“What?”
“GIS doesn’t move land.”
“Neither does a site plan.”
“Neither does a planning approval.”
“Title comes from conveyance.”
“Boundary location comes from evidence.”
“Documents.”
“Monuments.”
“Calls.”
“Survey history.”
“Sometimes courts.”
“But pixels are not magic.”
I hired David to prepare a formal boundary retracement.
Then I notified Northridge in writing.
Certified mail.
HOA.
County planning.
Halberg Civil Construction.
Project architect.
Project lender listed on the construction notice.
My letter was simple.
Potential encroachment.
Survey under review.
Do not perform permanent construction within disputed area until boundary issue resolved.
Karen arrived two days later.
Black SUV.
White blouse.
Navy jacket.
Folder.
“Thomas.”
“Karen.”
“I understand you sent a notice to our contractor.”
“Yes.”
“You are interfering with a public-safety project.”
“It’s an HOA project.”
“Joint project.”
“Northridge funded most of it.”
“It will serve the entire district.”
“Still doesn’t answer ownership.”
Karen handed me a site plan.
Approved.
Stamped.
Colored.
Beautiful.
“County planning signed this.”
“Fire district signed this.”
“Engineer signed this.”
“So?”
“So the site was vetted.”
“Show me the deed.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Show me Northridge’s deed for the land under the station.”
“You know perfectly well the emergency corridor belongs to the association.”
“I know you say it does.”
“Show me the legal description.”
Karen tapped the plan.
“It’s right here.”
“That’s a drawing.”
“It is a recorded development plan.”
“Where is the deed?”
Her expression changed.
“We are not relitigating land ownership because you found an old paper in a barn.”
“Then prove me wrong.”
Karen looked toward the eastern field.
“This project is twelve million dollars.”
“Exactly.”
“So you should have verified the land.”
“This attitude is unbelievable.”
“What attitude?”
“You’re willing to jeopardize emergency response because of a few acres of unused pasture.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Unused.
People say unused when they mean they have a use for something that belongs to you.
“My pasture is not empty just because there isn’t a building on it.”
Karen closed her folder.
“Construction will continue.”
“I suggest it doesn’t.”
She smiled.
“You don’t control that.”
Then she left.
Construction continued.
I documented every day.
Photographs.
Dates.
Equipment.
Work progress.
David advised me not to interfere physically.
My attorney agreed.
Her name was Rebecca Sloan.
Land-use and title law.
Practical.
Expensive.
Worth it.
Rebecca reviewed the survey.
My deed.
The Northridge plat.
County records.