Conner L. Helms & Associates, P.C. v. Eric Crary and Kamron Crary

Let’s cut right to the chase: a law firm is suing two people from Texas—yes, Texas—for $13,241.29… because they didn’t pay their legal bill. And not for some high-stakes criminal defense or corporate merger, no—this was for guardianship proceedings, the kind of paperwork-heavy, emotionally fraught family court drama that usually involves aging parents, power of attorney, and someone trying to figure out who gets to make medical decisions when Grandma can’t. But now? Now it’s a cross-state debt showdown with interest piling up at a whopping 18% per year—a rate so high it makes credit card companies look generous. Welcome to the wild world of civil court, where legal bills go unpaid, lawyers become plaintiffs, and family law turns into financial warfare.

So who are these players in this dollar-and-sense drama? On one side, we’ve got Conner L. Helms & Associates, P.C.—aka Helms Law Firm—a professional legal outfit based in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma County, with a snazzy downtown office and email addresses for days. They’re the kind of firm that handles the nitty-gritty of civil life: contracts, guardianships, the kind of work that doesn’t make Law & Order but keeps families from imploding. Representing themselves (because of course they are), they’ve filed this lawsuit with all the confidence of someone who knows the system inside and out—because they are the system. Conner L. Helms, Esq., is both the attorney and the plaintiff, which is like being the referee and the team captain. It’s not illegal, but it does add a certain flair of poetic justice to the whole thing.

On the other side? Eric Crary and Kamron Crary—a duo whose last name sounds like a rejected indie rock band but who, according to the filing, are just two individuals “believed to be residing in Texas.” That little phrase—believed to be—is doing some heavy lifting here. It suggests the Helms Law Firm isn’t entirely sure where these two are, which makes this case feel less like a targeted legal strike and more like a “Hey, if you’re out there, we’ve got a bill for you.” No mention of their professions, their relationship to each other, or why they needed a guardianship in Oklahoma while living in Texas. But here’s the juicy part: they hired an Oklahoma law firm, signed a contract in Oklahoma, and agreed that Oklahoma courts would have jurisdiction. So even though they’re Texans, they legally agreed to play by Oklahoma’s rules. That’s like going to Vegas, losing money at a blackjack table, and then trying to sue the casino in New Mexico. Doesn’t work that way. You signed up for the game—now you’ve got to pay the house.

Now, let’s unpack what actually went down. At some point—date unspecified, drama level high—the Crarys found themselves in need of legal help with a guardianship case in Oklahoma. Maybe a relative needed care. Maybe there was a dispute over who gets to make decisions. Whatever the reason, they reached for the Yellow Pages (or more likely, Googled “guardianship lawyer Oklahoma City”) and landed on Helms Law Firm. They signed a written contract—fancy, binding, probably had a lot of bolded interest clauses buried in the fine print—agreeing to pay for legal services rendered. The firm did the work. They “completed the guardianship proceedings.” That’s lawyer-speak for: we filed the forms, we went to court, we got the judge to sign off, and you now have legal authority over someone else’s life decisions. Mission accomplished.

But then… silence. No check. No Venmo. No “Hey, we’re broke but working on it.” Just radio silence. And not a small amount of money, either—$13,241.29. That’s not chump change. That’s a used car. That’s a year of daycare. That’s a down payment on a wedding DJ who doesn’t play “Marry You” by Bruno Mars twice. And instead of paying, the Crarys allegedly ghosted. So Helms Law Firm, now out of pocket and probably annoyed, decided to take the nuclear option: sue their own former clients. And not just for the principal—no, no, no—they’re also coming for attorney’s fees, court costs, and interest at 18% per year. Let that sink in: 18%. Your average credit card charges around 20-25%, sure, but those rates are heavily regulated and often contested. But here? A law firm tacking on 18% interest for late payment? That’s the kind of rate you’d expect from a loan shark named Vinnie with a cigar and a basement office. Only this time, Vinnie has a law degree and an OBA number.

So why are they in court? Legally speaking, this is a classic breach of contract claim. That’s civil court jargon for “you promised to pay, you didn’t, and now we’re mad.” The contract spelled it out: Helms provides services, Crarys pay up. Helms did their part. Crarys didn’t. Boom. Breach. The law firm isn’t asking for punitive damages (they’re not trying to punish the Crarys beyond the money owed), nor are they seeking an injunction (they’re not trying to stop the Crarys from doing anything). It’s purely about the cash. They want what they’re owed, plus the cost of chasing it, plus interest. And because the contract specifically said the Crarys would be on the hook for attorney’s fees if collection became necessary, Helms can legally ask the court to make them pay for the privilege of being sued. It’s like when you don’t return a library book and then get hit with a late fee and a processing charge. Only this time, the book was a guardianship case, and the late fee is a six-figure potential if this drags on.

Now, is $13,241.29 a lot? In the grand scheme of lawsuits, it’s not exactly Erin Brockovich territory. No billion-dollar class actions here. But for a guardianship case? It’s not nothing. Legal fees vary wildly, but a $13k bill suggests this wasn’t just a quick court appearance. This was likely months of work—drafting petitions, gathering medical records, attending hearings, maybe even mediating family disputes. So from the law firm’s perspective, they delivered a service, and non-payment isn’t just ungrateful—it’s business suicide. If every client could just walk away from their bill, law firms would have to start accepting payment in homemade banana bread and emotional support. But from the Crarys’ side? Maybe they’re cash-strapped. Maybe they thought the bill was inflated. Maybe they had a misunderstanding. The filing doesn’t say. All we know is they didn’t pay, and now they’re being sued across state lines.

And here’s our take: the most absurd part of this whole saga isn’t the money, or the interest rate, or even the fact that a law firm is suing its own clients. It’s that none of this had to happen. Someone needed help with a guardianship—a deeply personal, often emotional legal process—and instead of resolving it quietly, it’s now a public court case with interest accruing like a bad decision in a horror movie. The Crarys could’ve just paid the bill. Helms could’ve sent a sternly worded email before filing. But no. We’re here. In Oklahoma County District Court. With a petition, a docket number, and a demand for $13,241.29 plus 18% interest—because apparently, the lesson of this case is: don’t stiff a lawyer. They will come for you. And they’ll bring a contract, a calculator, and a deep understanding of civil procedure.

We’re rooting for resolution. For someone to just write the check, swallow their pride, and let this fade into the annals of petty civil disputes. But also? We’re weirdly rooting for the interest counter. Because at 18% per year, that $13,241.29 could be $15,000 by next summer. And nothing says “I regret my life choices” like watching your legal bill grow faster than your savings account.