I did not know about that work yet. I would learn about it in the 14 weeks following her January 2024 return. The 14 weeks would close on a Tuesday in mid-April at the Oakdale Township Hall, with the Michigan State Police, the EPA Region 5 emergency response coordinator, the Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy (EGLE), the Marquette County prosecutor, and 117 residents of Oakdale Township in the seats.
Margaret Kilroy would walk into that meeting believing she was about to revoke my gas station's commercial license. She would walk out of that meeting in handcuffs, with the underground storage tank at her HOA's private amenity park being pumped out at the same minute by an EPA-certified contractor, who would charge her HOA, eventually, $147,000 for the work.
Margaret Kilroy walked back into my gas station on the second Tuesday of January 2024 at 8:21 a.m. with her Stanley insulated mug, her turquoise parka, and a particular expression on her face that I recognized from 26 years of police work as the expression of a person who has decided the morning is going to be about them, whether anyone else likes it or not.
She walked past four regular customers at the coffee station. She walked past Cora at the register. She came up to the counter where I was unloading a case of WD-40 from the back room.
She said: "Mr. Hollis, I'd like 10 gallons of premium and a full tank for the GMC at the second pump. I'd also like, this morning, to discuss the community amenity arrangement we never finalized in 2022. The HOA board has authorized me to make a renewed offer."
I said: "Mrs. Kilroy, pump four is open. Premium is $6.29 a gallon today. I don't have authority to discuss any arrangement that involves discounted fuel at the wholesale level for an HOA. I've told you that. I'll thank you to pump and come pay."
She did not move. She said, in a voice that lifted a half octave: "Mr. Hollis, we are members of this community. We pay property taxes that fund the township road in front of your station. We deserve a partnership. I'm not leaving without an agreement."
The four regular customers at the coffee station had gone quiet. Cora, at the register, had set down her crossword puzzle.
I said: "Mrs. Kilroy, I am happy to sell you fuel at our posted price. I am not happy to be told what I owe a person who has not bought a coffee in this station in 20 months. The door is the same door it was on the way in. Please pump and pay, or please leave."
She lifted her phone. She dialed 911. She put it on speaker. "This is Margaret Kilroy at the Hollis Gas and Grocery on US-41 in Oakdale. The owner here is refusing service to me, a paying customer, and he is being verbally aggressive in front of my person. I am in fear for my safety. I would like to file a complaint. I would also like to file a charge of consumer fraud against this station for posted price discrimination."
The dispatcher, a woman named Patty Sanderson, whom I had known since the third grade in 1976 and who had been answering the Oakdale Police dispatch lines since 1991, said in the calmest voice she has ever used at her desk: "Ma'am, stay on the line. I'll get an officer out to you."
The officer who responded six minutes later was Officer Daniel Polansky: 26 years old, six months out of the academy, four days back from his FTO sign-off, brand new to the patrol rotation. Margaret had not seen him before. Margaret had no idea who the Chief of the Oakdale Police Department was, despite his name being on the police station signage one block off Main Street, on the township letterhead, on the official township website, and on the photograph hanging in the lobby of the Oakdale Pasty Cafe three doors down. She had no idea because, in 20 months of trying to extract free services from Oakdale businesses, she had never once stopped to learn the name of any town official.
I have already told you what happened in the first 60 seconds after Officer Polansky arrived. What happened in the next three minutes was that Officer Polansky, holding the radio at his shoulder and listening to Patty Sanderson identify me by voice across the band, looked at Margaret Kilroy and her turquoise parka, and said in the same calm, professional voice I had taught him to use at the academy refresher I had personally led at the township hall in October:
"Ma'am, the man you have just called the police on is my supervisor. He is the Chief of the Oakdale Police Department. I am going to take your statement very carefully, because false police reports in the State of Michigan are a misdemeanor under MCL 750.411a, punishable by up to 93 days in county and $500 in fines. Please walk with me back to the cruiser."