THERROYN MILLER v. JOE BRANDAEUR

Let’s get one thing straight: a water crate — yes, the plastic grid thing that holds 40 bottles of Poland Spring — turned into a high-speed missile on I-35, launched from the back of an unsecured truck, and allegedly caused a multi-vehicle crash that’s now the centerpiece of a $75,000 lawsuit. If this were a scene in Fast & Furious 27: The Litigation, we’d accuse Hollywood of going too far. But no. This is real life. In Oklahoma. And someone is now suing over flying hydration.

Meet Therroyn Miller, our plaintiff, an Oklahoma City resident just trying to get from point A to point B without becoming collateral damage in what can only be described as a public service failure in cargo management. On February 24, 2024 — a day that probably started with a decent playlist and zero suspicion of airborne beverage containers — Miller was a passenger cruising down I-35 through Garvin County. Nothing unusual. Just highway hypnosis, maybe a podcast on in the background, the usual rhythm of Oklahoma travel. Then, out of nowhere, chaos. According to the petition, Joe Brandaeur — yes, that’s his name, and no, we’re not making that up — was driving a vehicle ahead of Miller’s, hauling what the filing delicately refers to as a “water crate” in the back of his truck. And by “hauling,” we mean “leaving completely unsecured like it was on a casual joyride.”

Now, let’s talk about water crates for a second. They’re not small. They’re not light. They’re bulky, grid-like plastic beasts designed to carry dozens of water bottles, and when they’re not strapped down, they behave exactly like what they become in this story: dangerous roadborne projectiles. And that’s exactly what happened. While Brandaeur motored along, the crate decided it had seen enough of truck life and launched itself into the open air, becoming a rogue piece of highway debris. The petition doesn’t specify whether it struck Miller’s vehicle directly or forced the driver to swerve violently to avoid a collision — though honestly, at highway speeds, does it matter? Either way, the result was the same: a crash. And Miller, completely innocent and just along for the ride, got hurt. Bad enough, at least, that he’s now claiming “significant personal injuries,” along with emotional distress, medical bills, lost income, and all the fun extras that come with being unexpectedly introduced to the pavement via vehicular mayhem.

So who’s being sued? Two parties: Joe Brandaeur, the man allegedly behind the wheel and in charge of his own cargo, and “John Doe Corporation,” a placeholder name for Brandaeur’s employer — because, as the filing suggests, he might have been working at the time. That’s where the legal doctrine of respondeat superior comes in — a fancy Latin phrase that basically means “the boss is on the hook when the employee screws up during work.” If Brandaeur was delivering water, restocking a store, or doing literally anything job-related when his truck became a crate cannon, then his employer could be liable too. And that’s why “John Doe Corporation” is named — not because the plaintiff is being mysterious, but because they’re reserving the right to figure out exactly who signed Brandaeur’s paycheck once the investigation rolls forward. It’s like a legal version of “We’ll name names later.”

The core of the lawsuit? Negligence. Plain and simple. The claim is that anyone driving a vehicle with loose cargo has a duty to keep the road safe for others — and that duty was breached when Brandaeur failed to secure that crate. You don’t need a law degree to understand this one: if you’re going to carry something in the back of a truck, especially on an interstate, you strap it down. That’s not just common sense — it’s the law in most places. Unsecured cargo isn’t just a nuisance; it’s a known hazard. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration estimates that unsecured loads cause thousands of crashes every year, many of them fatal. And yet, here we are, with a grown adult somehow forgetting that physics applies to plastic crates too.

Now, let’s talk money. Miller is asking for over $75,000. Is that a lot? Well, for a water crate? Objectively, yes. You could buy thousands of water crates for that amount. But in the context of personal injury — medical bills, missed work, ongoing pain, therapy for the emotional trauma of suddenly careening off the road because someone couldn’t be bothered to use a bungee cord — $75,000 isn’t outrageous. It’s not a windfall. It’s not even close to what you’d see in a catastrophic injury case. This is the kind of number that suggests real harm, but not life-altering devastation. It’s the “I needed surgery, I missed three months of work, and now I flinch every time I see a truck with something in the back” level of damages. And honestly? If the injuries check out, it’s not unreasonable.

But here’s the real tea: the absurdity isn’t just that a water crate caused a crash. It’s that we’re now in a place where we have to sue over this. That someone had to hire a lawyer, file a petition, and demand judgment from the court because another adult couldn’t be trusted to secure a single piece of cargo. It’s the sheer banality of the danger. It’s not a drunk driver. It’s not a texting-while-driving thriller. It’s a dude who apparently thought, “Eh, the wind won’t get it,” and then, surprise — the wind got it. And now we’re in court.

We’re also not mad at plaintiff’s attorney R. Todd Waddell for going full legal throttle here. He’s doing his job. But you can almost hear the courtroom drama: “Your Honor, the defendant unleashed a hydration hazard upon the public roadway.” “Objection, Your Honor — leading the witness on the emotional impact of rogue bottled water infrastructure.” This case is equal parts tragic and darkly comic, a perfect storm of poor judgment and physics.

At the end of the day, we’re rooting for accountability — not just for Miller to be made whole, but for every driver out there to remember that what’s in your truck bed doesn’t stay in your truck bed unless you make it stay. A bungee cord costs $12. A lawsuit costs way more. And peace of mind while driving 70 mph? Priceless.

So let this be a warning to all: secure your cargo. Because the next flying water crate could be yours — and the only thing worse than being hit by one… is being sued because of one.