US AUTO CREDIT PURCHASING CENTER, LLC DBA US AUTO CREDIT v. GLADYS LAVERNE PRICE

Let’s get one thing straight: someone in Oklahoma still owes ten grand for a 2015 Kia Soul — a car that, by most used-car-dealership logic, should be worth about as much as a slightly used toaster with a built-in Bluetooth speaker. And now, years after the last payment was made, a debt collector is chasing down Gladys LaVerne Price like she stole a Lamborghini from a valet line in Beverly Hills. This isn’t a heist. It’s not even a mystery. It’s a financial ghost story — the kind where a car from eight model years ago refuses to die, haunting its former driver with a bill that’s somehow grown larger than the value of the vehicle itself.

So who are we talking about here? On one side, we’ve got US Auto Credit Purchasing Center, LLC — which, despite the name that sounds like a robot-run used car lot in a dystopian future, is just another player in the wild world of subprime auto lending. These are the folks who specialize in getting cars into the hands of people who might not qualify for a traditional loan, often at interest rates so high they make credit card APRs look like a friendly favor from your aunt. They’re represented by no fewer than five attorneys from the firm Robinson, Hoover & Fudge, PLLC — which either means this case is incredibly complex or someone really likes billable hours. On the other side is Gladys LaVerne Price, an individual with no attorney listed, which already gives us a pretty strong hint about how this David vs. Goliath (or more accurately, Gladys vs. The Entire Debt Collection Industrial Complex) dynamic might play out.

Now, let’s rewind to August 9, 2019 — a simpler time, when people still shook hands and thought “supply chain issues” were something that only affected shipping containers in faraway ports. That’s when Gladys allegedly signed a contract with “THE KEY DBA THE KEY CARS” to buy a 2015 Kia Soul. We don’t know how much she paid upfront, what her monthly payments were, or whether that Soul had a sunroof and a working Bluetooth connection — but we do know this: she stopped paying. The last payment came in on December 9, 2021. After that? Crickets. Radio silence. The financial equivalent of ghosting.

When someone defaults on a car loan — especially one issued by a subprime lender — the lender doesn’t just sigh and write it off. No, they repossess the car. And that’s exactly what happened here. The Kia Soul was taken back, presumably towed away in the night like a fugitive on the run. Then, the lender sold it — likely at auction, probably for a fraction of what Gladys still owed. That’s how car repos work: you don’t get to keep the car and erase the debt. But here’s where things get spicy — after the sale, there was still money left on the table. A lot of money. According to the filing, Gladys still owes $10,046.54 in principal. And because interest has been quietly compounding at a jaw-dropping 20.91% per year since March 2022, the total demand in this case is now $10,606.99. Let that sink in: she hasn’t even had the car for years, and the debt has ballooned to over ten grand.

Now, why are we in court? Because this isn’t just about the car — it’s about the deficiency balance. That’s the legal term for “you still owe us money even though we took the car back.” US Auto Credit — who says they’re the assignee of the original contract, meaning they bought the debt from the original lender — is now suing to collect that remaining balance. Their claim? Breach of contract. Plain English translation: “You signed a deal. You didn’t hold up your end. Now pay up.” They’re asking for the principal, the eye-popping interest, court costs, and attorney’s fees — which, under Oklahoma law (specifically 12 O.S. § 936), can be awarded in certain contract disputes. So not only might Gladys owe the original debt, but she could also be on the hook for the cost of the lawyers suing her. It’s like being fined for being late to work — and then having to pay your boss’s gas money for driving to the office to deliver the bad news.

And what do they want? $10,606.99. Is that a lot for a 2015 Kia Soul? Let’s do some quick math. A 2015 Kia Soul in average condition today is worth somewhere between $4,000 and $6,000, depending on mileage and whether it still has that factory radio with the aux port that only works if you wiggle the cable just right. But Gladys is being asked to pay almost double that — for a car she no longer owns, hasn’t driven in years, and likely handed over when she couldn’t keep up with payments. Meanwhile, the interest rate of 20.91% is the kind of number that makes financial advisors faint into their spreadsheets. For context, that’s higher than most credit cards, payday loans, and that sketchy guy at the bus station who offers “quick cash” for your phone. And yet — it’s apparently legal in this contract. Welcome to subprime auto lending, where the cars are used, the terms are predatory, and the math doesn’t care about your feelings.

Now, here’s our take: the most absurd part of this whole saga isn’t that someone defaulted on a car loan. People do that every day. It’s not even that the car was repossessed — that’s standard procedure. No, the real madness is that the debt grew larger than the car’s original value — and now, years later, a person is being hauled into court over a deficiency balance on a vehicle that probably wouldn’t fetch more than a few grand in a private sale. And let’s not forget: this lawsuit was filed in January 2023, but the interest is calculated all the way to January 2025 — two years in the future. That’s either a typo, a legal fiction, or a very optimistic projection by the plaintiff’s attorneys. Either way, it adds a surreal layer to an already bizarre financial drama.

We’re also side-eyeing the fact that five attorneys are listed on this petition. Five. For a debt collection case. Is this really so complex that it requires a legal dream team? Or is this just how these firms operate — sending in the whole squad to maximize fees and intimidate the defendant? And speaking of which — Gladys has no lawyer. She’s going up against a corporate plaintiff with a full legal arsenal, and unless she files an answer or shows up in court, this is likely to end in a default judgment. Which means the court will just say, “Yep, you owe it,” and the debt becomes enforceable — possibly leading to wage garnishment, bank levies, or other fun financial punishments.

Look, we’re not saying Gladys didn’t sign a contract. We’re not saying people should get to keep cars without paying for them. But this case is a perfect example of how the subprime auto lending system can spiral out of control — where high interest, low down payments, and aggressive repossession policies create a cycle of debt that’s nearly impossible to escape. And at the end of the day, we’re left with a haunting question: is it really fair to chase someone for $10,000 over a Kia Soul that, by now, might not even start on a cold morning?

We’re entertainers, not lawyers — but if we were betting folks, we’d say this case is less about justice and more about the business of debt. And the real winner? The attorneys. Again.