In Buffalo, New York, city officials say they will pause efforts to collect amusement license fees from local music venues. A law allowing the city to collect the fees has been on the books since 1927, but the city only began attempting to collect the money earlier this month. The fees are charged per event, based on the price of tickets. Some venue owners told local media the fees could cost them $10,000 to $25,000 a year, and larger venues said the fees could cost them as much as $100,000. Some city council members said they were caught off guard by the move to collect the fees and plan to address the issue when the council meets again in September.

The post Brickbat: We Are Not Amused appeared first on Reason.com.

A Michigan couple sued when their local township passed an ordinance to prevent them from opening a cemetery. This week, in a victory for property rights, a judge ruled in the couple's favor and threw out the ordinance entirely.

As Reason reported in January, Peter and Annica Quakenbush wanted to open a "green" cemetery, allowing people to bury their loved ones in a natural and environmentally friendly manner, free of chemicals like formaldehyde and coffins containing metal. They specifically intended to establish a conservation burial ground, in which decedents would be buried in biodegradable coverings like cotton shrouds or wooden caskets and the burial sites would be marked by natural landmarks like rocks or native trees. The site would otherwise remain an undisturbed forest.

The Quakenbushes bought a 20-acre plot near Brooks Township and started putting together the necessary paperwork. But local officials had other plans in mind, and in June 2023, the Brooks Township Board passed an ordinance prohibiting the establishment of all new cemeteries.

"In the past, cemeteries elsewhere have taken up large amounts of sometimes otherwise productive land," the ordinance declared. "Cemetery landscaping, grass cutting, monument repair and upkeep costs have increased dramatically over time. The problems associated with abandoned or 'orphan' cemeteries have increased throughout Michigan, and citizens look to the local municipal government…to take over abandoned or orphan cemeteries."

According to the Quakenbushes' lawsuit, after they first inquired about establishing their cemetery in February 2022, a zoning official emailed the township's legal counsel. "It is our general recommendation that new private cemeteries not be allowed within the Township except under certain very limited circumstances," the attorney replied. "Almost certainly, at some time in the future (whether in a few decades or the distance [sic] future), the family members of the deceased individuals will no longer own the parcel involved. What happens to the burials then? In all likelihood, it would devalue the  property and make it unmarketable or difficult to sell."

"My response to that is, what does it matter? It's not your property," Renée Flaherty, an attorney with the Institute for Justice who represented the Quakenbushes, told Reason in January.

Besides, there were numerous mechanisms in place to prevent that outcome: Establishing a conservation burial ground in accordance with the Green Burial Council's criteria, as is the Quakenbushes' intent, requires obtaining a conservation easement—preventing the land from being used for other purposes—and partnering with a land conservancy that can maintain the property in perpetuity.

Michigan state law also requires all private cemeteries to establish an "endowment and perpetual care trust fund," with $50,000 to start and monthly deposits of "not less than 15% of all proceeds received."

"Nearly 250 people had reserved a burial plot even while the ban was in place," a local FOX affiliate reported.

The Quakenbushes sued to overturn the ordinance as a violation of due process. The township filed a motion to dismiss the lawsuit. This week, after hearing oral arguments, Newaygo County Circuit Court Judge David Glancy not only dismissed the township's motion but found the ordinance unconstitutional.

A written order was not available at press time; a representative of the Newaygo County Circuit Court tells Reason that the court directed the plaintiffs' attorneys to prepare a ruling, which the judge will review in a later hearing.

"We're excited and feel vindicated by this ruling," the Quakenbushes said in a statement released by the Institute for Justice. "We are delighted that the judge understood that Brooks Township's ordinance violated our right to use our property and operate our cemetery."

"The Green Burial Council (GBC) is pleased to learn that Newaygo County, Michigan Circuit Judge David Glancy rejected Brooks Township's attempt to throw out a lawsuit against the 'cemetery ban' ordinance," the GBC said in a statement to Reason. "The Green Burial Council has stated before, that we believe Brooks Township's ordinance stood on a weak foundation of misinformation about green burial's negative impact on soil and water, and other similar fears. Though individuals may experience genuine trepidation about a naturally interred body's impact on their environment, local governments can easily find scientific evidence proving no such impact when burial practices are performed according to industry standards."*

UPDATE: This piece has been updated to include a statement from the Green Burial Council.

The post Michigan Officials Tried To Stop a 'Green' Cemetery. They Just Lost in Court. appeared first on Reason.com.

In recent years, Massachusetts, New York, California, and Washington, D.C., have all implemented bans on flavored tobacco products in an attempt to reduce smoking rates among younger populations. Despite these bans, flavored tobacco products are still easily accessible—and it's never been more apparent. 

Walk into the nearest convenience store and you'll likely find an assortment of flavored tobacco products to choose from—strawberry banana, blue raspberry, spearmint, black cherry. Whether or not your city or state bans these products, they'll likely be fully stocked and at your disposal.

In 2021, the D.C. Council banned the sale of flavored tobacco products within a quarter-mile of middle schools and high schools. New York City took things a step further by banning the sale of flavored tobacco products throughout its five boroughs.

Yet, citywide bans on the sale and purchase of flavored tobacco products have utterly failed. Two new studies conducted by the market researcher WSPM Group show just how many tobacco products are being consumed and disposed of in Washington, D.C., and New York City. Researchers went through the trash in the two cities and found that over 99 percent of the vapes collected from the urban trash cans were flavored tobacco products, despite consumers in those cities being barred from legally purchasing those products.

