RICHARD L. ANDREWS and LORETTA J. ANDREWS, Trustees of the Richard L. Andrews and Loretta J. Andrews Revocable Trust v. STREETER ENTERPRISES, INC, and Ostin Streeter, an individual and A&B Roll Off, a sole proprietorship
What's This Case About?
Let’s cut straight to the chaos: someone allegedly turned a quiet piece of rural Oklahoma into a post-apocalyptic junkyard, complete with shredded fences, dead trees, and enough erosion to make a geologist weep—all while trespassing like they owned the place. And now, we’re in court over it. Welcome to Crazy Civil Court, where the stakes are low, the grudges are high, and the land disputes hit harder than a rogue tumbleweed in a dust storm.
So who are these people? On one side, we’ve got Richard and Loretta Andrews, a married couple doing the whole “responsible adult” thing by holding their property in a revocable trust—because nothing says “we’ve made it” like naming yourselves as trustees of your own financial destiny. They own a chunk of land in Grady County, Oklahoma, nestled near Mustang Road (yes, really), in a part of the state where the horizon stretches longer than your average HOA violation list. Their property isn’t just one neat rectangle—it’s a Frankenstein’s monster of legal descriptions involving compass bearings, right-of-way lines, and enough feet (not the human kind) to make your head spin. But hey, that’s rural real estate for you: less “curb appeal,” more “metes and bounds.”
Across the way—or more accurately, adjacent to their land—are the alleged villains of our story: Streeter Enterprises, Inc., a corporation with a name that sounds like a 1980s action movie villain; Ostin Streeter, the individual behind the corporate curtain; and A&B Roll Off, a sole proprietorship that, given the name, we’re guessing deals in dumpsters, roll-off containers, or some other form of heavy-duty waste management. Picture the kind of business that smells faintly of motor oil and regret. They operate out of a building on land next to the Andrews’ property, which would be fine—neighbors! synergy! shared rural charm!—if not for what allegedly happened next.
According to the petition, the Streeters didn’t just live near the Andrews. They allegedly invaded. Like a slow-motion home improvement show gone rogue, the defendants are accused of waltzing onto the Andrews’ land without permission, tearing down boundary fences like they were made of balsa wood, chopping up trees and vegetation like it was their personal lumber yard, and generally treating the property like a DIY erosion exhibit. Oh, and they left trash. Not just a soda can here or a fast-food bag there—no, we’re talking full-on debris field, the kind of mess that makes you wonder if someone was trying to start a landfill and just forgot the permit.
Now, you might think, “Okay, bad neighbor behavior, sure—but why sue?” Well, because this isn’t just about bad manners. This is about land. In rural Oklahoma, your property line isn’t just a suggestion—it’s a sacred boundary, drawn in dirt, deed, and divine right. When someone crosses it, especially to destroy fences and accelerate soil runoff like they’re auditioning for Dirt: The Musical, that’s not just trespassing. That’s war. And the Andrews aren’t just mad—they’re documenting. They claim they’ve lost the use and enjoyment of their land, which in legal terms means it’s not just damaged; it’s less livable, less peaceful, less theirs. And they want it to stop—permanently.
So why are they in court? Legally speaking, this is a suit for “ejectment from real estate and for damages.” Let’s break that down like we’re explaining it to a very confused cow. “Ejectment” is a fancy old-timey word that basically means “get off my land and stay off.” It’s not eviction, which is for tenants—it’s for people who are on your property without any legal right, like squatters, drifters, or in this case, possibly overzealous neighbors with a trash problem. The Andrews aren’t just asking for money—they want a court order forcing the Streeters to vacate their property, figuratively and literally. They also want damages for what’s already been done: destroyed fences, dead plants, erosion (which, once it starts, is a nightmare to fix), and cleanup costs for the trash. All of this, they claim, adds up to more than $10,000.
And that brings us to what they want. $10,000 might sound like a lot if you’re used to arguing over a $20 parking ticket, but in property damage terms? It’s not chump change, but it’s not a fortune either. For context, a single large tree removal can cost $1,500. Rebuilding a substantial fence? Easily $5,000 or more. Erosion control measures—like terracing, retaining walls, or regrading—can run into the thousands. Add in legal fees, inspections, and cleanup labor, and suddenly $10,000 starts to look like a modest ask. They’re not trying to bankrupt anyone—they’re trying to break even on the mess. Plus, they want attorney fees and court costs, which is standard, and “any other equitable relief,” which is legalese for “whatever else the judge thinks is fair.”
Now, here’s where we lean in and whisper: what’s the real story? Because every land feud has layers. Maybe the property line is fuzzy. Maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe someone thought they had permission. Or maybe—just maybe—this is the latest chapter in a long-running Grady County grudge that started over a misplaced mailbox in 2012. The filing doesn’t say, but you can feel the tension. This isn’t just about dirt and dumpsters. It’s about pride. About boundaries. About who gets to say “this is mine” and mean it.
And honestly? We’re here for it. The most absurd part isn’t the legalese or the oddly specific land description (though, seriously, who measures their property in degrees, minutes, and seconds like they’re plotting a treasure map?). It’s that in 2026, in the heart of Oklahoma, people are still fighting over fences and trees and trash like it’s the Wild West—with lawyers instead of six-shooters. We’re rooting for clarity. For clean property lines. For someone to finally take out the garbage. But mostly, we’re rooting for the truth to come out, because nothing spices up a civil case like a good old-fashioned neighborly meltdown.
So grab your boots, your surveyor’s compass, and your popcorn. Because in Grady County, the drama isn’t on TV. It’s in the court filings. And it’s delicious.
Case Overview
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RICHARD L. ANDREWS and LORETTA J. ANDREWS, Trustees of the Richard L. Andrews and Loretta J. Andrews Revocable Trust
business
Rep: SCOTT R. TACK, OBA #8818
- STREETER ENTERPRISES, INC, and Ostin Streeter, an individual and A&B Roll Off, a sole proprietorship business|individual|business
| # | Cause of Action | Description |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | ejectment from real estate and for damages | Defendants' trespass on and damage to Plaintiffs' real property |