, Terrance was doing what millions of homeowners do every weekend: improving his property. He had researched the local ordinances carefully: privacy fences under six feet didn't require permits in his city. His fence was exactly 5 feet 11 inches; he had measured three times to be sure. He was setting the fourth post when Officer Vince Hargrove walked into his backyard without knocking, without announcing himself, without any legal justification whatsoever.
Hargrove's body camera recorded him entering through the unlocked side gate, walking across the property, his breathing steady as he approached a man who was clearly engaged in lawful activity on his own land.
Hargrove had been with the Metro Police Department for 20 years. His personnel file would later reveal what his supervisors had ignored for two decades: 42 complaints alleging harassment, racial profiling, and illegal searches. Forty-two complaints, and he was still on active duty, still carrying a badge, still violating people's rights every chance he got.
Hargrove had been driving through Westgate on patrol when he noticed Terrance in his backyard. Something about seeing a Black man in this neighborhood doing manual labor on what was clearly an expensive property triggered every racist assumption in his head. He decided to investigate, which in his mind meant walking onto private property without permission.
Hargrove's body camera captured his approach. The footage shows him parking his patrol car on the street, walking to the side gate, opening it without hesitation, and entering the backyard. No announcement. No knock at the front door. Just a direct entry onto private property.
Terrance was focused on getting the post level when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw a police officer standing in his yard about 10 feet from his back porch, looking around like he owned the place. Hargrove's body camera recorded Terrance's confused expression as he set down his tools.
"Can I help you, officer?"
Hargrove's body camera captured his own response: his hand moving to rest on his duty belt, his posture aggressive from the start. "You're building something without a permit? Step away from that fence."