The first supporting affidavit was from a neighbor I’d known for sixty years. I couldn’t understand why he’d sign something saying someone else had been using my property since 2004. The clerk read me the second name, and I knew him too. He’d been my daddy’s closest friend and had hunted on our land with him for years. I called him that evening and asked what he’d signed. He said he’d only signed what the man put in front of him because he’d been told I’d already agreed to give up the back pasture. I told him I hadn’t, and he went quiet before saying he’d never spoken to me about it because he’d assumed I’d changed my mind.
I drove out to the back pasture the next morning. There was a new gate where we’d never had one, and a gravel track running straight through the middle of the eleven acres. The grass had been cut recently, and there were fresh tire marks leading to a small shed I knew hadn’t been there last summer. I called the county again and asked whether there were any permits for structures on my property. The clerk found one from 2004. It listed an owner I’d never heard of and an address that didn’t exist anymore. Then she said the permit had been renewed twice — most recently three months ago.
I went back to the courthouse and asked for the entire file. The surveyor’s name was on the first page, and underneath it was a handwritten note from the county assessor. “Boundary disputed since 2004.” I asked why I’d never received a notice. The clerk looked through the mailing records and said every notice had been sent to an address I’d never lived at. Then she found one more document attached to the file — a deed filed in 2004 that I had supposedly signed. My name was on it, but the signature wasn’t mine.
