Raymond M. Garcia and Dorothy K. Garcia, Trustees v. DND Central, Inc. & All Occupants

Let’s cut right to the chase: a business in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, allegedly owes its landlords over fifty grand in rent and fees—$50,811.07 to be exactly annoying—and now the whole thing has escalated to the point where lawyers are demanding the courts kick them out like bouncers at a sketchy karaoke bar. This isn’t some squatter situation or a sob story about pandemic hardships—it’s a full-blown commercial lease dumpster fire, and we’re here for every petty, dollar-sign-strewn second of it.

Meet Raymond and Dorothy Garcia, the landlord duo operating as trustees (which basically means they’re managing this property on behalf of a trust, probably because someone once Googled “how to sound fancy and avoid probate” at 2 a.m.). They own a commercial property at 3120 W Kenosha Street in Broken Arrow—uninspiring strip mall real estate, likely home to things like vape shops, nail salons with flickering neon signs, or maybe even a struggling sandwich franchise. The Garcias aren’t trying to be villains here. They’re not sending eviction notices because they woke up one day and decided to ruin someone’s life. No, they’re just trying to collect what they’re owed. And boy, are they owed.

On the other side of this legal slap-fight is DND Central, Inc.—a name that, let’s be honest, sounds like a startup founded by a guy who still uses Comic Sans unironically. The name evokes images of dice tumbling across a table, half-eaten pizza, and the faint smell of Mountain Dew Baja Blast. Is this a gaming café? A hobby shop for people who argue about whether elves should get +2 to dexterity? The court filing doesn’t say, but the address suggests it’s not exactly a Fortune 500 operation. And yet, despite the nerdy name, this is a registered Oklahoma corporation, which means someone filed paperwork, paid fees, and probably thought they were building an empire. Instead, they’re now being sued for failing to pay two months’ rent—February and March of 2026—and racking up a bill that somehow ballooned to over fifty thousand dollars. Let that sink in: two months. Two. Months.

So what happened? Well, according to the Garcias’ attorney, Brian R. Huddleston (who, by the way, has a law office email that’s literally his first name at his last name dot law—bold move, sir), DND Central signed a commercial lease back on July 13, 2022. That’s not yesterday. That’s nearly four years of potential landlord-tenant harmony. But somewhere between campaign sessions and inventory restocks, things went off the rails. The Garcias claim that starting February 1, 2026, DND Central stopped paying rent. Not just base rent, mind you, but also late fees and their share of property taxes—because in commercial leases, tenants often eat those costs like hors d'oeuvres at a sad office party.

Now, commercial leases aren’t like your apartment agreement. There’s no “I’ll pay you next week, I swear” grace period. These are contracts with teeth. And when a business stops paying, the landlord doesn’t just sigh and light a candle. They send notices. They follow legal procedures. And in this case, the Garcias did exactly that. They sent a formal “pay or quit” notice—required under Oklahoma law—via certified mail and posted it on the property like a passive-aggressive eviction poster. It’s the legal equivalent of putting up a “you’re done” sign on your ex’s front door. And DND Central? They didn’t pay. They didn’t leave. They just… stayed. Like a guest who crashes on your couch and starts treating your Netflix password like a permanent benefit of friendship.

That’s when the gloves came off. The Garcias, through their trust and their no-nonsense attorney, filed a lawsuit in Tulsa County District Court. And it’s not just about the money—though, let’s be clear, $50,811.07 is not chump change. That’s enough to buy a new Tesla, fund a very lavish wedding, or, in this case, cover two months of unpaid rent plus fees and taxes on a commercial space that probably wasn’t even that big. But the Garcias aren’t just suing for cash. They’re also demanding immediate possession of the property. Translation: get out. Now. Vacate. Hand over the keys. Stop using our lights, our water, and our property taxes as if you own the place.

The legal claims here are straightforward, even if the dollar amount feels wild. The Garcias are alleging breach of contract—specifically, breach of the lease agreement—because DND Central failed to pay what they owed. That’s lawsuit 101. But they’re also filing for forcible entry and detainer, which sounds like something from a medieval siege but is actually just Oklahoma’s legal term for “you’re trespassing now, buddy.” It’s the court’s way of saying, “You had rights, but you blew them, so scram.” And if the Garcias win, the court can issue an order forcing DND Central to vacate, possibly even with the help of the sheriff. Picture it: employees showing up to work one morning and finding a lock change and a court order taped to the door. Awkward.

What do the Garcias want? Well, first, they want their building back. Second, they want every penny owed: $50,811.07, plus any additional rent that piles up between March 2026 and the trial date (because yes, interest and rent keep accruing even while you’re getting sued). Third, they’re reserving the right to ask for more money later—like repair costs or expenses to re-rent the space—because commercial tenants sometimes leave behind more than just memories. And finally, they want their attorney’s fees and court costs, which is standard in lease agreements and basically the legal version of “you broke it, you bought it… and you’re paying for me to tell you that.”

Now, is $50,811.07 a lot for two months of rent? Depends. If this was a 10,000-square-foot warehouse in a prime location, maybe not. But if it’s a 1,200-square-foot storefront in a fading strip mall, that’s… a lot. Like, “did they charge rent by the square foot or by the dragon slain?” levels of a lot. That kind of number suggests either an extremely expensive lease, massive late fees piling up, or property tax obligations that got dumped on the tenant and went unpaid for a while. Or maybe—just maybe—DND Central stopped paying months before February and this is the accumulated total. The petition only specifies the Feb-March 2026 period, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only period. The Garcias might be starting their claim there for legal reasons, but the full debt could be older, deeper, and messier.

Our take? The most absurd part isn’t the amount, the name, or even the fact that a business called DND Central couldn’t keep up with rent. It’s the sheer audacity of just… staying. Not paying, not communicating, not negotiating—just ghosting the landlord and treating the property like it’s theirs forever. In any adult relationship—romantic, business, or tenant-landlord—there’s a basic rule: if you can’t pay, you talk. You explain. You try to work something out. You don’t just vanish and hope the problem goes away. And now, DND Central isn’t just on the hook for rent—they’re facing a public lawsuit, potential eviction, and a giant legal bill. All because they apparently thought “no news is good news” applied to commercial real estate.

We’re not rooting for blood. We’re not hoping the owners get dragged out in handcuffs or that someone loses their life savings. But we are rooting for accountability. For basic adulting. For the idea that when you sign a contract—especially one with a name like “Commercial Lease Agreement”—you actually intend to, you know, follow it. Because if DND Central can just ignore their obligations and camp out indefinitely, what’s to stop every other tenant from doing the same? Next thing you know, we’ll have yoga studios squatting in bank vaults and food trucks claiming eminent domain on parking lots.

So here’s to the Garcias, fighting the good fight for property rights and timely payments. And here’s to DND Central, Inc.—may your next campaign roll be a natural 20… because you’re gonna need it.