Chapter 7 - Their Version
According to Brent, they had entered Grandma's yard only to "remove a safety hazard."
According to Melissa, the lights had been hanging loose and could have caused someone to trip.
According to both of them, most of the damage was accidental.
Grandma listened without interrupting.
Officer Daniels looked uncomfortable repeating it.
"They acknowledge being on the property."
"At one seventeen in the morning," I said.
"Yes."
"With scissors."
"Wire cutters, possibly."
Grandma folded her hands.
"Did they say why my scarecrows were a safety hazard?"
The officer almost smiled.
"No."
"My witch?"
"No."
"The wooden pumpkin?"
"No."
Silence.
Then Grandma asked the question that mattered.
"Can they be charged?"
Officer Daniels explained property damage, trespass, evidence, dollar values, statements, and what the county attorney might decide.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing instant.
Real life rarely delivers handcuffs on cue.
Grandma seemed almost disappointed by how boring justice sounded.
"So paperwork."
"A lot of paperwork," he said.
She nodded.
"Fine. I have stamps."
But the real problem came later.
That evening, somebody posted the doorbell clip to a local Facebook group.
Not me.
Not Grandma.
By bedtime it had hundreds of comments.
People called Brent and Melissa monsters, psychos, criminals, worse.
Somebody posted their address.
Grandma saw it and went pale.
"Take that down."
"I can't. I didn't post it."
She messaged the group admin.
Then she posted a comment herself.
PLEASE DO NOT COME TO THEIR HOUSE. DO NOT THREATEN THEM. THIS IS BEING HANDLED.
Within twenty minutes, someone threw a bag of smashed pumpkin guts onto the Lawsons' driveway.
Grandma watched from her window.
Her shoulders dropped.
"This isn't what I wanted."
Then Brent came outside, saw the mess, and looked directly at her house.
He raised his phone.
And started recording.
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