DAVIS AND THOMPSON, PLLC AND RANDALL G. VAUGHAN v. MISTI GUNDLACH

Let’s get one thing straight: Misti Gundlach owes $8,556.68. Not $8,500. Not $9,000. Not “approximately eight and a half grand.” No, sir. Eight thousand, five hundred fifty-six dollars and sixty-eight cents. That extra 68 cents is out there taunting us, dangling like the price tag on a designer handbag someone definitely can’t afford but bought anyway. And now, thanks to a very precise affidavit and an Oklahoma small claims court date set faster than you can say “I should’ve just paid the bill,” we’re here to unpack how a woman ended up on the hook for a sum so oddly specific it feels like it was spit out by a spreadsheet with a grudge.

So who are these people? On one side, we’ve got Davis and Thompson, PLLC — a law firm with the kind of name that sounds like it should be on the side of a white Ford Fusion parked outside a strip mall courthouse. They’re joined by Randall G. Vaughan, an actual human attorney (OBA #11554, if you’re into credentials) who also happens to be listed as a plaintiff. Which, okay, fine — sometimes lawyers sue alongside their firms when they’re personally involved. But already, we’re in murky waters. Is this a case where a client refused to pay her lawyer, and now the lawyer is suing personally? That’s… not exactly the “lawyer as noble warrior of justice” image most of us have. More like “lawyer as very persistent bill collector.”

Then there’s Misti Gundlach. Apartment 30, 616 Cox Drive, Grove, Oklahoma. Population: probably not huge. Grove is the kind of town where you know your neighbor’s dog’s name and where everyone waves at each other whether they like each other or not. Misti isn’t represented by counsel, according to the filing — which means she’s either handling this solo, or she’s about to show up to court with a binder full of handwritten notes and a very strong opinion about how she was wronged. We don’t know why she stopped paying. We don’t know what legal services were rendered. But we do know she didn’t pay. And now? The lawyers — plural — are coming for her. Or at least for $8,556.68 of her.

Here’s what we think happened, based on the paper trail: At some point, Misti Gundlach needed legal help. Maybe it was a divorce. Maybe it was a property dispute. Maybe she was fighting a zoning violation because she put up a chicken coop too close to the property line. We don’t know. But she hired Davis and Thompson, PLLC, and Randall G. Vaughan personally worked on her case. They did the lawyering thing — drafted documents, made calls, showed up somewhere in a suit — and then sent her a bill. A big one. $8,556.68 big. And Misti, for whatever reason, looked at that number and said, “Nope.” Maybe she thought the fees were too high. Maybe she felt the work wasn’t worth it. Maybe she just plain didn’t have the money. But whatever the reason, she refused to pay.

Now, most people in that situation would at least talk to the lawyer. Negotiate. Ask for a payment plan. Maybe cry a little. But not Misti. According to the affidavit, the plaintiffs demanded payment. She refused. And not a single dollar — not even $50 as a goodwill gesture — has been paid. So now the firm and its attorney are doing what lawyers do when they don’t get paid: they’re suing. Not for malpractice, not for slander, not for breach of a multi-million-dollar contract. They’re suing for debt collection. AKA: “You owe us money. Pay up.”

And so here we are, in Delaware County District Court, where the stakes are set at $8,556.68 — a number that feels suspiciously like hours billed, rates applied, and maybe a few “phone calls reviewed” tossed in for good measure. The relief sought? Just that amount. No punitive damages. No request for Misti to be publicly shamed (though, let’s be honest, she’s being publicly shamed just by being in this story). No demand that she write a letter of apology or attend a seminar on the ethics of paying your bills. Just cold, hard cash. Plus court costs, because irony loves to charge a processing fee.

Now, is $8,556.68 a lot of money? Well, yes. For most people in Grove, Oklahoma, that’s not chump change. That’s a used car. That’s a year’s rent. That’s a lot of chicken feed. And in the context of small claims court — which this appears to be, given the jurisdiction and the disclaimer about jury trials — that number is right on the edge of what you’d expect. Oklahoma’s small claims limit is $10,000, so this fits. But it’s not a $200 tire repair dispute or a broken lawn mower. This is a full-blown legal fee showdown. Which raises the question: if the services were worth suing over, were they worth paying for in the first place?

What makes this case so deliciously petty isn’t the amount. It’s the precision of it. $8,556.68. Not $8,557. Not “about eight and a half.” No, it’s got cents. That means someone sat down, ran the numbers, added up every 15-minute increment, every email, every “client consultation (12 minutes)” and said, “Yep. This is the exact value of the legal labor we provided.” And Misti looked at that and said, “I see what you did there. And I reject your reality.”

We don’t know Misti’s side. Maybe the lawyer ghosted her. Maybe the case was lost because of incompetence. Maybe she was double-billed or charged for work she never approved. But the filing doesn’t say that. It just says: she owes, she was asked, she said no. And now the state of Oklahoma is telling her to show up on March 16, 2026, at 2:30 PM, with her books, her papers, and her best defense — or else judgment will be entered against her. Automatically. No drama. No appeal. Just… boom. You lose.

And here’s the kicker: the plaintiffs disclaimed a jury trial. They don’t want a jury of her peers. They don’t want a dramatic courtroom showdown with closing arguments and emotional testimony. They just want the money. They’re so confident in their claim that they’re willing to let a judge decide it in a quiet, no-frills proceeding. Which either means they’re in the right… or they’re really good at paperwork.

Our take? The most absurd part isn’t that someone’s being sued for legal fees. That happens. The absurdity is in the presentation. The affidavit reads like a passive-aggressive invoice with notary credentials. “You owe us $8,556.68. You didn’t pay. So now the state is telling you to show up.” It’s not a story of betrayal or fraud or even anger. It’s a story of a bill that didn’t get paid, escalated to the point where the government is now serving as a debt collection agency with gavels.

Are we rooting for Misti? Honestly, kind of. Not because she’s definitely in the right — we don’t have enough facts for that. But because there’s something almost heroic about refusing to pay a bill that feels unjust, even if it means getting dragged into court. And also, because $8,556.68 is such a weird number that it makes us suspect someone really wanted to make a point. Like, “Oh, you think my time isn’t worth it? Let me show you exactly what it’s worth. Down to the penny.”

This isn’t a murder. It’s not even a messy breakup. It’s a financial standoff with a decimal point. But in the grand tradition of petty civil disputes, it’s glorious. Because at the end of the day, this case isn’t about justice. It’s about who blinks first. And right now, Misti Gundlach is staring down a law firm, a judge, and the full power of the Oklahoma court system — all over 68 cents more than eight thousand five hundred.