That's two to eight years." His face drains white, then flushes red. Phone out, hands shaking. "You're threatening me. I'm calling the cops."
"Good. Save me the trouble." He actually does it. Voice pitching high. "Yeah, 42 Larkspur?
Guy's threatening me over his motorcycle. Got illegal cameras. I think he's going to attack." 8 minutes later, two squad cars arrive. Sergeant Nyland climbs out.
Mid-50s, professional, with a young officer named Perez. Jackson's performing for the neighborhood now. "Officers, thank God. This man's been harassing me for weeks. Threatening to kill me over scratches he's trying to blame on me."
"Sergeant," I say calmly, hands visible. "I have high-definition footage. Suspect's face clearly visible. Time-stamped. Felony criminal mischief."
I hand him the USB drive I'd prepared. Nyland squints at me. "Wait. Trudeau? ATF Trudeau?
Bridgeport Task Force?" "Retired. Just want to file charges." Recognition changes everything. Nyland takes the drive and Jackson's confidence evaporates.
He pulls out his phone again. Calling Mommy. Deandra arrives 7 minutes later in a bathrobe, barefoot, barely coherent. She screeches into my driveway like the Normandy invasion. "Officers!"
Pointing at me like I'm a war criminal. "This man has harassed my son for weeks. I have a log. I have witnesses." She's waving printed papers.
Probably keeps them ready for moments like this. Nyland sounds exhausted. "Ma'am, we have video evidence of your son destroying property." "That camera is illegal, pointed at my house. Privacy violation."
"The camera's record is property in public spaces. Completely legal in Indiana." I stay quiet. This is Nyland's show. "But he's been threatening us.
Stalking my son. Making our lives hell because we're maintaining community standards." Nyland cuts her off. "Your son is under arrest for felony criminal mischief." Perez has Jackson in cuffs.
The smirk's gone. He's looking at Deandra with genuine fear, and she's staring at me like I just torched her world. "This isn't over," she hisses. "I will destroy you." I take another sip of coffee.
Looking forward to it. The squad cars pull away with Jackson in back. Deandra stands in my driveway shaking with rage, then storms back to her house. Curtains moving across the street. Mrs. Kowalski watching.