Thursday Mr. Henderson saw me measuring and yelled, say cheese. So I did not flinch. I told him the police had my photos and the caseworkers letter, and that an officer was coming Saturday to stand in my sons bedroom and see exactly what his camera sees.
Because I had stopped asking and started documenting. I went outside with a tape measure and a camera of my own, and photographed his camera from every angle, a ruler showing it aimed at the window. Tylers caseworker wrote a statement. And I read every word of our states law about recording into a private residence. It is not a gray area.
For weeks the only thing I had lacked was proof of where that lens pointed, and the moment I had measured photos showing it aimed into my sons bedroom and a caseworkers statement, the woman supposedly hiding something became a documented case of illegal recording into a private residence.
He had told the whole cul-de-sac I did not want cameras around because I was hiding something, and someone asked my husband if we were okay. But a tape measure does not read innuendo, and a state privacy law is not a gray area.
I did not ask again. I said, the police have photos of your camera aimed into Tylers bedroom, with measurements, and a letter from his caseworker. An officer is coming Saturday to stand in that room and see what your camera sees. Recording into a private residence is against the law here. You can tell me to say cheese, but the officer is going to look through your lens now.
The photos were the photos. There is no its-my-property-ing your way out of a camera measured and documented pointing into a mans bedroom where he changes his clothes.
The police did what my one request never could. The officer stood in Tylers room, saw exactly what the camera framed, and Mr. Henderson was ordered to reposition it onto his own property, off my sons window, under the recording law.
The camera points at his own driveway now, where a security camera belongs. Tyler, who is the gentlest person you will ever meet, has his room back, his privacy back, and does not have to think about a lens when he closes his door.
He can watch his own property like anyone; he just cannot film into the bedroom of a young man with a disability. Weeks of that ended not with a shouting match, but with measured photos and a caseworkers letter, and it turned out the woman hiding something was just a mother protecting her sons privacy.