controversy

Santa Cruz tried out the surveillance company Flock Safety for a little over a year before deciding it was time to move on.

Cambridge, Mass., also had enough and tore up its contract in December. Now, some officials in San Diego have begun to have second thoughts of their own.

In recent months, dozens of cities have cut ties with Flock — the nation’s largest provider of automated digital license plate readers — over fears that data the company captures is helping power President Trump’s mass deportation campaign.

The same can’t be said in one particularly surprising place: Los Angeles. Here, Flock still has an eager customer base of local elected officials, police officers, homeowners associations and businesses.

Unlike some of its competitors, the Atlanta-based company has not only marketed its plate readers to law enforcement as a vital crime-fighting tool, but aggressively pitched its product to private citizens, experts say.

“They are tremendous investigative tools,” said LAPD spokesman Capt. Michael Bland.

But for critics, there’s an obvious downside: the potential tracking of law-abiding citizens without a warrant on a scale once thought unimaginable.

“These can be really powerful tools to find someone, and identity them. But when you don’t have a suspect, everyone can be a suspect,” said Hannah Bloch-Wehba, a professor of law at Texas A&M University.

A Flock spokesperson did not respond to multiple requests for comment for this story.

Typically mounted on street poles or atop police cars, plate readers continuously monitor passing vehicles, recording their location at a specific date and time. But Flock’s AI-powered cameras go even further by also documenting other identifying vehicle details, such as make, model and color, as well as any distinctive markings like scratches or dents on a bumper.

From there, police can easily search for the location of specific vehicles in the company’s vast national database, allowing them not only to potentially retrace the whereabouts of someone suspected of a crime, but also receive predictions about future movements.

In a presentation to the Picfair Village Neighborhood Assn., Flock boasted that its plate readers had helped solve “10% of reported crime in the U.S.” In L.A., the company said, its technology had been deployed to nab porch pirates and car thieves, not to mention played a role in solving a “high-profile crime involving stolen weapons from a politician’s home.”

The problem, at least in the minds of a growing number of privacy and immigration advocates, is that the readers capture a vast amount of information not related to any specific criminal investigation. The ability of federal authorities to access Los Angeles Police Department surveillance data directly from companies like Flock or from regional intelligence hubs called fusion centers undermines the city’s promise as a haven for immigrants, critics say.

“License plate readers play a critical role in providing directions and a road map to ICE for going out to kidnap people,” said Hamid Khan, an organizer with the activist group Stop LAPD Spying Coalition, which last spring wrote a letter to the Police Commission urging it to rewrite the LAPD’s policies to ensure information on law-abiding drivers isn’t shared with federal authorities.

The commission, the LAPD’s civilian oversight panel, ordered a study on the department’s license plate reader system that is expected to be completed this summer.

LAPD officials say records collected by the plate readers are accessible only to five smaller police agencies with which the department has data-sharing agreements. Furthermore, they say the use of the readers, like with other police technology, is restricted by state laws that limit information sharing with federal agencies like Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

Plate-reading technology has been around for decades. But as the Trump administration’s deportation crackdown has ramped up, residents, privacy advocates and officials in some cities across the country have mounted campaigns urging their local governments to stop using the technology.

Much of the backlash has been aimed specifically at Flock — a heavyweight in the surveillance market that contracts with a reported 5,000 U.S. policing agencies. The company’s data-sharing with federal authorities and cybersecurity lapses have been documented by 404 Media and other outlets.

After previously denying it had federal contracts, Flock Chief Executive Garrett Langley admitted in interviews in recent months that the company has worked with U.S. Customs and Border Protection and Homeland Security Investigations. The company has since said that it has severed ties with both agencies, and responded to other concerns by giving communities more power to decide whom to grant access to state or nationwide lookup networks.

In Bloch-Wehba’s view, Flock’s meteoric rise is a triumph of marketing over results.

“There’s very little evidence on the actual impact of these technologies on violent crime rates at all,” said Bloch-Wehba, who noted an explosion of surveillance technology in 2020 to monitor protesters or enforce rules implemented to curb the spread of COVID-19 during the pandemic.

In the L.A. area, Flock has gone head to head with competitor Vigilant Solutions, which has for years supplied the majority of the LAPD’s plate readers. But today, cops tout Flock cameras at community meetings and some City Council members have paid to bring them to their districts.

