Get Off My Lawn!! Stalking From Your Own Property — Assault And Battery With A Sprinkler

Are we still Tangled Web of Hurt in Ocala

In a quiet gated community in Ocala, Florida, a story unfolded that makes me feel for everyone involved—a tale of frustration, misunderstanding, and unintended pain. At its center are two young people, a 17-year-old with Prader-Willi syndrome and a 22-year-old with autism and Rubinstein-Taybi syndrome, both navigating a world that can feel unkind even on its best days. These kids, reliant on a school bus to carry them to and from their days of learning, faced an unexpected obstacle: a neighbor’s sprinklers, aimed at them like a cruel taunt, soaking them as they waited at the bus stop. It’s hard not to feel a pang of sorrow for them—children already carrying heavy burdens, now drenched in water and distress, their dignity challenged by something as mundane as a neighbor’s lawn care system. Their parents, too, bear an unimaginable weight, with a father who, despite his own leg amputation, stood in the spray to shield his children, resorting to swimwear in a desperate act of love. Their fight isn’t just against the water; it’s against a world that sometimes fails to make space for those who need it most.

And then there’s Antonio Roman, the 61-year-old neighbor whose sprinklers became the weapon in this quiet war. It’s easy to cast him as the villain, but step into his shoes for a moment. He fought for his slice of the American dream—a home, a driveway, a piece of land to call his own—only to find a school bus stop encroaching on what he saw as his rightful property. The wheelchair ramp, necessary for one of the children, spilled onto his driveway, a daily reminder that his control over his own space was not absolute. He paid dues to a homeowners association, expecting them to safeguard his rights, yet they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—move the bus stop. He called the sheriff’s office 75 times, his voice likely trembling with frustration, only to feel unheard. His attempts to resolve the issue through the school district and HOA fell flat, leaving him trapped in a cycle of helplessness. In his desperation, he turned to his sprinklers, a petty and misguided act that hurt others and landed him in jail, charged with stalking and battery. Now, released on bond, he carries the weight of his choices, perhaps regretting the moment his frustration boiled over into cruelty.

The Marion County Sheriff’s Office, too, is caught in this mess, tasked with untangling a dispute that’s less about crime and more about human failings. Corporal Kyle Ferguson saw the sprinklers turn on with the bus’s arrival and off with its departure, a calculated act that must have felt like a gut punch to witness. The family’s recordings of 400 alleged incidents paint a picture of relentless harassment, yet the sheriff’s office also logged Roman’s 75 calls, a cry for help from a man who felt his property rights were slipping away. They’re left to mediate a situation where no one wins, where the law can punish but not heal.

This is a story of broken systems and broken spirits. The children and their family deserve a safe, dry place to board a bus, a small ask in a world that already demands so much of them. Roman deserves to feel secure in his home, to have his concerns addressed without being pushed to the edge. The HOA and school district, meant to serve their community, failed to bridge the gap, leaving neighbors to clash in ways that hurt everyone. No one here is without pain—whether it’s the sting of water on vulnerable skin or the sting of feeling powerless in your own home. Pity them all, for they’re caught in a web where good intentions and human flaws collided, leaving only soggy clothes, bruised hearts, and a community in need of mending.