Here’s a chilling truth: a single moment of rage, fueled by systemic failures, can shatter lives forever. This is the story at the heart of The Perfect Neighbor, a Netflix documentary that director Geeta Gandbhir describes as a 'call to action.' But this isn’t just another true crime tale—it’s a searing examination of race, privilege, and the deadly consequences of laws like 'stand-your-ground.'
Gandbhir, no stranger to the complexities of police body camera footage, knew this project demanded a unique approach. 'Body camera footage is often a weapon of the state, used to criminalize people of color or shield police,' she explains. 'We wanted to flip that narrative, using it to humanize a community instead.' And that’s exactly what she did, crafting a film almost entirely from raw police footage that chronicles the two years leading up to the tragic shooting of Ajike Owens, a 35-year-old Black mother, by her white neighbor, Susan Lorincz.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Lorincz, a renter who frequently called the police on her neighbors for trivial reasons, later attempted to use Florida’s stand-your-ground law as her defense. 'Laws like this embolden people to take the law into their own hands, commit crimes, and then claim self-defense,' Gandbhir argues. Lorincz was ultimately convicted of manslaughter in 2024 and sentenced to 25 years, but for Owens’ four children, justice feels hollow.
The film’s creation was no small feat. Gandbhir, connected to Owens’ family through a mutual friend, initially worked to keep the story in the news. When they obtained 30 hours of body cam, cell phone, and dash cam footage through a Freedom of Information Act request, the real challenge began. 'It was grief work,' Gandbhir admits. 'Emotionally exhausting, but necessary to understand what happened.'
And this is the part most people miss: The film deliberately avoids traditional talking-head interviews, opting instead to let the raw footage speak for itself. 'We wanted it to feel like a thriller, a narrative that pulls you in,' Gandbhir says. 'When you show instead of tell, people believe it.' Yet, some moments were too painful to include, like footage of paramedics trying to revive Owens. 'We didn’t want it to feel exploitative,' Gandbhir explains. 'But Pam [Owens’ mother] insisted: ‘Everybody needs to see what happened.’'
The police, though not portrayed as outright villains, are shown as complicit in their inaction. 'They saw Susan as a nuisance, not a threat,' Gandbhir notes. 'But her access to guns and the existence of stand-your-ground laws turned her into a deadly force.' This raises a troubling question: Would the outcome have been different if Susan were a person of color?
One scene, in particular, stands out: Susan’s arrest, where she refuses to comply, weaponizing her privilege until the very end. 'I’m obsessed with that scene,' Gandbhir admits. 'It’s where you see her still trying to exercise her status, and the police not knowing how to handle it.'
As the film gains global attention, Gandbhir hopes it sparks a movement. 'How can we not repeal laws like stand-your-ground? How can we not enact gun reform?' she asks. With Netflix as a partner, the film has the potential to reach millions, but its true impact lies in the conversations—and actions—it inspires.
Here’s the real question for you: Can a documentary like this change hearts, minds, and laws? Or is it just another tragic story in a long line of systemic failures? Let’s discuss in the comments.