Flock has also sought to flex its political might. City records show the company has stepped up its lobbying efforts at City Hall in recent years — hiring Ballard Partners, a powerful Florida-based firm whose employees now include former City Councilmember Joe Buscaino.

Many Flock plate readers, though, have been purchased by community groups. In most cases, residents band together to raise money to buy the devices, which they then either grant access to or donate to the LAPD via the Police Foundation, the department’s nonprofit charity. By donating the equipment, neighborhood groups may get to control what type of technology is installed and by whom.

“My real preference would be a fully staffed LAPD, and then we don’t have any cameras,” said Jim Fitzgerald, who lives in Venice and serves on its neighborhood council.

Roy Nwaisser, who chairs the Encino Neighborhood Council’s public safety committee, said that Flock often played up the shortage of police officers during its presentations to residents in his neighborhood.

“I personally have concerns with how Flock conducts their businesses, but they are the biggest player and if LAPD is working with them, they just have to make sure that there are those safeguards,” he said. “I don’t know that automated license plate readers are all that effective when owned by neighbors living on the street who decided to get together.”

Police executives have defended the practice, saying license plate data has helped solve untold numbers of crimes, from run-of-the-mill porch theft to high-profile cases like the 2024 attempted assassination of then-presidential candidate Donald Trump at a Florida golf course. The technology also came into play during an investigation into the fatal drive-by shooting of a 17-year-old boy at a North Hills intersection last month. According to a search warrant affidavit, detectives tracked a suspect vehicle to a home in Sun Valley after it was captured by several scanners near where the shooting occurred.

Because so many plate scanners are in private hands, it’s difficult to say how many of the devices are in operation citywide.

The L.A. Bureau of Street Lighting, which is responsible for installing the devices on city-owned property, said it has mounted 324 over five years — though that tally doesn’t include mobile plate readers.

Bland said the LAPD has 1,500 police vehicles equipped with the scanners. Police also have access to an additional 280 plate readers in fixed locations throughout the city, which are owned privately or by the department, he said. He estimated that about 120 of those readers belong to Flock.

The cameras are also integrated with the department’s new drones, which are being paid for by a $1.2-million donation from the Police Foundation.

The devices are also used for many other purposes outside of regular law enforcement. Big box retailers like Home Depot and Lowe’s have installed Flock cameras across hundreds of parking lots. Many border crossings have them. In East L.A., they are used as an emissions-reduction tool by tracking semi-trailers. USC uses them to enforce parking violations, and the L.A. Department of Transportation has deployed such cameras to nab motorists who park in bus lanes.

Since the beginning of 2025, a small-but-growing number of states and cities have enacted laws aimed at curbing the use of surveillance technology such as license plate readers.

Under California law, police agencies are required to adopt detailed usage and privacy policies governing license plate data, restrict access to authorized purposes, and regularly audit searches to prevent misuse. Gov. Gavin Newsom previously vetoed a bill that would have restricted use of such data, saying the regulations would impede criminal investigations, but the bill has been reintroduced this year.

Nearly 50 cities nationwide have opted to deactivate their scanners or cancel contracts with Flock, mostly in recent months, according to the website DeFlock.me, which has set out to map locations of the company’s cameras. Responding to public pressure, some places like Santa Cruz canceled their contracts after realizing that they had been sharing their data more broadly than they had known, including with federal authorities.

Other Flock customers, like Oakland, have dug in and decided to keep their cameras at the urging of local homeowners association representatives and small business owners — but over the objections of the city’s own Privacy Advisory Commission.

Among the places that have started to reconsider their relationship with Flock is San Diego. In December, city leaders split on the issue, but ultimately voted to keep using Flock’s scanners after a contentious public hearing meeting in which they heard from hundreds of residents opposed to the surveillance technology.

Councilmember Sean Elo-Rivera said he voted against working with Flock based on what he saw as the company’s poor track record of “data retention” and “consumer protections.” Although the city has operated Flock plate readers and cameras for years, the stakes are far higher now, he said.

“We have a presidential regime that is not only flouting the law, but takes pride in ignoring due process, in violating rights of people they deem unworthy of the rights and protections,” said Elo-Rivera, who represents an ethnically diverse district in San Diego’s Mid-City area. “They have a by-any-means-necessary approach when it comes to immigration enforcement. And now they have a tool that makes it very easy for them to track people down.”

