He walked toward the water chewing gum.
Took photographs with his phone.
Looked at the bridge.
Looked at the debris.
“Anybody hurt?”
“Not that I know.”
“Mr. Covington says the sun got in his eyes.”
I stared at Higgins.
“He accelerated.”
“He says he didn’t.”
“There were twenty people on the yacht.”
“They support his account.”
“Of course they do.”
Higgins glanced at the bridge.
“Mr. Hastings, this gets complicated on the water.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Ownership and navigation rights—”
“He struck a fixed structure on my property.”
“He claims the bridge was obstructing navigation.”
“It has been there for decades.”
“I’m just telling you what he said.”
“Are you investigating whether he was intoxicated?”
Higgins stopped chewing.
“Did you observe him drinking?”
“I saw people drinking.”
“Did you see him drink?”
“No.”
“Then I can’t make assumptions.”
I nearly laughed at the selective devotion to evidence.
“He drove a forty-two-foot yacht into a bridge.”
“Boating accidents happen.”
“It wasn’t an accident.”
“That’s your statement.”
“It’s also physics.”
Higgins wrote something.
“Your insurance company can sort out the damage.”
“Are you writing a report?”
“Yes.”
“I want the report number.”
He gave it to me reluctantly.
Before leaving, he said:
“I’d recommend not escalating this.”
I looked at the broken bridge.
“I didn’t.”
Two days later, certified mail arrived.
Mitchell Gallagher’s firm.
I assumed it would contain a settlement proposal.
Instead, Richard Covington was suing me.
Damages claimed:
Approximately $45,000 to the yacht’s hull.
Negligent maintenance.
Failure to mark a navigational obstruction.
Interference with lawful lake use.
The Reserve HOA joined the filing.
Worse, they had obtained a temporary order prohibiting reconstruction of the bridge until the navigation dispute could be heard.
The order was preliminary.
Not a final ruling.
But it meant I could not rebuild immediately.
My lawyer called before I finished reading.
“Arthur.”
“You saw this?”
“Yes.”
“They hit my bridge.”
“I know.”
“And they sued me.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“They moved fast.”
I flipped through the pages.
“They’re calling it illegal.”
“That’s an allegation.”
“They have photographs of their own boat inside my cove.”
“Yes.”
My lawyer sighed.
“Here’s the problem.”
I already disliked his tone.
“What?”
“Richard has decided to make litigation the punishment.”
“I can defend this.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”