Michael C. Craft v. Dejion Cooper

Let’s be honest—most car accidents are about as dramatic as a lukewarm cup of coffee. But here we are, in Oklahoma City, where one fender bender has escalated into a full-blown legal showdown with all the flair of a courtroom drama, minus the dramatic music (for now). On May 4, 2025, two drivers—Michael Craft and Dejion Cooper—were just minding their own business on Oklahoma City roads when, according to the paperwork, Cooper allegedly turned into a human pinball machine and smashed into Craft’s car. Was it road rage? A texting epidemic? A rogue deer? Nope. Just, apparently, a whole lot of not paying attention. And now, Craft wants the courts to make sure Cooper pays—figuratively, if not literally—with a lawsuit that’s equal parts “I’m hurt” and “I’m mad.”

So who are these two? Michael C. Craft is our plaintiff, the guy in the driver’s seat (literally) when things went sideways. He’s represented by Lawter & Associates, PLLC—a firm that seems to specialize in personal injury cases and, judging by the crisp formatting of this petition, probably has a strong relationship with their Word template. Craft isn’t just filing this case because his bumper got a little dinged; he’s claiming real injuries, medical expenses, and all the fun downstream costs that come with being in a crash. He’s not asking for chump change either—at least not in theory. He’s seeking damages “in excess of the amount required for diversity jurisdiction,” which, for the non-lawyers in the room, means he’s aiming for more than $75,000. That’s not “I need a new taillight” money. That’s “I might’ve missed work, had physical therapy, and now my back clicks when I sneeze” money.

Then there’s Dejion Cooper, the defendant. He’s flying solo—no attorney listed, which could mean a few things. Maybe he’s planning to represent himself, which is always a risky move, like trying to perform your own root canal. Maybe he hasn’t responded yet. Or maybe he’s just blissfully unaware that his name is now stamped on a legal document that accuses him of being, well, kind of a bad driver. We don’t know much about Cooper beyond what the filing implies: that on May 4, 2025, he was operating a vehicle in Oklahoma City and did so in a way that ended with metal crunching into metal. Was he speeding? Was he scrolling through Instagram? Did he fall asleep? The petition doesn’t say—but it does list a buffet of negligence charges that sound like they were copy-pasted from a driving manual written by someone with trust issues.

According to Craft’s version of events, Cooper was “careless and/or negligent” in multiple ways. He failed to act like a “reasonable and prudent person” would—meaning, presumably, that most people don’t drive like they’re in a demolition derby. He didn’t give his “full time and attention” to driving, which is a polite way of saying he was probably distracted. Maybe by his phone, maybe by a passenger, maybe by the existential weight of modern life—but the court doesn’t care why he wasn’t paying attention, just that he wasn’t. He also “failed to maintain a proper lookout,” which is legalese for “he didn’t see the car in front of him until it was too late.” And then comes the big one: Craft claims Cooper violated specific Oklahoma traffic laws—namely Title 47, Chapter 11, Sections 310, 901, and 901b. These cover things like following too closely, reckless driving, and failing to drive at a safe speed. And here’s the kicker: breaking these laws isn’t just a ticket offense—it’s “negligence per se,” meaning the law itself says you were negligent if you broke the rule. So if Craft can prove Cooper was speeding or tailgating like a maniac, the law basically hands him a free point in the negligence game.

Now, why are we in court? Because car crashes in Oklahoma don’t automatically come with a built-in payment system. You don’t just swap insurance info and call it a day—especially if someone’s hurt, bills are piling up, and the other driver’s insurer is dragging its feet. Craft’s legal team is arguing that Cooper’s actions (or inactions) directly caused the crash, which caused Craft’s injuries, which caused medical bills, which caused this lawsuit. It’s a classic causation chain—like dominoes, but with more paperwork. The claim? Negligence. In plain English: “You messed up, and now I’m asking a judge to make you pay for it.” There’s no mention of punitive damages, which means Craft isn’t trying to punish Cooper for being evil—just to cover the actual costs of the crash. No wild accusations of drunk driving or fleeing the scene. Just a straightforward “you hit me, I got hurt, I want compensation” kind of deal.

And what does Craft want? Officially, the petition doesn’t list a specific dollar amount—just “an amount in excess of $75,000.” But when you unpack that, it’s not just about the medical bills. He’s asking for compensation for “temporary and permanent injuries,” “past and future medical expenses,” “lost wages,” and “interest on any judgment.” So if Craft missed work because of back pain, or needs surgery down the line, or now has a chronic condition because of the crash, he wants Cooper (or Cooper’s insurance) to foot the bill. Is $75,000 a lot? For a fender bender, maybe. But for a crash that caused long-term injuries, ongoing treatment, and months of lost income? That’s not outrageous. In fact, it’s conservative. Personal injury cases in Oklahoma can easily climb into six figures if the injuries are serious. So while this isn’t a “billion-dollar lawsuit against Big Tobacco” level of cash, it’s not chump change either. It’s the kind of number that makes you think, “Okay, someone got really hurt.”

Now, here’s our take: what’s the most absurd part of this whole thing? Honestly? That we’re even talking about it. This is a routine car accident. The kind that happens every day in every city. People get distracted, cars collide, insurance adjusters sigh deeply. But the fact that it’s escalated to a formal petition in Oklahoma County District Court means someone decided this wasn’t just a “let’s settle and move on” moment. Maybe Craft’s injuries were worse than they seemed. Maybe Cooper’s insurance offered $5,000 and called it a day. Or maybe—just maybe—Craft’s lawyers looked at the facts, saw a clear negligence case, and thought, “Hey, we can make this worth our while.” And honestly? Good for them. The legal system exists for exactly this kind of thing. It’s not just for murder trials and political scandals. It’s for the guy whose neck hurts every time he turns his head because another driver was too busy thinking about dinner to watch the road.

We’re not rooting for anyone to get rich off a car crash. But we are rooting for accountability. If Cooper was driving like a human hazard cone, then yeah, he should pay. And if Craft is exaggerating his injuries? Well, that’s what discovery and depositions are for. But until then, we’ve got a classic Oklahoma showdown: one man’s bad driving versus another man’s mounting medical bills. Will justice be served? Will Cooper show up to court in flip-flops and a tank top? Will Craft need a neck brace during testimony? We may never know. But one thing’s for sure—this isn’t just a car crash. It’s a civil drama, and the opening act has already dropped.