Something similar happened when Massachusetts banned menthol cigarettes in 2019. Proponents of the ban argued that it would lower smoking rates among black adults, the primary consumers of menthol tobacco products. In reality, the prevalence of smoking among black adults increased after the ban was implemented, as did the sale of menthol cigarettes in surrounding states. Bay Staters were driving out-of-state to purchase menthol cigarettes in higher quantities to stockpile for their own use or to sell on the newly created black market. Smokers were undeniably worse off after their state government took away their right to choose and forced them into a black market.

And who supplies vendors with these illicit flavored vapes filling the shelves of corner stores across the nation? China, of course—though most consumers likely aren't aware of that. Of the 2,000 e-vapor products collected from the trash in Washington, D.C., and the surrounding cities of Arlington, Alexandria, Bethesda, and Silver Spring, 99.5 percent of the packaging and products were exported from China. When the nearest 7-Eleven carries a variety of flavored vapes, few will consider where they came from or imagine that they are illegally imported items. Last year, the FDA sent out notices to 22 retailers warning them of coming fines if they did not stop selling unauthorized e-cigarettes, but those banned products can still be seen on store shelves and in smokers' hands throughout the country.

Adults should be able to purchase whatever tobacco products they please—and the trash tells us they will do just that. Banning flavored tobacco products will never stop people from smoking—instead, lawmakers are once again causing unregulated and potentially dangerous black markets to rise up and meet the demand. It's time that policy makers discard the idea that they can control individuals' personal choices.

The post Banning Flavored Tobacco Products Doesn't Work—We Have the Trash To Prove It appeared first on Reason.com.

"It was a very safe city." So said Mike Waters, owner of a pub in D.C.'s long-gentrified Dupont Circle area, in a neighborhood Zoom meeting this past January, neatly encapsulating a seemingly sudden deterioration in public safety.

Violent crimes rose 39 percent in Washington, D.C., last year, including a 67 percent jump in robberies. Homicides increased a stunning 35 percent. Property crime rose 24 percent, with 3,756 motor vehicle thefts in 2022 becoming 6,829 in 2023. The city's 911 system struggled to handle 1.77 million calls, more per capita than anywhere else in the country.

The trend did not spare the powerful. In February 2023, an attacker in an apartment elevator grabbed Rep. Angie Craig (D–Minn.) by the neck. In October, three masked gunmen carjacked Rep. Henry Cuellar (D–Texas) in the trendy Navy Yard neighborhood. And in February, a former D.C. election official, Mike Gill, was shot dead in his car while picking up his wife just off K Street. Business owners citywide deal with brazen thefts.

This did not reflect a national trend. The rest of the country saw a 13 percent drop in homicides in 2023, a reduction evident in many major cities: New York (down 11 percent), Chicago (down 13 percent), Los Angeles (down 16 percent), Atlanta (down 18 percent), Philadelphia (down 21 percent), Baltimore (down 25 percent). But in Washington, crime went up and up and up, peaking in summer 2023 and now declining somewhat but still elevated.

If your image of Washington was shaped by the urban decline of the 1970s, the crack trade of the 1980s, or the municipal bankruptcy of the 1990s, you might not realize that until recently the city has been generally prosperous, growing, and safe. Construction cranes dotted the city as population grew from 572,059 in 2000 to 689,545 in 2020. Neighborhoods that burned in the riots of the 1960s became places to be. Zip codes 20002 and 20003 recently topped the country for new apartment construction. D.C.'s budget went from basket case to record surpluses and rainy day funds, even enabling some income and business tax cuts.

What caused this crime spike? Several narratives are competing, some more compelling than others. One year on, there is now strong evidence of two things that didn't cause it—and two things that did.

Criminal Justice Reform Didn't Cause the Crime Spike

Mayor Muriel Bowser, a Democrat now in her 10th year on the job, oversees 40,000 government employees alongside a 13-member D.C. Council (11 Democrats, two independents). The Metropolitan Police Department (MPD), the local police force, reports to her. But the city is also home to the U.S. Capitol Police, the U.S. Marshals Service, the Secret Service, Park Police for National Park Service jurisdictions, the Metro Transit Police, various university police forces, and even the Smithsonian Office of Protection Services and U.S. Mint Police. Juvenile prosecutions are handled by the local elected attorney general, but adult prosecutions are the job of the U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia, who is appointed by the president and confirmed by the Senate with no involvement by the local population.

The mayor's narrative on the crime crisis goes like this: She's doing everything she can to be tough on crime, but a series of D.C. Council actions since 2016 have changed the public safety "ecosystem"—her favorite word here—for the worse. Among the actions: shifting the focus of juvenile facilities toward rehabilitation (2016), reducing nonviolent offender sentences (2016), changing fare evasion from a criminal to a civil matter (2018), allowing release of adults convicted as juveniles after they served 15 years (2019), prohibiting police chokeholds and removing restrictions on officer discipline (2020), a cut in proposed MPD funding (2021), an aborted effort to pull police officers out of schools (2021), reducing mandatory minimum sentences (2022–23), and easing street vendor licenses (2023). As crime took hold in 2023, the Republican-controlled U.S. House of Representatives persuaded Senate Democrats and President Joe Biden to overturn the sentencing reform and officer discipline measures. (Because the District of Columbia is a federal jurisdiction, the U.S. government has tighter control over it than it does over other cities.)

