After the second letter, I called Darcy Fulton, an attorney in Murfreesboro who had handled agricultural property issues longer than Derek had probably owned lawn furniture. Darcy was the kind of lawyer who did not waste words. She listened while I explained the development, the easement, the letters, and Derek’s tone. Then she reviewed the recorded document herself. Her answer was simple: my position was unassailable. The HOA had no authority to restrict my use of the path, no ownership interest in the easement, and no legal basis for treating my equipment access like a nuisance they could vote away.
Darcy advised me not to respond to the second letter. “Let them write,” she said. “You document. If they escalate, we deal with facts, not feelings.” So I documented everything. I kept both letters, the certified mail receipt, copies of the easement, and notes about every interaction. Then, for four months, nothing happened. No calls. No threats. No meetings. The path stayed clear, and I allowed myself to believe Derek had finally heard something from his consultant that disappointed him enough to make him move on to mailbox paint colors or pool rules.
