Mill Creek Lumber & Supply Company v. Richardson Homes, LLC

Let’s cut straight to the drama: a lumber company is suing a homebuilder for $36,000 in unpaid building materials — and they’ve slapped a mechanic’s lien on the property like it’s a foreclosure thriller. This isn’t Die Hard at the construction site, but in the world of petty civil court, this is peak tension. We’re talking unpaid invoices, real estate stakes, and a 10-year business relationship that apparently ended with one side holding a stack of unpaid receipts and the other side ghosting like they forgot how to answer the phone.

So who are these people? On one side, you’ve got Mill Creek Lumber & Supply Company — your classic Oklahoma-based supplier of all things wood, nails, and probably the kind of guy who knows the difference between pine and pressure-treated without blinking. They’re the backbone of every DIY dream and professional build, quietly stocking shelves while builders dream of open-concept floor plans. On the other side: Richardson Homes, LLC, a home construction company that apparently specializes in building houses — and also, possibly, in not paying for the stuff they use to build those houses. Also named in the suit are Deaundrae Green, Sr., and Aylin Green, who, according to the filing, own the land where all this drama went down — a five-acre plot in Choctaw, Oklahoma, at 3208 S. Henney Rd. Whether they’re a married couple, business partners, or just two people who really like the same piece of rural Oklahoma real estate isn’t spelled out, but they’re now legally on the hook for a debt they may or may not have known about.

Now, let’s rewind. Back in 2015 — yes, 2015 — Richardson Homes opened a credit account with Mill Creek. That means they could show up, load up a truck with two-by-fours, roofing tiles, and whatever else you need to turn dirt into a dream home, and pay later. It’s the construction version of “I’ll take the whole menu, put it on my tab.” For a full decade, this arrangement apparently worked — or at least, it worked well enough that Mill Creek kept extending credit. But somewhere between 2015 and 2025, the music stopped, and Richardson Homes apparently didn’t get the memo that the party was over.

According to the filing, as of the lawsuit’s start in 2026, Richardson Homes owed Mill Creek $36,138.67 — down to the penny, because nothing says “we’re serious” like refusing to round up. That balance, the petition claims, is for materials used specifically to improve the Greens’ property in Choctaw. So Mill Creek didn’t just sell wood into a void — they supplied physical, tangible, nail-able materials that likely became part of actual homes. These weren’t lost in a shipping error or stolen by raccoons. They were used. They improved the land. And yet… no payment.

Now, before you start picturing Mill Creek as a bunch of hard-nosed debt collectors with clipboards and bad attitudes, understand this: they tried to get paid the old-fashioned way first. They sent invoices. They waited. They probably made phone calls. Maybe they even sent a strongly worded email with “Final Notice” in the subject line. But when that didn’t work, they did what any savvy supplier in construction does — they filed a mechanic’s lien. On March 11, 2025, almost a year before the lawsuit, Mill Creek officially recorded a lien against the Choctaw property for the full $36,138.67. Translation: if Richardson Homes doesn’t pay up, Mill Creek can force the sale of the land to get their money back. It’s not just a slap on the wrist — it’s a legal claim on dirt and dreams alike.

So why are we in court? Legally, Mill Creek is making two moves. First, they’re suing Richardson Homes directly for breach of account — which, in normal human terms, means “you agreed to pay, you didn’t, so now we want a judgment against your company.” That’s the in personam part — the personal (well, corporate) liability. Second, they’re going after the property itself through lien foreclosure. That’s the in rem claim — Latin for “against the thing,” meaning the land is now collateral in this financial showdown. It’s like saying, “If the builder won’t pay, the land will.” And since the Greens own the land, they’re named too — not necessarily because they ordered the lumber, but because their property is now encumbered by a lien, and the court needs to know if they have a defense or a claim of their own.

Now, let’s talk about the money. $36,138.67. Is that a lot? In the grand scheme of construction, maybe not. A single custom home can cost hundreds of thousands, even in Oklahoma. But for a lumber bill? That’s no pocket change. We’re talking enough materials to frame multiple houses — or at least do a serious renovation on a few. And remember, this isn’t just principal. Mill Creek wants interest at 18% per year — which, if you’ve ever had a credit card, sounds familiar, but in a business contract, is actually pretty aggressive. That rate kicks in from the moment the debt became overdue, so by the time this case wraps, the total could be significantly higher. Add on attorney’s fees and court costs, and this could easily creep toward $50,000. For unpaid wood. That’s enough to buy a nice pickup truck. Or, you know, just pay the bill.

But here’s the wildest part: this all started in 2015. A decade of doing business. A decade of credit extensions. And only now — after ten years — does Mill Creek file suit? Either this was a long-burning fuse, or someone really believed the debt would just… go away. Maybe Richardson Homes thought the statute of limitations had run out (it hasn’t — Oklahoma gives you five years for written contracts, and this lien was filed within that window). Or maybe they just kept promising to pay next month, and next month never came. Or maybe — and hear me out — someone misplaced an invoice in a desk drawer and forgot about it until the lien showed up on their property records like a zombie from the past.

Our take? We’re rooting for accountability — but also for common sense. If you build homes for a living, you don’t get to treat suppliers like ATMs with no repayment plan. Mill Creek didn’t build the houses — but they provided the literal foundation of materials that made it possible. And if you benefit from improvements to your land, there’s a moral (and legal) obligation to pay for them. That said, the 18% interest rate feels a little Loan Shark 101, and we wouldn’t be surprised if some of this mess stems from poor bookkeeping on both sides. Still, a lien is a lien, and in construction, your reputation is everything. Once you stiff a lumber yard, word gets around. Future suppliers might start demanding cash on delivery — or worse, refuse to load your truck at all.

So what’s the lesson? Pay your bills. Especially when they involve people who can legally claim your land. And if you’re going to run a decade-long tab with a lumber company, maybe set a reminder. Because in Oklahoma, even if you think the debt is buried, it might just come back — nailed to your front door in the form of a court filing.