Miguel leaned out of his cab with a massive grin. “Ma’am, police have already been notified. This is legal property enforcement. Have a blessed morning.”
The white Escalade was hoisted into the air. It disappeared down the highway like a captive whale being dragged out to sea. Vivian stood in her driveway with her mouth hanging open, looking like someone had just deleted her entire existence.
But Carlos’s crew was just getting started.
Tow truck number two backed into the Johnson’s driveway. Number three targeted the Martinez family’s SUV. Within minutes, the neighborhood was filled with the mechanical clatter of chains and hydraulic lifts.
Residents stumbled out of their houses in pajamas, dropping coffee mugs and pulling out cell phones to film the carnage. The private security guards stood on the corners, completely paralyzed. One of them actually keyed his radio, asking for instructions.
I heard the radio crackle back loud and clear. “Stay clear of private property. Do not interfere with legal operations.”
By 7:30 AM, Vivian was marching down the street with a bullhorn, followed by a handful of her loyalists.
“Attention everyone!” her amplified voice screeched. “I have a court order prohibiting this illegal seizure!”
Patricia Finley materialized beside me on the porch, looking like a legal shark smelling blood in the water. She walked right up to Vivian and examined the document.
“This is a blank civil complaint form downloaded from the county website,” Patricia announced loudly to the gathering crowd of neighbors. “It has no legal authority to stop anything. She’s waving around blank paper.”
The crowd actually started laughing.
By 8:00 AM, the local news vans arrived. Channel 9 deployed a news helicopter that hovered overhead, broadcasting live footage of the most comprehensive vehicle removal operation in Colorado history.
A reporter shoved a microphone in my face, asking for an explanation. I held up the 1987 deed and looked directly into the camera lens.