This theory has gained traction, spurring two ongoing recall efforts of sitting council members. But left unanswered, to quote the D.C. crime blogger Joe Friday, is "why laws passed in roughly 2016–2020 would have no effect until 2023." Also, other U.S. cities have passed many similar laws, even more sweeping ones, and not seen a crime spike. Sentencing reform advocates, perhaps stung that years of their Revised Criminal Code effort were reversed in one congressional vote, have argued that there is little evidence that carjackers will be more deterred by a 45-year maximum sentence than a 20-year maximum sentence. They said their reform merely aligned statutory sentences with the actual sentences being given by judges, and they pointed out that D.C. still had longer carjacking sentences than many of the states that sent the objecting Republicans to Congress. Even the 2021 MPD budget "cut" was a classic government sleight-of-hand: $559 million in 2020 spending was proposed to be cut to $545 million in 2021, but after later adjustments actual MPD spending that year was up to $575 million.

Indeed, as the public opinion pendulum swung in favor of tough-on-crime measures in 2023, Bowser's wish list of changes was very limited. Her "Safer Stronger" bill in May asked for more surveillance cameras, enhanced penalties for assaulting bus drivers, and a crackdown on guns. By October, Safer, Stronger 2.0 wanted to criminalize loitering, create a new crime category for organized retail theft, expand pretrial detention, and prohibit mask wearing. The Secure DC law, which she signed with fanfare in March 2024 after a cowed D.C. Council passed it unanimously, included Safer Stronger 2.0; it also eased police vehicular pursuit rules, expanded DNA collection from arrestees, and changed when police officers can review their body camera footage. These sound more like a scattershot grab bag of ideas than any fundamental reworking of what caused the 2023 crime wave.

Ignoring 'Root Causes' Didn't Cause the Crime Spike

Fare evasion on Washington's WMATA subway system jumped along with other crimes, increasing fivefold in the early months of 2023. WMATA has been sensitive about enforcement of nonviolent crimes since transit cops searched, handcuffed, and booked a 12-year-old girl for eating french fries on a station platform in 2000, earning them national condemnation for overkill. In 2018, the D.C. Council (along with some other cities) changed fare enforcement from a criminal matter (like robbery) to a civil matter (like a parking ticket).

As the sight of people hopping faregates became common in 2023, reaction polarized. One group pressed for enforcement. The anti-crime tweeter Potomac Fever wrote that otherwise, the "rest of us were suckers for following the rules and paying our fares everyday." WMATA—both wanting the fare money and hoping to persuade suburban jurisdictions to increase subsidies—successfully pressed the D.C. Council to tweak its law, began installing tougher faregates, and deployed Metro Transit Police at some exits. On the other side of the issue, progressive activists argued that stronger enforcement would likely cost more than the uncollected fares, that it would primarily target people of color, and that a better approach would be enhanced social programs such as making Metro free of charge.

The dynamic plays out in D.C. repeatedly. Is the answer to grocery store theft more police or more food stamps? Should teens awaiting trial for violent crimes be jailed or counseled? Should the first responders to many incidents be police officers or social workers? Perhaps the difference is overstated: Both "root cause" policies such as job training and "enforcement" policies such as more police win more than 80 percent support in polls. But by September, crowds were anxious for action and less interested in underlying long-term causes. "They did not want to hear another word about how I was going to fix crime in five years," observed Democratic Councilmember Robert White.

Part of the frustration likely stems from the fact that D.C. already spends a lot on "root cause" solutions. In every fare-evasion crackdown announcement, WMATA made sure to note that it offers reduced fares for low-income individuals. The Brookings Institution ranks D.C.'s cash assistance to needy families to be ninth-most generous among the states. D.C. Medicaid spending per enrollee is fifth-highest. Overall, the city spends $7 billion a year on human support services, for a place of just under 700,000 people. If spending on poverty solved crime, D.C. should be one of the best-performing states.

One prominent "root cause" public safety effort is violence interruption, modeled after a successful program in Oakland, California. This identified the 1 percent of people driving much of the violence and located individuals (clergy, former gang members, community leaders) best positioned to intervene and offer resources for those interested in an alternative path. D.C.'s spending on violence interruption grew sharply from $2 million in 2018 to $27 million in 2023. But again, sharply rising crime rates meant, at best, that the program was not impactful enough.

The Kids Helped Cause the Crime Spike

On July 12, 2022, TikTok user @robbierayyy uploaded a video showing how to use a USB cable to bypass the ignition and start certain Kia car models. The video quickly went viral, and the "Kia challenge" sparked a nationwide rash of thefts of Kias (and also Hyundais) not otherwise equipped with immobilizers.

In D.C., carjackings began to spike in late 2022 into early 2023, at a pace of three a day. This was followed by a spike in robberies and other crimes. Joe Friday, the anonymous crime blogger, hypothesizes that "violent criminals (adults and juveniles) realized that they could easily use stolen cars to move around undetected, escape from robberies and even use them to facilitate carjackings of other vehicles." D.C. carjackings finally eased after the summer, after new MPD Chief Pamela Smith adopted a more proactive strategy—and after manufacturers distributed immobilizers and steering wheel locks.

By then, carjacking and other crimes had become normalized for many D.C. juveniles. MPD officers say most carjackers were younger than age 20—sometimes much younger. An MPD lieutenant reported that most arrested suspects say they did it for fun with friends, often using them to commit other crimes. A viral Instagram video showed two D.C. teens arguing about whether committing carjacking and armed robbery was worse than murder, clearly not worried about the consequences.

Truancy also rose in the same time period, with 43 percent of students chronically absent (missing 10 or more days) in 2022–23, up from 27 percent in 2019–20. At the high school level, 60 percent were chronically absent; in the poorest schools in Wards 7 and 8, the rate was more than 75 percent. An October 2022 study of D.C. children found that above-average unexcused school absences is a risk factor highly associated with future criminal arrest, and in early 2024 neighborhood commissioners began pressing the mayor for better monitoring of this "early warning sign."

