Without my dam, Dexter’s entire subdivision—built directly in the natural flood plain—would be underwater in a matter of days.
Harold secured a 48-hour emergency federal stay to pause the demolition. I used that time to prepare. I didn’t want to stop Dexter. I wanted to build an ironclad cage of liability around him.
First, I called Dr. Sarah Martinez at Colorado State’s hydrology department. I handed over my great-grandfather’s 1924 engineering notes and asked her graduate students to run a computer simulation of what would happen if the dam vanished during the coming snowmelt.
Two days later, Dr. Martinez showed me a color-coded flood map. It was terrifying.
“This isn’t just flooding, Ezra,” she said, pointing to bright red zones on the map. “This is a relocation event. Forty-seven houses will be under three to six feet of water for almost a month.”
I took that map to an environmental lawyer in Denver named Rebecca Torres. She specializes in federal water rights violations.
