Savannah Terrace, LP v. Damian Hammond & Terrell McGrowen

Let’s cut straight to the drama: a landlord is suing two tenants for $1,057 — roughly the cost of a mid-tier smartphone or a slightly overpriced couch from IKEA — and doing so with the full legal force of the Canadian County District Court. We’re not talking about property damage, drug labs, or tenants who turned the apartment into a TikTok stunt house. No, this is pure, uncut rent drama. One thousand and fifty-seven dollars has ignited a sworn legal battle, complete with certified mail, perjury warnings, and a law firm that probably charges more per hour than the entire dispute is worth. Welcome to the high-stakes world of small claims court, where $1,057 isn’t just money — it’s a principle.

On one side of this very modest battlefield: Savannah Terrace, LP, a limited partnership that sounds like it should manage a luxury retirement community in Savannah, Georgia, but instead oversees a rental property in Mustang, Oklahoma — a town so uneventful that its biggest claim to fame might be being near the geographic center of the contiguous United States. Represented by attorney Richard R. Rice of the Rice Law Firm (yes, really), this corporate landlord is pulling out the legal big guns over a debt that, let’s be honest, most of us wouldn’t even fight over in a Venmo argument. On the other side: Damian Hammond and Terrell McGrowen, two tenants whose names now live in the annals of petty civil litigation. They’re listed together on the lease, which means they’re either roommates, partners, or just really committed to splitting the rent and the legal consequences. Their current address is listed as 5743 Aloha Street, Apartment 314 — notably not the rental property in question, which raises an eyebrow. Are they already gone? Did they move next door and just forget to pay? Or is this just a clerical typo in a system that runs on caffeine and expired lease agreements?

Here’s how this modern tragedy unfolded, according to the landlord’s sworn statement: Savannah Terrace claims that Hammond and McGrowen owe $1,057 in past-due rent and fees. That’s it. No allegations of wild parties, no accusations of turning the unit into an unauthorized Airbnb, no reports of tenants keeping a goat in the bathtub. Just unpaid rent. The landlord says they sent a formal notice — not by hand, not by email, but by the ancient ritual of posting and certified mail, a legal one-two punch that screams, “We’re doing this by the book, dammit.” The notice was mailed on March 9, 2026 — the same day the lawsuit was filed, which is either impressively efficient or suspiciously convenient. Did they send the notice and immediately pick up the phone to call their lawyer? “Yeah, Richard, they haven’t paid. I’m dropping the notice in the mail right now — can you file the petition by lunch?” It’s like ordering eviction on DoorDash.

Now, let’s talk about what’s actually happening in court. Savannah Terrace isn’t just asking for the money — at least, not officially. The relief sought is injunctive, meaning they want the court to order the tenants to do (or stop doing) something. In this case, that “something” is leaving the property. This is an eviction case, plain and simple. The landlord wants Hammond and McGrowen out. The $1,057 is the justification, but the real goal is regaining possession of the unit at 5801 Aloha Street. Under Oklahoma law, landlords can file for eviction if rent is unpaid, and they’ve followed the required notice procedures — which, according to the filing, they did by posting the notice and sending it via certified mail. Whether the tenants actually received it? That’s a whole other courtroom drama waiting to happen. But for now, the landlord has checked the right boxes, sworn under penalty of perjury, and set the eviction machine in motion.

And what do they want? Technically, the filing doesn’t list a specific monetary demand — just the $1,057 referenced in the sworn statement. But here’s the thing: $1,057 isn’t nothing, but in the grand scheme of evictions, it’s not exactly a fortune either. For context, the average rent in Mustang, OK, for a two-bedroom apartment is around $1,100. So this amount is basically one month’s rent, maybe with a late fee tacked on. Is it worth hiring a lawyer, paying court fees, and dragging two people into the legal system? Maybe if you’re a property management company trying to set an example. But let’s be real — if Savannah Terrace, LP, is losing sleep over $1,057, their accounting department has bigger problems than delinquent tenants.

Now, here’s where we, the people who cover landlord-tenant beefs like they’re reality TV, take a moment to reflect. What’s the most absurd part of this case? Is it that a law firm is involved in a dispute over an amount that could be settled with a Zelle transfer and a sternly worded text? Is it the fact that the tenants’ listed address is a different street number on the same street — 5743 vs. 5801 Aloha — suggesting they might already be gone, or that someone mixed up the digits in the office? Or is it the sheer drama of “posting followed by certified mail,” a phrase that sounds like a breakup tactic from a 19th-century novel? “I have affixed a notice to your door and sent a letter via the United States Postal Service with tracking. It is over.”

We’re also left wondering: where are Hammond and McGrowen in all of this? Are they disputing the amount? Did they pay but the landlord didn’t record it? Did they break the lease early and think the security deposit would cover it? Or did they just… forget? Life happens. Jobs change. Cars break down. $1,057 can be a lot when you’re living paycheck to paycheck — and let’s not pretend that evictions are just about money. They’re about stability, housing insecurity, and the razor-thin margin between making rent and ending up in court.

Still, we can’t ignore the corporate efficiency of this operation. Savannah Terrace, LP, likely owns multiple units. This isn’t a mom-and-pop landlord living upstairs. This is a business with a legal team on speed dial. And while we’re not here to defend non-payment of rent, we also can’t help but side-eye a system where a company can initiate eviction proceedings on the same day it mails a notice. Where’s the grace period? The phone call? The “Hey, everything okay? We haven’t gotten the rent” text? Instead, it’s straight to sworn statements and court filings. It’s less “neighborhood housing” and more “corporate collections with a side of common law.”

So what are we rooting for? Honestly, we’re rooting for resolution. We’re rooting for someone to just pay the $1,057, or for the landlord to drop it and let bygones be bygones. We’re rooting for a mediation where both sides sit down and say, “Look, I messed up,” or “I see you’re trying.” But most of all, we’re rooting for the absurdity of this situation to be acknowledged — that yes, rent must be paid, but also, maybe, just maybe, we can handle these things without turning every financial hiccup into a courtroom showdown. Because if we don’t, the next case we cover might be about someone getting sued for not returning the trash cans on time. And honestly? We’d probably cover that too.