Samantha J. Morse v. Carlos J. Ucenda

Let’s get one thing straight: someone is suing for $75,000 because a car crash left them with bodily injury and significant property damage — and the whole thing hinges on whether Carlos was just a little too eager to test the traction of his tires on a regular Tuesday in Garfield County. That’s right. This isn’t Fast & Furious. This is Fast & Frivolous, and we’re here for it.

Samantha J. Morse and Carlos J. Ucenda weren’t besties. They weren’t neighbors who waved politely over the fence. They weren’t even exes with a dramatic history of passive-aggressive Christmas cards. No, their entire relationship — their entire story — began and, allegedly, nearly ended on September 28, 2024, when their two lives collided — literally — somewhere in the quiet, unassuming stretch of Garfield County, Oklahoma. Population? Not enough to justify a Waffle House, but apparently plenty to support a full-blown personal injury lawsuit. Samantha, a local resident, was just minding her business, presumably en route to something important — maybe a dental appointment, maybe a shift at the local Dollar General — when fate, or more accurately, Carlos J. Ucenda, stepped in. Carlos, also a resident of the county, was behind the wheel of his own vehicle, allegedly moving at a speed that was, according to the filing, “too fast for the road conditions.” That’s the kind of phrase that sounds dramatic in court but probably just means he was doing 42 in a 35. Still, the petition claims, that little bit of extra oomph was enough to send him swerving — not into a ditch, not into a cow, but directly into Samantha’s oncoming lane, where her car became an unwilling participant in what can only be described as a low-budget action sequence.

Now, let’s be clear: this isn’t Transformers. There were no explosions. No slow-motion shots of Samantha’s face registering shock as glass shattered in artistic shards. But according to the legal document, the impact was serious enough to leave her with what the filing so clinically calls “bodily injury.” That could mean anything from whiplash to a bruised ego — though given the amount of money being sought, we’re guessing it’s more than just a stiff neck. The car? “Significant property damage,” they say. Which, translated from lawyer-speak, probably means the bumper fell off, the airbags deployed, or — worst-case scenario — the cup holder no longer holds cups. Either way, the message is clear: Samantha didn’t walk away unscathed. She walked away with medical bills, lost wages (meaning she couldn’t work while recovering, assuming she wasn’t just faking a back injury to skip her shift at the call center), and what the petition calls “other out-of-pocket damages.” Translation: her insurance deductible, her rental car fee, and possibly that therapy co-pay after she developed a sudden fear of stop signs.

So why are we in court? Why are attorneys at Oklalaw — yes, that’s really the firm name, like a law office founded by a rapper — drafting legal petitions and swearing affidavits over a fender bender? Because, my friends, this is America. And in America, when someone allegedly drives too fast for conditions and causes a crash, the other party doesn’t just say, “Eh, happens to the best of us.” No. They call a lawyer. Specifically, they call Randy L. Wagner, Jennifer A. Liggett, Regan L. Wagner, and Heather A. Lehman Fagan — a legal dream team with enough initials to fill a KGB file. And what do they claim? Negligence. That’s the big one. In plain English: Carlos didn’t drive the way a reasonable person would under the same circumstances. He didn’t adjust for road conditions — maybe it was drizzling, maybe the wind was gusty, maybe a tumbleweed rolled by and startled him — and instead of slowing down, he kept going. Too fast. And that, the petition argues, is why Samantha got hurt. It’s not just about the crash. It’s about the why behind the crash. And in civil court, why matters — especially when money’s on the table.

Now, $75,000. That’s the number. That’s the ask. Is that a lot? Well, let’s put it in perspective. If you’re suing because your avocado toast was cold, that’s excessive. But for a car accident involving medical treatment, lost income, and emotional distress? It’s not crazy — not in personal injury land. For context, the average settlement for a moderate car accident injury in rural Oklahoma might hover around $15,000 to $30,000. So $75,000 is on the higher end — which tells us either that Samantha’s injuries were legit serious, or her lawyers are playing hardball. Maybe both. Maybe she needed surgery. Maybe she missed six months of work. Or maybe — and hear us out — she’s including future pain and suffering, which is a thing in these cases. That means not just what she’s already endured, but what she might endure down the line: chronic back pain, nightmares about left turns, an irrational fear of Hondas. The court considers all of it. And while there’s no mention of punitive damages — which would punish Carlos for being a reckless menace — the demand for “actual damages” over $75,000 suggests they’re aiming to make her whole, as the legal folks say. Or at least as whole as $75,000 can make you.

And here’s the kicker: Samantha swore under oath — yes, with a notary present, on April 21, 2026 — that everything in the petition is true “according to my best information and belief.” Which sounds serious, until you remember that “best information and belief” is legalese for “I’m pretty sure this happened.” No police report cited. No witness statements. No photos of the mangled vehicles. Just a sworn declaration and a whole lot of confidence. And while Carlos hasn’t responded yet — no answer on file, no counterclaim, no dramatic “She ran a red light!” defense — the stage is set. One woman’s pain and suffering versus one man’s questionable driving judgment. It’s David vs. Goliath, if David had a neck brace and Goliath was driving a slightly overzealous sedan.

Our take? Look, car accidents happen. We get it. People get hurt. Cars get dented. Life goes on. But $75,000? For a crash in Garfield County? That’s not just a lawsuit — that’s a statement. Either Samantha’s injuries are far more severe than we’re being told, or someone’s trying to turn a minor collision into a minor payday. And while we’re not here to question her pain — again, verified under oath, notary and all — we can’t help but wonder: is this really about justice? Or is it about sending a message to every speed-happy driver who thinks they own I-35? The truth is, these cases often settle before trial. Carlos’s insurance company will likely cough up a number to make it go away, because court is messy and juries are unpredictable. But for now, this is a story of two people, one road, and one very expensive disagreement about who was going too fast.

And honestly? We’re rooting for the cup holder. That poor cup holder never stood a chance.