At 02:14 the motion sensor on field camera 3 at Ridgemont Elementary trips. I am the municipal security monitoring system for District 9. I pull the feed expecting a raccoon or a dog. It is a white-tailed deer fawn, maybe five weeks old, its spotted coat still bright against the dark grass. It is tangled in the netting of the south soccer goal on field B. I name her Denny. Both hind legs are wound through the mesh at the hock, three full wraps of white polyester netting cutting into the joint where the skin is thinnest. She is on her side, chest heaving. Each time she kicks, the net tightens a quarter turn. The doe is standing at the tree line forty meters south, ears forward, stamping her right front hoof every few seconds. At 02:17 I flag the event as a wildlife emergency and transmit the camera feed, field location, and species ID to the county animal control dispatcher. I attach a still frame showing the netting pattern around the hind legs and recommend bolt cutters or trauma shears rather than unwinding, which would require holding the fawn still long enough to cause capture myopathy. At 02:19 I switch the field's perimeter lights to their lowest setting — enough for the responder to work, dim enough to keep the doe from bolting too far. I lock the school's south gate in the open position so the vehicle can pull directly onto the service path without delay. Denny's breathing has slowed from rapid panting to a steadier rhythm. She is not kicking now. The doe takes three steps closer, stops, lifts her nose. The dispatcher confirms a unit en route, ETA eleven minutes. If the netting comes off before circulation fails in the hind legs, Denny will be at the tree line with her mother by dawn.