Honey Badger Financial, LLC v. Gene Allen Thomas and Sarah Sue Thomas

Let’s cut straight to the drama: a couple bought a 12-year-old Kia Sorento — yes, the same vehicle that’s currently ferrying soccer kids and forgotten fast food wrappers across middle America — and now, thanks to a cascade of missed payments, they owe nearly $20,000. And no, they don’t even have the car anymore. It’s gone. Repossessed. Sold off like last season’s fashion trend. Yet here we are, in Garvin County, Oklahoma, where Honey Badger Financial, LLC — a name that sounds less like a finance company and more like a reality TV villain — is demanding not just repayment, but interest, fees, and a full courtroom showdown over a vehicle that probably had a “Check Engine” light on before it left the dealership lot.

Meet Gene Allen Thomas and Sarah Sue Thomas, a married couple who, on May 29, 2021, decided they needed a 2012 Kia Sorento. Now, let’s be real: a 2012 Sorento isn’t exactly the automotive equivalent of a Lamborghini. It’s a midsize SUV with the personality of a lukewarm cup of coffee — functional, unexciting, and likely in need of a suspension overhaul. But for the Thomases, it was their ride, their wheels, their freedom machine. They signed a contract with Seth Wadley Auto Connection, a dealership that, based on the name alone, sounds like it was founded by a man who wears cowboy boots with cargo shorts. The details of the original loan aren’t in the filing, but we can assume it involved monthly payments, interest, and the usual “sign here, initial here, promise your firstborn if you default” legalese.

Fast forward to the present, and things did not go according to plan. The Thomases stopped making payments. The exact number of missed payments? Unknown. The reason? Also unknown. Maybe money got tight. Maybe the transmission blew. Maybe they just decided, “You know what? We’re done with car payments.” Whatever the reason, the result was inevitable: default. And when you default on a car loan, the lender doesn’t just send a passive-aggressive email. They send a repo man. And that’s exactly what happened. The Kia — possibly with mismatched tires and a glove compartment full of expired parking tickets — was repossessed, towed, and eventually sold at auction, because that’s how the system works. You don’t pay, they take it, they sell it, and then they come after you for the difference if the sale doesn’t cover what you owe.

And oh boy, did it not cover what they owed.

According to Honey Badger Financial, LLC — the current holder of the debt, likely purchased from the original lender like a financial game of hot potato — after the car was sold, there was still a deficiency balance of $12,803.91. That’s the gap between what the car sold for and what the Thomases still owed. On top of that, the company is tacking on $6,704.93 in interest from February 2023 through March 2026 — yes, future interest, calculated in advance at a jaw-dropping 16.99% annual rate. That’s the kind of interest rate usually reserved for credit cards maxed out by people who really wanted a timeshare in Belize. Add it all up, and we’re looking at $19,508.84 in total debt. For a 2012 Kia Sorento. Which they no longer own. Which likely sold for maybe $5,000 at auction, if it ran.

So why are we in court? Because Honey Badger Financial wants a judgment. Legally, they’re claiming breach of contract — a fancy way of saying, “You signed a deal, you didn’t hold up your end, now pay up.” They’re not asking for the car back (it’s gone). They’re not asking for an apology (though one might help). They want cold, hard cash: the $12,803.91 principal, plus that mountain of interest, plus attorney’s fees, plus court costs. And because this is America, they’re also claiming an attorney’s lien, which means if the Thomases ever do come into money — win the lottery, inherit Aunt Mabel’s estate — Honey Badger gets first dibs.

Now, let’s talk about that number: $12,908.84. That’s the amount currently being demanded in the petition (the future interest may be adjusted later). Is that a lot? For a used Kia from 2012? Absolutely. You could buy three running 2012 Sorentos for that price — and still have enough left over to upgrade to leather seats and a Bluetooth adapter. But in the world of auto lending, especially subprime lending (which this almost certainly is), these numbers aren’t unusual. Lenders often load on high interest and fees, knowing that defaults happen — and that the real profit isn’t in the car, but in the penalties. Honey Badger Financial isn’t in the business of selling cars; they’re in the business of collecting debt. And they’ve got lawyers — plural — ready to fight for every penny.

The filing is signed by Hugh H. Fudge of Robinson, Hoover & Fudge, PLLC — a firm whose name sounds like a law office from a 1940s noir film. And yes, that’s really his name: Hugh Fudge. We’re not making that up. He’s joined by four other attorneys on the signature block, which feels like sending a SWAT team to settle a parking dispute. Is this case really so complex that it requires five lawyers? Probably not. But in debt collection, volume is the game. Firms like this likely handle hundreds of cases like this — small-dollar claims, but enough of them to keep the lights on and the espresso machine running.

So what’s our take? The most absurd part isn’t even the interest rate or the army of attorneys. It’s the sheer escalation. A family buys a modest used car. They fall behind. The car gets repossessed and sold. And instead of closing the chapter, they’re now on the hook for twice what the vehicle was worth — and possibly more, once fees and legal costs pile up. Meanwhile, Honey Badger Financial — a company with a name that evokes equal parts aggression and absurdity — gets to play the role of financial vigilante, chasing down debt like it’s personal. (Spoiler: it’s not. It’s business. Very, very profitable business.)

Are we rooting for the Thomases? Sure, a little. Not because they necessarily did the right thing — defaulting on a loan isn’t exactly heroic — but because the system feels rigged. You buy a car, it depreciates the second you drive it off the lot, you miss a few payments during hard times, and suddenly you’re drowning in debt for a vehicle that’s already someone else’s daily driver. And Honey Badger? They didn’t build the car. They didn’t sell it. They just bought the debt and now want to squeeze every drop out of it. That’s not capitalism — that’s vulture finance with a catchy name.

At the end of the day, this isn’t about a Kia Sorento. It’s about what happens when everyday financial missteps collide with an unforgiving debt machine. And in Garvin County, Oklahoma, the machine is currently winning. Tune in next time, when we cover the thrilling saga of Lawnmower Lease Litigation: The Blade Strikes Back.