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I never thought my disabled sister's wheelchair would be chained to our front porch by our power-hungry HOA president, until an undercover FBI agent revealed she'd been watching our neighborhood for years. How far would you go when your family's freedom is literally locked away by the very people meant to protect your community? comment below where you’re watching from! The sound of metal scraping against concrete woke me up at 5:30 AM. I rushed to my front door, still in my pajamas, and couldn't believe my eyes. Two men in Willow Creek Estates HOA polos were actually wrapping a heavy chain around my sister Lisa's wheelchair and securing it to our porch railing with a massive padlock.
"Hey! What are you doing?" I shouted, running outside barefoot. "That's my sister's wheelchair!"
The taller man handed me a paper. "Mobility devices must be stored out of sight per HOA bylaw 23.4. This is your third warning."
"Third warning? We never got any warnings!" I was completely shocked. Lisa had only moved in with me three months ago after the car accident that paralyzed her from the waist down.
"Ma'am, please take it up with the board," the second man said as they hurried to their golf cart and drove away.
I tried to break the chain, but it was industrial-grade. Lisa appeared in the doorway behind me, using her crutches she hadn't touched in weeks.
"What's happening, Sam?" Her voice was shaking. Lisa had worked so hard in physical therapy to gain independence with her wheelchair.
"Some kind of mistake," I said, trying to stay calm for her sake. "I'll get this fixed right away."
I called a locksmith who said he couldn't come until afternoon. Lisa was in tears. "I have my new job interview today. I can't miss it."
I helped Lisa to my car and got her to the interview, but she was devastated about depending on me again. While she was gone, I read through all 94 pages of our HOA guidelines. There was indeed a rule about "mobility equipment" being stored inside or in designated areas, but the rule was clearly meant for things like bikes and scooters, not medical equipment.
The locksmith finally arrived and cut the chain. It cost me $175 for the emergency service. As he worked, my next-door neighbor Diane Peterson walked by with her three unauthorized garden gnomes that the HOA somehow never noticed.
"Such a shame what Barbara's doing to you folks," Diane whispered.
"Barbara? Barbara Thompson? The HOA president?" I asked.
Diane nodded. "She doesn't like... changes to the neighborhood aesthetic. The Millers had to move after their son got a service dog."
That evening, I emailed the HOA board explaining Lisa's disability and requesting an accommodation under the Americans with Disabilities Act. Within an hour, I received a response: "Your request for exemption is denied. Additionally, the unauthorized wheelchair ramp at your front entrance must be removed within 48 hours."
I was stunned. The ramp had been approved by the city. I had permits.