What I needed next was usage data. I needed to know how much water they were pulling from that well. I needed to know how long it had been happening. and I needed to know whether anyone in the chain of previous ownership had ever given verbal or written permission. I started with the county records office. I spent two full days there.
I pulled the deed history on my parcel going back 40 years. I pulled the recorded plat maps for Maplewood Estates. The subdivision had been developed 14 years ago. The HOA was incorporated 12 years ago. The wellhead on my property, according to an old county groundwater permit I found in the physical files, had been drilled 18 years ago before the subdivision existed by the previous owner of my land, a man named Elton Marsh. Elton Marsh had died 6 years ago.
His estate had sold the parcel to a land holding company. That company had sold it to me. I found no record of any easement granted to Maplewood Estates or its developer at any point in that chain, not in the deed transfers, not in the plat filings, not in the county utility records. I photographed every relevant document.
I logged every file number. I organized everything chronologically. Then I tracked down Elton Marsh’s daughter. Her name was found in the probate records. She still lived in the county about 20 m east. I drove out on a Tuesday morning and knocked on her door. I introduced myself as Dale Harmon, the new owner of her father’s land. I was polite.
I asked if she knew anything about the well on the western edge of the property. She knew immediately what I was referring to. She said her father had complained about it near the end of his life. She said the subdivision developer had approached him years ago, asking to tap into the well temporarily during construction.
Her father had said no. They had done it anyway. By the time Elton realized the pipe was still running, he was ill and had no energy to fight it. He had mentioned it to her. She had no documents, but she was willing to write a signed statement describing what her father had told her. I thanked her. I asked if she would be willing to speak with my attorney.
She said yes without hesitation. I drove home and called Patricia. I told her what I had found. There was a pause on the line. Then she said, “Dale, they built that subdivision on stolen water.” I said, “I know,” she said. “Now we build the case.” Patricia took Elton Marsh’s daughter’s statement in her office the following week.
The woman, whose name was Carol, sat across the table and spoke clearly and without emotion. She described her father’s account in detail. The developer had come to him twice. First to ask permission, then to say the connection was only temporary. Elton had refused both times. Carol remembered the second conversation specifically because her father had been angry afterward, which was unusual for him.
He was not a man who showed anger often. Patricia had a parallegal transcribe the statement. Carol signed it. Patricia notorized it. That document went into the growing file alongside the survey, the photographs, the county records, and the HOA’s own letter. I want to be clear about something. At this point, I had not disrupted anything.
The pipe was still running. The HOA was still drawing water. I had not threatened anyone. I had not made demands. I was simply collecting what existed, facts, documents, signatures. I was doing what any careful person would do before taking any action that could not be undone. But the HOA was not standing still either.
