and moved it.
He laid it politely beside the temporary fence.
We weren’t vandals.
We were farmers.
There’s a difference.
By 5:30, half the outer maze was gone.
From the combine cab, I could see the full pattern someone had carved into my crop.
Spirals.
Dead ends.
A giant pumpkin shape.
Somebody had destroyed almost three acres of productive corn just designing the thing.
My yield monitor showed exactly how much money they had already cost me.
I photographed the readings.
Evidence.
Everything became evidence now.
At 5:47, Trish returned.
She brought three people.
One was HOA attorney Bradley Shaw.
One was board treasurer Linda Price.
The third was a young man carrying a camera.
Bradley walked directly toward the combine.
Ben stopped him.
“You need to stay outside the active equipment area.”
“My client has a lawful interest in this property.”
Ben nodded toward me.
“He says
