”
Bradley’s hands shook as he flipped through my timestamped photographs, weight sensor data, and professional structural analysis.
“Mr. Kellerman,” Bradley muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead, “this is the most thorough property damage case I’ve ever seen.”
“It gets better,” I replied. “Environmental services will want the creek contamination evidence. And federal DOT investigators will love Derek’s falsified transportation weight reports.”
Derek went ghost white in the creek. “What falsified reports?”
“The ones claiming 15-ton loads while hauling 40-ton cement mixers across private property for twelve weeks,” I said. “That’s federal transportation fraud, Derek. That carries prison time.”
Marjorie’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.
“Now Roman, surely we can discuss reasonable compensation between neighbors,” she stammered.
Neighbors.
After threatening lawsuits, eminent domain, and systematically harassing me, she wanted to be neighbors.
The knockout punch arrived when County Commissioner Patricia Haynes pulled up with the emergency utilities team.
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