I did not remove the cameras.
I did not delete anything.
About forty minutes later, a sheriff’s vehicle came slowly down Cedar Ridge Road.
Denise met the deputy before he had both feet out of the vehicle.
I could hear her from my driveway.
“He planted explosives in firewood knowing I would use them.”
The deputy looked at her.
“Knowing you would use his firewood?”
There was a tiny pause.
Denise recovered quickly.
“The wood was accessible from the neighborhood.”
“Was it on his property?”
“That’s more complicated than he’s pretending.”
It wasn’t.
That was the problem with Denise.
She could turn a straight property line into a philosophical debate if she thought the discussion might give her authority.
The deputy came to me next.
I told him everything.
Not proudly.
Not strategically.
Everything.
I told him Denise had been taking firewood repeatedly.
I told him I had warned her.
I told him I had reported earlier incidents.
I told him that the night before I had prepared several hollow decoy logs containing gunpowder because I wanted the next theft to produce a frightening noise.
I did not describe how I had made them, and he did not need instructions from me.
He needed the facts.
His face hardened while I spoke.
“That was extremely dangerous.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I looked toward Denise’s yard.
“I do now.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Do you have evidence she took them from here?”
That was when I remembered the cameras.
“Yes.”
We walked around the shed.
One camera faced the woodpile.
The other covered the property line and the narrow opening between the cedars.
The footage showed Denise arriving at 8:26 with the wheelbarrow, crossing onto my land, walking directly to the stack, removing the logs, and leaving.
There was no misunderstanding.
No shared area.
No ambiguous boundary.
One angle even showed the small private-property marker beside the trail.
Denise had walked past it.
The deputy watched the clip twice.
“Has she been told not to enter before?”
I brought him the folder.
That folder had become absurdly thick over three years.
Survey records.
County correspondence.
Copies of HOA notices.
My written responses.
Prior reports.
A certified letter telling Denise and the board that my land was not subject to Cedar Ridge covenants and that neither she nor any HOA representative had permission to enter without invitation.
