An hour later, I was sitting in my car parked down the street from my house.

I watched two cruisers pull into Greg’s driveway. Not patrol cops. Detectives.

Greg came out onto the porch. He was holding a coffee mug. He was smiling, shaking his head, probably thinking I had called in another noise complaint.

“Officers, I already told the last guys,” Greg laughed, holding his hands out. “It’s my property.”

I rolled my window down just enough to hear.

“Greg Miller?” the tall detective asked.

“Yeah. Look, this neighbor of mine is crazy.”

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

Greg stopped smiling. “What?”

“Turn around.”

“What is this?” Greg yelled, his voice cracking with sudden panic. “I know my rights! It’s my property! It’s a civil matter!”

“It’s a Class 6 felony,” the detective said calmly, pulling a pair of steel cuffs from his belt. “You’re under arrest for violation of the state voyeurism statute.”

The color drained entirely out of Greg’s face. His coffee mug slipped out of his hand and shattered on the porch.

“Wait! Wait, I’ll take it down!” he stammered, pulling away as the detective grabbed his arm. “I’ll move it right now!”

“Too late for that.”

They cuffed him. They walked him down the driveway in front of the entire neighborhood. He was completely silent.

Later that afternoon, they served a search warrant. They took his phone, his laptop, and the camera off the garage eave.

He lost his job three days later when the arrest went public. He is currently out on bail, awaiting trial, and there is a restraining order preventing him from coming within five hundred feet of my house. He had to move in with his mother.

The blue-highlighted statute is currently framed and sitting on my kitchen counter.

I took the black garbage bags off my window yesterday. The morning light is beautiful.