Shawn Gubeli can still picture the two shadowy figures darting up his concrete steps in the dim January moonlight. Reviewing his security footage, he watches them scramble to his door, tap the bell, then flee in a panic—one nearly stumbling in their haste. "They look like they’re incapable," he says with a weary chuckle, shaking his head at the absurdity. Yet beneath the humor lies a deeper anxiety that has plagued his family for years.
What appears as a harmless teenage prank has become a recurring nightmare for the Gubeli household. The sporadic ding-dong ditching began in 2023, when his wife was home alone with their five young children. The relentless harassment—sometimes hourly—left her hysterical and desperate enough to call law enforcement for protection. "She called me just hysterically," Gubeli recalls. "They kept coming back like every hour on the hour and just it got really escalated."
Though less frequent now, the pranks persist. Last month’s incident captured on camera is just the latest in a series that has shattered the family’s sense of security. "We’re dead asleep in the middle of the night and so it’s like you hear the ring and like instantly your heart just like goes off your chest," Gubeli explains. The physiological jolt of adrenaline at 2 AM has become a cruel routine, leaving parents and children alike sleep-deprived and on edge.
In response, the family has implemented various deterrents: porch lights that burn through the night, a sophisticated camera system, and even direct confrontation. Gubeli once chased down a group of pranksters, his frustration boiling over. "I was pretty upset just kind of like, you know, ‘My family’s sleeping, you’re waking up my kids.’ … ‘This can be very dangerous,’" he told them. His warning carries weight—across the nation, these so-called innocent games have ended in unthinkable tragedy.
The most heartbreaking case occurred in Texas last year, where an 11-year-old boy was shot and killed while playing doorbell ditch with friends. This devastating outcome represents the extreme end of a spectrum that law enforcement officials say is becoming increasingly common. "It’s a different world," observes Salt Lake City Police Sergeant Greg Wilking. "On the face of it, it’s a harmless prank. But it’s what happens after and it’s all the things that could happen."
While police departments don’t specifically track ding-dong ditching incidents, KSL Investigators uncovered four cases in the past two years alone where a simple knock or ring escalated to criminal charges in Utah. The pattern reveals a troubling disconnect between youthful mischief and adult overreaction, with devastating consequences for both parties.
One particularly disturbing case unfolded in August when Salt Lake City resident Tony Bernstone allegedly caught a 12-year-old boy who had rung his doorbell. According to court documents, Bernstone slapped the child across the face, punched him in the stomach, and then forcibly transported him to a nearby gas station to meet his father. The man now faces felony child abuse and kidnapping charges—crimes that carry severe penalties and lifelong repercussions. "That’s a situation that just didn’t need to happen," Wilking states flatly.
In Utah County, Sergeant Ray Ormond confirms deputies have handled similar cases. In 2024, Eagle Mountain resident Michael Roberts, fed up with repeated pranks at his doorstep, fired plastic rounds at a group of teens he believed were responsible. While details remain limited, the incident underscores how quickly frustration can turn to violence when homeowners feel victimized in their own sanctuaries.
The psychological toll on affected families extends far beyond lost sleep. Victims describe feeling trapped in their homes, constantly vigilant, and unable to relax even during quiet moments. The sanctity of one’s personal space—legally and emotionally—becomes violated. For parents like Gubeli, the fear isn’t just about disrupted rest; it’s about the potential for escalation. What if he confronts the wrong person? What if a homeowner mistakes a prankster for a burglar? What if a child gets seriously injured or worse?
Law enforcement officials emphasize that while the prank itself may seem minor, the context has changed dramatically. In an era of heightened security concerns, widespread gun ownership, and increased anxiety about property crime, homeowners are more likely to react defensively—or offensively. The classic childhood game of ring-and-run exists in a world where stand-your-ground laws and doorbell cameras create a volatile mix of legal ambiguity and constant surveillance.
For the pranksters, often teenagers seeking cheap thrills and social media content, the risks are poorly understood. A felony conviction can derail college admissions, career prospects, and housing opportunities. Meanwhile, homeowners who overreact face their own legal jeopardy, as the Bernstone case demonstrates. The line between reasonable self-defense and criminal assault becomes dangerously thin in the heat of the moment.
Community leaders and psychologists suggest the solution requires a multi-faceted approach. Parents must discuss consequences with their children, not just about getting caught, but about the potential for violence. Schools could incorporate lessons on digital citizenship and real-world repercussions of seemingly minor actions. Law enforcement agencies might develop community outreach programs to educate both youth and adults about de-escalation techniques.
Gubeli’s experience has made him an unwilling expert on the topic. He no longer finds the pranks amusing, even when the perpetrators appear clumsy and non-threatening on video. The laughter has been replaced by a sober understanding of how quickly situations can spiral out of control. His family continues to live with porch lights blazing and cameras recording, hoping the next ring of the doorbell will be a delivery driver, not another near-disaster.
As Sergeant Wilking notes, the prank exists in a space between childhood innocence and adult consequences. The challenge for communities is bridging that gap before more lives are ruined—or ended. The solution isn’t about criminalizing youthful mischief, but about recognizing that in today’s world, even the smallest actions can trigger catastrophic reactions. Until that understanding becomes widespread, families like the Gubelis will remain on high alert, caught between the laughter of teenagers and the potential for tragedy lurking just beyond their front door.