"You mean the pool I paid for?"
Karen shook her head.
"You have no right to drain it."
I looked at the empty pool behind me.
"I drained my own pool."
Karen smiled.
"No. You drained mine."
That was when I realized this wasn't going to be a normal neighbor dispute.
Karen had come prepared.
She had paperwork.
She had photographs.
And, apparently, she had a story.
The only problem was that every part of it was about to fall apart.
The Woman With the Pink Folder
One of the officers introduced himself as Deputy Harris.
The other was Deputy Collins.
Deputy Harris held out a hand.
"Sir, we'd like to see the property documents."
"Absolutely."
I went inside.
Before I could return, Karen was already telling the deputies her version.
She claimed the previous homeowner had allowed her family to build the pool.
She claimed she had paid for its maintenance.
She claimed there was an old verbal agreement giving her ownership rights.
And then she produced a thick pink folder.
"I have proof," she announced.
I came back outside carrying my own folder.
Mine wasn't pink.
It was boring.
Gray.
But it contained something Karen's folder didn't.
Official records.
I handed Deputy Harris the deed.
He read it carefully.
Then he looked at the property survey.
Then he looked toward the pool.
"Where exactly is the property line?" he asked.
I pointed toward the wooden fence.
"Right there."
Karen immediately interrupted.
"That's not the real property line."
Deputy Collins frowned.
"Do you have a survey showing otherwise?"
Karen opened her pink folder.
"I have this."
She pulled out a photocopy.
It was an old hand-drawn sketch.
Deputy Harris studied it.
"Ma'am, when was this made?"
"I don't know."
"Who prepared it?"
"I don't know."
"Is it recorded?"
Karen hesitated.