LVNV Funding LLC v. Sharmaine Tharps

Let’s get one thing straight: someone is suing Sharmaine Tharps of Canadian County, Oklahoma, for $1,622.07 — and no, it’s not because she borrowed money from a loan shark named Vinnie “The Spatula” Malone. It’s because a company called LVNV Funding LLC bought her debt for less than the price of a used Peloton and now wants a court to force her to pay it back. Yes, this is a real lawsuit. Yes, lawyers were involved. And yes, we’re about to turn a credit card balance into prime-time courtroom drama.

So who even are these people? On one side, we’ve got Sharmaine Tharps — a regular Oklahoma resident who, at some point in 2021, opened a credit account with Blue Ridge Bank. That’s the kind of name that sounds like a cozy mountain lodge, not a financial institution, but sure, let’s roll with it. She probably used the card for groceries, gas, or maybe that one regrettable Amazon splurge on a self-stirring mug (we’ve all been there). At some point, she stopped paying. Maybe money got tight. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she moved and the bills got lost in the shuffle. Whatever the reason, the account went into default — which is just a fancy way of saying “oops, we’re not getting our money back.”

Enter the plaintiff: LVNV Funding LLC. Now, don’t let the “LLC” fool you — this isn’t some startup selling artisanal kombucha. LVNV is a professional debt buyer. They don’t issue credit. They don’t approve loans. What they do is buy up old, delinquent debts — often for pennies on the dollar — and then try to collect the full amount. It’s like being the guy at a garage sale who buys a box of junk for $5, finds a rare Beanie Baby inside, and then sues the original owner for not telling them it was worth $200. Only here, the Beanie Baby is a $1,622 credit card balance, and the garage sale is the American financial system.

Here’s how this particular yard sale transaction went down: Blue Ridge Bank originally held the debt. Then, at some point, they sold it (or it was transferred) to something called the Pagaya AI Debt Selection Grantor Trust 2021-3 — which sounds like a cryptocurrency scam invented by a rogue algorithm, but is, in fact, a real financial vehicle that uses artificial intelligence to pick which bad debts are worth buying. That’s right: an AI decided Sharmaine Tharps’ unpaid balance was a solid investment. On February 7, 2025 — yes, that’s this year — that trust sold her debt, along with a whole portfolio of other delinquent accounts, to LVNV Funding LLC. And now, LVNV is showing up in court like, “Hey, Sharmaine? We bought your debt. Pay up.”

The filing itself is about as dramatic as a spreadsheet. There’s no evidence of fraud, no wild accusations, no claim that Sharmaine maxed out the card on skydiving lessons or caviar. Just a cold, dry assertion: she owes $1,622.07. That amount, according to the affidavit, includes the original balance, interest, and any applicable fees — but no penalties, no late-night collection calls (at least not in the filing), and definitely no mention of a repo man coming for her couch. The lawsuit is based on a legal claim called “indebtedness,” which is legalese for “you borrowed money and didn’t pay it back.” It’s one of the most basic, no-frills causes of action in civil court — the legal equivalent of “you broke it, you bought it.”

LVNV isn’t asking for punitive damages. They’re not demanding Sharmaine attend financial literacy classes or write a letter of apology. They just want the $1,622.07, plus interest from the date of judgment (which will accrue at the state’s statutory rate — currently 5% in Oklahoma, for the finance nerds in the back), court costs, and — here’s the kicker — a “reasonable attorney’s fee.” That’s right: LVNV hired a whole law firm — Love, Beal & Nixon, P.C. — complete with six attorneys listed on the petition (yes, six), to sue someone over $1,622. You could buy a decent used car for that amount. You could pay off a year of student loans. You could definitely afford a better lawyer than the one you’d get from a firm that mass-files debt collection suits before breakfast.

And yet, here we are.

Now, is $1,622 a lot of money? Well, that depends on who you ask. For LVNV, probably not — they likely paid a few hundred bucks for the entire debt portfolio. For Sharmaine Tharps, it might be a month’s rent. Or half a car payment. Or the difference between keeping the lights on and getting a notice from the utility company. But in the grand scheme of civil lawsuits, this is small potatoes. Most debt collection cases never make headlines. They’re processed in bulk, settled quietly, or dismissed when the defendant doesn’t show up. This one only exists in our spotlight because someone thought it was worth six attorneys, a notarized affidavit, and a trip to the Canadian County courthouse.

So what’s our take? The most absurd part isn’t that LVNV is suing over a relatively small amount. It’s that they’re doing it with the legal firepower of a corporate takeover. Six lawyers. An AI-curated debt trust. A notarized affidavit from a guy named Andy Valdez who claims to speak for a company that owns a debt that used to belong to a bank that sold it to a robot trust. This isn’t just debt collection — it’s financial alchemy. Turn a defaulted credit card into a court judgment. Turn a spreadsheet entry into a legal claim. Turn a woman’s forgotten bill into a multi-layered corporate transaction that would make a Wall Street trader blush.

And let’s be real: if Sharmaine doesn’t respond, the court will likely enter a default judgment, and LVNV will win. They’ll get their $1,622.07, plus interest, plus fees. If she does fight it — maybe she disputes the amount, or challenges whether LVNV actually owns the debt — then this could drag on, costing more in legal fees than the original balance. Either way, the system grinds forward, chewing up small debts and small people with industrial efficiency.

We’re not rooting for the debt collector. We’re not even really rooting for Sharmaine — though we do hope she’s not getting woken up at 6 a.m. by a robocall from a number that says “LVNV REMIND.” We’re rooting for the absurdity to be acknowledged. For someone in that courtroom to look at this stack of paperwork and say, “Wait… an AI picked this case? We’re suing over this?” Because at some point, the machine has to stop. The collection has to end. And maybe, just maybe, $1,622.07 isn’t worth six lawyers and a robot overlord.

But hey — that’s just us. We’re entertainers, not lawyers. And if you’re watching your mailbox for a letter from LVNV, maybe don’t open it. Or do. Either way, don’t panic. Just remember: somewhere, an algorithm thought you were a good investment. And in the twisted logic of debt collection, that’s basically a love letter.