Victoria's face reddened. "You expect us to believe that somebody so powerful has nothing to do with this?"
"You don't have to believe me. The recusal and assignment procedures can be examined by the appropriate oversight authorities. But the original association documents existed long before I met Maria. Mrs. Patterson kept her minutes long before I moved here. And your own emails were written before anybody in this room had heard my name."
I clicked to the next slide.
The screen showed the first frame of my driveway security video, taken at 6:17 on Tuesday morning. Victoria stood beside the F-150 with the crowbar in her hand. The image was so clear that people in the back row leaned forward.
"This happened in my driveway five days ago," I said. "The police have the original recording, and the county has inspected the damaged vehicle. I'm not asking this meeting to decide criminal responsibility. I'm showing you what happened when the disagreement over rules stopped being paperwork and became something dangerous."
I pressed play.
The room heard the crash of the first strike. People gasped as the window shattered. The recording showed the side mirror breaking, the words gouged into the door, and Victoria raising the crowbar again while I stood several feet away with my hands visible.
Then the speakers carried my voice: "That's an assigned Riverside County vehicle. Its custodian is District Attorney Maria Thornfield."
On the screen, Victoria froze. The crowbar slipped from her hand. It struck the pavement with a hollow sound that was painfully familiar to me.
I stopped the video before the police arrived. The room stayed silent for several long seconds.
Finally, Mr. Rodriguez spoke from the front row. "Would she have stopped if it had been my van?"
Nobody answered him.
The question was the one that mattered most. It wasn't whether Maria's professional position made the damage expensive or embarrassing. It was whether Victoria had decided that the only people worth respecting were the ones who could make her afraid.
Victoria's lawyer rose. "My client denies criminal wrongdoing and objects to any attempt to turn this member meeting into a trial."
Nadia nodded. "Then we agree on the proper limits of this proceeding. We are not holding a criminal trial. We're discussing association governance and financial accountability. Your client will have the same opportunity as anyone else to provide records and respond through the proper processes."
For the first time that afternoon, Victoria looked at her lawyer instead of me. He leaned toward her and spoke quietly. She shook her head hard enough that her carefully arranged hair shifted beneath the room's ceiling lights.
"No," she whispered, loud enough for the front row to hear. "I'm not sitting here while these people ruin me."
She reached for the microphone again.
"Mrs. Patterson stole association records," Victoria declared. "Walter Keene approved every payment. This man has been harassing me for months. You are all witnessing a coordinated attempt to overthrow your elected leadership, and I will make sure every person involved pays for it."
Mrs. Patterson closed her eyes briefly. Walter looked down at his hands. I felt anger rise, but Nadia touched my arm and shook her head.