Times staff writer David Zahniser contributed to this report.

EL TORO — In an extraordinary step, Brig. Gen. Wayne T. Adams has permanently banished from local Marine bases the man he fired as his chief of staff, refusing him access to the officers’ club, the golf course and other facilities usually open to retired personnel.

Col. Joseph E. Underwood, 51, was fired from his post earlier this year and later retired amid allegations that included using base planes for golfing jaunts. Adams decided last week that, because of the charges, the colonel could no longer use the air bases at El Toro or Tustin, his spokesman, Maj. Jim V. McClain, said Monday.

“He’s debarred from this base–period,” McClain said. “He is not allowed to come aboard this base,” except for medical care and commissary visits with his wife, who is ailing, he added.

“The commanding general made the determination that, by the nature of the offenses, Col. Underwood’s presence on the El Toro and Tustin bases was prejudicial to the good order and discipline and proper functioning of these two bases,” McClain said of Adams’ decision.

Adams himself is under investigation by the Marine Corps inspector general’s office for his own use of military planes during trips to Florida, Big Bear and elsewhere.

McClain would not elaborate on what caused Underwood’s banishment. Underwood, however, said he believes that it came as a result of statements he made in an article two weeks ago in The Times Orange County Edition in his first interview since his disciplining.

“It’s so petty. Why don’t they just let it go away?” Underwood complained. “They’ve already killed Col. Sabow–what do they want from me?”

Col. James E. Sabow was the assistant chief of staff at El Toro who killed himself in January, after being suspended also in connection with allegations of misuse of base planes. Underwood and Sabow’s family have charged that what they characterize as the military’s mishandling of the investigation drove Sabow to suicide.

Military officials have vigorously disputed that assertion. McClain on Monday would not discuss Underwood’s claims that he was being “harassed” in the same way that Underwood said Sabow was or that his debarment was spurred by his comments in the Times article.

Underwood, known as “the mayor” of the El Toro base during a sometimes stormy four-year stint as chief of staff, asserted in the article that he had not done anything wrong in his use of base C-12 Beechcraft planes and that Adams had reneged on promises to end the matter quietly.

Underwood also asserted that Adams himself had once ordered a plane to pick him up from a family emergency, even after Underwood had specifically told him that doing so was against regulations.

The Marine Corps is now investigating whether Adams improperly mixed personal and business trips in that case and at least four other flights he took around the country.

In the newest step of that investigation, Adams is to meet in Washington today with the Marines’ inspector general, Maj. Gen. Hollis Davison, officials said.

In his position as commander of the Marines’ western air bases, Adams maintains authority over who can and cannot use government facilities. It was with this authority that he barred Underwood, a move that officials said probably cannot be appealed through the military.

McClain said 175 people–both military and civilian–have been barred from western air bases in the last five years. He did not have a breakdown of these people by rank, but Underwood and three other military officials, in Washington and on the West Coast, said debarments of officers–much less of a colonel–are extremely rare.

“It’s an extraordinary measure for someone of his rank and time of service to be debarred from a base–it’s just not done,” said one high-ranking officer close to the case.

Underwood, a veteran of three decades’ service, said that during his time at El Toro, there were debarments “many times for criminals–drug dealers, thieves, wife beaters, attempted rapists. . . . But how many colonels have ever been barred from a base? The answer I’m sure is zero. . . .”

While Underwood was visiting the East Coast last week, the El Toro command went so far as to boot the tires on his two cars on the base to ensure that he would see the base provost marshal and pick up the letter informing him of his debarment. The letter activates the order.

Since his firing earlier this year, Underwood had been staying in base officers’ quarters for about $5 a day, and he had planned to return there when he gets back to El Toro in mid-May. As a result of his banishment, he will have to find other temporary housing until he joins his wife in a few months to begin a vacation.

He also will not be able to attend official base functions or use facilities such as the officers’ club, the golf course and other recreational sites open to retired officers. He can only use the commissary when accompanied by his wife, McClain said.

One source close to the case said that Underwood’s debarment came in part because of prodding from the Marine Commandant’s office in Washington.

The banishment had been discussed in February at the time Underwood pleaded guilty to charges against him and agreed to pay fines and restitution before his retirement. The ban was not carried out at that time. But later, people from Washington “had seen him on the golf course at El Toro” and it angered them, the source said.