Byjy Sudhakaran v. Angel A Garcia Gomez

Let’s get one thing straight: nobody expects a quiet life when you rent out property, but this landlord didn’t sign up to be the set designer for The Tenant Who Tried to Demolish the House on a Budget. In a lawsuit filed in Canadian County, Oklahoma, one very done-with-this nonsense property owner is suing his former tenant not just for unpaid rent, but for turning a perfectly good rental into what we can only assume looked like the aftermath of a home renovation show gone very wrong. The kicker? The landlord wants his house back — again — and $2,900 in damages, which, honestly, might not even cover the therapy needed after seeing what was done to the place.

Meet Byjy Sudhakaran, the plaintiff, who — based on his clean affidavit and the fact that he’s filing a small claims case himself — appears to be one of those “I just want to collect rent and not deal with drama” landlords. He owns a house at 11613 NW 103rd Street in Yukon, Oklahoma — a tidy little number in a suburban sprawl where people probably expect their neighbors to mow their lawns and not, say, conduct unsupervised demolition experiments. On the other side of this legal warzone is Angel A. Garcia Gomez, the tenant who, according to the filing, didn’t just miss a few rent payments — he allegedly skipped out on the whole concept of tenancy like it was a bad first date. The two were in a classic landlord-tenant relationship: Sudhakaran provided the roof, Garcia Gomez was supposed to provide the rent and basic respect for drywall. Simple, right? But somewhere between the lease signing and the eviction notice, things went off the rails faster than a shopping cart down a hill.

Now, let’s walk through the disaster. According to Sudhakaran’s sworn affidavit — the legal equivalent of “I’m not saying it happened, but here’s what I’m suing about” — Garcia Gomez stopped paying rent. Not a little late. Not “I’ll get it to you next week, my dog ate my paycheck.” No. We’re talking full-on radio silence. The landlord claims the tenant owes exactly $2,900, which, in rental math, likely means several months of missed payments plus some extras — maybe late fees, maybe a security deposit that didn’t cover the mess. And oh, the mess. While the filing doesn’t give us a blow-by-blow of the damage (we’re dying for photos, Canadian County court clerks, drop them in the docket), it does explicitly say the plaintiff is seeking money “for damages to the premises.” That’s landlord code for “he didn’t just leave — he did things.” Did he punch holes in the walls? Remove fixtures and sell them on Facebook Marketplace? Turn the bathroom into an indoor koi pond? We don’t know. But the fact that Sudhakaran felt the need to specify both unpaid rent and property damage in the same breath tells us this wasn’t just a case of dirty dishes in the sink.

The legal claim here is a “forcible entry and detainer” action — a term that sounds like something out of a medieval land dispute, but in modern Oklahoma, it’s basically the legal tool landlords use to evict tenants who won’t leave or pay. It’s not about violence. It’s not about breaking and entering. It’s about saying, “You’re not my tenant anymore, and also, you owe me money, and also, you broke my stuff, and also, get off my lawn.” Sudhakaran is asking the court for two things: first, to officially declare that Garcia Gomez has no right to be in the house anymore (injunctive relief — fancy term for “make him leave”), and second, to make Garcia Gomez pay $2,900 in damages. No punitive damages, no lawyer fees, no dramatic demands for public apology — just cold, hard cash and the sweet, sweet return of his property.

Now, let’s talk about that $2,900. Is it a lot? Is it a little? Well, in the grand scheme of property damage, it’s not “I set the house on fire” money. But for a small claims case in Canadian County, it’s not chump change either. For context, the average monthly rent for a single-family home in Yukon hovers around $1,300 to $1,600. So $2,900 could mean two months of rent — or one month of rent plus $1,500 in repairs. And here’s where we start side-eyeing the situation: if the security deposit was, say, $1,500, and the tenant skipped two months of rent, that still leaves $1,400 unaccounted for. Meaning Sudhakaran isn’t just out money — he’s out extra money. Which suggests either the damage was real, the rent was way more behind than it seems, or this tenant left behind a trail of destruction that made the landlord consider exorcism.

But here’s the real tea: this case was filed in March 2024, but the docket number is SC-2022.449. That’s not a typo. That’s a two-year gap. Which means — and we’re connecting dots here, folks — this eviction drama might have been dragging on since 2022. Two years. That’s longer than some marriages last. That’s longer than it takes to get a college degree if you’re going part-time. So either the courts are backed up (very possible), the tenant kept delaying (also possible), or this landlord has been playing a real-life game of “Whack-a-Mole” with a tenant who just. Won’t. Leave. Or pay. Or acknowledge the concept of property norms.

And now, our take: the most absurd part of this whole saga isn’t the unpaid rent. It’s not even the damage. It’s the sheer audacity of ghosting your landlord like he’s an awkward Tinder date, trashing the place, and then acting surprised when someone files a lawsuit. We’ve all had roommates who left a mess. We’ve all seen a fridge that should be studied by biohazard teams. But this? This feels personal. Either Garcia Gomez had a very strong opinion about the paint color, or he just decided one day that rent was optional and drywall was a personal enemy. We’re not saying violence is the answer, but we are saying that if you’re going to destroy a rental property, at least have the decency to do it on your own dime.

Look, we’re not here to villainize tenants. Renting is hard. Life happens. Jobs disappear. Cars break down. But there’s a difference between “I’m struggling and need time” and “I’m out, I didn’t pay, and also, enjoy the hole where the bathroom door used to be.” Sudhakaran didn’t ask for fame. He didn’t ask for drama. He asked for rent and a house that still has doors. And for that, he had to file a sworn affidavit in small claims court. That’s not justice. That’s just Tuesday in Canadian County.

So where do we stand? We’re rooting for the landlord, sure — not because he’s flawless, but because he’s trying to play by the rules in a game where the other player brought a flamethrower. We’re also quietly hoping the court releases photos of the damage, because at this point, we need to know: was it really that bad? Did the tenant install a slip ‘n slide in the living room? Turn the kitchen into a paintball arena? We may never know. But one thing’s for sure — if Angel A. Garcia Gomez ever tries to rent again, his next landlord should absolutely Google his name. And maybe install security cameras. And a moat.