Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro and his wife, Lori, are asserting ownership over a strip of their neighbor's land through adverse possession, a legal doctrine that essentially rewards squatting if you do it long enough. The claim comes after Jeremy and Simone Mock sued the governor and first lady for "trespassing and unlawfully occupying" a piece of land along the boundary between their properties in the Philadelphia suburb of Jenkintown.
The Shapiros filed a counter complaint arguing they own the disputed area because they've occupied it continuously since May 2003, when they moved into their home. Under Pennsylvania's adverse possession law, an unauthorized occupant can acquire title to land if they've held it continuously for 21 years.
In other words, the governor of Pennsylvania is making a legal argument that boils down to: we used it without permission for long enough, so now it's ours.
The Mocks' lawsuit paints a picture of a neighbor who wanted something, couldn't get it through negotiation, and then leveraged the power of his office to take it anyway. According to the court filings, Shapiro wanted to build an eight-foot security fence along the boundary and offered to buy approximately 2,900 square feet from the Mocks. When the two sides couldn't agree on a purchase price, the Mocks offered to lease the land instead.
That's when, the lawsuit alleges, Shapiro took "alternative actions."
The allegations are specific and striking:
When the Mocks attempted to access their own land, they were told to leave. They paused construction of their own fence. The lawsuit calls this an "outrageous abuse of power."
State police reportedly told the Mocks the land was "disputed" and treated it as a "security zone." There's a meaningful difference between a legitimate security perimeter and using state law enforcement to enforce a property claim that hasn't been adjudicated. The Mocks' filing suggests this was the latter.
The Shapiros' counter-complaint tells a different story, the Daily Mail reported. According to their filing, a fence separating the properties was erected before they purchased their home in 2003, and both families treated that fence line as the boundary until 2025. The Mocks purchased their home in April 2017 and, according to the countersuit, "never objected" to the arrangement until October 2025, when the Shapiros informed them that they actually owned the land.
The Shapiros say they learned about the Mocks' technical ownership in the summer of 2025 after the state sent a land surveyor. Their legal theory is straightforward adverse possession: continuous, uninterrupted use for more than 21 years converts unauthorized occupation into legal ownership.
Shapiro's spokesperson offered this statement to the Philadelphia Inquirer:
The Governor looks forward to a swift resolution and will not be bullied by anyone trying to score cheap political points, especially at the expense of his family's safety and wellbeing.
That framing is notable. Shapiro's team is casting the people suing him for occupying their land as the aggressors.
Walter Zimolong, the attorney representing the Mocks, is a prominent Republican lawyer who describes himself as Pennsylvania's go-to attorney for "conservative causes and candidates for office." His previous clients include the political campaigns of President Donald Trump and U.S. Sen. Dave McCormick. He's a member of the Republican National Lawyers Association.
That biography has given Shapiro's allies an obvious line of attack: this is a political stunt. Zimolong rejected that characterization directly, telling the Washington Post the case is:
Not a political action or 'stunt' — it's a straightforward defense of the property rights of two innocent people.
The political identity of the attorney doesn't change whether the Mocks own the land. Deed records either support their claim or they don't. The fact that Shapiro's team immediately pivoted to questioning the motives of the plaintiffs rather than addressing the substance of the allegations tells you something about the strength of the "security and well-being" defense.
There's also an irony that shouldn't be lost here. Democrats routinely position themselves as champions of the little guy against powerful interests. The Mocks' home is valued at just shy of $1 million. The Shapiros' home is valued at $830,500. These are comfortable suburban homeowners in an "American Dream" neighborhood, not a David-and-Goliath wealth gap. But only one of them can deploy the Pennsylvania State Police to back up a property claim. That asymmetry of power is the core of this story, and no amount of "cheap political points" rhetoric changes it.
The Shapiros' desire for enhanced security isn't baseless. In April 2025, 38-year-old Cody Balmer threw a Molotov cocktail at the governor's official residence in Harrisburg, causing millions of dollars in damage. Balmer pleaded guilty to attempted murder and entered pleas to terrorism, 22 counts of arson, aggravated arson, burglary, aggravated assault of Shapiro, 21 counts of reckless endangerment, and loitering. He was sentenced to 25 to 50 years in prison.
Following that attack, Pennsylvania State Police moved to increase security measures at Shapiro's homes. That's entirely reasonable. Governors face real threats, and the Balmer case proves it.
But legitimate security concerns don't create a legal right to occupy your neighbor's property. The state has the resources to protect the governor without claiming private land through adverse possession. An eight-foot fence can be built on land you actually own. Security needs and property rights are not in conflict unless someone decides to make them so.
Pennsylvania Treasurer and Republican gubernatorial candidate Stacy Garrity has already seized on the dispute, sharing a fake Valentine's card meme with the text: "I love you more than I love my neighbor's yard." It's the kind of political humor that sticks because the underlying story is genuinely absurd.
A sitting governor is arguing in court that he should own his neighbor's land because he used it without permission for two decades. His legal team frames it as adverse possession. His critics call it squatting. The law may technically support the claim. But the optics of a powerful elected official deploying state police to patrol land that belongs to a private citizen, chasing off their surveyor, and then asserting legal ownership through continuous unauthorized use are devastating regardless of the legal outcome.
Property rights are supposed to be foundational. They don't bend because the person encroaching on them has a security detail and a title. If Josh Shapiro wants his neighbor's land, there's a simple mechanism for that. It's called making an offer they'll accept.
He tried. They didn't. And what happened next is now before a court.
