Somebody cleared their throat.
The judge looked up.
“Counsel.”
The HOA attorney stood slowly.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Were you aware of this document?”
He hesitated.
“No, Your Honor.”
“Does the plaintiff dispute its authenticity?”
“I would need an opportunity to examine the foundation and records.”
“Understood.”
David explained where Carl had found the document, the association records from which it originated, and the supporting evidence tying it to the prior ownership.
The opposing attorney reviewed the material.
The judge asked additional questions.
Then she returned to the central issue.
“Your claim is that the association used the road without the prior owner’s permission.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Yet we have a document from that owner expressly granting permission.”
The attorney looked down.
“Your Honor, we would argue that the total historical use still supports the association’s claim.”
“On what theory?”
“The long duration of use, the maintenance obligations, the community’s reliance—”
“Those facts may establish reliance,” the judge interrupted. “They do not by themselves resolve whether the use was adverse.”
He stopped.
The judge studied the letter again.
“Permission is directly relevant to that question.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
In the gallery, Margaret’s expression had changed.
Her back was rigid.
Her mouth was slightly open.
She looked from her attorney to the judge, as though waiting for someone to explain why the conversation had taken such an unexpected direction.
The judge allowed a brief recess.
The moment she left, Margaret stood.
She marched toward her attorney.
“What is that?” she demanded.
Her voice carried farther than she intended.
He spoke quietly.
She shook her head.
“No. Absolutely not. We’ve used that road for thirty-one years.”
The attorney leaned closer.
I couldn’t hear his answer.
Margaret’s voice rose.
“I don’t care what some old letter says!”
Several people turned.
Her attorney glanced toward the bench, then lowered his voice again.
She pointed sharply at the document.
“You told me our case was solid.”
He said something.
Her face reddened.
Then came the sentence I heard clearly.
“Fix it. That’s what we’re paying you for.”
David looked at me.
“Don’t react.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were smiling.”
“Was I?”
“Just a little.”
