Landowner Fires Warning Shot at Game Wardens — Judge Rules in His Favor ⚖️🌲

The courtroom was unusually still as the judge called the case.

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.

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A landowner had fired a warning shot at game wardens.

The charge sounded severe.
The story behind it was anything but simple.

At the defense table sat Harold Bennett, a 67-year-old landowner whose family had owned 600 wooded acres for three generations. The land was clearly posted: Private Property. No Trespassing. Locked gates. Survey markers. Recorded boundaries.

On a foggy autumn morning, Harold heard engines deep in the woods behind his home—then dogs barking.

Strangers were on his land.

Harold stepped outside and saw armed men in camouflage moving through his trees. No marked vehicles. No lights. No announcement. Just figures advancing across his property line.

Believing poachers had returned—a real problem in the area—Harold shouted warnings. No one responded.

Only then did he fire one shot into the dirt, far from anyone, and immediately lowered his rifle.

The men drew weapons.

They were state game wardens.

Harold was arrested for aggravated assault.

In court, prosecutors argued that firing any shot near officers was reckless and illegal, regardless of intent. They said the wardens were conducting a wildlife survey and had authority to enter the land.

That’s when the judge began asking questions.

“Did they have a warrant?”

No.

“Did they announce themselves?”

No.

“Were they in marked vehicles?”

No.

“Did they cross clearly posted private property?”

Yes.

The courtroom shifted.

Body camera footage showed Harold standing still, weapon lowered, yelling for the men to identify themselves—after the shot, not before. The round had struck open ground, nowhere near the wardens.

Expert testimony confirmed the shot posed no direct threat.

Then came the decisive point.

State law allowed landowners to use reasonable force to stop unknown armed trespassers, provided no one was targeted and no intent to harm was shown.

The judge’s voice was firm.

“This court does not endorse firearms as communication,” he said.
“But it also does not excuse armed agents of the state from ignoring the law.”

He looked directly at the prosecution.

“You do not get to trespass first—and arrest later.”

The ruling was clear.

All charges were dismissed.

The judge emphasized that Harold’s actions were defensive, restrained, and legally justified, given the wardens’ failure to identify themselves and respect property boundaries.

Then he added a warning—measured, but unmistakable.

“To Mr. Bennett: this was the outer edge of legality. You were fortunate.”
“To the state: next time, announce yourselves—or don’t cross the line.”

Gavel down.

Outside the courthouse, Harold stood quietly beneath the trees his family had protected for decades. He hadn’t won a celebration—only clarity.

And the message echoed beyond the case:

Authority does not erase the Constitution.
Property rights do not vanish in the woods.
And justice depends not just on who holds power—
but on who respects the law.