put the surveillance video on the courtroom monitors.
He watched Karen hold the angle grinder. He listened to her tell the board member to throw my sign into the weeds. He looked at the certified county markers showing the cabin was entirely eighty-four feet inside my recorded boundary line.
The judge took off his glasses, looked at Karen across the bench, and didn’t even blink.
“Mrs. Westbrook,” the judge said, his voice ringing through the oak room like a gavel strike, “this is not an honest mistake. This is deliberate,
