I didn't walk over to join them. I didn't need to. A few minutes later, they moved together toward the entrance, where the two patrol cars were coming into view.
That brought us back to the moment when Linda ordered me to shut down a lawful meal, Richard threatened consequences, and I rested one hand on the blue binder. I still had my civilian voice. The difference was that now I had documents to go with it.
The first officer who approached me was a little younger than I expected, perhaps mid-thirties, with an even expression and the cautious posture of somebody who had already encountered too many neighborhood disputes before lunch. He stopped far enough away to see both my hands and the grill without crowding me. His partner remained near the path speaking with Richard and Linda.
"Morning," he said.
"Morning, Officer."
"You Mark Dalton?"
"Yes, sir."
He looked at the cooking surface, then at the cooler. "We received a complaint about a dispute with the homeowners association. They say you've been warned about grilling on association property and are refusing to stop."
"I was warned about grilling on association property," I said. "That's correct."
"And you're grilling again."
"Yes."
He waited. "All right. What am I missing?"
"I'm not on association property."
His eyes moved toward the grass beneath my boots. "Where are you?"
"On a city-owned parcel along the drainage corridor. The HOA boundary is behind that reference point."
He glanced at the stake. "You sure?"
"I have the recorded information here."
The officer looked at the blue binder and then at my face. Something like reluctant amusement passed across his expression. "You've been waiting to show somebody that."
"A little," I admitted.
He exhaled through his nose, possibly hiding a smile. "Okay. Show me what you've got."
I opened the PROPERTY section. I didn't hand him a random screenshot and insist he trust me. I gave him the county-recorded plat, the city parcel information, and a simple annotated copy showing the relevant boundary. I explained that I wasn't claiming the temporary markers constituted an official survey. I was showing the recorded boundary and the public ownership information, which were available for him to verify independently.
He studied the documents without rushing. I appreciated that too. He checked the street against the aerial map and looked toward the nearest building. Then he asked me to point out the fixed reference features I'd used. I did. He crouched to look at the grass near the stake, stood again, and glanced toward his partner.
"You called the city about this?" he asked.
"Yes. The information is included."
"And why did you call?"
"Because after the first dispute, I wanted to know who owned this strip and what rules applied before I brought the grill out again."
"Fair enough."
Behind us I heard Richard approach. "Officer, I need to make clear that the association maintains all of this area."
The officer raised a hand without turning sharply. "Sir, give us a moment. I'm checking the parcel information."
"We have been maintaining it for years."
"That's useful context," the officer said. "It doesn't necessarily establish ownership."