A case number was assigned and an investigator named. The bureaucratic machine that grinds slow, but grinds to dust.
I attached the fabricated inspection report, Clint Avery's leave records, the Instagram photo with geotag, and the disconnection order bearing Dale Pritchard's signature. I filed a separate consumer protection complaint with the Texas Attorney General, specifically the division that handles utility abuse.
Different agency, same evidence, same conclusion. Then I submitted a detailed report to the FBI's Dallas Field Office Public Corruption Unit.
This was the one that carried the most weight. Lone Star Electric Co-op receives low-interest federal loans through the USDA Rural Utilities Service.
When an employee of a federally funded organization fabricates official records, it triggers wire fraud jurisdiction under 18 U.S.C. section 1343. The FBI doesn't investigate petty disputes, but they investigate people who lie inside organizations funded by taxpayer money.
Dale Pritchard's salary was paid in part by federal loans. While the federal machinery turned, I used a right most homeowners don't know they have.
Under Texas Property Code Section 209.005, any dues-paying member can demand a financial audit of the HOA. I filed the request.
Tammy stalled, said the records were being updated and would be available at the next quarterly review. I cited the statute again in writing and gave her 10 business days.
She complied grudgingly. The records arrived in a banker's box that Brenda Kay dropped at my door without making eye contact.
I spent three nights going through every receipt, invoice, and bank statement. On the second night, I found it.
$47,000 paid over three years to Pritchard Landscaping LLC for grounds maintenance, tree trimming, and community beautification projects. The company was registered to Glenn Pritchard, Tammy's husband.
I pulled up Google Earth and compared satellite imagery of the common areas across the same three years. Same grass, same trees, same cracked sidewalk edging.
Not one new shrub. Not one fresh mulch bed.
$47,000 for landscaping that existed only on paper. Pritchard Landscaping's biggest contribution to the neighborhood was the invoice.
I brought in allies. Garrett helped me draft a petition for a special community meeting.
Under Texas law, the board must hold one if 25% of homeowners requested. We needed 32 signatures out of 127.
We got 43. Nina Solis signed first.
She'd been fined $6,200 for painting her garage door a shade of gray that was two tones off the approved palette. Pete Langford signed second.
Tammy had forced him to dismantle a woodworking shop in his garage, costing him $12,000 in tools and materials. My last call was to Sandra Weeks, an investigative reporter at KXAS-TV, NBC's Dallas-Fort Worth affiliate.
Sandra had done a three-part series on HOA abuse in North Texas the previous year that led to two board recalls and a state legislative hearing. When I told her what I had, a fake utility disconnection targeting a home with a diabetic child, a forged inspection report, $47,000 in phantom landscaping, and a nine-year pattern of driving families out of their homes, she went quiet for 3 seconds.
Then she said four words, "When's the meeting?" I gave her the date, the time, and the address.
She didn't ask if she could bring a camera. She asked how many she should bring.
Tammy didn't know what I'd been building, but she could feel the ground shifting beneath her sensible flats. Three weeks after I filed the audit request, she launched her counterattack.
A letter arrived at every mailbox in Pecan Hollow, all 127 units. Glossy paper, HOA letterhead, bold font across the top, special assessment notice, $1,200 per household.