Carol, Elton Marsh’s daughter, agreed to testify. Patricia prepared her carefully. Her testimony was not about legal expertise. It was about human reality. She would tell the court what her father had told her, that he had said no twice and that they had done it anyway. I spent those six weeks reviewing every document in both binder volumes. I knew the file completely.
Patricia said I would not need to testify extensively. The documents spoke clearly enough. But she wanted me prepared for cross-examination by Calloway. She ran three mock sessions in her office. Calloway would try to paint me as an opportunist, someone who had purchased land specifically to exploit a vulnerable community. Patricia wanted me ready for that framing without becoming defensive or emotional.
I was not worried about that because the truth was simple. I had bought land. I had surveyed it. I had found an encroachment. I had documented it carefully. I had offered to negotiate. They had refused reasonable terms. Everything after that was their choice.
Two weeks before the court date, something unexpected happened. Sandra Vail resigned as property manager for Maplewood Estates. No public statement. Gary Purcell heard through a board contact that she had retained her own attorney separately. He did not know why. Patricia said it was possible Sandra was distancing herself from potential liability connected to the disclosure issues Diane and other homeowners had raised. We did not chase it. We noted it and stayed focused on our case.
One week before the court date, Calloway made a final settlement approach. This time, the number was within a reasonable range of Howard Finch’s figure. Patricia presented it to me without recommendation. She said the choice was mine. I could settle and resolve it privately, or I could go to court and let the record become fully public and permanent. I thought about it for one evening. Then I called Patricia and told her we were going to court.
The courtroom was smaller than I expected. Wood paneling, fluorescent lighting, rows of fixed seats behind the bar. Patricia and I sat at the plaintiff’s table with both binder volumes stacked neatly to one side. Calloway and Thorne sat across from us. Thorne wore a suit that looked recently purchased. He sat straight and kept his expression composed, but his hands on the table were not completely still.
The judge was a woman named Honorable Claire Sutton. She had been on the county bench for sixteen years. Patricia had appeared before her twice previously. She described her as methodical, patient, and intolerant of anything that wasted her time. Judge Sutton opened proceedings and asked both sides to summarize their positions.