Everett asked Corinne for the court case number. She called it an internal reference and said legal strategy was privileged. When he asked for the judge's name and a file-stamped order, she replied that refusing to cooperate could increase costs. He wrote down the exchange immediately after hanging up. A lawyer should understand the difference between an attorney's demand and a court's command, and Corinne's refusal to distinguish them alarmed him more than the amount on the bill.
He filed a complaint with the county board of supervisors, attaching the survey, historical deed, and the contradictory addendum. The board's office acknowledged receipt, then referred the dispute to the association's internal review committee. That committee was chaired by Marjorie's cousin, a woman named Brenda Voss, who postponed the first proposed hearing and never scheduled a replacement. Everett's follow-up letter returned with a note saying the matter remained under consideration.
His attorney, an experienced property litigator named Daniel Harrow, read the binder carefully and told Everett the documents were strong. He also told him the hard truth about civil litigation: an opponent with more money and more appetite for delay could turn even a clear ownership dispute into eighteen months of hearings and expensive discovery. He urged Everett to seek immediate relief if a real threat of entry emerged, but he could not obtain an injunction against every future bad act that might be imagined. Without a concrete scheduled action or admissible proof of an imminent illegal seizure, the court process moved slowly.
"They want to make it costlier to keep this place than to give it away," Everett said.
"That's a possibility," Daniel replied. "Don't give them free evidence by threatening anyone. Keep saving every letter. If they do something real, I want the court to see you did everything possible to avoid it."
Marjorie invited him to a board meeting and offered glossy renderings showing a landscaped golf entrance where his water pond stood. Several residents applauded the proposal as if it were a promise of a better life. Everett asked the developer's representative whether any access rights had been purchased across Red Hollow, and the room went quiet. Marjorie answered for the man, saying the land issue was being finalized and that progress could not be halted by one stubborn individual.
"The road crosses my pond," Everett replied. "The pond isn't an individual opinion. It's right there, full of water."
A few residents laughed nervously, but Marjorie's face hardened. She told him families wanted more amenities, that property values mattered, and that he should not expect the wider community to remain trapped in the past because he liked old farm equipment. Everett looked at the drawings again and saw colored people strolling along paths that would replace his bean fields. He was struck by the ease with which someone could erase a place from a picture and then resent its owner for objecting.