But anger is not evidence, and the ability to command attention is not the same thing as the right to command an outcome. There were colleagues who would have taken my call. A deputy might have answered a private question faster because the person asking wore a robe at work. A clerk could have put a file before someone I knew. I would not have had to say anything plainly improper. I could have phrased it as an inquiry and let everybody involved decide for themselves that helping me was prudent.
I did not make those calls.
For the people whose disputes passed through my courtroom, the bench was supposed to be a place where their relative power mattered less than their evidence. I could not promise them that principle and then carry my position home as a private advantage. Whatever happened on Larks Lane would have to happen to Thomas Hale, homeowner, not to Judge Hale, a title Patricia was using more freely than I was. I placed my judicial identification in my work bag each evening and made a point of leaving it there.
I began with a property attorney I did not know professionally. Her office was in another county, and when I called I identified myself by name and address rather than profession. I explained the documents, the vehicle, and the disputed association claims. She told me that any attempt to remove a large recreational vehicle from private property had to satisfy local towing rules and that a claimed lease could complicate matters. She advised formal written notice and careful documentation, and she said that if the dispute became litigation she could help me arrange representation without involving my courtroom.
"Do you want to sue her?" she asked.
"I want to park in my garage."
"That's usually the most expensive kind of simple wish," she said.
I laughed for the first time in several days. We discussed the possibility of seeking a civil order, but the motor home remained in the driveway while every option was weighed. I sent Patricia a final written demand to move the vehicle, kept a copy of the delivery confirmation, and included the precise dates when I expected access to be restored. I offered to cooperate with a reasonable collection time for any remaining items that legitimately belonged to the association. Her reply did not deny owning the motor home or state a new removal date. It asserted a continuing parking entitlement.
I asked for the document creating that entitlement.
No document arrived.
On Wednesday I spoke again with Linda Marsh and told her that I might ask her to verify a claimed agreement if Patricia produced one. Linda sighed so deeply that I could almost see her sitting at her kitchen table. She said she would cooperate but wanted advance notice if any formal proceeding required her involvement. She had already paid enough to escape Larksburg Commons and did not want to be dragged back into it casually. I promised I would not treat her as a convenient piece of evidence. She was a person who had lost money and sleep, not merely the former owner on the paperwork.
"Thank you," she said. "You're the first person who's asked what this would cost me."