Homeowners Claim Adverse Possession Over a 2.6-Foot Strip Along the Boundary — Then a Restraining Order Issues and the Disputed Fence Comes Down

Photo credit: AI-generated image created using ChatGPT. Illustrative only

It started the way a lot of property-line fights start: someone renovates, someone orders a survey, and suddenly the “way we’ve always walked” turns into a highlighted strip on a plot plan. In Newport, Rhode Island, one couple’s front-door access turned into a years-long battle over a narrow sliver of land—and once fence posts went up near their steps, things escalated fast.

The case, detailed in the court opinion, centers on Kristina Urbonas and Arunas Aniukstis at 5 Bowser Court and their neighbor’s property at 51 Kingston Avenue, acquired by John Gullison and later transferred to NRI 51 Kingston Partnership. The disputed area wasn’t a backyard luxury. It was a skinny, functional path—an access route leading toward the plaintiffs’ front steps.

A walkway you don’t think about until someone tears into it

Urbonas bought 5 Bowser Court in 2006. The neighboring property changed hands in 2008, and around 2010 the new owner started renovations and ordered a survey. That survey came back with bad news for the homeowners next door: part of the cobblestone landing near their front steps wasn’t actually on their lot.

Then came the kind of moment that turns neighbor tension into open warfare. During the renovation work, Gullison leveled part of his backyard and dug up a portion of that cobblestone landing. If you’ve ever had your front approach disturbed—pavers shifted, a landing undermined, a path partially removed—you can picture the gut-drop. It’s not just cosmetic. It’s your daily route in and out, the place deliveries land, where you carry groceries, where you haul trash.

The contested area expanded beyond the landing to a roughly five-foot strip running from Kingston Avenue toward the steps of 5 Bowser Court. Both properties also bordered Bowser Court, described as a narrow gravel road. In other words, this wasn’t some clean suburban sidewalk dispute with wide setbacks and clear curbs. It was tight, old, and messy—exactly where assumptions live for decades.

The “everybody used it” history that can make or break a boundary fight

The homeowners didn’t rely only on their own routine. They had history on their side, including testimony from a longtime neighborhood resident, Meredith Nina Keller, who said her grandparents bought a home across Bowser Court in 1929 and that she’d known the area since she was young.

Keller testified that the walkway had existed for decades. She pointed to a photograph she believed dated to the 1950s showing a cobblestone path running from the plaintiffs’ landing toward Kingston Avenue, alongside a garage wall and fence. Even when the cobblestones became overgrown, she said the route remained visible as dirt or grass.

The detail that mattered most was practical, not poetic: Keller said the front entrance at 5 Bowser Court was “the only entrance everybody ever went through.” That’s the sort of everyday pattern that can feel so normal you don’t document it—until a survey tells you your normal crosses into someone else’s deed.

Urbonas described the same basic use after she bought the home. She said she walked that strip to reach the front door whether she parked in front or behind the house, maintained the walkway, and used it to bring trash toward Kingston Avenue. This wasn’t occasional foot traffic. It was routine household circulation.

Renovations ended, rentals began, and the temperature went up

The renovations wrapped up, and Gullison rented out 51 Kingston Avenue. That’s where the day-to-day friction showed up in ways homeowners recognize immediately: cars where they shouldn’t be, blocked access, and the feeling that you’re fighting for basic use of the space around your home.

Urbonas testified that tenants blocked Bowser Court with vehicles 50 to 70 times. She complained to Newport officials, and the city installed no-parking signs, but she said the parking problems continued. If you’ve ever lived next to a rental where turnover is high and routines change weekly, you know how quickly small access problems become chronic.

Then the conflict jumped from cars to wood and posts. Gullison installed fence posts and at one point placed a stockade fence panel near the property line directly in front of the steps leading into 5 Bowser Court. This is where these disputes stop being theoretical. A fence isn’t just a statement; it’s a physical blockade.

Urbonas obtained a restraining order requiring removal of the fence. Later, a preliminary injunction resulted in removal of another fence post. The lawsuit began in 2015 and eventually sprawled to include multiple property owners, lenders, the City of Newport, and other parties—typical of property cases where one narrow strip touches multiple interests and old layouts.

Trial court gave them the strip—then the Supreme Court took the title back

By the time the case went to trial in 2022, many side issues had already been resolved. The defendants even conceded that Urbonas and Aniukstis had proven adverse possession of the cobblestone landing immediately around their front entrance. So the big fight at that point wasn’t the landing. It was the walkway strip leading toward Kingston Avenue.

The Superior Court judge ruled strongly for the homeowners, concluding that a fence and garage had historically marked the edge of the walkway since at least the early or mid-1970s and that prior owners had effectively accepted the strip’s use as part of the Bowser Court area. The judge awarded them rights under a boundary/acquiescence theory and, going further, granted similar rights to other Bowser Court abutters.

On appeal, the Rhode Island Supreme Court said the trial judge used the wrong doctrine to hand over ownership. Boundary by acquiescence generally applies when owners of adjoining estates recognize a common boundary for the required period, but the Court said this disputed line didn’t primarily form the boundary between the plaintiffs’ lot and NRI’s lot. Much of it was effectively between NRI’s property and Bowser Court, and the plaintiffs’ property touched the disputed area only near their entrance.

So the Supreme Court vacated the part of the judgment that gave the homeowners title to the five-foot strip, and also vacated the extra relief given to other abutters who hadn’t requested it.

They didn’t get ownership—but they got something that still matters every day

The case didn’t end with “you lose.” Rhode Island law allows an appellate court to uphold a correct result on a different legal ground, and the Supreme Court concluded the evidence supported a prescriptive easement instead.

That’s the difference between “you own it” and “you can keep using it.” For a prescriptive easement, the claimant generally must show actual, open, notorious, hostile, and continuous use under a claim of right for at least 10 years. The Court said the decades-long walkway use—supported by Keller’s testimony and photographs, plus Urbonas’s own testimony about routine use and maintenance—met that standard.

Practically speaking, NRI remains the record owner of the strip. But the ownership is now burdened by an easement allowing Urbonas and Aniukstis to continue using it for access to their home.

There was a dissent on how cleanly the Supreme Court could do that. Justice Long agreed the acquiescence analysis was wrong but would have sent the case back for more factual findings on the walkway’s use rather than declaring the prescriptive easement outright. The majority didn’t remand. They ruled.

The homeowner-comment-section takeaway: document first, then touch nothing

Cases like this tend to pull out the same practical instincts you hear from homeowners whenever property lines and access routes come up. People fixate on proof: surveys, dated photos, longtime-neighbor memories, and a paper trail showing how a path was used year after year.

And the other recurring reaction is about escalation points—because fences and digging are the moments that flip a dispute into emergency mode. Once a path to a front door is blocked, or a landing is torn up, you’re no longer arguing about inches on a plan. You’re arguing about whether someone can safely and reliably reach their own entrance.

In the end, this Newport couple didn’t walk away with a deeded slice of land for the full strip. But they did walk away with the legal right to keep walking where they’ve been walking—on a narrow route that mattered enough to trigger restraining orders, injunctions, and nearly a decade of litigation. That’s a hard way to learn the difference between owning the ground and having the right to cross it, but on a tight property line, that distinction can decide how you live in your own house.