CAVALRY SPV I, LLC, AS ASSIGNEE OF CITIBANK, N.A. v. STEPHEN MULDER

Let’s cut right to the chase: someone is being sued for $10,326.51 — yes, that precise amount — because they didn’t pay their credit card bill. Not because they stole a car, defrauded a charity, or ran a Ponzi scheme from their garage. Nope. This is not The Dropout. This is not Inventing Anna. This is Inventing a Lawsuit Over a Late Payment. Welcome to Crazy Civil Court, where the drama isn’t about who did it — it’s about who hasn’t paid up.

Meet Stephen Mulder. He’s just a guy, presumably living his life in Tulsa, Oklahoma, probably trying to keep the AC running during those brutal summer heatwaves and wondering why his mailbox keeps getting heavier. He’s not a public figure. He’s not a CEO. He’s not even a TikTok star who got canceled for wearing socks with sandals. He’s just… Stephen. And then there’s the plaintiff: CAVALRY SPV I, LLC. Sounds like a private military contractor, right? Or maybe a hedge fund that specializes in buying distressed souls and old car titles. But no — this is a debt buyer. A company whose entire business model is scooping up defaulted credit card debt for pennies on the dollar and then suing people to collect the full amount. Think of them as the vultures of the financial world — they don’t create debt, they just feast on it. And in this case, they’ve set their sights on Stephen Mulder, armed with a lawsuit and a very specific grudge: $10,326.51.

Now, how did we get here? Let’s rewind. At some point — probably years ago — Stephen had a credit card. Likely issued by Citibank, N.A., which is the kind of bank that sends you emails with subject lines like “Your Credit Line May Be Increased!” and “We Miss You!” (Spoiler: they don’t actually miss you.) Stephen used the card. He bought things. Maybe it was groceries. Maybe it was a new grill. Maybe it was a last-ditch attempt to impress a date with a fancy dinner at Outback Steakhouse. We don’t know. What we do know is that he didn’t pay the full balance. Life happened. Medical bills. Job loss. Car repairs. Or maybe he just forgot to set up autopay. Whatever the reason, the account went south. Citibank, like all big banks, eventually writes off bad debt and sells it to companies like Cavalry SPV I, LLC — a shell corporation based in Connecticut that exists primarily to sue people in places like Tulsa County, Oklahoma.

And that’s where the plot thickens. Because Cavalry didn’t just send Stephen a polite reminder. They didn’t call him three times and hang up dramatically. No, they went straight for the legal jugular. They filed a petition — a formal lawsuit — claiming Stephen owes them $10,326.51 “according to a credit agreement.” That’s it. That’s the whole story. There are no allegations of fraud, no accusations of identity theft, no dramatic heist involving a fake mustache and a stolen Citibank routing number. Just a guy, a credit card, and a debt that got sold to a third party who now wants every penny — plus interest, costs, and attorney’s fees. Oh, and did we mention the interest? Because that number is probably creeping higher by the day, like a financial zombie that refuses to die.

So why are they in court? Let’s break it down in plain English — because let’s be honest, most people don’t wake up thinking, “I wonder what a ‘petition on an account and money lent’ means.” This is a debt collection lawsuit. Cavalry is saying, “Hey, Stephen borrowed money. He agreed to pay it back. He didn’t. Now we own that debt, and we want the court to force him to pay.” The legal term they’re using is “money lent,” which sounds like something out of a Victorian novel, but it’s just lawyer-speak for “you took out a loan and now you’re not paying.” There’s no dispute in the filing about whether Stephen used the card or whether the debt was assigned — no “he said, she said” about unauthorized charges. It’s a straightforward claim: you owe us, we have the paperwork, pay up.

Now, about that number: $10,326.51. Is that a lot? Well, it depends on who you are. If you’re a hedge fund in Greenwich, Connecticut, that’s pocket change — maybe the cost of one overpriced artisanal avocado toast. But if you’re a regular person in Tulsa, Oklahoma, that’s serious money. That’s a car down payment. That’s a year of rent in some parts of town. That’s six months of therapy, if you’re lucky enough to have insurance that covers it. And here’s the kicker: Cavalry probably paid way less than that to acquire the debt. Maybe $2,000. Maybe $1,500. They’re playing the numbers game — sue enough people, win enough judgments, and even if only half pay, you’re still in the black. It’s not personal. It’s just business. And in this business, Stephen Mulder is just a line item.

What do they want? Judgment. That means Cavalry wants the court to officially declare that Stephen owes them $10,326.51 — plus interest, plus fees, plus whatever else the judge allows. Once they have that judgment, they can get nasty. They can garnish wages. They can freeze bank accounts. They can turn Stephen’s financial life into a Saw movie, but with more paperwork and fewer puppets. And while Cavalry isn’t asking for punitive damages or an injunction or anything flashy, they are asking for attorney’s fees — which means Stephen could end up on the hook for even more money just for making them file a lawsuit. The ultimate “you’ll pay for this” moment — literally.

Now, here’s our take: the most absurd thing about this case isn’t the amount. It’s not even the fact that a company called “Cavalry SPV I, LLC” sounds like a rejected Transformers villain. It’s the sheer banality of it all. This isn’t a scandal. It’s not a betrayal. It’s not even a messy breakup with alimony and a dog named Mr. Snuffles. It’s just… debt. A routine, soul-crushing, utterly common financial misstep that millions of Americans face every year — and yet, here we are, in a courtroom, because someone wants to collect on a number that ends in .51 cents. Who even tracks that? Do they have a spreadsheet that says “Stephen Mulder: $10,326.51 — not $10,326.50, not $10,326.52, but exactly .51”? It’s like they’re trying to prove they did the math right, as if the court is grading their homework.

And let’s talk about Stephen. We don’t know his side. Maybe he’s disputing the debt. Maybe he’s planning to fight back. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed and hasn’t responded yet. But the fact that he’s not represented by a lawyer — at least not in this filing — suggests he might be going it alone. And that’s the real tragedy here. Because while Cavalry has a law firm in Texas on speed dial, Stephen is probably Googling “what to do if you’re sued for a credit card debt” at 2 a.m., wondering if he can settle this with a Venmo payment and an apology emoji.

We’re not rooting for anyone to dodge responsibility. If Stephen charged $10k on a card and just ghosted, sure, pay the man. But we are rooting for a system that doesn’t turn personal financial hardship into a legal bloodsport. We’re rooting for more transparency. For fairness. For a world where you don’t get sued by a mystery LLC for a debt you thought you’d already settled. And honestly? We’re rooting for Stephen. Not because he’s definitely innocent, but because he represents every person who’s ever looked at a bill and thought, “I’ll deal with this later” — only to find out “later” involves a lawsuit and a very precise dollar amount.

So here’s to you, Stephen Mulder. May your defense be strong, your stress be low, and your final bill end in something other than .51.