A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
“This is the same form she showed me last winter,” Duca said, his voice quiet.
“Did you sign one?” I asked.
“I did not,” he said. “But she told me the county had already recorded the easement on my south line. I paid her eight thousand dollars to keep her from taking my water access.”
“Did you get a receipt?” I asked.
“I got a paper with a gold seal on it,” Duca said. “But the bank draft went to a company in Arizona. I did not have the money to fight her lawyers in Lincoln.”
“We are not paying them another dime,” I said.
“She has the law on her side, Arthur,” he said. “Or she makes it look like she does.”
“A forged name is not the law,” I said.
He handed the paper back to me, his hand lingering near his pocket.
I stood on the porch as he walked back toward his fence line, the shadow of the barn stretching long and thin across the yard.
The realization that my quiet retirement had just turned into a fight to keep my name from being signed by a thief.
