Back in 1983, the Supreme Court declared that "a person traveling in an automobile on public thoroughfares has no reasonable expectation of privacy in his movements from one place to another." That increasingly doubtful proposition underpins a nationwide network of more than 144,000 AI-assisted cameras that track the travels of innocent motorists across the country billions of times each week.

So far, state and federal courts have almost uniformly rejected constitutional challenges to automated license plate readers (ALPRs) installed by companies such as Flock Safety. But in a decision that could signal a shift in the legal treatment of Flock cameras, a federal judge in Oklahoma recently recognized that they enable "a type of indiscriminate mass surveillance."

ALPRs are much more sophisticated than the technology that the Supreme Court considered in 1983, when it approved the warrantless use of a radio transmitter that helped police tail a suspected methamphetamine manufacturer's car. Three decades later, by contrast, the Court said police should have obtained a search warrant before attaching a GPS tracker to another drug suspect's car.

The majority opinion in the latter case emphasized the physical intrusion necessary to install the tracker. But five justices embraced an alternative rationale, saying GPS tracking impinges on reasonable expectations of privacy by revealing potentially sensitive information about the target's historical whereabouts.

That theory came to the fore in a 2018 case involving mobile-phone location data collected by cell sites, which the majority said implicated the Fourth Amendment because "individuals have a reasonable expectation of privacy in the whole of their physical movements." The Supreme Court reiterated that principle this year, extending it to data collected by Google's Location History feature.

"An individual has a reasonable expectation of privacy in records about his cell phone's location," Justice Elena Kagan said in the majority opinion, "and police intrude on that constitutionally protected interest when they demand the information." By similar logic, U.S. District Judge Sara E. Hill concluded this month in the Oklahoma case, people have a reasonable expectation of privacy in ALPR records, and police therefore generally need a warrant to search them.

Those databases include "information about all vehicles that pass by any network-connected camera at all times," which police can peruse "on demand," Hill noted. "Freedom from persistent, dragnet-style surveillance while in public is not a foreign concept in our society, and it is a reasonable expectation that society already accepts," as reflected in the Supreme Court's cellphone decisions.

Like cars, cellphones "move in public places where people can see you in plain view," Hill wrote. "But it becomes constitutionally problematic when law enforcement can indiscriminately and passively catalog your whereabouts over an extended period of time and then use that information for any purpose whenever convenient."

At this point, Hill's decision is an outlier. "It appears that nearly every court examining the issue to date has determined that ALPR technology use is not a search under the Fourth Amendment because people have no reasonable expectation of privacy in their movements on public streets," she noted.

Last month, for instance, a federal judge in California held that ALPR database searches are "clearly distinguishable from and less extensive than the 'near perfect surveillance' achievable" with cell-site or Location History data. And the day after Hill's ruling, a state judge in California rejected a challenge to San Jose's Flock camera network, saying "there is no reasonable expectation of privacy in license plate data collected from cameras directed solely at public streets."

A federal lawsuit involving the same city's ALPR system, which the Institute for Justice filed last April, is still pending. So are challenges to Flock cameras in cities such as Wichita, Kansas, and Norfolk, Virginia.

Even when they reject such lawsuits, courts commonly acknowledge that the legal picture could change as the number and capabilities of ALPRs multiply. If so, it seems likely that Hill will eventually be joined by other judges who recognize the perils of "indiscriminate mass surveillance."

© Copyright 2026 by Creators Syndicate Inc.

The post Other Courts Should Heed a Federal Judge's Warning About Flock-Enabled Mass Surveillance appeared first on Reason Magazine.

From Rockett v. Eighmy, decided today by Eighth Circuit Judge David Stras, joined by Judges Bobby Shepherd and Jane Kelly:

When Judge Eric Eighmy had courthouse officers lock two children in holding cells because they refused to leave with their mother following a custody hearing, he violated their clearly established Fourth Amendment rights….

