And once that mindset kicks in, people double down, which is exactly what Brent did. Unfortunately for him, the law doesn’t care about commitment bias. In the next few weeks, we’re about to prove that in a very expensive way. So the morning after that little backyard conversation with Brent, I didn’t argue with him again. I didn’t yell across the fence.
I didn’t post anything passive aggressive on the neighborhood Facebook page. I just quietly started making phone calls. First stop, the county clerk’s office. If you’ve never been to one, it’s basically the place where every boring but extremely important document about your property lives, deeds, plats, surveys, easements, all the stuff people ignore until something goes horribly wrong.
I walked up to the counter, gave them my address, and asked for the official recorded plat map tied to my deed. 10 minutes later, the clerk slid a stamped copy across the counter, and there it was, clear as day. My property line ran exactly along the old stone wall, not for feet inside it, not roughly somewhere near it, exactly where that wall had been sitting for 40 years.
Now, technically, that document alone was already strong evidence. But when you’re dealing with someone like Brent, someone who’s convinced their phone app is gospel, you want the kind of proof that shuts down arguments instantly. So the next call I made was to a licensed land surveyor.
3 days later, a guy named Harold showed up with a tripod, a GPS unit that looked like it belonged on a Mars rover, and a metal detector. We walked the entire sideyard together. At first, all you see is grass and dirt, but Harold knew exactly what he was looking for. He paced out the measurements based on the county records, scanned the ground with the detector for a moment, then suddenly stopped, found one.
He knelt down, scraped away some soil with a small shovel, and about 6 in underground, there it was, an old iron survey pin. Rusty, but unmistakable. Original marker, he said. Probably been here since the subdivision was built. Then we walked to the back corner and did the same thing again. Another pin. Harold took a few GPS readings, scribbled some numbers on his clipboard, and then finally looked up at me with a small smile.
