AJ Jones Construction, LLC v. Michael D. Culie and Sarah C. Culie, husband and wife
What's This Case About?
Let’s be honest—nobody expects a $14,500 construction dispute to involve county commissioners, a bank, and the county treasurer all being dragged into court like they’re extras in a low-budget legal thriller. But here we are, folks, in Lincoln County, Oklahoma, where a home build gone sideways has turned into a full-blown property lien circus, and the ringmaster is a contractor named Adam Jones III—better known as A.J. Jones, owner of A.J. Jones Construction, LLC. He’s not just suing the homeowners; he’s suing the entire food chain of property ownership, from the couple who hired him to the bank that might own the mortgage, to the county itself, just in case someone forgot to pay their property taxes. This isn’t just a lawsuit—it’s a property rights takedown tour.
So who are these people? On one side, you’ve got Adam Jones III—self-described as both an individual and a business (because in Oklahoma, apparently, you can be two things at once: a man and an LLC). He runs his construction gig out of Eufaula, a small town where the biggest drama usually involves whose cow got loose at the county fair. On the other side, you’ve got Michael and Sarah Culie, a married couple trying to build their dream home somewhere near Perkins, Oklahoma—a place so quiet, the most exciting thing that happens is when the wind changes direction. They hired Jones to build their house, signed a contract in May 2024, and for a while, everything was going great. Payments were made. Concrete was poured. Windows were installed. It was all very This Old House, until suddenly, it wasn’t.
Here’s how it all fell apart. According to the filing, the Culies and Jones had a payment schedule: $75,000 upfront to get things rolling, then $50,000 when the concrete work was done. Then came reimbursements—$10,000 for windows, $2,000 for partial back doors (because apparently, one back door wasn’t enough?), and another $10,500 for some mysterious “add change order” that sounds like it came out of a Sims gameplay glitch. Then came the $30,000 payment for framing and metal—basically, the skeleton of the house. All good so far. But when it came time for the final $19,250, things went quiet. Radio silence. No check. No explanation. Just a growing silence that echoed louder than a hammer on an empty job site.
Jones says he did the work. The Culies, allegedly, just stopped paying. And not only did they not pay—they didn’t even talk to him about it. So, being a man who believes in documentation, Jones did what any self-respecting contractor in Oklahoma would do: he filed a mechanics lien. That’s a legal “Hey, I built this, and if you don’t pay me, I get to claim part of the property” card. He filed it in April 2025, claiming $14,500 was still owed after deducting $4,000 for partial back doors and $750 because, apparently, the Culies provided one back door themselves—because nothing says “I’m saving money” like sourcing your own exterior door like it’s a DIY Pinterest project.
Now, here’s where it gets juicy. Jones isn’t just suing the Culies. He’s suing everyone who might have a claim on that land. Why? Because when you file a mechanics lien, you’re basically jumping into the property ownership food chain, and you want to know your place in line. So Jones drags in the Board of County Commissioners of Lincoln County and Brenda Jackson, the county treasurer, just in case they’re holding some unpaid tax lien that could mess up his claim. And then—because why not?—he also sues BancFirst in Stillwater, because there’s a mortgage on the property, and he needs to know if the bank is going to swoop in and claim it all before he gets a dime.
In plain English: Jones is saying, “I built this house. I got paid for most of it. But $14,500 is still missing. I put a lien on the property so I can get paid if they sell it. But before I can collect, I need to know who else is in line ahead of me—tax collectors? The bank? The ghost of a former landowner? So everyone, show your cards.”
And what does he want? $14,500. Plus interest. Plus attorney fees. And, if the Culies still won’t pay, he wants the court to sell the house—or at least the portion covered by his lien—to get his money. Now, is $14,500 a lot? In the world of home construction, not really. That’s less than the cost of a mid-range HVAC system. But for a couple building a house in rural Oklahoma, it’s not nothing. And for a contractor who’s already done the work, it’s not just about the money—it’s about the principle. It’s about not getting ghosted after hauling metal beams and framing walls in the Oklahoma heat.
But here’s the real kicker: Jones is suing in personam and in rem. That’s lawyer-speak for “I’m suing the people, and I’m also suing the land itself.” Yes, the land is on trial. In legal terms, this means he’s not just trying to get a judgment against the Culies personally—he’s trying to attach that judgment directly to the property, so even if they sell it, he gets paid. It’s like putting a curse on the land that says, “No sale until A.J. gets his $14,500.”
Our take? This case is equal parts petty and brilliant. On one hand, $14,500 is not a fortune—especially in construction, where one mis-measured beam can cost more than that. But on the other hand, the way Jones is going about it is kind of amazing. He didn’t just send a demand letter. He didn’t just file a small claims case. No, he went full legal Godzilla, stomping through Lincoln County, roaring at the county government, the bank, and the homeowners all at once. He’s not just protecting his paycheck—he’s making a statement: You don’t walk away from a job site without paying the man who built your walls.
And honestly? We’re rooting for him. Not because the Culies are definitely in the wrong—because we don’t know that for sure—but because someone has to stand up for the little guy who shows up with a toolbox and leaves with an unpaid invoice. This isn’t just about $14,500. It’s about respect. It’s about not letting people treat contractors like disposable labor. And if that means dragging the county treasurer into it just to make a point? Well, then bring on the subpoenas.
So will the court force the sale of the Culies’ dream home over a back door and $14,500? Probably not. These cases usually settle. But the fact that Jones had the guts to file this—naming everyone, citing everything, and demanding justice with appraisement—is the kind of drama we live for. This isn’t just a civil dispute. It’s a statement. And in the quiet fields of Lincoln County, sometimes a statement is worth every penny.
Case Overview
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AJ Jones Construction, LLC
business
Rep: James J. Hodgens
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Adam Jones III
individual
Rep: James J. Hodgens
| # | Cause of Action | Description |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | breach of contract | Plaintiff seeks payment for construction services rendered to Defendants. |