He responded with a thumbs-down emoji.
That was almost funny.
Marcus emailed me the written notice.
It was not a court order.
It did not pretend to be.
It was simply a formal notice stating that Chase, Khloe, and anyone acting with them had no permission to enter or occupy the residence and that prior alleged permission from any third party was invalid because I was the sole owner.
I printed copies.
Then Friday arrived.
I woke at six.
Showered.
Dressed as though I was going to work.
I took photographs of every exterior door and window before leaving.
Not because I expected a siege.
Because timestamps are useful.
I armed the security system.
Then I drove three blocks away to Willow Street Coffee.
The owner knew me by face.
“Working remote today?”
He asked.
“Very remote.”
I took a corner table.
Ordered an iced Americano.
Opened my laptop.
At 10:47, my phone vibrated.
Motion detected: Front approach.
I tapped the notification.
Orange U-Haul.
Half in my driveway.
Half over the edge of a flower bed I had spent two Saturdays replanting.
Chase climbed down.
Backward baseball cap.
Gray sweatpants.
Black T-shirt.
Large duffel over one shoulder.
Khloe emerged from the passenger side wearing oversized sunglasses and dragging two bright pink suitcases.
One of the dogs was visible through the truck window.
Chase walked confidently to my porch.
Pressed the bell.
My doorbell played the prerecorded greeting I had configured the night before.
“This is a private residence. If you have not been invited by the homeowner, please leave the property. This area is under video surveillance.”
Chase stared at the camera.
Then laughed.
“Very funny, Jake.”
He waved.
“Open up.”
I activated two-way audio.
“Chase.”
He looked toward the speaker.
“You were told not to come.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
Khloe stepped beside him.
“We drove four hours.”
“That was your decision.”
“Your mother said this was settled.”
“My mother does not own the house.”
Chase dropped his duffel.
“Dude.”
“Seriously.”
“We have everything in the truck.”
“Then everything can stay in the truck while you drive away.”
His face began reddening.
“You're unbelievable.”
“I told you Tuesday.”
“You are not welcome here.”
“You need to leave.”
Khloe stared toward neighboring houses.
A curtain moved across the street.
“Chase.”
She said quietly.
“Maybe we should call your mom.”
He ignored her.
“We're not leaving.”
I took a breath.
“Then I’m contacting police.”
He laughed.
“You're calling cops on your brother?”
“If you remain after being told to leave, yes.”
“Family can’t trespass.”
“That is not how property works.”
He stepped closer.
“Open the damn door.”
“No.”
“Jake.”
“No.”
His hand wrapped around the front door handle.
He pulled.
The deadbolt held.
He pulled harder.
Then shook it rapidly.
“Stop touching the door.”
I said.
“Open it.”
“Step away.”
He hit the door with the flat of his hand.
Once.