The officers shifted uncomfortably, but their expressions stayed firm. One of them raised a hand. “You’ve admitted to going onto his property without permission. That’s trespassing, no matter how you spin it. And he told you he was going to clean the pool beforehand. This isn’t on him.”
Arthur finally stepped forward. His voice was low, steady, each word deliberate. “You don’t get to decide what belongs to me. My wife loved that pool. I’ve kept it clean every day since she passed. And you—” his eyes narrowed, locking on them both “—turned it into your playground. I asked politely. I warned you. And still, you lied and laughed while I cleaned up after you.”