New Orleans actively releases videos of police shootings. Is it paying off with trust?

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.

When New York legislators abolished a state law that had long shielded police officers’ disciplinary records from public scrutiny, they were not just responding to recent protests but also to activism over many years by reform advocates and families of victims of police violence. Long-running legal challenges had failed to pry the records loose. But activists – opposed by police unions and their allies – had used public testimony, publicity, and their families’ stories to lay the groundwork for changes that then came quickly after George Floyd’s death sparked nationwide protests of police brutality.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A Florida constitutional amendment enacted in 2018 called Marsy's Law protects crime victims' rights, including the right to privacy when public-records laws would otherwise reveal victims' identity. But the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office has interpreted a court decision to justify erasing from public records the names of police officers who shot or killed people, on the grounds that the police should legally be considered crime victims. Marsy's Law has been enacted in 14 states. Critics say it was not meant to undermine police accountability, but they have been unable to enact corrective legislation.

When Ann Arbor created a citizen panel overseeing its police department, it chose the approach that research shows is the one best suited to having real authority, and thus the most likely to reduce racial disparities in arrests and police shootings. It's too soon to know if the agency's investigations of complaints against police and review of police budgets and policies will achieve the ultimate goal of improving community trust in the police. But its chair says it is in a position to press for more accountability and transparency. East Lansing has just adopted the same model.

In the more than five years since New York's governor ordered the attorney general to take charge of investigations and prosecutions when police kill unarmed people, only three police officers have been charged with crimes and none has been convicted. By taking control of such cases away from local prosecutors, officials hoped to instill greater trust in outcomes, because of the close ties local prosecutors have with local police. But the narrow scope of the rule establishing the special prosecutions unit, plus a host of other systemic and legal barriers, have meant that the outcomes have not changed.

New York City established its Civilian Complaint Review board in 1993 to strengthen its police-discipline system, a response to complaints that police officers rarely were punished for harassment and brutality, especially in Black and brown neighborhoods. In 6,900 cases in which the board recommended the toughest punishment, however, police officials overruled it more than 70% of the time over the past two decades. The result is a disciplinary mechanism designed to instill trust but that instead "has become all but toothless" because of how it is structured and how police leaders responded to oversight.