Do not move the truck. Do not respond to the public affairs letter. If she escalates, she will escalate in a direction that gives AFOSI the predicate they need. I told her I had been counting on that. She put her hand on mine.
She said, "Whitley, she will call security forces eventually. They are a federal law enforcement element with no jurisdiction over Laram County. The moment she calls them, you have the predicate." I told her I knew. I drove the 2009 F250 home that evening with my father in the passenger seat.
He was having a good day. He recognized the dashboard. He recognized the smell of the leather seats. He recognized the song on the AM radio, a Marty Robbins cover from 1962 he had played in our station wagon on the drive home from his Vietnam deployment in 1972. He looked over at me as we pulled into the ranch drive.
He said, "Son, your mother always loved this color." I told him I knew. Brianie Pendergast hired a process server in late January of 2025. The process server was a man named Reed Halligan. He was 36.
He had been licensed as a process server in Laram County for 11 years. He had been hired by the Sentinel Ridge Estates HOA to post a tow notice on the 2009 F250 in my driveway. He drove up the Callaway Ranch driveway in his 2015 Ford Ranger at 3:00 in the afternoon on a Thursday. I was on the porch with my father. Reed Hallagan parked at the foot of the driveway.
He did not come up. He walked to the F250. He had a manila envelope in his hand. He had a roll of clear packing tape. I walked down the gravel toward him.
I was in jeans and a Carheart jacket. He looked up. He said, "Sir, process server. I have a notice from the Sentinel Ridge Estates Homeowners Association." I said, "Mr. Halligan, this is not Sentinel Ridge Estates property.
This is private Callaway family property in Laramie County. You do not have authorization to post anything on this vehicle or to enter this driveway. He looked at the Manila envelope. He looked at the F250. He looked at the badge clip on my belt that he had not noticed before.
The small magnetic badge of the 90th Missile Wing Commander, which I wore under my jacket on weekends out of habit because my father had always worn his retired general's identification clip the same way. His face changed. He said, "Sir, are you Air Force?" I told him I was the wing commander of the 90th Missile Wing. He stood very still for a long moment.