Government Mismanagement Helped Cause the Crime Spike

In D.C., mismanagement has plagued the U.S. attorney's office, the crime lab, and the city police department—and this may deserve the lion's share of blame for the crisis.

Let's start with the prosecutor. When congressional Republicans complain that "woke" D.C. is "soft on crime," they usually leave out that all adult prosecutions in the city are done by the U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia, Matthew Graves—a federal appointee that local residents have no role in hiring, firing, or overseeing. In most other cities, elected district attorneys or attorneys general have this job, and they must follow public demands or face consequences.

In the first decade of the 2000s, the U.S. attorney for D.C. prosecuted more than 70 percent of arrests. In 2016 the percentage began to slide downward, falling below 50 percent in 2021 (Graves took the job that year) and hitting 33 percent in 2022. After some attention was drawn to the decline, the number recovered a bit to a still-low 44 percent in 2023. Felony prosecutions fell from more than 80 percent to about 50 percent in 2022, then rose to 60 percent in 2023. The U.S. attorney declined to prosecute 58 percent of all arrests for theft in 2021 and 2022, which as Joe Friday said "undermined the certainty of punishment for theft in DC."

Precisely why the prosecution rate has been falling is less clear. Graves has variously claimed that the statistic is unimportant, blamed the crime lab or the MPD, noted that victims do not always press charges, or referenced tough case law or defendant-friendly D.C. juries and judges. But Graves usually offers no explanation at all, even in brazen cases. For example, a man arrested after exposing himself to 24 preschoolers on a public street and bloodily assaulting their two teachers had been arrested three weeks earlier for indecent exposure, two months before that for punching a restaurant employee, the year before that for trespassing, and in 2018 for attempted murder. The system keeps freeing him. Graves has yet to explain why.

But just as the drop in prosecution rate coincided with the rise in crime, the stepped-up prosecution rate after mid-2023 did coincide with the decline in crime. Increased or decreased likelihood of being charged has an impact. David Muhammad of the National Institute for Criminal Justice Reform said lack of consequences came up "over and over again" in interviews and "needs to be taken seriously."

D.C. is an outlier on its low prosecution rate: Philadelphia's is 96 percent, Chicago's is 86 percent, Manhattan's is 84 percent, Detroit's is 67 percent, and so forth. Unless Congress is willing to let the city assume control of prosecutions, D.C. citizens will have little recourse to change Graves' mind beyond public pressure and media attention.

Now consider the city crime lab. In April 2021, it lost its accreditation and stopped processing evidence for prosecutions. It has yet to fully regain it.

The loss of accreditation came after years of endemic problems, including faulty results, prosecutors interfering with test results, and firings of whistleblowers. The Bowser administration promised to promptly pursue reaccreditation, but it then got bogged down in a dispute with the D.C. Council about whether the lab should be part of the MPD (Bowser's view) or not (the council's). That matter was not resolved until June 2023—the peak of the crime surge—and the lab finally regained its biology and chemistry accreditations in December. Firearms accreditation remains in work.

During this entire period, processing of evidence for the MPD and the U.S. attorney has had to be outsourced to other labs, public and private. Many of these labs had little spare capacity, so the result has been backlogs, and probably dropped prosecutions. As of April 2023 770 DNA samples from violent crime cases sat in a backlog. Fingerprint "hits," one measure of testing, fell from 1,828 in 2020 to 601 in 2022. The number of rape kits tested within three months dropped from 98 percent to 81 percent.

The 2023 crime wave arguably ended the political dysfunction that held up the crime lab's reaccreditation. But the lack of a functioning crime lab likely contributed to the sense that you could get away with crimes. Prosecutions are hard, after all, without evidence.

Then there's the MPD. Bowser has attributed some of the crime wave to the long-term drop in MPD staffing, which fell from 4,010 sworn officers in 2013 under her predecessor to 3,337 in 2023. But again, the most considerable drop (in 2021, from 3,799 to 3,580) predated the spike in crime. To identify the more important problems at the MPD, look at what changed for the better when Smith took over.

When Smith took the job in June 2023, the crime spike was already apparent. Word quickly spread through the force that the new chief wanted to see changes. Area commanders were expected to do weekly walks in the community with residents, patrols would be proactive rather than just waiting in cars for a call, and greater efforts would be made to deter repeat offenders. Smith unveiled a Real-Time Crime Center connecting D.C.'s myriad federal police forces with hers. Arrests per officer nudged upward after halving in 2020.

These perhaps feel like obvious actions for a city police force, especially one in the middle of a crime wave. But they were not happening before June.

One lingering issue may be one of the hardest to tackle: The best officers with the most seniority can choose to stay in the "easiest" parts of the city (Wards 1 and 3), leaving the greenest or least proactive officers to get sent to where crime is heaviest (Wards 7 and 8). This leads to skills mismatch and a community sense of being neglected.

We in D.C. now wait to see what 2024 will bring. No one wants to see yet more death and mayhem. But that means asking serious questions of all our officials and insisting on thorough answers, enabling us all to learn the right lessons from the recent spike in crime.

The post What Caused the D.C. Crime Wave? appeared first on Reason.com.

Last week, Reason reported on the rising trend of Colorado police departments increasingly using aerial drones as first responders to certain 911 calls.

A new investigation out this week reveals how such a system could work in practice, with startling implications for privacy and civil liberties.

