Bennett's paralegal discovered Thompson Mining's 1962 comprehensive lake survey, detailed depth charts, spring locations, and fish-habitat zones. The brittle yellow maps crackled like Rice Krispies as we unfolded them, revealing environmental data that would make any modern agency jealous.
"What are my options?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer.
"Immediate cease and desist, trespassing claims over unauthorized structures, and a civil action for harassment and interference with your property rights," Bennett said. He paused, studying my expression like I was an interesting legal puzzle.
"Or we could let Mrs. Windham continue digging her own grave until she strikes bedrock."
I chose patience. Let her take the most aggressive action possible.
Sometimes the best education comes from natural consequences.
Unknown to me, allies were mobilizing. Joyce at the courthouse had taken a personal interest because her own grandmother had once faced similar harassment. The county surveyor admitted he had suspected unusual ownership around Pine Ridge for years, and Deputy Morrison quietly started documenting the pattern of complaints and harassment.
Margaret scheduled her county commissioner presentation for Wednesday, complete with a PowerPoint about unregulated access destroying property values. She booked a caterer, invited the newspaper, and reserved the community center for her victory celebration.
Her words to Dale were, "After Tuesday, this lake will finally be managed properly."
While Margaret planned her coronation, I prepared evidence packets, tax records, photographs of unauthorized structures, and a harassment timeline. The fresh ink smell from the copy machine mixed with the musty courthouse-basement air as I built Margaret's doom in triplicate.
The delicious irony was that Margaret's own research had found lake taxes paid by T. Blackstone. She assumed it was a typo, never connecting it to the fishing guy she had been harassing.
Her meeting invitation promised to resolve lake-access issues permanently. I accepted and asked if I could bring documentation.
Margaret's delight at my apparent surrender was about to become the most expensive mistake of her life.
The war council convened at my cabin on Sunday evening. Betty, Joyce, and attorney Bennett gathered around my kitchen table like generals planning D-Day.
Betty brought homemade cookies that smelled like cinnamon and righteous anger. The wood smoke from my fireplace mixed with coffee aroma and the collective determination of people who had had enough of being pushed around.
"All right," Bennett said, spreading legal documents across the table like battle plans. "Let's discuss how to maximize the impact of the ownership reveal."
Joyce leaned forward, her glasses catching the lamplight. "We need to think about the other families Margaret's been harassing. This isn't just about Theo. It's about establishing that you can't bully people out of their homes."
Betty nodded so hard her coffee nearly sloshed over the rim. "That woman fined me $50 a day for garden gnomes. My late husband gave me those gnomes."
Bennett explained my legal options with the patience of a teacher addressing students who had been wronged by the system. "We can pursue trespass remedies against anyone who installed unauthorized structures on Theo's property, civil damages for harassment, defamation, and interference with property enjoyment."
He paused, looking at me over his reading glasses. "But I sense you want something more educational than punitive."