My attorney's face when we read that would make a great meme. It also made the judge's eyebrows climb when he saw it. At that point, any opportunity for a gentle neighborly solution evaporated. We amended our complaint to add the buyers as necessary parties because their house now physically sat on land I held a title to. I felt crappy doing it because they were just trying to buy a home, but legally they had to be in the case if the court was going to decide what to do with the structure they lived in.
The buyers lawyered up immediately and turned their fire on the developer and the title company, which honestly was appropriate. They countersued for fraud and negligence, and suddenly I was not even the villain in their eyes anymore. The HOA tried to play mediator by sending out a newsletter that basically lied about what was going on. So my attorney sent them a cease and desist about mischaracterizing litigation. They toned it down after that and we went to mediation once.
The developer offered to buy my parcel at market value pre-development. The HOA offered to waive my dues forever if I would deed the overlapping strips to the association. That was the funniest moment of the day. I said very calmly that the offer had to cover the cost to remove any structures not permitted to remain, the loss of use during the years they trespassed, my fees, and a premium for the risk they shoved onto me. They countered with a number that would not buy a used pickup. My attorney ended the mediation with a polite, "We will see you in court."
The court phase got into the weeds. Surveys were entered into evidence. A guy with more letters after his name than in it explained to the judge how the original plat's bearings are the baseline and how the developer survey had used a different basis of bearing without reconciling, which is the mapping equivalent of changing the ruler mid-measure. We brought the iron pins, not physically, but with photos, GPS coordinates, and testimony. The developer surveyor tried to cast doubt, but he looked less confident each time he had to answer why he didn't check for existing markers. The judge listened. He asked smart questions and he took it under advisement again.
The decision came in the middle of an ordinary week. I was doing laundry when my attorney called and said, "Sit down."
The court had ruled in my favor on the title, "My deed controlled." The HOA plat was valid for the parts it properly covered, but void as to the portion it overlaid on my parcel. The court found that the developer had actual or constructive notice of my title, it granted injunctive relief and ordered ejectment of structures encroaching on my land. The opinion was dry as they always are, but there was a line in there about reckless disregard for recorded property rights. That was what made me smile.
And then it got real. The order gave them a deadline to remove encroaching structures, restore the land to its prior condition, and barred them from using or accessing it in the interim. It also awarded me costs and attorney fees against the developer and the HOA got tacked for parts of it as well because they had enforced CC&Rs against the buyers as to property the HOA did not have authority over. The county was basically told to clean up its plat records, which is bureaucratic speak for fix your clerical mess.
You would think that they would comply, but they didn't. They filed an emergency motion to stay the ejectment arguing that it would cause irreparable harm to the families. The judge considered that and basically said, "You should have thought of that before you poured foundations." He denied the stay. He did give a brief grace period for the buyers to move out with help and for the developer to arrange storage of their belongings. That was considerate. It still didn't make it less of a train wreck.
The HOA called a special meeting. They sent out a notice to homeowners of HOA in all caps with words like crisis and unity. Someone sent me a copy because of course they did. The board president wrote that they were under attack by a land speculator. That provoked an eye roll so hard I saw the back of my skull. They announced an emergency assessment to fund appeals. I almost felt bad until I remembered that the board members had brushed off our warnings when it would have been easy to pause and check. The emergency assessment did not pass. Enough homeowners were furious at the developer and the board that they wanted no part of paying for someone else's mistake.
The demolition day was surreal. Even now writing this my hands shake a little thinking about it. It started early. The developer had exhausted the emergency motions. The sheriff had posted the writ, the judge had made it clear that the order was not a suggestion. The buyers had moved out with help from the developer and were in temporary housing paid by the title company who had realized that they were about to write a massive check and were in damage control mode. Reporters showed up because nothing draws a camera like heavy machinery knocking down expensive things. A camera crew set up across the street. A handful of neighbors hovered with expressions ranging from sad to angry to morbidly curious.
The HOA president showed up and tried to block the crew with his body until a deputy told him to move. He shot me a look that could strip paint. I didn't engage, though. I had nothing to say to him. The excavator rolled in like an elephant. The operator was calm, professional, and clearly not there to debate property rights. He swung the boom and gently, almost tenderly, tested the roofline of the first house. The house groaned. The sound was awful and satisfying at the same time. It didn't fall all at once like in movies. It folded slowly like a sandwich made by someone who hates bread. Siding popped, windows spiderwebbed. The second bite took the living room wall and exposed the fireplace. Someone next to me made a strangled sound. The operator kept going, though. Debris got misted with a hose to keep down dust, turning everything into a damp gray mush that smelled like wet drywall and hubris.
The HOA president, because he couldn't help himself, sidled closer and hissed at me. "You didn't have to do this." I finally looked at him and said, "The only full sentence I said to him in person the entire saga," "You could have checked a map." He opened and closed his mouth like a fish and walked away. A neighbor muttered, "Good."