In WIRED, Dhruv Mehrotra and Jesse Marx write about Chula Vista, a town in southern California roughly equidistant between San Diego and Tijuana. In 2018, the Chula Vista Police Department (CVPD) launched the Drone as First Responder (DFR) program, allowing 911 operators to deploy drones either in lieu of or in addition to uniformed officers—the first U.S. city to do so.

DFR "is not a replacement for officers, it's an enhancement," Police Chief Roxana Kennedy told KPBS at the time. In the program's first week, drones responded to 30 calls and led to three arrests, including a domestic violence case in which a man suspected of stabbing a woman fled back to a homeless encampment and a pursuing drone led police to his location. The program was initially limited to within one mile of the police station, but it expanded over time before receiving federal authorization to operate citywide in March 2021.

In the nearly six years since, as Mehrotra and Marx detail, CVPD drones have taken nearly 20,000 flights, "often dispatched for serious incidents like reports of armed individuals [but] also routinely deployed for minor issues such as shoplifting, vandalism, and loud music. Early in the Covid-19 pandemic, the city even used drones to broadcast public service announcements to homeless encampments."

WIRED examined "nearly 10,000 drone flight records from July 2021 to September 2023," encompassing "more than 22.3 million coordinates from flight paths," to assess CVPD's claim that drones are only dispatched in response to specific 911 calls or lawful searches and do not merely go roaming in search of suspicious activity.

"Drones were used in about 7 percent of the city's service requests," the authors found, including "nearly half of the incidents involving reports of armed individuals and about a quarter of those related to violent crime," plus mental health and domestic violence calls.

"The vast majority" of the 10,000 flight records analyzed "could be linked to corresponding 911 calls. But not all of them." In fact, about 10 percent "lacked a stated purpose and could not be connected to any relevant 911 call; for 498 flights, the department lists the reason as an 'unknown problem.'" Further, "nearly 400 [flights] didn't come within half a mile of where any call in the preceding half hour originated."

Even specifically sanctioned flights may be cause for concern: "Operators are trained to start recording with the drone's camera immediately, capturing video throughout the entire flight, from takeoff to landing," Mehrotra and Marx note. The cameras, "powerful enough to capture faces clearly and constantly recording while in flight, have amassed hundreds of hours of video footage of the city's residents," the vast majority of which the city has refused to release.

"On average, each drone flight passes above 13 census blocks and potentially exposes approximately 4,700 of the residents below to a drone's camera," the WIRED analysis found. And potential exposure did not fall equally: "Residents on a typical block in the working-class and largely immigrant west side of Chula Vista had drones in the skies above 10 times longer than a resident of a typical east-side block," Mehrotra wrote in WIRED's Politics Lab newsletter yesterday. West-side residents "alleged that police drones were following them personally, lingering unnecessarily in their backyards, or watching them during their most intimate moments," and others complained about the noise of drone rotors. (The CVPD claimed the disparity is due to the unequal number of 911 calls that each area receives; the WIRED analysis "confirm[ed] that this is largely the case.")

Interestingly, support for the drone program is also strongest among the lower-income Chula Vista residents most likely to be subjected to it. One Latino man—who lives in an apartment complex that CVPD drones have flown over more than 300 times since July 2021—told WIRED that the drones make him feel safer, especially after a stranger tried to steal his child and police deployed a drone to look for the suspect. This isn't unheard of: Polls show black Americans are significantly more afraid of the police than their white neighbors, yet they still want a strong, effective police presence in their neighborhoods.

Regardless, Chula Vista's drone program could be a concerning sign of where American policing is headed. Even apart from DFR, city residents have been subject to a shocking amount of surveillance in recent years: automated license plate readers, facial recognition software, and a partnership with Amazon for access to its Ring doorbell cameras. In December 2017, the CVPD partnered with a company to share its data with other law enforcement agencies, including federal agencies like Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Customs and Border Protection (CBP).

As Colorado's example makes clear, police departments increasingly see DFR programs as a plausible alternative to traditional policing, in which an officer would be dispatched to the scene of an emergency. While that's certainly true, it would also expose everyday citizens to a shocking new world of state surveillance.

The post Police Flew Drones Over One California City Nearly 20,000 Times in 6 Years appeared first on Reason.com.

Instead of dispatching an officer each time, several Colorado police departments may soon dispatch a drone to respond to certain 911 calls. While the proposal has promise, it also raises uncomfortable questions about privacy.

As Shelly Bradbury reported this week in The Denver Post, "A handful of local law enforcement agencies are considering using drones as first responders—that is, sending them in response to 911 calls—as police departments across Colorado continue to widely embrace the use of the remote-controlled flying machines."

Bradbury quotes Arapahoe County Sheriff Jeremiah Gates saying, "This really is the future of law enforcement at some point, whether we like it or not." She notes that while there are currently no official plans in place, "Gates envisions a world where a drone is dispatched to a call about a broken traffic light or a suspicious vehicle instead of a sheriff's deputy, allowing actual deputies to prioritize more pressing calls for help."

The Denver Police Department—whose then-chief in 2013 called the use of drones by police "controversial" and said that "constitutionally there are a lot of unanswered questions about how they can be used"—is also starting a program, buying several drones over the next year that can eventually function as first responders.

In addition to Denver and Arapahoe County, Bradbury lists numerous Colorado law enforcement agencies that also have drone programs, including the Colorado State Patrol, which has 24 drones, and the Commerce City Police Department, which has eight drones and 12 pilots for a city of around 62,000 people and plans to begin using them for 911 response within a year.

In addition to helping stem the number of calls an officer must respond to in person, some law enforcement agencies see this as a means of saving money. One Commerce City police official told The Denver Post that "what we see out of it is, it's a lot cheaper than an officer, basically." And Denver intends for its program to make up for an $8.4 million cut to the police budget this year.

