He remained standing.
“Did you know the title commitment contained a mineral exception?”
Silence.
The President looked toward association counsel.
He did not rescue her.
“Yes.”
Residents reacted.
The Homeowner continued.
“Did you sign a certification stating those interests were believed obsolete?”
The President’s face changed.
The Vice President turned toward her.
The Treasurer whispered:
“What certification?”
Now the room exploded.
The President struck the gavel.
“Order!”
Nobody cared.
The Treasurer was standing.
“You signed what?”
The President looked toward the Homeowner.
“You have confidential loan documents.”
“My attorney received them from bank counsel during title discussions.”
The Treasurer faced the President.
“Did the board approve that representation?”
She did not answer.
“Did we?”
“No.”
One word.
Everything changed.
The Treasurer sat slowly.
The Vice President looked stunned.
The President tried to recover.
“The representation was based on information provided during due diligence.”
“From who?”
The Homeowner asked.
She stared.
He continued.
“Who told you my family's recorded mineral rights were obsolete?”
“This is becoming adversarial.”
“It became adversarial when you poured concrete over my access.”
Applause erupted.
The Homeowner did not enjoy it.
Not really.
Crowds made complicated problems simplistic.
He raised one hand.
The applause stopped gradually.
“I don't want this neighborhood bankrupt.”
That surprised everyone.
He continued.
“I don't want your clubhouse.”
“I don't want your reserve fund.”
“I want my access rights recognized.”
“And I want nobody signing documents about my property without checking whether what they're saying is true.”
A resident asked:
“Will you sue?”
His attorney looked toward him.
The Homeowner answered honestly.
“I don't know.”
The President laughed bitterly.
“Of course you will.”
He looked toward her.
“You still think this is personal.”
“You let us pour millions in concrete.”
“No.”
“You chose to pour millions after I repeatedly disputed your right to block the road.”
She stood.
“You never showed me the deed!”
The Homeowner nodded.
“Correct.”
“Then how was I supposed to know?”
The Treasurer said quietly:
“Title search.”
The President turned.
Silence.
The meeting ended without resolution.
But the board voted four to one for an independent investigation of the acquisition.
The President voted no.
Three days later, she retained her own attorney.
Not HOA counsel.
Personal counsel.
Residents noticed.
The bank noticed too.
The lender's concern had moved beyond title.
Now it was underwriting.
The construction loan required accurate representations from the borrower.
If the President knowingly or recklessly provided false title information, the bank could declare default.
Worse, the loan documents contained an officer certification clause.
The signer could potentially face personal liability for intentional misrepresentation.
The Homeowner learned this from his attorney.
He stared.
“Personal?”
“Potentially.”
“Don't sound excited.”
“I'm a lawyer.”