Chapter 27
In the weeks following their dinner on the farm, Mary kept thinking about Joe Taylor and the pressures he and other farmers were under to sell their farms to the government.
After she’d finished filing a brief one day, she called her partner who focused on property law.
She knew Patricia Parker from a mentoring match breakfast the firm had held the year before.
Since day one at the firm, she’d kept in touch with all the mentors through handwritten thank-you notes and the occasional friendly yet purposeful email to stay on their radar.
Patricia’s expertise was more in coastal cities and shore access than in farm country, but the general principles were the same.
Mary prepared for the call with specific questions so as not to waste the partner’s time.
She was especially interested in the precedents where the property owner had prevailed over the government.
“It’s not impossible to beat city hall, but it’s really tough.
” Patricia told her what she’d look for in the case.
“My advice is: Follow the money. You might find something at the end of that trail. Look for any discrepancies. If there’s anything that suggests the project isn’t on the up and up, like they’re hiding something, that can often be enough to make the threat of eminent domain go away. ”
Mary made a note on her pad, “Follow the money,” and underlined it three times.
“And, Mary, you could always think about getting the media on the story. They tend to love these kinds of controversies, and I bet local news will be more sympathetic to the farmer than to the government. It’s worth a shot.”
“That’s an interesting idea. But Mr. Taylor is so private, it’s like he doesn’t want anyone to know what’s happening. I’ll talk to him about that, though. It’s a good idea.” She had what she needed to take the next step. “Thanks so much, Patricia. You’ve been a great help.”
“Call me if you get stuck. These fights can escalate quickly.”
MARY CONTINUED TO poke around looking for clues as to whether there was anything fishy about the government plan to force the Taylors into selling the farm.
She searched for “Taylor Farm” to see what she could find. There were a lot of links to crop sales and records, and some articles in trade magazines like the Wisconsin Agriculture Journal.
Joe Taylor takes farming seriously, but he laughs easily.
The Taylor Farm has grown by five hundred acres under his care.
They’ve added more crops and a few more dairy cows as well.
The farm is a bit of a throwback and one that Joe intends to keep in his family.
He’s been a county commissioner and the chairman of the Colby County Fair.
His three boys all played football . . .
There was a link to a photograph of Mike, Jake, and Tommy. She clicked on it. They were in their high school football uniforms, their helmets under their right arms, hair mussed, and squinty faces in the bright sun. All-American kids.
She kept scrolling and found a link for “Sergeant Jake Taylor.” She clicked.
There was a group shot of several Marines all gathered around an armored vehicle, posing for a photograph.
“Al-Anbar—Iraq.” She zoomed in and picked him out right away.
She knew he’d been in the military though he rarely mentioned his service and she hadn’t pressed.
Jake was smiling, looking right into the camera, with his head shaved.
Sunglasses rested on his forehead. The dimple in his cheek clearly visible.
He held his arms folded over his chest, his biceps bulged, and his legs were crossed at the ankle as he leaned on the tank’s door.
He looked like a man who was right where he wanted to be. Even if it was in a war zone.
Mary had never been attracted to a military man before, but she had to admit, Jake Taylor was hot. And solid—in more ways than one.
Shaking off her daydreams, she searched for Wisconsin cases of farm takeovers. She sent herself several links to review in her spare time.
But before she logged off, she clicked again on Jake’s photo. Then she sent it to herself and saved it in her camera roll. “Research,” she told herself.