“I don’t care about your instructions,” Alexander said, stepping directly into the man’s space. “You are trespassing on private property.”

The second man walked over from the corner, his hands visible but his posture tense.

“We were told there was a custody dispute, sir,” the second man said.

“There is no dispute,” Alexander said. “This is my home. Those are my children.”

He pointed toward the corner of the street, where a blue police light was already visible turning onto the block.

“You have thirty seconds to get into your vehicle and leave,” Alexander said. “Or you can explain to the NYPD why you are attempting to breach a secured private residence.”

The two men looked at each other, then at the approaching police cruiser.

Without another word, they walked back to the black sedan and climbed inside.

The engine started, and the car pulled away from the curb just as the police vehicle came to a stop behind our SUV.

I didn’t wait to hear what Alexander said to the officers; I ran up the stone steps to the front door.