On one hand, there is certainly merit to such a proposal: Unless they're of the Predator variety, drones are much less likely than officers to kill or maim innocent civilians—or their dogs. And as Gates noted, drones could take some of the busywork out of policing by taking some of the more mundane tasks off an officer's plate.

But it also raises privacy concerns to farm out too much police work to unmanned surveillance aircraft.

"Sending out a drone for any time there is a 911 call, it could be dangerous and lead to more over-policing of communities of color," Laura Moraff, a staff attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union of Colorado, told The Denver Post. "There is also just the risk that the more that we normalize having drones in the skies, the more it can really affect behavior on a massive scale, if we are just looking up and seeing drones all over the place, knowing that police are watching us."

Indeed, while this sort of dystopic panopticon would certainly make life easier for officers day to day, it would signal the further erosion of the average Coloradan's Fourth Amendment rights.

In Michigan, for example, police hired a drone pilot to take pictures of a person's property rather than go to the trouble of getting a warrant. Earlier this month, the state supreme court upheld the search, ruling that since the purpose was for civil code enforcement and not a criminal violation, it didn't matter whether the search violated the Fourth Amendment.

Thankfully, there are some positive developments on that front: In March, the Alaska Supreme Court ruled against state troopers who flew a plane over a suspect's house and took pictures with a high-powered zoom lens to see if he was growing marijuana.

"The fact that a random person might catch a glimpse of your yard while flying from one place to another does not make it reasonable for law enforcement officials to take to the skies and train high-powered optics on the private space right outside your home without a warrant," the court found. "Unregulated aerial surveillance of the home with high-powered optics is the kind of police practice that is 'inconsistent with the aims of a free and open society.'"

The post Colorado Will Replace Cops With Drones for Some 911 Calls appeared first on Reason.com.

While christening a new UCLA technology and research center in January, Gov. Gavin Newsom let loose with some fairly typical rhetoric about California's leading-edge role in tech development: "California is the epicenter of global innovation—from the creation of the internet to the dominance of artificial intelligence, humanity's future happens here first."

Yet for the so-called epicenter of innovation, our state certainly doesn't give innovators a lot of room to experiment with new ideas. California lawmakers and regulators are so intent on limiting and controlling any promising new development that we've instead become the poster child for Ronald Reagan's famous quotation: "If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it."

Maybe Newsom and the Democratic Legislature haven't noticed, but California has been facing a tech exodus, as many prominent firms leave for states that give them more elbow room to create the next wave of promising innovations. Given the state's dependence on capital gains revenue, it's one reason we're now facing a $45-billion or more budget deficit.

On the good news front, Crunchbase reports that the San Francisco Bay Area may be experiencing a tech resurgence based around artificial intelligence systems, with the region receiving "more than 50 percent of all global venture funding for AI-related startups." But will the state kill that boom before it takes off? Based on the latest actions of the legislature, the answer is "probably."

The Senate Appropriations Committee recently gave the go-ahead to Senate Bill 915, which would "prioritize local control in the decision to deploy autonomous vehicle services." In addition to gaining all the many state approvals, robo-taxi firms would also have to deal with exploding local regulations.

The legislation has been amended to apply to the 15 largest cities and it would forbid localities from banning self-driving cars, but that doesn't ameliorate my concern. This technology is rolling out mainly in big cities anyway. It's easy to kill a technology without outright banning it by, say, forcing these companies to face dramatically different driving rules in every different city where they go.

Like all cutting-edge innovations, self-driving cars strike many of us as an ominous and dangerous development. But most new cars already have various self-driving features (lane assist, adaptive cruise control, blind-spot monitoring). And computers are almost certainly better drivers than people. Nearly 43,000 Americans die in car crashes each year, almost all of them at the hands of human drivers. Widespread A.V. use could save thousands of lives, per research from RAND.

AVs offer fabulous benefits for disabled people, the elderly, and others who cannot or choose not to drive. Yet federal, state, and local officials are worried about a few minor and inevitable problems that have popped up as this technology experiences growing pains—e.g., minor accidents and concerns about traffic violations (as if ordinary drivers don't also sometimes violate traffic laws).

One advocate for S.B. 915 expressed concern about robo-taxis getting stuck at a tricky turn—as if that's a good excuse to add a pointless mish-mash of local regulations to the mix. Ironically, AV development is one area where state regulators have taken an admirably low-key approach. In March, the California Public Utilities Commission gave Waymo, the Alphabet company's driverless-car division, the ability to expand operations in the Bay Area and Los Angeles region and even drive on freeways up to 65 mph. But even when the state takes a sensible approach, the locals want to step in to gum up the works.

And SB 915 isn't the only example of the California Legislature's kneejerk hostility to innovation. Many states are trying to regulate artificial intelligence technology, but California's Senate Bill 1047, which passed out of the Senate and has moved to the Assembly, is easily the most far-reaching example. The bill would create a new state regulatory division to regulate A.I. We all know how effective the state's bureaucrats are at handling complex matters—as well as the impact of lawsuit-promoting statutes.

Basically, the measure forces A.I. developers to mitigate every conceivable harm from their technology by engaging "in speculative fiction about imagined threats of machines run amok, computer models spun out of control, and other nightmare scenarios for which there is no basis in reality," opined an opposition letter from the pro-tech Chamber of Progress. The group rightly fears that the measure undermines California's leading-edge role in the tech sector.

Last week, I wrote about the legislature's effort to limit A.I. technology in a simple, real-world application—self-checkout lanes. Under the guise of helping stores battle retail theft, Senate Bill 1446 is a union concoction designed to limit the use of this technology to protect union grocery jobs.

