Chapter 5: What She Told the Neighborhood
By the weekend, I knew what Monica had been saying.
She had gone door to door — I found this out from Elaine across the road, who came over Saturday morning with a plate of lemon bars and a look on her face that said she had something to tell me.
"She knocked on our door Thursday evening," Elaine said, sitting across from me at my kitchen table.
"Said you had installed a camera specifically to watch her children playing in the yard.
Said it was pointed directly at her kids."
"The camera faces my driveway," I said.
"Straight down.
Curtis measured the angle himself."
"I know that.
Frank and I both know that." She slid the lemon bars toward me.
"But she went to at least six houses.
Maybe more.
She told the Hendersons you had some kind of vendetta against her family."
I sat with that for a moment.
"She stole electricity from me for six weeks," I said.
"I installed a permitted meter and a compliant camera.
And now I have a vendetta."
Elaine looked at me steadily.
"Honey, I know.
I'm telling you so you're not blindsided."
"Did anyone believe her?"
Elaine hesitated.
"The Hendersons might.
They're friendly with her.
But Pat didn't.
Ron and Sylvia at the end of the road didn't." She paused.
"Most people on this street have had some version of a Monica experience.
They're not as quick to take her side as she thinks."
I thanked Elaine for coming.
I walked her to the door.
After she left I stood in my front hallway and thought carefully.
Monica had escalated this from a stolen electrical charge to a city complaint to a neighborhood reputation campaign.
Each time I had responded calmly and correctly, she had moved to a larger stage.
I needed to think about what stage came after this one.
That afternoon, I went through the security camera footage from the past week.
The camera recorded continuously to a small hard drive I kept in the garage.
I had not reviewed it since installation — I had never needed to.
I sat at my workbench and scrolled through the footage.
The first five days were unremarkable.
My driveway.
The outlet.
The sign.
Monica walking past once, glancing at the camera, walking on.
Then I found Thursday evening.
Monica, forty minutes after Curtis had left, walking back across the driveway toward my outlet.
She stopped in front of the smart meter.
She looked at the camera.
She looked at the keypad.
Then she reached into her jacket pocket and took out something small.
She held it up to the keypad.
I leaned closer to the screen.
It was a USB drive.
She pressed it against the side of the meter housing, held it there for about ten seconds, then put it back in her pocket and walked away.
I sat back on my stool.
I did not know exactly what she had tried to do.
But I knew what it looked like.
It looked like she had tried to override the lock.
I called Ron that evening.
"Can someone bypass a smart meter lock with a USB device?" I asked.
A pause.
"Depends on the model.
Some older units have a service port that can be accessed if someone knows what they're doing." Another pause.
"Why?"
"I have footage of Monica holding something against the side of the meter Thursday night.
After the inspector left."
Silence.
"Send me the clip," Ron said.
"And don't touch the meter until I've looked at it."
I sent the clip.
Ron called back in ten minutes.
"That's a service override tool," he said.
"You can buy them online.
They're meant for licensed technicians.
In the wrong hands, they can unlock the outlet without the code."
"So she tried to get back in."
"Looks like it." His voice was careful.
"That's not a code violation anymore.
That's tampering with a permitted electrical installation.
That's a different category entirely."
I looked at the frozen frame on my laptop screen.
Monica, hand raised, USB tool pressed against my meter.
May you like
"What do I do with this?" I asked.
"That," Ron said slowly, "is something you might want to show to more than just me."
