I gave him the simplest account I could. Brenda had demanded fuel from my private tank, I had declined, and she had called police alleging threats. I told him the camera was operating and that I would make a copy of the recording available through the proper process. I offered no opinions about her intelligence, character, or motives. Those might have been tempting, but they were not necessary to establish the facts.
The deputy asked if there had been any physical contact. I said no. He asked if I had threatened to hurt her, and I said no again. The deputy looked at the clearly marked private pump and then toward Brenda's Range Rover, whose engine was still running across the street.
"She says you were refusing to comply with an HOA request," he observed.
"That's true. I refused to give her my property."
He blinked. "She was requesting fuel?"
"For free."
For a moment the deputy seemed to be choosing between several possible replies. He settled on, "All right. Let me speak with her."
I stayed by the garage while the deputies compared the accounts and reviewed the relevant portion of the video on a tablet. Brenda kept trying to return the conversation to my alleged refusal to cooperate with community leadership. The deputies kept returning it to the question of whether a threat or other offense had occurred. Their patience impressed me because they had already spent time answering a call that could have been avoided by accepting a single ordinary word.
The senior deputy finally told Brenda that the available evidence did not establish a threat. He explained that HOA leadership did not entitle her to another resident's fuel and that property disputes should be handled through the appropriate civil process. He also advised both of us to avoid further confrontation and said he would document the call. Brenda asked whether that meant I could simply refuse a board directive.
"You can issue lawful notices through your association," he told her. "You can't use an emergency call to make somebody give you something that belongs to them."
She looked furious enough to argue but apparently decided against doing it in front of two uniformed deputies. Instead, she announced that this was a matter for the association's attorneys and returned to her vehicle. I waited until she had driven away before I thanked the deputies and asked for the incident number.
As they turned to leave, the senior deputy looked back and lowered his voice. "You could've told us who you were when we arrived."
"It wouldn't have changed what happened," I replied.
He nodded. "Fair enough."
I had worked with county personnel often enough that the distinction mattered to me. I did not want my professional position to become a substitute for evidence, nor did I want it to make a resident's complaint disappear without proper documentation. If a police chief was accused of threatening somebody, the right response was to preserve the evidence and let an appropriately independent reviewer assess it. Being certain of my own conduct did not exempt me from that standard.