This isn’t a storyline. There are no lights. No pyro. No ring music to signal the entrance. Just a guy in a black ballcap creeping through someone’s yard like a shadow that got tired of waiting.
His name is Shawn Chan, and according to federal documents unsealed June 27, he made a pilgrimage from Canada to Florida not for Disney, not for Daytona, but for Liv Morgan—WWE star, social media sweetheart, and unfortunately, the latest target of obsessive delusion.
Chan’s trip started on May 26, tucked into an Air Canada flight bound for Orlando. To customs agents, he claimed he’d be staying at the WWE Performance Center, a state-of-the-art facility that builds future champions. What it doesn’t have—according to the government affidavit—is “hotel rooms, dorm rooms, or other lodging.” In other words: there’s nowhere to stay there unless you’re welcome. And he wasn’t.
But the man didn’t come to train. He came to stalk.
Four days later, Chan drove west out of Orlando, two hours into the flat, sun-scorched sprawl of central Florida, landing—allegedly—at the home of Liv Morgan, just before dusk on May 31. Surveillance cameras recorded it all: the slow, casual approach across her yard. Not the driveway—never the driveway. He circled the house twice, like a buzzard looking for a weakness in the bones.
Then the front porch. Then the doormat. Then his hands—searching for a key, testing the lock, leaning against the door like he expected it to give up and let him in. He touched the handle like it owed him something.
It didn’t open.
So he found something that did.
The affidavit says Chan reached for an air rifle, left leaning on the wall outside. A Sig Sauer MCX .177. Fires metal pellets at 600 feet per second—fast enough to shatter a window, dent a skull, or put fear into anyone who’s ever read a headline like this before.
He sat with it. Waited with it. For over two hours. Not pacing. Just waiting. Like a lost dog with a gun.
When Morgan didn’t come home—and thank whatever gods still walk Florida that she didn’t—Chan left a note. Among other things, it mentioned being wronged by “members of an online gaming community” and insisted he came to “pay just a friendly visit.” Nothing more.
Friendly visit, huh?
You don’t fly 1,300 miles with a backpack and a pellet gun to say hello. You don’t skirt the driveway and start swiping your hand across the locking mechanism for a chat. You don’t sit on someone’s porch for two hours unless you’re waiting for them like they owe you something. And that’s the dangerous part. Somewhere, in the darkest corners of parasocial madness, Chan thought she did.
This is the third time someone has showed up at Morgan’s house uninvited. Third. She’s not just a performer anymore—she’s become a magnet for the kind of attention that doesn’t scream. It whispers. It waits. It plans.
Chan was identified through surveillance footage and picked up by the FBI on June 3 after WWE security tipped off law enforcement. His arraignment is scheduled for July 18, 2025, in Orlando federal court. He’s facing a charge of interstate domestic violence—a federal rap with real weight. If convicted, he could face up to five years in prison.
That’s five years to think about the line he crossed. Five years to stare at a wall and maybe figure out that fame is not friendship, and watching someone wrestle on your screen does not give you rights to their porch, their time, or their peace.
Liv Morgan’s not alone in this nightmare. Sonya Deville lived it too—her stalker broke into her house with zip ties and a knife. Roxanne Perez is dealing with her own lunatic mailman in 2025. These women train to take bumps and fly off ladders—not to peek through blinds at 5 p.m. to make sure no one’s waiting with a twisted smile and a loaded fantasy.
Wrestling has always danced with the strange. The theatrics. The obsession. The blurred line between the ring and real life. But there’s nothing theatrical about a stranger reaching under your doormat, hoping for a way in.
It’s not just unsettling.
It’s dangerous.
And this time, thank God, the door stayed locked.