So, yes, California has been the epicenter of global innovation, but it's apparently not going to continue being so for long. Let's hope Newsom heeds his own words and gets out the veto pen.

This column was first published in The Orange County Register.

The post California's Regulations Might Steer Self-Driving Innovations to Other States appeared first on Reason.com.

When two masked men broke into a woman's Chicago home, she called 911. And then she called again. And again. In total, she spoke to 911 operators six times over the course of an hour. At one point, a supervisor explained they had no police units to send, blaming cuts to the police department; he even recommended she call her alderman and ask him to give the police more funding. Fortunately for her, the intruders left after spotting her. Officers did not arrive until more than three hours after her first call to 911.

The post Brickbat: When Seconds Count appeared first on Reason.com.

Prosecutors in Texas last week dismissed the criminal case against a journalist who, in 2021, was arrested, strip-searched, and jailed for filming police. But his lengthy legal battle is in some sense just beginning and once again demands we probe the idea that real journalists are entitled to a different set of rights than the public.

That's because Justin Pulliam, the man in question, is a citizen journalist. He is not employed by an outlet. Rather, he publishes his reporting to his YouTube channel, Corruption Report, which, true to its name, is unapologetically skeptical of state power and supportive of transparency.

The Fort Bend County Sheriff's Office (FBSCO) has allegedly been vexed by his audacity. In July 2021, Pulliam was expelled by police from a press conference because they alleged he did not qualify as media, and in December of that same year, he was arrested for videoing police at a mental health call, despite that he had stationed himself about 130 feet away from the interaction. Officer Taylor Rollins demanded Pulliam move back even further, and he obliged, although he continued to film the deputy speaking to other bystanders at the scene (none of whom were arrested).

That didn't end well for Pulliam, who was charged with interfering with police duties. (According to his complaint, Officer Ricky Rodriguez, who assisted with the arrest, told another cop at the jail that the ordeal would teach Pulliam a lesson "for fucking with us.") In April 2023, a jury was not able to reach a verdict in the case, with five jurors wanting to acquit and one urging to convict. It took law enforcement more than a year to decide not to pursue the case further.

One wonders if the Fort Bend government is smartly allocating resources in support of public safety when it doggedly went after a case because someone filmed them. Yet at a deeper level, it's worth asking if law enforcement would have taken the case to trial at all had Pulliam worked for a formal media outlet. My guess is no.

It is difficult to reconcile those two things. Journalism is, after all, an activity, consisting of collecting information and reporting it to the public. That venture is not exclusively available to people working at a full-time newsgathering organization, and the strength of the First Amendment should not hinge on whether or not you are on a media outlet's payroll. Even if Pulliam didn't consider himself a journalist at all—citizen or otherwise—his right to film the government employees he pays with his taxes should remain intact. It certainly shouldn't come at the expense of his freedom.

Whether or not he will be able to make that case before a jury in civil court is yet to be determined. Last June, Judge David Hittner of the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Texas allowed Pulliam's federal lawsuit to proceed, declining to award the defendants qualified immunity, the legal doctrine that shields state and local government actors from such claims if their alleged misconduct was not already "clearly established" in the law. 

"The Individual Defendants assert no case law to support their proposition that an indictment precludes a claim for first amendment infringement," wrote Hittner. "Indeed, based on the facts alleged in the complaint, it appears Pulliam was singled out and arrested for exercising his rights under the First Amendment."

Pulliam, however, is not in the clear. He will next have to convince the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit, which has considered a similar case in recent months: that of Priscilla Villarreal, the citizen journalist in Laredo, Texas, who police arrested in 2017 using an obscure statute criminalizing the solicitation of nonpublic information if there is the "intent to obtain a benefit." If that description sounds a lot like standard journalism—seeking information not yet public—that's because it is. But despite attracting some strange bedfellows in her defense, Villarreal has not fared well in court.

While her case is not identical to Pulliam's, they both raise very similar questions, particularly as it relates to the idea that a certain class of journalists should get more rights than others. "Villarreal and others portray her as a martyr for the sake of journalism," wrote Judge Edith Jones in her majority opinion dismissing Villarreal's suit and giving qualified immunity to the police. "That is inappropriate," according to Jones, because Villarreal, who posts her reporting to her popular Facebook page Lagordiloca, is not a "mainstream, legitimate media outlet." Her free speech rights are suffering as a result.

The post This Journalist Was Arrested, Strip-Searched, and Jailed for Filming Police. Will He Get Justice? appeared first on Reason.com.

There's yet another attempt to revive California's shuttered redevelopment agencies—those crony-capitalist abominations that abused eminent domain, ran up debt without a public vote, and distorted development decisions at the local level. This year's redevelopment effort is renamed the Reconnecting Communities Redevelopment Act, but a cute new name doesn't hide redevelopment's sordid history.

It's oddly delusional even by Capitol standards to revive these tax-draining agencies when the state lacks sufficient revenues to meet its current spending. Last year, Assemblymember David Alvarez (D–Chula Vista) proposed recreating the agencies largely as they existed before Gov. Jerry Brown and the Legislature eliminated them in 2011 to help plug a gaping budget hole. It died in committee, the victim of a budget deficit estimated at around $32 billion.

Alvarez is back this year with Assembly Bill 2945 even though the current deficit is estimated at around $45 billion or higher. The state dissolved the agencies 12 years ago. Since then, lawmakers have passed measures that bring back modest portions of redevelopment—such as Infrastructure Finance Districts that use tax-increment financing to pay for limited infrastructure-related developments.

