In all fairness, 1am is about the only time I would expect someone to accidently enter the wrong house (presumably because they are drunk and confused).
My ex-wife’s bestie has done that more than once when trying get to our house after the bar. She totally home invaded the same poor people at like 2am a few times thinking it was our house. They called the police each time, and as much as I hate Burbank police for being pricks, they actually just shuttled her to our house a few blocks away instead of arresting her.
Legally speaking, I can’t confirm or deny that I have a phone app that locks all the doors from the outside sealing everyone in while activating a series of traps, pyrotechnics, lights and stagecraft that I can only describe as a more deadly cross between Kevin McCallister’s Home Alone house and Scaramanga’s island where he hunted Bond with his Golden Gun.