Matthew Barrett v. State Farm Fire and Casualty Company
What's This Case About?
Let’s be real: insurance companies don’t usually make headlines for being too generous. But when a guy hires his own roofer, a third-party adjuster basically says “yep, this roof is toast,” and the insurance company still sends a check for $87.10—and then ghosts him? That’s not just stingy. That’s the kind of energy that gets you sued in front of a jury, and that’s exactly what’s going down in Tulsa County, where Matthew Barrett is taking on the Goliath of suburban insurance policies—State Farm—over what started as a hailstorm and turned into a full-blown David vs. Big Red Tractor battle.
Matthew Barrett is just a regular homeowner in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma—136 W. Jefferson Street, to be exact. He pays his premiums like clockwork, probably has a lawn that looks suspiciously well-manicured in the summer, and, like most of us, assumed that when disaster struck, his insurance would have his back. Enter May 21, 2024: a bona fide wind and hailstorm rolls through, the kind that sounds like God is playing marbles with the roof. Shingles get tossed, vents go flying, and somewhere, a gutter says its last goodbye. Barrett, doing everything by the book, calls State Farm. They acknowledge the claim, assign it a number (36-73T3-61G—because nothing says drama like an alphanumeric code), and promise to handle it. So far, so normal. This is how insurance is supposed to work. But then… things get weird. Very weird.
State Farm sends an adjuster out in October 2024—five months after the storm, which already feels like the insurance version of showing up to a birthday party after the cake has been thrown out. The inspection? Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly CSI: Broken Arrow. Their conclusion? Two turbine vents, one rain cap, a few shingles, and a drywall patch in the laundry room. That’s it. No full roof replacement. No “hey, this whole thing is compromised.” Just a Band-Aid on a broken femur. Barrett, not exactly thrilled, hires his own contractor—because apparently in Oklahoma, when your roof looks like a jigsaw puzzle missing half the pieces, you don’t just hope for the best. The contractor takes one look and says, “Buddy, you need a whole new roof.” Full replacement. Not a suggestion. A necessity.
So Barrett goes back to State Farm. They send a second adjuster—a third-party one this time, which sounds fancy but turns out to be just another guy with a clipboard and a questionable opinion. But here’s the kicker: this guy actually agrees with the contractor. Word-for-word, according to the filing, he says something along the lines of, “I feel good about it, seems like there’s enough damage here to warrant a total roof replacement.” That’s not “maybe.” That’s not “possibly.” That’s an endorsement. It’s the insurance equivalent of a standing ovation. And yet—and yet—State Farm comes back with a second estimate that’s basically the same as the first. This time, they throw in a few more line items—ten shingles instead of three, a turtle vent (which sounds like something from a children’s cartoon), a pipe jack boot (no, we don’t know what that is either), and thirty feet of gutter. The grand total? A net payment of $87.10. Let that sink in. Eighty-seven dollars and ten cents for a storm-damaged roof that two separate professionals said needed to be completely replaced. And get this—Barrett still hasn’t received that check. It’s like they sent a IOU written on a napkin and then lost the napkin.
When Barrett asked why the adjuster contradicted his own third-party guy, the State Farm rep allegedly said, “a lot of roofers are liars.” Oh, okay. Sure. And also, apparently, so are third-party adjusters, because that guy also said the roof needed replacing. But nope. State Farm dug in. Barrett asked for the adjuster’s report. Denied. Asked for a formal denial letter in writing. Also denied. Radio silence. Crickets. The insurance equivalent of “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.” So in January 2026—nearly two years after the storm, and after months of being stonewalled—Barrett files a proof of loss based on his contractor’s estimate and officially says, “You know what? I’m done. I’m getting a lawyer.” And that’s when Ashley Leavitt from Holbrook Leavitt & Associates steps in, boots on the ground, ready to go full Legal Avengers on State Farm.
Now, what’s Barrett actually suing for? Two big things. First: breach of contract. Translation: “You took my money every month. You promised to cover storm damage. The storm came. The damage is real. Pay up.” Second: bad faith—which, in insurance terms, is the nuclear option. It means the company didn’t just make a mistake; they intentionally underpaid, delayed, and failed to investigate because it saved them money. It’s not just negligence. It’s corporate cynicism with a side of red tape. And Barrett isn’t just asking for the cost of a new roof—he’s asking for $11,775 in actual damages (which lines up with typical roof replacement costs in the area), plus all the other stuff that comes with being gaslit by your insurer: emotional distress, anxiety, embarrassment, and yes—punitive damages, because sometimes you sue not just to get paid, but to make a point.
Is $74,624 a lot? In the grand scheme of lawsuits, it’s chump change for a company like State Farm, which had $90 billion in revenue last year. But for Matthew Barrett, it’s not about the money—it’s about the principle. It’s about the fact that he did everything right, and the system still tried to screw him over with a check for less than the cost of a decent TV. He wants his roof. He wants his dignity. And he wants a jury to look State Farm in the eye and say, “No. This is not how you treat people.”
Our take? Look, we’ve all had insurance horror stories. The denied claims, the endless hold music, the adjusters who’ve clearly never seen a roof in their lives. But this case? This is next-level. The most absurd part isn’t even the $87.10 check—it’s the audacity. The third-party adjuster basically gives the green light for a full roof replacement, and State Farm acts like they didn’t hear him. They call roofers liars while ignoring their own contractor’s assessment. They refuse to provide documentation, refuse to deny the claim on paper, and then just… vanish. It’s not just bad customer service. It’s a masterclass in how not to handle a claim. And honestly? We’re rooting for Matthew Barrett. Not because he’s perfect—he waited months to file the proof of loss, and the policy has a one-year lawsuit clause, though he’s arguing it didn’t start until he realized the breach—but because he’s standing up for every homeowner who’s ever been told “your damage isn’t that bad” by someone who spent 12 minutes on their roof with a clipboard. This isn’t just a roof. It’s a symbol. And if justice has a shingle, it better be nailed down tight.
Case Overview
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Matthew Barrett
individual
Rep: Ashley Leavitt, OBA #32818
- State Farm Fire and Casualty Company business
| # | Cause of Action | Description |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Breach of Contract | Plaintiff alleges Defendant breached their insurance contract by underpaying for storm damages |
| 2 | Bad Faith | Plaintiff alleges Defendant acted in bad faith by delaying and underpaying for storm damages |