SC law enforcement agencies are supposed to report info on traffic stops, but most are not

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.

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.

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.

New Jersey’s responses to police misconduct offer stark lessons in how certain failures can allow troubled officers to hop from job to job undetected. The state lacks a central database of police misconduct and remains one of only five states that cannot revoke an officer’s credentials because of performance. In one case, an officer with serial failures at nine departments, involving 16 incidents in which people he arrested got injured, the red flags that should have been raised never were, allowing him to mistreat residents of majority-Black neighborhoods despite a record indicating racism and brutality.

The groundswell for greater accountability in police shootings has barely caused a ripple in Hawaii, where the state’s Law Enforcement Officer Independent Review board has finished only one case in its first three years of existence and has suspended meetings during the pandemic. With one of its two citizen member slots vacant on an otherwise law-enforcement-heavy board, the panel fails a basic tenet of accountability by severely limiting public access to the cases it’s considering and its deliberations, says one critic.

After San Francisco voters approved the creation of a new Department of Police Accountability to investigate allegations of police misconduct, the body recommended discipline for officers at a higher rate than the state average in 2021. But the majority of cases are still settled in favor of officers and 66 percent of civilian complainants reported being dissatisfied with the outcome of their case, an outcome experts and former employees of the DPA attribute to a lack of independent authority and leadership to wield the agency's powers.

Since 2016, complaints filed against Oakland police officers have triggered parallel investigations by both the department's internal affairs unit and the city's Civilian Police Review Agency. When an outcome is disputed, the final decision is made by the Civilian Police Commission, a system that has resulted in the city sustaining complaints against officers at a rate more than double the state average between 2018 and 2020.

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.