…sign over all the water rights. Permanently.”
My farm sits on top of one of the largest natural aquifers in our county. My father used to call it “the real treasure.” The developer didn’t want forty acres of land. They wanted the water beneath it, to sell to a bottling company. The water rights alone were worth far more than the $1.8 million asking price.
My son, Travis, had agreed to sign them over for an extra $400,000, paid to him privately, “off the books.”
The power of attorney he’d used had my forged signature and a notary stamp from a county I’d never visited. My lawyer, Mr. Ford, filed an emergency petition that afternoon. The judge voided the power of attorney and ordered the listing taken down.
The developer’s lawyers withdrew their offer within twenty-four hours. They didn’t want to be part of a fraud case.
I drove home that night. Travis was waiting on my porch. He said he’d done it “for the family.” He said the farm was too much for me. He said I’d never use the money anyway.
“Your grandfather dug the first well on this land with his own hands,” I said. “I promised him.”
Travis was charged with forgery and attempted fraud. His wife, Brooke, was charged too.
I placed the farm in a conservation trust the following spring. It can never be developed, and the water can never be sold. When I die, it goes to my granddaughter, who wants to be a veterinarian. She spends every summer here now. Yesterday, she pumped water from my grandfather’s old well and said it tasted like the best thing she’d ever had. It does.
