Chapter 2 - FIREFLY PATH
Ella called the sidewalk Firefly Path because I painted tiny yellow fireflies on her walker. The HOA called the walker a “noncompliant mobility obstruction.” That was how the investigation started. Two months earlier, Vera fined us because one wheel crossed the edge of a decorative path. Ella was three. The sidewalk was six feet wide. I appealed. The fine doubled. I appealed again. Then another notice arrived: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESSORY DEVICE ON COMMON PROPERTY. That wording irritated me enough to search prior HOA complaints. Dozens. Most looked petty. Then patterns emerged. Fines concentrated on elderly residents, disabled residents, renters, and people who challenged the board. A widow received nearly ten thousand dollars in fines after installing a wheelchair ramp. A veteran was fined over a service-dog relief area. A family was cited because an oxygen-delivery vehicle parked beyond visitor limits. Then resident Margaret Hales filed a police report saying Bryce threatened her after she requested HOA ledgers.
Status: UNFOUNDED. Responding officer: Daniel Cole. Another resident reported a gunshot near his fence after a board meeting. Responding officer: Daniel Cole. UNFOUNDED. Six HOA-related complaints had no body-camera upload. System reason: DEVICE MALFUNCTION. All six involved Vera or Bryce. I requested an audit. Before results came, my supervisor told me to slow down. “HOA cases don’t need Internal Affairs.” Maybe. Then Hannah’s name appeared in an old dispatch note. Caller: Hannah Elrich. Issue: Suspicious vehicle photographing residents near HOA office. Disposition: NO REPORT REQUESTED. Responding officer: Daniel Cole. The date was one day before her crash. I had never known. After Bryce fired beside Ella, Cole came to my house off duty. He placed a black flash drive on my kitchen table. “What is this?” “Body-cam files.” “The missing ones?” “Some.” “Why do you have them?” He looked ashamed. “Because they never malfunctioned.” My jaw tightened.
May you like
“Who deleted them?” “I did.” I almost threw him out. Then he said: “Bryce threatened my son.” Cole’s seventeen-year-old son had been caught drinking at the HOA pool with other teens. Later drugs appeared in his school backpack. Bryce had video. Vera knew the school board chair. Then the bargain. Reports involving the HOA stayed quiet. Body cams disappeared. Complaints softened. No cash bribe. Leverage. Cole said, “I kept copies because I hated myself.” Not enough. But useful. Then: “Did Hannah know?” “Yes.” My chest tightened. “How?” “She saw Bryce intimidate Margaret Hales.” Then: “She recorded him.” I had Hannah’s phone after the crash. No video. Cole said: “Raymond Sloan took it.” My blood went cold. Chief Raymond Sloan. Head of Internal Affairs command. My chain of command. Cole said Hannah had refused to give Bryce her phone. Raymond arrived, called it evidence, and took it. No receipt. No report. Then Hannah died the next day. Cole slid the drive toward me.
“One file has your wife.” I stared. “Does it show who killed her?” “No.” Then he looked at me. “But it shows who was afraid of what she knew.”
