"That's clear," he said.
He examined the property diagram and asked whether the fence marked the boundary. I explained that the fence ran along the eastern side of my lot and that the pool was entirely within my property. He wrote down the permit number and the date of the notice. He told me he would speak with Sandra to hear her account and make sure she understood that whatever informal permission had existed no longer applied.
"I'm not asking you to arrest anybody for swimming," I said. "I just need her to stop coming onto the property."
"I understand," he replied. "And I'm going to document what you've shown me. If there are further entries, call us again. Don't confront people in the water if you can avoid it. Keep the area secured and let us know."
He crossed the driveway and knocked on Sandra's door. I watched him disappear inside from the kitchen window, then moved away because I did not want to stand there trying to read their conversation through the glass. I washed the coffee cup I had abandoned earlier and took the children’s forgotten snack wrapper to the trash. Fifteen minutes passed. When Officer Park returned, his expression had become more thoughtful.
Sandra, he said, believed there had been a continuing arrangement for use of the pool based on the first summer's visits. She had suggested that the children had established a routine and that my later restrictions were unreasonable. He had explained that any permission to use privately owned recreational property could be withdrawn, that the certified notice was clear evidence of withdrawal, and that she needed to remain off my property unless I expressly invited her again. He had also told her that future entries could have consequences beyond another conversation.
"Did she understand?" I asked.
Officer Park considered his answer. "She said she understood what I told her. I can't promise you what she'll choose to believe tomorrow. But there's a report now, and she has been advised."
That struck me as a realistic statement, and I appreciated him for not offering reassurance he could not guarantee. He gave me an incident reference number and explained how I could obtain a copy of the report after it was processed. I thanked him, watched his car leave, and added the reference number to the chronology. Later I requested the report and placed it in the official-response section beside the certified-mail receipt.
I spent the rest of that weekend doing things that had nothing to do with Sandra. I cleaned the kitchen, caught up with paperwork, and had dinner with Marion, who made no attempt to conceal her relief that I had finally contacted the authorities. She said she hoped the conversation would end the problem. I told her I hoped so, too, but that I was tired of hoping without taking practical measures. There is a difference between expecting decent behavior and relying on it as your only security system.