She smiled.
“That is exactly your problem.”
Then she walked toward the demolition truck.
The excavator worked another forty minutes.
They did not completely flatten the dam.
That would have taken most of the day.
They opened the central control section, tore out part of the armored spillway edge, and cut a deep channel through the berm.
Enough to disable it.
More than enough.
At 8:17, Ridgeworks loaded the excavator.
The operator walked toward me before leaving.
Karen was already in her SUV.
Tom stood by the gate.
The operator kept his voice low.
“My name’s Eric Dalton.”
“Okay.”
“I asked them twice about state clearance.”
“I heard.”
“She gave me an HOA demolition authorization.”
“Keep a copy.”
His face tightened.
“You think this is going bad.”
I looked toward the opened berm.
“It already has.”
He glanced at the sky.
“Can it be fixed?”
“Yes.”
“Before the rain?”
I considered.
Not properly.
Emergency stabilization was possible.
But I would need machinery.
Rock.
Geotextile.
Compaction.
Approval from regulators once they learned it had been damaged.
And the HOA had just created a legal dispute around access.
“Maybe temporarily.”
Eric lowered his voice.
“I’m calling my boss.”
“Do that.”
“If they lied to us…”
“Document everything.”
He gave me a humorless smile.
“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”
“More than once.”
The truck left.
Karen lowered her window as she passed.
“One more thing.”
I waited.
“You have thirty days to satisfy the outstanding balance.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“You can explain that to collections.”
She drove away.
Tom followed.
The third board member, Brad Collins, lingered.
He had barely spoken all morning.
He stood by his gray crossover with one hand on the door.
“Mr. Mercer.”
I looked at him.
“Yeah?”
“I voted based on what we were told.”
“What were you told?”
“That the dam was unpermitted.”
“It isn’t.”
“That your parcel was annexed.”
“It wasn’t.”
“That it was causing flooding.”
“It was preventing flooding.”
Brad looked toward the damaged berm.
Then at me.
“I didn’t know.”
“That isn’t going to help the water.”
He got into his car.
I watched him leave.
Then I walked to the dam.
The damage looked worse up close.
The excavator had exposed the compacted core.
Clay layers torn open.
Stone protection scattered.
Outlet transition partially crushed.
The thin leak was already cutting a narrow groove.
I crouched.
Touched the water.
Cool.
Clear at first.
Then clouding with suspended soil.
Internal erosion beginning.
I took photographs.
Wide shots.
Close-ups.
Survey references.
Video.
I measured the cut.
Marked coordinates.
Logged time.
Then I called the state dam-safety office.
Not because the structure was large enough to qualify as a major hazard dam.
It was not.
But the permit had been issued through a joint small impoundment and stormwater program because the downstream subdivision relied on its performance.
The woman who answered transferred me twice.
Eventually a familiar voice came on.
“Water Resources Compliance.”
“Daniel Reyes.”
“This is Daniel Mercer.”
Pause.
“Mercer?”