But here's what made my case different.
I had documentation, Grandpa's meticulous records going back to 1971. Every timber sale, every fence repair, every property tax payment logged in those tobacco-scented ledgers. My own tax receipts, survey maps, photographs with GPS timestamps.
"Most of their victims were old, poor, or didn't keep records," Lydia explained. "They either settled cheap or lost in court because they couldn't prove continuous ownership. You can prove everything."
She pulled out a yellow legal pad.
"Here's the strategy. Phase one, discovery. We depose Preston, Cassandra, their title company, their lender, and every contractor who pulled a permit. Someone always cracks. Usually the title company, because they don't want to lose their license."
I remembered my divorce attorney had explained depositions once.
Basically, you sit in a room and answer questions under oath while a stenographer types everything. People think they can lie, but lawyers like Lydia know how to ask the same question 17 different ways until you contradict yourself.
It's like fishing with dynamite.
"Phase two," she continued, "we file an amended complaint adding RICO charges."
"RICO, like the Mafia?"
"Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. If we can prove they've engaged in a pattern of fraud across multiple projects, which we can, it becomes federal. And federal means treble damages."
She wrote the potential damages range on the board.
"That's what they're looking at if they lose."
My mouth went dry.
"Can they even pay that?"
"No. Which is why they'll settle. But here's the beautiful part. Preston and Cassandra personally guaranteed the construction loans. If Whitmore Development goes bankrupt, the lenders come after their personal assets. Houses, cars, bank accounts, everything."
She was enjoying this. I could tell by the way her eyes lit up when she talked about asset seizures.
"What do I need to do?" I asked.
"Three things. First, I need you to map every single visit you made to the property. Dates, times, what you saw, who you talked to. Deputy Torres, that code enforcement guy, Rick Pollson, anyone who witnessed their harassment."
I pulled out my phone.
"I've been keeping a log since September."
"Smart. Second, we need allies. Anyone in the community who's been hurt by the Whitmores. Former employees, neighbors, contractors who didn't get paid. I want a list."
I thought about Rick Pollson's comment.
I've inspected six Whitmore projects. Every single one had complaints filed against neighboring landowners.
"I know where to start," I said.
"Third," Lydia leaned forward, "this goes public. Not Facebook. That's Cassandra's playground. We're talking local news. I have a contact at Channel 9 Denver who loves corporate fraud stories. Woman named Patricia Hughes, investigative reporter. She's won two Emmys for taking down a slumlord and a crooked county commissioner."
"You want me on TV?"
"I want us on TV. You, me, and every family who bought a house in Ridgeline Heights thinking they were getting the American dream. Because here's the thing, Dakota. Those 96 families, they're not the enemy. They're victims, same as you. When this is over, they'll own their homes free and clear, and Cassandra will own nothing but legal bills."
She handed me a folder.
"This is the deposition schedule. Preston goes first next Thursday. Cassandra the week after. You need to be there for both. I want them to see your face when they're forced to tell the truth."
I opened the folder, saw the dates, the locations, the list of questions Lydia planned to ask.
It read like a murder weapon.
"When this is over," I said, "how much will I owe you?"
"Less than you think. Because when we win, the court awards attorneys' fees. The Whitmores will pay me all $60,000."
She smiled.
"That's the beautiful thing about fraud cases. The guilty party pays everyone's bills."
I left her office at noon with a plan, a purpose, and, for the first time since August, a sense that justice wasn't just a word people said when they meant revenge.
It was something you built carefully, methodically, with receipts.
Preston Whitmore's deposition was scheduled for January 18th at 9:00 a.m. in a glass-walled conference room on the 14th floor of a Denver office building.