Eliza was sitting near the back.
She hadn't planned to speak.
But when Victor suggested the Hart farm had simply failed to maintain its own ditch, she stood.
For a moment, the room became quiet.
Victor looked toward her.
She raised one hand.
"May I ask a question?"
The committee chair recognized her.
Eliza approached the microphone.
She wore her familiar plaid shirt and denim overalls.
Her copper-red braid hung over one shoulder.
She looked nothing like the polished corporate manager seated near the front.
But she carried a folder of records.
She took a breath.
"Mr. Sloane, if the south lateral stopped working because my family neglected it, why did the northern division structure's operating position change before the useful flow stopped?"
Victor looked toward his attorney.
Then answered.
"Those historical operations are complicated."
Eliza nodded.
"I agree."
She opened the folder.
"That's why we're asking for the supporting documents."
The room became quiet.
She continued.
"My father spent twenty years trying to understand why his farm stopped receiving water. He asked your company's predecessors for records."
Victor shifted.
Eliza's voice trembled.
"He died before anyone gave him a clear answer."
For several seconds, she struggled to speak.
Then she looked directly at the committee.
"I'm not asking anybody here to decide who's guilty of anything."
She paused.
"I'm asking why a farmer had to lose everything before people were willing to examine the records."
Nobody spoke.
Then Calvin stood.
He removed his cap.
And said something loud enough for the entire room to hear.
"Because some of us were too afraid to help him."
Eliza turned.
For a moment, she stared.
Calvin looked toward Victor.
Then continued.
"I was there when they changed the gate. I helped Samuel look for the water afterward."
He swallowed.
"And I should've told him more than I did."
The room remained silent.
Victor's face tightened.
For the first time, the dispute was no longer simply a young farmer's word against a large agricultural company's explanation.
Someone who had worked beside Samuel was publicly acknowledging that the old system had been altered and that important questions remained unanswered.
After the meeting, Calvin approached Eliza outside.
The sun was setting.
Farmers stood in small groups discussing what they'd heard.
For a moment, he looked uncertain.
Then he said quietly.
"I hope I didn't make things worse."
Eliza shook her head.
"No."
He nodded.
She looked toward him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she said.
"Dad would've appreciated you standing up."
Calvin's eyes filled.
He looked away.
Then whispered.
"I should've done it while he was alive."
Eliza nodded slowly.
"Yes."
The word hurt.
She could see it.
But she didn't take it back.
Calvin lowered his head.
For a moment, he seemed defeated.
Then Eliza added.
"But you can still help us find the truth."
He looked up.
She held out the folder.
"Allison may need a formal statement about what you remember."
Calvin nodded immediately.