A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
“You can thank Sarah Finch for that,” I said. “She was the one who found the Arizona filings on the microfiche.”
Henry reached out his right hand, his fingers thick and scarred from sixty years of pulling calves and fixing machinery.
He gripped my hand in a squeeze that was surprisingly strong for a man of eighty, his knuckles rough as sandstone.
“Thank you, Arthur,” he said.
“It was Sarah who did the work, Henry,” I said. “I just stood on my side of the fence.”
“They would have taken the whole section if you had signed that first paper,” Henry said. “They had those lawyers from Lincoln writing letters that made it look like I was the one breaking the law.”
He let go of my hand and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small white envelope.
“What is that?” I asked.
“The county assessor sent this yesterday,” Henry said. “They are reassessing the whole valley because of those fake HOA filings.”
I took the envelope, the paper crisp and dry.
“We have to take this to Sarah’s office tomorrow,” I said.
