The intention was to transfer it to the city once construction was complete, which is pretty standard. But for some reason, that transfer never happened. Paperwork stalled. Ownership never finalized. So, who owns it now? I asked. Another pause. more typing. Well, technically, he said it’s still private property owned by who? That’s the thing, he said.
The original development company dissolved years ago. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the wall like I was trying to process a joke that didn’t land. So, you’re telling me the street isn’t public, but it’s not owned by the HOA either? Correct. Then, who’s enforcing parking on it? He gave a small chuckle. The kind that says even he knew how ridiculous it sounded.
That would be questionable. That word stuck with me. Questionable. Because what Carl had been saying, what the HOA had been doing, suddenly it wasn’t just annoying. It was shaky. And shaky things can fall apart. So, I kept going. I started pulling property records, digging through old filings, things I’d never thought I’d care about.
Late nights at my kitchen table, laptop open, papers scattered everywhere, coffee going cold while I traced ownership trails that felt like they were designed to confuse people on purpose. The original developer had folded. Their assets had been transferred, then transferred again, bundled into something else, then split up.
It was like following a paper trail through a maze. But eventually, piece by piece, it started to come together. The road along with a few other leftover parcels had ended up in the hands of an investment trust. The kind that buys up forgotten or abandoned infrastructure sits on it, waits for someone to come knocking.
