Garrett and Company, LLC v. Oklahoma Association of Realtors

Let’s cut straight to the chaos: a pair of real estate bigwigs in Oklahoma didn’t just borrow a neighbor’s yard — they remodeled it. Without permission. With concrete. And rocks. And a full-on ditch system that turned someone else’s property into a waterpark runoff zone. This isn’t a backyard fence dispute — this is corporate trespassing with infrastructure. Welcome to the wild west of land ownership, where “good fences make good neighbors” has been replaced with “let’s just pour some concrete on the adjacent lot and see what happens.”

So who are these players in this high-stakes game of property Jenga? On one side, we’ve got Garrett and Company, LLC — a local Oklahoma business that owns a plot of land at 9901 N. Broadway Extension in Oklahoma City. It’s not a mansion or a theme park; it’s commercial real estate, the kind of place you might drive past without noticing unless you’re looking for a warehouse or a new office space. But hey, it’s theirs. And they care. On the other side? Two heavy hitters: the Oklahoma Association of Realtors (yes, the OAR — as in, the people who write the rules, hand out the licenses, and probably run those “Homeownership Starts Here” billboards) and Quad.Build, Inc., their hired construction muscle. These aren’t fly-by-night developers. We’re talking about an organization that represents the entire state’s real estate industry teaming up with a legit contractor to build a new headquarters or office complex. You’d think they’d know better. You’d think they’d have lawyers on speed dial. And yet… here we are.

Now, let’s walk through the timeline like we’re narrating a disaster movie trailer. In 2023, the Oklahoma Association of Realtors starts construction on their new digs next door to Garrett’s property. All normal. All above board. Until it wasn’t. At some point, Garrett graciously allowed the builders to temporarily store equipment on their land. A neighborly gesture. Like letting your cousin park his RV in your driveway during a family reunion. But then, somewhere between “thanks for the storage space” and “wait, why is there a concrete drainage system on my property?”, things went off the rails. According to the lawsuit, Quad.Build — acting as OAR’s contractor — didn’t just wander over the property line. They built on it. Permanently. They constructed a concrete outlet and a rock-lined pit — sounds fancy, like a zen garden feature, but in reality, it’s a stormwater runoff system — directly on Garrett’s land. And not just a little corner. This thing created a ditch — a full-blown erosion channel — that now cuts across Garrett’s property like a miniature Grand Canyon carved by incompetence.

But wait, there’s more! They didn’t stop at importing water features. Oh no. Quad.Build allegedly hauled dirt — a lot of dirt — from their own construction site and dumped it on the southeast corner of Garrett’s property. Now, if you don’t spend your weekends grading your lawn, here’s why that matters: changing the grade of land — the slope — changes how water flows. And when water flows wrong, you get flooding, erosion, sinkholes, lawsuits. It’s not just messy — it’s potentially destructive. By piling up dirt and redirecting runoff, they may have turned Garrett’s land into a drainage basin for the entire OAR construction project. Imagine buying a car and having the dealership park a fire truck on your roof “temporarily” — and then leaving it there, with the sprinklers on. That’s the energy here.

Now, you might think, “Surely someone noticed this?” Well, apparently not until months later. Or maybe they noticed and just hoped it would go away. Either way, instead of calling the cops or sending a strongly worded email, the parties did something very adult and very legal: they signed a tolling agreement. Fancy term, simple idea — both sides agreed to pause the legal clock so they could negotiate without the threat of a lawsuit hanging over them. It’s like saying, “Let’s figure this out like reasonable people before we lawyer up.” They even extended it twice. But by December 1, 2025, the grace period expired. No resolution. No apology. No removal of the concrete monstrosity. So Garrett said, “Fine. Let’s do this the hard way,” and filed suit in Oklahoma County District Court.

So what exactly are they suing for? In legalese, it’s “trespass and injury to property.” In plain English? “You came onto our land without permission and wrecked it.” Trespass isn’t just walking across someone’s yard — it includes building on it, altering it, or using it in any way without consent. And “injury to property” covers the damage caused by that trespass — in this case, erosion, altered drainage, and likely long-term structural or environmental harm. Garrett isn’t asking for a slap on the wrist. They’re seeking over $100,000 in damages. Is that a lot for a land dispute? Depends. If we’re talking about a broken fence or a few muddy tire tracks, yes — that’s highway robbery. But we’re not. We’re talking about permanent alterations to the land, removal of earth, construction of drainage systems, and potential long-term water damage. Restoration could mean excavating, regrading, replanting, erosion control — all of which are expensive. $100,000 might not even cover it. And that’s before you factor in the insult: the Oklahoma Association of Realtors — the very people who are supposed to uphold property rights — allegedly violated them with bulldozers.

Here’s the kicker: Garrett isn’t asking for a jury trial. No dramatic courtroom showdown with expert witnesses and aerial drone footage (though honestly, that would be amazing). They’re letting a judge decide. They’re not seeking punitive damages — which means they’re not trying to punish OAR and Quad.Build, just to be made whole. No injunctions, no demands to stop construction — probably because the damage is already done. This is purely about compensation. About making the mess go away — or at least paying someone else to make it go away.

Now, for our take: what’s the most absurd part of this whole saga? Is it that a real estate trade group — the guardians of property law — allegedly trespassed on a neighbor’s land? Is it that they built a drainage system on someone else’s property like it was Legos? Is it that it took years and two tolling agreements before anyone said “maybe we should fix this”? All valid contenders. But the real jaw-dropper is the sheer audacity of the fix they chose. Instead of saying, “Oops, we messed up — let’s tear it out and restore the land,” they apparently just… left it. Like a bad tattoo no one wants to admit they got while drunk in Vegas. And now, instead of quietly fixing it, they’re facing a six-figure lawsuit that’s going to make headlines and probably embarrass an entire industry.

Look, we all make mistakes. Maybe the survey was wrong. Maybe someone misread the property lines. But when you’re the Oklahoma Association of Realtors, you don’t get to play the “oops” card. You’re supposed to be the experts. You’re supposed to know where the lines are — literally and ethically. So while we’re not rooting for anyone to go bankrupt, we are rooting for accountability. For a full restoration. For a public acknowledgment that no one — not even the people who sell houses for a living — gets to treat someone else’s land like a construction pit. And maybe, just maybe, for a new company policy: “Don’t build drainage ditches on your neighbor’s property. Just don’t.”