By noon, I had placed six empty produce crates along Gloria’s front walkway. Each one carried a simple handwritten sign: “These held fruit taken from Arthur’s garden.” I added nothing else. No insults. No threats. Before doing it, I had already photographed the broken branches, the ladder, footprints near the fence, and the damage to the trees. Then I filed a police report and contacted the farmers’ market where Gloria had previously mentioned selling produce.
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