You run to the police, but receive little sympathy because most of them are personal friends of the invaders. You try to enforce your rights in court, but the case is quicky and inexplicably dismissed. You've owned the house for a generation now, and your parents before you - all legal with a recorded deed and everything, but no one will support your right to peacefully enjoy your property. You've lived here all your life, first you and then your kids were brought up here. It's a personal thing, with lots of memories and emotional attachment; it's not just another place to live, it's your HOME.
Everywhere you go the answer is the same. Attorneys you consult tell you possession is nine tenths of the law and since the first case you brought was dismissed there's little chance further legal action would be successful. People, some of them your friends, tell you to stop whining and just get over it.
Having exhausted all legal remedies, and after much soul-searching and agonizing you determine to do SOMETHING. You return to your home late one night and after quietly dousing the place from top to bottom with gasoline you burn it to the ground with the invaders inside.
You stand with tears running down your face at the senseless loss of your beloved home, but at least the land is still yours. You can rebuild.