Carlston Mezieres v. Oklahoma Homebuilders, L.L.C.

Let’s cut right to the chase: a couple in Oklahoma paid over a million dollars for what they thought would be their dream home, only to spend the next four and a half years trapped in a construction purgatory so absurd, it makes Fixer Upper look like a documentary about efficiency. The roof? Not done. The work? A hot mess. And the builder? Apparently too busy checking the weather forecast to finish the damn job. This isn’t just a housing crisis—it’s a full-blown adult Nightmare on Elm Street, but with drywall and breach of contract instead of Freddy Krueger.

Meet Carlston and Shannon Meziere—two regular people with an irregularly expensive taste in stress. They’re not flipping houses on HGTV or living in tiny homes on wheels. They’re just a married couple who, like many of us, dreamed of a nice, quiet life in a house they could call their own. In October 2021, they signed a contract with Oklahoma Homebuilders, L.L.C.—a company whose name sounds like it was chosen at random from a hat labeled “Generic Construction Firms”—to build that dream home in Seminole County. The price tag? A cool $1,091,952. Let that number sink in. That’s not “fixer-upper” money. That’s “I’ve been saving since the Clinton administration” money. The deal was supposed to wrap up by May 2024—just a few months from now, at the time of filing. Simple, right? Sign, build, move in, enjoy porch swings and backyard barbecues in peace. But instead of a move-in date, the Mezieres got a masterclass in contractor incompetence.

Because here’s where things go off the rails faster than a rogue shopping cart at Walmart. The couple expected their house to be built. Shocking, I know. But according to their petition, what they actually got was a half-finished Frankenstein’s monster of a build, held together by hope and duct tape. The construction dragged on for four and a half years—yes, you read that right—on a home that was supposed to be done in under three. And the delays weren’t just bureaucratic speed bumps. No, this was next-level negligence. At one point, more than a year after the roof was supposedly complete, the builder had the audacity to inform the Mezieres that, surprise! The roof wasn’t actually finished. And why the heads-up? Because bad weather was coming. Oh, so now you’re concerned about structural integrity? After 54 months of radio silence?

Imagine that call. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Meziere? Yeah, about that roof you’ve been living under for the past 13 months… turns out it’s not actually done. Just wanted to give you a heads-up about the storm front. Don’t worry, though—we’ll get to it… eventually.” That’s not customer service. That’s emotional terrorism. And it’s not just the roof. The petition claims the entire build was riddled with shoddy workmanship—unfinished details, corners cut, craftsmanship that wouldn’t pass muster in a middle school shop class. The Mezieres didn’t just overpay for a house; they overpaid for a liability. They’re now stuck with a home that’s not only incomplete but likely needs thousands in repairs just to be safe and livable. And let’s not forget the emotional toll—four and a half years of stress, uncertainty, and probably a few too many late-night wine sessions Googling “can I sue my builder for emotional distress?”

So why are we in court? Let’s break it down like we’re explaining it to a very confused jury member who still thinks “breach of contract” is a wrestling move. The Mezieres are suing Oklahoma Homebuilders on three main counts: breach of contract, negligence, and unjust enrichment. In plain English: (1) You promised to build a house by a certain date and didn’t—so you broke the deal. (2) The work you did do was sloppy, unsafe, and poorly managed—so you were negligent. And (3) you took over a million dollars from us and delivered basically nothing—so you’ve been unjustly enriched. That last one is the legal way of saying, “You got paid for work you didn’t do, and that’s not okay.” They’re also asking for punitive damages, which is the court’s way of slapping someone on the wrist with a lawsuit-sized ruler. It’s not just about making them pay back what they owe—it’s about punishing them so they don’t pull this nonsense on someone else.

Now, about that $75,000 they’re seeking. Is that a lot? For most of us, yes—$75K could buy a Tesla, fund a child’s college education, or cover a down payment on a different house. But in the context of a $1.1 million construction project? It’s barely a rounding error. This isn’t them trying to get rich off a lawsuit. This is them trying to recoup the costs of finishing the house, fixing the botched work, and maybe, just maybe, covering some of the emotional damage of having your dream home turn into a never-ending renovation from hell. They’re not asking for a yacht. They’re asking for a roof that doesn’t leak when it rains. Is that too much to ask?

And here’s the kicker—Oklahoma Homebuilders, L.L.C. isn’t even represented by a lawyer. At least, not according to the filing. Which either means they’re so confident in their innocence they don’t need counsel (doubtful), or they’re so broke they can’t afford one (possible), or they’re just ghosting the whole thing like a bad Tinder date (very on-brand). Meanwhile, the Mezieres have brought in Collin R. Walke of Hall Estill—a real law firm with real lawyers and real letterhead. This isn’t some small claims court slap-on-the-wrist situation. This is the big leagues.

So what’s our take? Look, building a house is hard. Delays happen. Weather interferes. Supply chains break. We get it. But four and a half years? A roof that’s not done after being declared complete? A million-dollar price tag with none of the perks? That’s not just bad project management—that’s a full-blown dereliction of duty. The most absurd part? That the builder thought it was appropriate to notify the homeowners about unfinished roofing work because of an incoming storm. That’s like a chef calling you during dinner to say, “Hey, just a heads-up—the chicken isn’t cooked, but the health inspector is coming tomorrow.” No. Just no.

We’re rooting for the Mezieres. Not because they’re perfect—they’re not. But because they trusted a business to do a job, paid in good faith, and got ghosted harder than a high school crush. This isn’t just about money. It’s about accountability. It’s about the fact that you shouldn’t need a law degree to build a house without getting scammed. And if punitive damages are on the table? Good. Maybe then, just maybe, Oklahoma Homebuilders will learn that “unjust enrichment” isn’t a business model—it’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

So here’s hoping the court sees this for what it is: not just a construction dispute, but a cautionary tale for anyone who’s ever dared to dream of a home with a finished roof. And to all the builders out there: if you’re going to take a million bucks, at least finish the damn roof.