The Perfect Neighbor: truth, racism, and flaws in the justice system.

Netflix

Warning: There will be spoilers in the text.

For days I've been carrying with me a disturbing unease after watching the documentary The Perfect Neighbor (Netflix), directed by Geeta Gandbhir. The production reveals, with starkness, a tragedy that might seem distant—but which, in its own way, embodies deep wounds: racism, institutional negligence, and laws that protect those who already have power.

A crime that hurts the skin.

The documentary takes place in Ocala, Florida , and revolves around the death of Ajike “AJ” Owens , a 35-year-old Black woman and single mother of four. According to reports, the conflict began when Susan Lorincz , her neighbor, assaulted AJ's son by throwing roller skates at him, in an episode that reeked of racism and intimidation.

The most shocking moment occurs when AJ, seeking explanations, knocks on Susan's door—and is killed by a gunshot to the chest, fired by her neighbor. Susan's claim of self-defense was contested, especially since the door was locked and the police had already been called . In the end, Susan was sentenced to 25 years in prison for manslaughter, negligence, and assault.

Authority, racism, and the so-called "defense law"

Watching this documentary, I can't help but wonder: why did it take so long for AJ Owens' voice to resonate so explicitly? The way the crime was handled by the authorities raises serious criticisms. The tragedy reignites the debate about the law known as "Stand Your Ground," which authorizes self-defense even when there is an alternative to retreat—a controversial and loophole-ridden norm.

It is unacceptable that a young mother, a Black woman, was killed while trying to talk to her neighbor after an attack on her son. Furthermore, it seems no coincidence that the fatal outcome involved a weapon, while previous complaints involving Susan – racist insults, filming of children, intimidation – appeared to have gone unanswered. The Justice system, by convicting her for "guilt" and not for intentional homicide, leaves a bitter taste that the punishment did not correspond to the moral gravity of the act.

Director Gandbhir knew this and, by narrating the case with real recordings (police cameras, emergency calls, security cameras), reveals institutional violence: not just the isolated act of violence, but a system that allowed these tensions to escalate into tragedy.

Documentary technique: the power of raw images

One of the documentary's most powerful choices is its almost exclusive use of real, undramatized images : police bodycams, security camera footage, emergency calls. There is no expository narration or contrived reenactments—this minimalism reinforces the feeling that we are watching something real, visceral.

From a photographic standpoint, the aesthetic is straightforward, without much artifice: sober tones predominate, night scenes, urban glimpses, police cars, simple houses. This approach helps to keep the focus on the act, not on sensationalism. The absence of a dramatic soundtrack reinforces the feeling of uncomfortable naturalness—as if we were watching a real-life broadcast turning into tragedy.

The pacing deserves special mention: the documentary doesn't rush to easy conclusions. It presents the previous conflicts, the records of denunciations, the audio recordings of the calls, all in a fragmented way, allowing the tension to build through the voices of those involved. This slow and deliberate construction intensifies the anguish: when the crime occurs, it is not just a shock, but the anticipated culmination of accumulated hostility.

Criticism of the authorities' stance.

The documentary bluntly exposes serious failings of local authorities. There are reports that neighbors had already denounced Susan's behavior—aggressiveness, racism, unstable behavior—but institutional intervention seems to have been insufficient. Meanwhile, the neighborhood remained vulnerable, especially the children.

It's heartbreaking to realize that a mother like AJ, who only wanted answers, received death as her reward. The police arrive after the shooting; the audio recordings are other voices rushing to cover up the damage. But why didn't they arrive sooner? Why wasn't there real mediation? Instead, the system allowed the tension between neighbors to escalate to irreversible loss.

I am also bothered by the defensive narrative adopted by Susan and her defense. Claiming self-defense in a context where there was a power dynamic, a history of hostility, and even threats seems far too simplistic. The justice system accepted – albeit partially – this argument. It seems to me an example of how the weight of the weapon and institutionalized fear align to protect those who already wield power and reinforce structural inequalities.

Trailer

Personal reflections: racism, neighborhood, and empathy

Watching The Perfect Neighbor made me uncomfortable in many ways. First, because it made me reflect on how the intimacy of a neighborhood can mask deep racial tensions—neighbors who coexist but are divided by fear, prejudice, power, and inequality. The fact that a simple act of seeking dialogue (knocking on the door) led to death is symbolic: dialogue wasn't enough, it wasn't allowed for AJ.

Secondly, the way the documentary presents AJ's voice—through audio recordings from emergency services—reminds me that she was not only a victim of physical violence, but also of erasure. Previous incidents, the insults, the hostile recordings, it was all there, but perhaps it had never been fully heard until now. Gandbhir's production brings dignity: AJ's voice, even if fragmented, is the protagonist.

Third, holding the authorities accountable gives me hope, but it also leaves a bitter taste. It's important that cases like this come to light, to question laws like "Stand Your Ground," to push for reforms. But seeing a 25-year sentence for manslaughter—and not murder—makes me question whether the justice system truly understood the racial and moral fabric that underpins this tragedy.

Limitations and areas that could be explored in more depth.

No documentary is perfect, and The Perfect Neighbor also has moments where it could have gone further:

1. Historical and social context : while the production presents specific episodes well, it lacked a deeper exploration of Florida's racial context, especially the history of racial tension in underprivileged communities and the systemic impact of self-defense laws. A more robust analysis could enrich the narrative, highlighting that this is not an isolated crime, but part of a broader pattern.

2. Interviews with those involved : by choosing to use only images from police cameras and audio recordings, the director opted out of in-depth testimonies from neighbors, legal experts, or anti-racism activists. These accounts could have added greater layers to the story, even though they might have risked romanticizing or diverting the focus from the victim.

3. Solutions : the documentary exposes the problem well, but leaves the feeling that it lacks concrete paths for change—whether through public policy, community activism, or legislative reform. A more proactive ending would not diminish the emotional impact, but would add a sense of transformative urgency.

Why it's worth watching — and discussing

Despite these limitations, The Perfect Neighbor is a documentary that deserves attention and deep reflection. For me, there are three main reasons:

1. A voice for the victim : it restores humanity to AJ Owens, not as a statistic, but as a mother, a neighbor, a human being.

2. Deconstructing Power : It exposes how laws, prejudices, and institutional racism shape real tragedies—and how these elements interact to protect those who have weapons and power.

3. Documentary style : the choice to use real images without sensationalist dramatization is courageous and effective — it forces us to see violence as part of life, not as a spectacle.

If we are willing to talk about justice, racism, and power, we need products like this. Not to distract us, but to disturb us, to mobilize us. Watching The Perfect Neighbor is an invitation: to question, to demand accountability, to not let silenced voices be silenced.

I would say that I finished the documentary with a mixture of sadness, indignation, and a sense of urgency. AJ Owens' story is not just an isolated tragedy—it's a mirror of the failures of power, justice, and empathy in society. As a journalist and as a person, I feel compelled to share this account, to denounce the unequal structure that allowed this to happen, and to defend voices that remain unspoken.

Ultimately, "The Perfect Neighbor" is not just a documentary: it's a call to reflection and action. And I believe we must respond.