CODY NOTTINGHAM v. GREAT LAKES INSURANCE SE

Let’s get one thing straight: an insurance company that sold you a policy, then refused to honor it when you actually needed it—despite a court already ruling you owe $10,000 in damages—is the financial equivalent of a friend who promises to spot you rent, then ghosts you when the landlord shows up with an eviction notice. That’s exactly what Cody Nottingham and his small construction company, Rivers Edge Construction, say happened to them in Tahlequah, Oklahoma—a town better known for Cherokee Nation headquarters and scenic lakes than high-stakes insurance drama. But don’t let the sleepy town vibe fool you. This case is a textbook example of how a seemingly routine home remodel can spiral into a legal showdown involving trusts, third-party administrators, and a foreign insurance giant named Great Lakes Insurance SE, which sounds less like a real company and more like a villainous corporation from a mid-budget legal thriller.

So who are these people? On one side, we’ve got Cody Nottingham, a local contractor, and his LLC, Rivers Edge Construction. They’re the kind of folks who show up with tool belts, fix your bathroom, and probably wave at you from their truck while unloading plywood. They’re based in Cherokee County, where word-of-mouth and reputation matter more than slick marketing. On the other side? Great Lakes Insurance SE—a European-sounding insurance behemoth that, despite its name, isn’t based in Michigan or Wisconsin but is legally allowed to operate in Oklahoma. They’re the kind of entity that sends letters on letterhead so formal you can practically hear the echo in the room when you open the envelope. The relationship between these parties was supposed to be simple: Rivers Edge paid for liability coverage, Great Lakes took the premium, and in return, they promised to have the company’s back if something went wrong on a job. That’s the deal. That’s the entire point of insurance. But as we’re about to find out, promises mean less when money’s on the line.

Here’s how it all went sideways. On July 24, 2023, Nottingham and his crew did some remodeling work at the home of Donna Harris—622 Coy Ave, Tahlequah, if you’re mapping it. The job was completed. No fireworks. No immediate complaints. Life moved on. But then, on December 23, 2023—yes, Christmas Eve, because nothing says holiday cheer like getting sued—Donna Harris, acting as trustee of the Donna Case Harris Family Trust, filed a lawsuit against Nottingham and Rivers Edge. The claim? Negligence during the remodel. She alleged the work was subpar, caused damage, and now she wanted compensation. Standard construction dispute stuff—annoying, expensive, but not unheard of.

Now, here’s where the insurance policy should have kicked in. Nottingham had liability coverage through Great Lakes, policy number GLG03188, and when you’re sued for something that falls under your policy, your insurer is supposed to step in, defend you, and if necessary, pay any judgment. That’s the whole quid pro quo. But Great Lakes didn’t answer the door. Instead, on October 8, 2024, their third-party administrator—some corporate middleman named International Programs Group—sent a letter to Harris’s lawyer saying, “Nope, we’re not covering this.” No detailed explanation. No investigation update. Just a flat-out disclaimer of coverage. Then, on October 11, Nottingham’s attorney formally demanded that Great Lakes either defend the company or pay the claim. Crickets. Then, on November 6, Great Lakes finally replied: denial. No coverage. No defense. You’re on your own, Cody.

And so, left hanging, Nottingham and Rivers Edge had to fight the lawsuit alone. They showed up in court. They made their case. And on June 6, 2025, the judge ruled against them—ordering them to pay $9,999 in damages and $2,500 in attorney fees to Donna Harris. That’s $12,499 in total, with nearly $10,000 of it being the kind of loss that should have been covered by insurance. But Great Lakes? They watched from the sidelines like a bystander at a fender bender, sipping coffee and saying, “Not my problem.”

Which brings us to why they’re now in court—Cherokee County District Court, to be exact, case number CJ-2026-47. Nottingham and Rivers Edge aren’t suing Donna Harris. They’re suing their own insurance company. And they’re making two big claims. First: breach of contract. This one’s simple. You sold us a policy. We paid. A covered claim came up. You said no. That’s a broken promise. Second: bad faith breach of insurance contract—which is the legal way of saying, “You didn’t just make a mistake; you acted like a jerk on purpose.” Under Oklahoma law, insurance companies can’t just deny claims willy-nilly. They have a duty to investigate, respond fairly, and act in good faith. The petition accuses Great Lakes of failing to do any of that—ignoring facts, skipping a proper investigation, and putting their own profits ahead of their customer. And because of that, the plaintiffs are asking not just for the $10,000 they’re out, but potentially punitive damages—money meant to punish the insurer for being especially shady.

Now, let’s talk about that $10,000. Is it a lot? In the grand scheme of insurance claims, it’s pocket change. Big insurers handle seven-figure cases before breakfast. But for a small contractor in Tahlequah? Ten grand is real money. It could be payroll. Equipment. A down payment on a new truck. Or, as in this case, a judgment that could put a squeeze on a small business just trying to survive. The fact that Great Lakes denied it over what appears to be a routine liability claim—no allegations of fraud, no policy violations cited—makes the denial look less like a business decision and more like corporate laziness dressed up as risk management.

Here’s the absurd part: Great Lakes had every opportunity to do the right thing. They could’ve investigated. They could’ve defended the case. They could’ve negotiated a settlement. Instead, they ghosted their own customer, let the judgment happen, and now they’re being dragged into court for acting like the insurance version of a no-show date. And let’s be real—this isn’t some obscure loophole. The policy was active. The claim fell under the coverage. The insured followed the rules. The insurer didn’t. That’s not bad luck. That’s bad faith.

Our take? We’re rooting for Cody Nottingham—not because he’s definitely innocent of shoddy work (the court already ruled on that), but because the system is supposed to protect people even when they mess up. That’s why we have insurance. It’s not a reward for perfection; it’s a safety net for when things go wrong. Great Lakes took the money for years, then vanished when the net was needed most. If that’s allowed to happen without consequence, then what’s the point of insurance at all? At the very least, this case should be a reminder: just because a company has “Great” in its name doesn’t mean it’ll do anything great when you need it.