Bart Rockett and Kami Ballard divorced in Missouri, but initially stayed together to give their two kids, who were "aspiring stars," a chance to "make it big" in Los Angeles.  The children found some success in the entertainment industry, including appearing on America's Got Talent, but their parents eventually split up.

Ballard filed a petition for sole custody that landed on Judge Eighmy's desk. During a hearing several months later, the children waited outside the courtroom while their parents tried to work it out. They agreed on primary custody for Ballard, with Rockett responsible for them at the beginning of each month and "during TV pilot season."

Once the hearing was over, however, neither child was willing to leave with her. With an argument unfolding in the lobby of the courthouse, Judge Eighmy walked over, introduced himself to the children, and told them to follow him to a conference room. Once there, he informed them that they had no choice but to leave with her. A youth counselor then reinforced the point by telling them that they "ha[d] to listen to the judge." The children would not budge, even after the judge mentioned that the other option was foster care.

Frustrated, Judge Eighmy had the children follow him again, this time to a waiting area in the courthouse's juvenile division. Once there, he told someone to "[k]eep an eye on" them to "make sure they [did not] go anywhere." After disappearing for a few minutes, he led them down a hallway to two holding cells. A second threat to place them in foster care made no difference, so he had a juvenile officer "lock them up." Before they entered the cells, the officer patted them down and ordered them to remove their socks and shoes. Judge Eighmy stood by as the officer locked the doors behind them.

With the children in their separate holding cells, Judge Eighmy took a seat in a nearby office. After what "felt like forever," the officer opened the cell doors for Judge Eighmy, who asked them one more time whether they would leave with their mother. This time, they both nodded yes, so he let them go. From start to finish, the time spent in the holding-cell area was between twenty and forty minutes.

Following these events, Rockett sued in federal district court for, among other things, a violation of the children's Fourth Amendment rights…. [T]he jury awarded the children $5,000 each on their Fourth Amendment claims. From there, the district court declined to reduce the verdict and added $326,637.22 in attorney fees….

The procedural posture is a bit complicated, but the court denied both judicial immunity (based on an earlier panel decision on the issue) and qualified immunity:

Judge Eighmy violated the Fourth Amendment only if he seized the children and did so unreasonably. Locking the children up after the custody hearing was both….

Not every seizure … violates the Fourth Amendment. To the contrary, "[ ]reasonable" ones, like lawful arrests supported by probable cause, do not. But here, Judge Eighmy did not have "probable cause to believe that [the children had] committed" an offense, much less one that justified placing them in a holding cell. Rather, their only misdeed was one every parent knows well: resisting authority. Even in the context of legal-custody proceedings, refusing to leave with a parent is not a jailable offense. Nor were there "exigent circumstances" arising out of danger to themselves or others.

We have no doubt that Judge Eighmy believed he was acting in "good faith," and possibly even in the children's best interests, by detaining them. But good faith in the Fourth Amendment context is about reasonable reliance, either on binding appellate precedent or a warrant issued by a "neutral magistrate." Neither was present here. No case allows a judge to detain children in a holding cell when they refuse to leave with a parent. And a custody plan is no substitute for a warrant. In short, rough justice does not trump the Constitution….

The law in this area was also "clearly established." "[I]t would have been sufficiently clear [to] every reasonable official," Judge Eighmy included, that locking up two children for refusing to follow directions violated the Fourth Amendment. As we put it over a decade and a half ago, long before the events in this case, "[i]t is clearly established that a warrantless arrest, unsupported by probable cause, violates the Fourth Amendment." …

A reasonable judge should have known better. As we said the first time around [i.e., the first time the case went up on appeal], criminal contempt was off the table because the children were neither parties to the custody case nor present inside the courtroom. Nor could the power to punish a party for violating an injunction have provided the justification, given that Judge Eighmy never issued one….

And here's an excerpt from the 2023 decision denying judicial immunity (a separate question from qualified immunity):

Judicial immunity has been around a long time. See Yates v. Lansing (N.Y. Sup. Ct. 1810) ("The doctrine which holds a judge exempt from a civil suit or indictment, for any act done, or omitted to be done by him, sitting as judge, has a deep root in the common law."), aff'd (N.Y. 1811). In England, it served to insulate common-law judges on the King's courts from their rivals on other courts.

