Karen's lawyer rose, pacing dramatically. "Mr. Carter, you admit to modifying the bridge before the incident?"
"Yes, I repaired it," I said, "like any responsible homeowner would."
"You adjusted its structure."
"I reinforced it."
He leaned closer. "Is it true that you installed a mechanism that could shift under weight?"
"Yes," I said. "It's called a load distribution system. You can find it in any engineering handbook."
The lawyer blinked, caught off-guard. "And what happened when the HOA trucks exceeded the limit?"
"The system distributed the load," I said evenly, "into the creek."
The courtroom erupted in laughter again. The judge didn't stop them this time.
By late afternoon, Karen's lawyer was drowning in objections of his own making. Every piece of evidence he presented—drone photos, complaint letters, edited maps—backfired. Lisa calmly pointed out inconsistencies one after another.
Finally, the judge leaned forward. "Mrs. Peterson, this so-called revised HOA map... where did you get it?"
Karen stammered. "It... it was approved by our board."
Lisa stood. "Your Honor, I have the original version sent to my client by the HOA treasurer before it was altered."
The judge compared them side by side. The room went dead silent.
"This boundary shift," he said slowly, "is illegal."
Karen's lawyer paled. "Your Honor, I had no knowledge—"
The judge raised a hand. "Enough. This case is no longer about a bridge. It's about falsified documents and harassment."
Karen looked like she'd been struck. "That's not—I didn't—"