April 23, 2025 By Jeremy L. Knox

So, picture this: I’m 28, living at home with my mom to help her out. She’s the kind of woman who waters the neighbor’s plants when they’re away and bakes too many cookies “just in case someone drops by.” Harmless. Sweet. The last person you’d expect to be targeted by some suburban villain.

But then he moved in.

New neighbor. Big truck. Bigger ego. Within weeks, he’d already annoyed half the block with noise, unsolicited political rants, and a general air of “I run this place.” Then one day, we get a notice from the city: code violation for an “unauthorized structure.” Yep, he’d reported my mom for her shed.

A shed, by the way, that’s been there since 2004. Painted. Maintained. Permits? Framed and hanging in the garage.

The city inspector came by, glanced at the paperwork, and gave us a shrug that said, “I have better things to do.” But the neighbor? He stood in his driveway watching like he’d just served justice. Smirk and all.

That’s when I decided—alright, buddy. You want to play?

I started digging. Not literally at first. Just looking up property records, permits, surveys. Took a few days, but I found it: his pool. Gorgeous in-ground setup, brand-new, probably $40,000 easy. And 3 feet over the property line.

I triple-checked. His pool extended into what technically belonged to the city utility easement. Which meant it wasn’t just a neighborly dispute—it was a code violation of his own.

So I made a call. Then another. Eventually, someone from the city came out. Then someone else. And before long, Mr. Smug was getting a notice of his own.

He fought it, of course. But the city doesn’t mess around when it comes to easements. Especially not when they need access for underground work that his pool was now blocking. The final result? He was ordered to remove the encroachment.

Last week, I watched a backhoe roll into his backyard.

It took four days. First they drained it. Then they tore up the concrete. By the time they were done, it looked like a construction site in the middle of a mud pit. All because he couldn’t mind his own damn business.

Mom never said a word to him. Just kept watering her plants like nothing happened.

But I caught her smiling when she walked past the crater where his pool used to be.

Justice doesn’t always knock loud. Sometimes it whispers—and then brings a bulldozer.