How a Coalition of New York Activists Revealed Police-Department Secrets

Groups in the Bay Area that have successfully sought to have police disciplined for misconduct and won new police-accountability policies have turned their form of organized monitoring into a training platform for protesters nationwide. Responding to widespread Black Lives Matter protests, groups like Berkeley Copwatch and Wecopwatch use online education to teach hundreds of activists nationwide how to use videotape archives to systematically document abuses, and how to perform the work of legal observers at protests. Those activities are meant to act as deterrents to abuse.

Five years after the FBI started tracking how often police use force, the majority of police departments still fail to comply and the FBI refuses to release publicly what information it has collected. The policy was enacted in response to the realization that no one had definitive data on how often the police kill people, use teargas, or other incidents of force. What little data exists showed racial disparities in whom police use force against. But compliance was made voluntary and the FBI made public release of the data contingent on 80% of police departments complying, a goal it's nowhere near.

Once viewed as one of the nation's most brutal and corrupt police departments, New Orleans Police Department has earned steadily improving public support with a host of reforms. One reform that it took voluntarily, and in contrast with common practice in Louisiana, is to quickly release body-camera videos of police shootings and other uses of force. Though its effect is hard to untangle from other initiatives, video releases have become routine. In one case, a video prompted an official apology after proving rubber bullets were used against protesters. This helped lead to new restrictions on crowd control.

Civilian oversight panels serving as watchdogs and disciplinary enforcers for police departments have a generally poor record of effectiveness, thanks to multiple structural flaws. But examples of successful oversight are multiplying, and thanks to protests of police violence many more cities are working to establish bodies with real power to investigate wrongdoing in specific cases and effect change throughout an agency. One city getting high marks for its program is Denver, where the Office of Independent Monitor succeeded in pressing for new use-of-force rules, which cut incidents by 21% in a year.

In what started as a series of posts on Twitter and evolved into a public database published by an investigative media outlet, Mediapart, a lone reporter documented police violence against France's Yellow Vest protesters in an act of accountability that had been neglected by other journalists and the government. David Dufresne's “Allô Place Beauvau” (a "hello" to France's interior ministry) documented 800 cases of police violence or misbehavior. Many of the cases came to Dufresne as tips from the public, which he then verified. His work was cited by French and international authorities.

A series of killings by the police sparked a community-led movement urging greater accountability and better training. The campaign bore fruit when the Chico mayor formed a committee to examine use of force policies. While police-reform advocates got appointed to the committee, the panel was dominated by the police and their political allies. Use of force policies never got examined. The city, in fact, ended up giving the police more resources and power. One policing critic concludes from this episode that professionalizing the police without scrutinizing their mission is bound to fail.

After the South Carolina legislature in 2005 began requiring police to enforce a seat-belt law with traffic stops, it imposed on all police departments a duty to track and report traffic-stop data on drivers' race. The law was meant as a way to prevent biased policing, through public disclosure of disparities. But only about one-third of the state's law enforcement agencies have consistently complied with the law, and some never have. Some blame ignorance of how the system should work. But another explanation is the state has done little or nothing to enforce the law.

Mothers of young Latino men killed by sheriff’s deputies in East Los Angeles have struggled to pry information from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, but along the way they have formed a network of support groups helping fellow survivors cope with their grief and trauma. The loosely organized groups, populated mainly by women who hardly consider themselves activists, respond to the scenes of police shootings and engage with the mothers of victims in the weeks and months afterward. They have formed a sort of accountability watchdog brigade for a department that resists oversight.

When a new California law unlocked the disciplinary records on misconduct from 700 police agencies statewide, competing news organizations formed the California Reporting Project to accomplish as a team what would have been daunting, if not impossible, for each news organization individually: compile a database of all the records as they are released. Just months into the project, the resulting news stories informed the public of officers who escaped serious consequences for misconduct, and whose careers benefited from keeping the public unaware.

More than 30 California news organizations collaborated to gain access to, and publish news stories about, previously secret police disciplinary cases. Filing more than 1,100 records requests with more than 600 law enforcement agencies, members of the California Reporting Project leveraged each others' resources rather than competing to tackle the massive reporting project made possible by a new state transparency law. The collaboration is an example of local and regional partnerships that have helped a struggling news industry still cover local and state government news.