State of Oklahoma, ex rel. Gentner Drummond, Attorney General v. Dan Davis, Brian Davis, and Ryan Davis, d/b/a Prairie Fire Ranch
What's This Case About?
Let’s be clear: these ranchers didn’t just cancel a hunt — they allegedly took $5,200 in deposits from eight excited hog-hunting Nebraskans for a future slaughterfest… after they’d already decided to sell the ranch. That’s like selling tickets to a concert at a venue you’ve already put on Zillow. And no, they didn’t refund the money. They just ghosted the hunters like a bad Tinder date who promised to text. Welcome to Prairie Fire Ranch, where the only thing burning hotter than the barbecue is the sheer audacity.
Meet Dan, Brian, and Ryan Davis — the trio behind Prairie Fire Ranch, a Creek County, Oklahoma, operation that apparently offered the full redneck vacation package: lodging, animal hunts, and, if you’re lucky, a chance to shoot something with tusks. The Davises weren’t running some sketchy Craigslist side hustle; they were in the business of selling experiences. And for a certain type of outdoorsy Midwesterner, a guided hog hunt with meals and a bunk bed is basically paradise. But here’s the thing: when you’re taking deposits to lock in dates for future hunts, you’re not just running a business — you’re making promises. And the Davises, according to the state of Oklahoma, made promises they had zero intention of keeping.
The trouble starts in March 2023, when a group of hunters from Nebraska rolls through Prairie Fire Ranch while on another animal hunt (because apparently, when you’re from Nebraska, you just vacation by shooting things). They like what they see — or at least like the idea of shooting hogs — so they book a week-long hog hunt for March 2024. Meals? Included. Lodging? Covered. Total cost? A cool $5,200, paid in eight separate $650 deposits between March and April 2023. All standard stuff. Farmers take deposits all the time. Weddings, hunting trips, tractor rentals — it’s how business works. But here’s where it gets weird: just eight days after the first deposit, on April 27, 2023, Ryan Davis — one of the Davises — lists the entire Prairie Fire Ranch for sale. That’s right. The venue for the 2024 hog hunt is now on the market. And the Davises keep taking deposits. In fact, they take more deposits after the ranch is listed. Then, in August 2023, the property sells to a third party. Poof. Gone. The hunters’ future hog hunt? Now scheduled to take place on someone else’s land. Someone who, we can only assume, has never heard of Dennis Van Dusen or his dream of hog vengeance.
Naturally, the hunters start getting nervous. They see the ranch listed. They try to reach out — emails, phone calls, even the business website’s messenger (which, let’s be honest, is like sending a carrier pigeon in 2023). No response. Radio silence. No “Hey, the ranch sold, here’s your money back.” No “Sorry, we’re out.” Nothing. Just crickets and the faint echo of a thousand disappointed hog hunters wondering if they’ve been scammed. And that’s when the state of Oklahoma steps in — not because one guy got stiffed on a $650 deposit, but because this isn’t about one guy. It’s about a pattern. It’s about eight people who collectively dropped over five grand on a hunt that will never happen, on a ranch that no longer exists, run by a family that apparently thought “customer service” meant “don’t answer your phone.”
So why are we in court? Because the Oklahoma Attorney General, Gentner Drummond (who, by the way, has a name that sounds like a Western novel villain), decided this wasn’t just a bad business decision — it was a violation of the Oklahoma Consumer Protection Act (OCPA). And under that law, taking money for a service you know you can’t deliver? That’s not just shady — it’s illegal. The state argues the Davises engaged in “unfair and deceptive trade practices,” which, under Oklahoma law, includes stuff that’s “immoral, unethical, oppressive, unscrupulous, or substantially injurious to consumers.” Taking deposits for a hog hunt after selling the ranch checks every box. It’s like selling concert tickets after the band breaks up. Or booking a cruise after the ship sinks. The Davises didn’t just fail to deliver — they collected money knowing they couldn’t deliver. And that, my friends, is fraud-adjacent behavior, even if it’s dressed up in cowboy boots and a “Welcome to the Ranch” sign.
Now, what does the state want? Well, they’re not asking for the hunters to get their $5,200 back — at least not directly. Instead, they’re asking the court to slap the Davises with up to $10,000 in civil penalties per violation. And since there were eight deposits? That’s potentially $80,000 in fines. Plus, they want the court to issue an injunction — basically a legal “hands off” order — to stop the Davises from pulling this same move again. Is $80,000 a lot? For most people, yes. For a business that just sold a ranch, maybe not. But it’s not really about the money — it’s about the message. The state is saying: “You can’t just take people’s money and vanish. Not in Oklahoma. Not on our watch.” And honestly? It’s kind of refreshing. Too often, small-dollar scams slip through the cracks because no single victim wants to sue over $650. But when the state steps in, it sends a signal: we see you. We’re watching. And we will come for you, even if your crime is hog-hunting fraud.
Look, we’re not saying every failed business deal deserves a lawsuit. Sometimes things fall through. Ranches sell. Plans change. But there’s a difference between “We’re sorry, here’s your refund” and “We’re keeping your money and moving on.” The Davises didn’t try to make it right. They didn’t communicate. They didn’t refund. They just cashed the checks and disappeared. And while this isn’t a murder case or a corporate conspiracy, it’s still a betrayal. These hunters weren’t trying to scam the system — they were excited for a hunt. They trusted a business. And that trust was exploited. So while we’re not rooting for blood, we’re definitely rooting for accountability. Maybe the Davises will pay the fines, maybe they’ll apologize, maybe they’ll start a new ranch called “Second Chance Fire” and finally learn customer service. But one thing’s for sure: if they ever try to sell tickets to another hog hunt, we’re checking Zillow first.
Case Overview
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State of Oklahoma, ex rel. Gentner Drummond, Attorney General
government
Rep: Sylvia Lanfair, OBA #10144, Assistant Attorney General
| # | Cause of Action | Description |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Violations of the Oklahoma Consumer Protection Act | Defendants allegedly engaged in unfair and deceptive trade practices, including taking deposits for a future hog hunt after selling the ranch. |