It wasn't a dramatic movement. It was the kind of small physical adjustment people make when they realize they're standing next to something that's about to fall. We voted on that work order based on information Margaret presented to us, he said unprompted to no one in particular. His voice was careful and quiet.
We were never told there was a franchise agreement. The other board member nodded once, looking straight ahead, not at Margaret. Margaret did not look at either of them. Richard set Dennis's incident report on the table, six pages.
He summarized it in two sentences. The outage on September 14th had lasted 47 minutes across three homes, and FastCut's method of disconnection had placed a 12-home circuit at risk of cascading failure. Commissioner Elaine Marsh, who had been taking notes since the hearing began, looked up. "A 12-home circuit?"
"Yes," Richard said. She wrote something down, underlined it. Gerald Foss called Tom Garza. Tom walked to the front of the room the way he did everything, directly, without theater.
He stood at the side table, confirmed his name, his address, his profession. Three weeks before September 14th, Foss said, "Did you inform Mrs. Chen about the existence of a private franchise agreement covering utility infrastructure in Ridgecrest Meadows?" "I did, at the September board meeting. I told her the utility lines weren't HOA property, that they ran under a private franchise agreement with a local company. I told her the HOA had no authority over them."
"And her response?" "She said, 'That was before my administration. Everything gets reviewed.'" Tom paused. She issued the work order the following week.
The gray suit attorney wrote something on his legal pad, then stopped writing and looked at it. Margaret's hands were flat on the table in front of her.
She had stopped moving them. I hadn't planned to call Mrs. Patterson. She stood up on her own. Foss looked at her.
"Ma'am, this is a commission proceeding." "I understand that." Her voice was steady.
She had the particular composure of a woman who had been afraid for 18 months and had decided she was done. "I've lived in Ridgecrest Meadows for 11 years. I want the commission to understand that what happened to Mr. Mills is not an isolated event." Foss looked at Richard.
Richard looked at me. I nodded. "Five minutes," Foss said. She used four of them.
The roses. The $900 fine. The retroactive CC&R amendment applied to violations already in progress. The letter threatening a lien.