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.

Flock Safety, an Atlanta-based company worth more than $8 billion, manufactures automated license plate readers (ALPRs), cameras that capture images of license plates and store them in a database that police can search.

Recently, the company has been under intense scrutiny over concerns about privacy and the cameras' capacity for misuse, leading some cities to cancel their Flock contracts. But it turns out that getting rid of Flock is easier said than done.

"When Elgin Community College hired Flock Safety to install six surveillance cameras in April 2025, President Peggy Heinrich thought they would 'enhance the safety and security of students,'" Lisa Kurian Philip reported last week at the Chicago Sun-Times.

The Chicago-area school signed up for a one-year contract with the company. It was not alone: Five of Illinois' 12 public universities, plus four of its community colleges,

But Heinrich began to have second thoughts as she learned more about how the cameras can be used—for example, Flock allowed U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to access over 80,000 of its cameras. In September 2025, ICE arrested a student near Elgin's campus.

More than half of Elgin's students are Latino, Heinrich told the Sun-Times, and enrollment began to suffer.

"In August of 2025, Flock publicly announced it would no longer conduct pilot projects with federal agencies," according to the company.

Still, Heinrich said, the school chose to end its contract with Flock "out of an abundance of caution for our students."

"Elgin Community College staff notified Flock in October 2025 that they wanted to cancel their contract and have the cameras taken down," Philip wrote. "Within a day, Heinrich said, Flock rejected the request and refused to uninstall the equipment on the basis that the company had not breached their agreement."

The school reached out again in December, offering to pay out the rest of the contract, but according to Heinrich, Flock did not respond.

Since the school no longer wanted the cameras to operate, and Flock refused to remove or disable them, officials zip tied garbage bags over the cameras on campus. But in a peculiar twist, "workers in an unmarked vehicle, which Heinrich assumed belonged to Flock, repeatedly removed the coverings."

This continued until the school's contract expired in April, when Flock finally removed the cameras.

Granted, the situation is somewhat complicated by the fact that while Elgin is a public institution, Flock is a private company.

"Per Flock contract conditions, the company retains ownership of the products it sells to cities," Caroline Haskins reports at Wired. "This means that when people damage or destroy cameras, cities are on the hook for the cost." Covering cameras with garbage bags will apparently work until Flock comes and cuts them down, but removing or disabling the cameras without the company's permission will incur fees to replace them, even if the city has already said it doesn't want them anymore.

But since the product that Flock sells is a searchable database of license plate images compiled from its interconnected nationwide system of cameras, the reality is more complicated than that.

Indeed, while Flock says repeatedly that customers own all data that their cameras capture, that's little comfort when the information is also available to any other customer with access to Flock's database.

Between June 2024 and May 2025, police in Illinois searched the Flock database over 4,000 times for immigration-related reasons, even though a state law prohibits ALPRs' use for that exact purpose. This implies the searches were done at ICE's request, meaning federal immigration authorities could access not just the license plate data in those Illinois communities, but also the thousands of communities nationwide that use Flock cameras.

It's also particularly troubling that Flock would make it so difficult for customers to end their contracts. In that, Elgin Community College is not alone: Plenty of jurisdictions have kept using Flock even after supposedly canceling the service, though it's usually the police who fight the cancellations.

In June 2025, the Austin, Texas, City Council declined to renew its Flock contract. Though the city police department supported the program, officials cited concerns about the cameras' capacity to target vulnerable communities.

But in February of this year, public radio station KUT reported that at least two neighboring towns were sharing access to the Flock database with Austin police.

In July 2025, the Board of Lucas County Commissioners in Toledo, Ohio, voted 2–1 to approve 27 Flock license plate cameras across the county, costing $250,000 over four years. But a week later, one commissioner changed his mind, citing fears of how the data would be used, and the board voted again to rescind the previous approval.

In a letter to the Lucas County prosecutor the following day, Sheriff Michael J. Navarre said the commissioners "have a legal obligation to honor this contract" and alleged that the decision to rescind it was borne out of personal animus toward him.

"I cannot sit idly by and allow them to make decisions out of spite that negatively impact the safety of my deputies and the community they protect," he wrote. To be clear, what apparently put everyone at risk was the decision not to move forward with a series of license plate cameras.

County prosecutor Julia R. Bates wrote back to the sheriff in September 2025, stating that since he had already signed the contract from the original resolution, the rescission was "void."

Elgin Community College's experience is not quite the same—in that case it wasn't the police department, but Flock itself, that refused to take down the cameras. But it's still indicative of the widening rift between those who worry about our growing surveillance state and those who apparently see it as worth the tradeoffs.

The post An Illinois College Tried To Cancel Its Flock Contract. Flock Refused. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Across the United States, dozens of law enforcement officers face accusations of misusing Flock, a surveillance network of 120,000 cameras that track license plates. Flock’s proponents claim that the technology does far more good than harm; one investor tells the Washington Post that abuse is “truly a nonissue.” But fear isn’t a statistic. Drew Harwell, Douglas MacMillan, and Aaron Schaffer structure their investigation of Flock’s misuse by law enforcement around the story of a woman in suburban Atlanta who had her whereabouts tracked hundreds of times by her ex, the local chief of police. Their report telescopes between the tradeoffs of a “transformational” technology and a few nightmarish cases of misuse.

Bakely said the cameras had left her feeling powerless to stop her ex-boyfriend from tracking her life. She didn’t feel safe asking the police agency he led, she said, and she couldn’t get access to records that would have shown the surveillance was happening in real time. After Steffman told her about his Flock searches, she filed for a restraining order, but a judge denied it on the basis that she couldn’t prove ongoing abuse, court records show.

He “watched every single move I made,” she said. But “who do you turn the chief of police in to?”