One of the earliest known examples involved a judge who presided over a murder trial. After it ended, he was dragged into a rival court and charged with conspiracy for his role. The prosecution ended, however, when the court recognized that the judge was "immune from prosecution … for [his] judicial act[]." …

As broad as the rule seemed to be, two exceptions narrowed its scope. The first was that judges could still be prosecuted for out-of-court "conspirac[ies]." That is, like any other citizen, judges could be haled into court for any illegal acts they committed outside the courtroom. The second was that, when judges "exceeded their authority" by considering a matter "not within their jurisdiction," their actions were … "without jurisdiction." Acting without "power and authority" eliminated the shield of judicial immunity.

As judicial rivalries began to wane, including in the American colonies, the power-and-authority rationale for judicial immunity did too. The focus shifted to protecting judicial independence: allowing judges "to act upon [their] own convictions, without apprehension of personal consequences." See Pierson v. Ray (1967) (explaining that judges "should not have to fear that unsatisfied litigants may hound [them] with litigation charging malice or corruption").

Judicial immunity continues to apply today, not only in prosecutions …, but in civil-rights actions brought under 42 U.S.C. § 1983…. The exceptions remain largely the same too. Judicial immunity can be "overcome in only two sets of circumstances": (1) when a judge takes "nonjudicial actions"; and (2) when the action is judicial, but is done "in the complete absence of all jurisdiction." …

On one end of the spectrum [of judicial action to nonjudicial action], the classic example of a judicial act is "resolving disputes between parties who have invoked the jurisdiction of a court." Other related acts qualify too, like holding litigants "in contempt," and issuing "search warrant[s]."

But those acts also have their limits. There is no doubt, for example, that judges can "direct[] police officers to bring counsel in a pending case before the court," but they cannot order the officers to beat them with their nightsticks along the way. Nor can judges wake up one day and decide to spontaneously issue a search warrant against a nosy neighbor or a political rival.

Like these examples, Judge Eighmy's decision to personally escort the kids to jail took what would otherwise be a judicial act too far. Judges have the authority to order an officer or a bailiff to escort an unruly litigant to jail. They can also pull the parties into a conference room to discuss what just happened in court.

Judge Eighmy crossed the line, however, when he personally escorted the kids to jail, stood there while they removed their clothes and belongings, and personally came back an hour later to release them. For one thing, the children were not even present in the courtroom, so he could not hold them in contempt for "[d]isorderly, contemptuous or insolent behavior." For another, judges do not do double duty as jailers. So even assuming Judge Eighmy could have ordered someone else to take the kids to jail, he could not put them there himself.

It is no answer that Judge Eighmy believes he was exercising his contempt power. To be sure, absolute immunity is available for judges who hold a litigant in contempt even when they are "not in [their] … robes, … no[r] in the courtroom itself." But here, the children were never parties, they never stepped foot in the courtroom, and Judge Eighmy personally locked them up himself. We have been unable to find any case that extends judicial immunity so far.

Judge Eighmy fares no better with his other argument: that Missouri law allows judges to enforce child-welfare statutes informally. Without question, police officers can take children into custody if they are behaving in a way "injurious to [their] welfare or to the welfare of others." But not judges, who can only order others to "[t]ake charge of children before and after" a juvenile hearing. The point is that judicial immunity is unavailable because what Judge Eighmy did is not "a function normally performed by a judge." …

Thanks to James Creigh for the pointer.

The post No Immunity for Judge Who Locked Children in Holding Cells in Custody Case appeared first on Reason Magazine.

by Matt Agorist, The Free Thought Project: (Reclaim The Net) The US government has told a federal appeals court that data collected by Flock Safety cameras is not protected by the Fourth Amendment, because being watched on the road is “a reality of modern life” – and therefore, nobody can expect privacy there. The argument was […]