It is every homeowner’s nightmare: Leave your property unattended and come back to a squatter infestation. It’s even impacted celebrity chef Gordon Ramsey, who recently saw his London restaurant overrun by intruders.

These real-estate pros fought back and won — here’s how they got rid of squatters:

Watch for dumb mistakes

Mohammed Choudhary, a 61-year-old Pakistani immigrant who works in construction, and his business partner Boysin Lorick, 76, originally from Trinidad, were chasing the American dream.

In 2020, the men used large portions of their life savings to purchase a trio of one- and two-family houses on Mermaid Avenue in Coney Island for $1.3 million. The plan was to renovate the properties to rent to other up-and-comers.

But when the pandemic hit, Choudhary got stuck in Pakistan due to travel bans, while Lorick stayed in Atlanta where he is based.

“I came back at the end of the year and there were squatters in all our houses,” Choudhary told The Post. “A man had taken them over. He lived in one, rented out the others and kept the money.

“We went to the police and they told us to go to [housing] court. But it was completely backed up. The court did nothing for us.”

Still, the Department of Buildings piled on summonses, totaling more than $370,000, related to rough conditions in the houses. Never mind that the squatters prevented the owners from making fixes.

However, there was an odd silver lining: “Squatters put in rooms that should not have been built,” Choudhary said, noting that intruders had erected temporary walls to create more bedrooms.

Once he notified the DOB about the illegal construction, that was a way to legally evict the squatters. In December 2022, the NYPD and a fire marshal, operating under a DOB vacate order, ousted the ringleader and nine illegal occupants.

Still, Choudhary was taking no chances on them coming back.

“I paid some of them $500 to $1,000 to leave quietly and permanently. The police said I did not have to do it. But I didn’t care,” he said. “They finally left and we got our houses back.”

Act fast before ‘squatter’s rights’ kick in

Last October, Leka Devatha, who owns a four-story building in Seattle and describes herself as “a small business owner,” was shocked to discover that a group had taken over her recently vacated apartment, which she had planned to list for $4,000.

“They broke the lock, entered the unit and claimed to have a lease with someone on CraigsList,” Devatha, 42, told The Post.

Did they? “Hell no. And they told me they were not leaving. My lawyer said it would take a year to get them out.”

Devatha feared she would lose her building if she couldn’t collect rent for a year. So she devised a plan, knowing she had to act fast before Washington state’s “squatter’s rights” kicked in at the 30-day mark. 

“I looked at the mail coming in,” Devatha said. “I found one name of the three or four people living there and provided it to the Seattle police.

“Using the name, they were able to see that [one of the squatters] had a criminal charge: walking topless in downtown Seattle.”

Minor as the charge might seem, Devatha said, “it motivated the police to help me get them out.”

Two weeks after her place had been taken over, “I went with the police, and they started banging on the door. The squatters would not open up. They shouted that they would call 911. The police officer said, ‘We are 911!’” 

Officers broke down the door and a Seattle Police Department spokesperson told The Post that the intruders were arrested for trespassing. They were released later that day, brought back to obtain their possessions and warned not to return.

Among the items they retrieved: “One was a content provider for OnlyFans and she put a stripper pole in the living room,” Devatha said. “They took the pole.”

Move in a new tenant — fast

In October 2023, Christian Osgood bought a vacant motel in Moses Lake, Washington, with the idea of turning it into apartments.

“It’s 24 units for $1 million and I am turning it into affordable housing,” Osgood, 32, told The Post. “Some of it will be Section 8. It will be decked out, all new. One bedrooms will rent for $1,100.”

He’s not the only one who saw the potential of the place.

“Mid-renovation, squatters broke in through the space for air conditioners. They changed locks and moved their stuff in. They put furniture in four rooms,” he recalled. “They planned on staying”

Osgood watched and waited, noting how many people lived there. When they all headed out one day, he put in fresh locks of his own and dragged their belongings outside. The air-conditioner spaces were promptly boarded up.

Though Osgood acknowledged that lock-changing can be a “light gray area,” legally, he felt justified: “Since that building is listed as [being] under construction, it is reasonable to assume that we can continue work and change locks freely.”

And he felt confident about the squatters “not wanting to get involved with the police.

“I wish we didn’t have to play these games to protect the properties. But we play where our local government decides to set the goal posts.”

He also quickly enlisted friends to sign leases — no money exchanged — for the units, knowing they could be broken.

“That way if the squatters return or claim that they live there, we can show that someone has a legitimate claim,” Osgood said. “Tenant rights supersede squatter rights.”

Beware clues that look out of place

Luxury real-estate brokers Emily Randall-Smith and husband Tyler Smith were shocked when they checked on a $4 million Hollywood Hills home they had the listing for — and saw a makeshift mailbox set up.

“That mailbox didn’t match the aesthetic,” Emily, 30, told The Post. “I thought it was weird and I didn’t think the owners would put it there. That was the first thing to make us think something was up.

“I later learned that if squatters can get mail sent to the address, it gives them more rights.”

Beyond that, her front-door lockbox had been broken and the keys were missing. And then she saw an unknown man, “wearing a Rolex,” in the house.

Knowing nothing about squatters, the Smiths called the police, fearing a robbery in progress.

“Six or eight squad cars pulled up and police officers surrounded the house,” Emily recalled. “They knocked and the man would not answer.”

She acknowledged that she likely triggered a bigger police response — including a helicopter — by mistakenly reporting it was a break-in rather than a squatter.

“For sure it worked to my benefit … I am happy I made the mistake,” Emily said.

The homeowner, recognizing it was a squatter situation, asked police not to break down the pricey door.

When Emily returned to the house with the LAPD several hours later, they found a young woman said she had rented the place from the Rolex wearer — a growing scam in which would-be tenants unwittingly sign a lease with a squatter.

“She said she was paying rent to the guy,” said Emily. “She did not seem to know about squatter’s rights. She wanted to avoid trouble, called an Uber and left. Luckily, the man was gone and did not return.

“But I think he got what he was after. He rented a room to a girl for $2,000 per month. She thought she could pay that to live in a $4 million home, which doesn’t make sense,” Emily said. “If a rental deal seems too good to be true, it probably isn’t true.”