However, broader redevelopment revivals have failed—and likely will do so again. AB 2945 passed through committee but is headed toward rocky terrain. In 2019, former Gov. Brown threw shade on that year's revival effort: "A lot of people wanted to see it go, and it did free up almost $2 billion a year for schools. And if people want to bring it back they're going to take billions from the schools, and I would assume those people who care about the California public schools will fight that very hard."

Brown was spot on. As much as I'd like to think that free market arguments against redevelopment swayed lawmakers, the real bill killer came from the powerful California Teachers Association. The teachers' union clearly wouldn't ignore efforts to tap their funding sources. Sure the state backfilled those lost education dollars, but California doesn't have the spare cash to do that in the face of its remarkably large deficit.

As a refresher, California created redevelopment agencies in the 1940s to help rebuild inner-city slums. The basic redevelopment financial structure allows city governments to float bonds to pay for infrastructure related to urban-renewal projects. Cities gained the resulting increase in property taxes—called the tax increment—under the thinking that the projects spur gains in property values. That money then paid off the bonds.

By declaring an area blighted, agencies could unilaterally divert property tax revenues from traditional public services toward these privately built projects. Cities could declare virtually anything blighted (too little urbanization or too much of it, buildings with chipping paint, excessive vacant lots, insufficient tax revenue in the area, etc.) and then seek out developers to build new shopping centers or venues, or whatever is preferred in City Hall.

Traditional urban renewal projects caused their share of widely known problems, namely the obliteration of neighborhoods to make way for the above-mentioned developments. I strongly support Proposition 13, which keeps Californians from being taxed out of their homes. But after it limited tax revenues, localities came up with creative means to bolster their tax base. They learned that redevelopment could subsidize auto malls, shopping centers, and hotels that brought in additional sales taxes, so it quickly became a tax-grabbing scheme rather than an urban renewal tool.

Most noxiously, redevelopment law gave cities the power to invoke eminent domain—a property-taking power they used and abused early and often. They bulldozed neighborhoods, drove small businesses off of their land, and bullied people who lacked the resources to fight back. Often, the envisioned projects never materialized, leaving cities with vacant lots. There were some arguably successful projects, but the process worked as one would expect when the government gains unchecked power to take and redistribute property.

Redevelopment advocates claim that California needs to restore these agencies because of the housing crisis. They had set aside 20 percent of their tax increment toward affordable housing, but the state has since stepped up funding of such housing. It's a topic for another day, but because of the various union and environmental rules that come with subsidies, these projects cost far more than market-rate alternatives and haven't made a dent in the state's housing shortfalls. So adding more such spending isn't the answer.

And redevelopment exacerbated the housing crisis by teaching cities to view land-use decisions through a fiscal lens. With redevelopment, cities preferred commercial projects that brought in their sought-after sales-tax bonanza over housing developments. The best way to boost housing supply is to reduce regulations and fees—not give cities an incentive to choose big-box stores over new neighborhoods.

I know it's hard to let go of a shuttered government program, but it's time for lawmakers to move on. There's no conceivable reason to recreate these disastrous agencies.

This column was first published in The Orange County Register.

The post California Lawmakers Might Resurrect Failed 'Urban Renewal' Program appeared first on Reason.com.

Justin Champlin, the former chief deputy tax assessor in Ascension Parish, Louisiana, has been arrested on two counts each of injuring public records and computer tampering, as well as malfeasance in office. Police said that on two different occasions, Champlin illegally reduced the assessment on his property to lower his tax obligation. Champlin was fired from his job in early April following an internal audit.

The post Brickbat: Low Taxes for Me, Not for Thee appeared first on Reason.com.

Retiree Jim Ficken can finally breathe easy. After six years, two lawsuits, and harrying legal wrangling over a $30,000 fine for tall grass in Dunedin, Florida, a new settlement has brought him closure.

The agreement, announced on April 22, ends the city's pursuit to recover $10,000 in attorney fees that Dunedin officials tried to characterize as "administrative expenses" after reducing Ficken's original fine by 80 percent. The reduction was only possible because of reforms the city instituted soon after Ficken filed his first lawsuit.

Initially, the city attempted to tack on $25,000 for out-of-pocket legal expenses before realizing it had miscalculated that figure. As a result of this settlement, Ficken will not have to cough up any amount for bogus fees—an important consolation following setbacks in his first lawsuit.

Ficken attempted to reason with code enforcers before going to court—explaining that his lawn had grown long while he was settling his late mother's estate in South Carolina and that the landscaper he had hired to mow his grass while he was gone had died unexpectedly. He asked for leniency, but the city refused to budge and insisted on full payment: $500 per day for nearly two months, plus interest. They even put liens on Ficken's home and authorized city attorneys to initiate proceedings to seize it.

In response, Ficken filed a federal lawsuit with representation from the Institute for Justice, asserting that the excessive fines and lack of due process violated his Eighth and Fourteenth Amendment rights. He lost in district court in 2021 and again in 2022 at the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals—but he won in other ways. His case ignited a media frenzy and public calls for reform, prompting Dunedin to overhaul its code enforcement regime to prevent ruinous fines for trivial offenses.

After his legal battles, Ficken managed to get the fines reduced enough to prevent foreclosure. He thought he was safe. But then the city hit him with the bill for attorney fees, a retroactive attempt to penalize him for seeking his day in court. Left with no choice, he sued again in 2023.

The city could have avoided both lawsuits merely by treating Ficken like a neighbor instead of a cash machine.

While Ficken acknowledged his breach of a city ordinance and expected some penalty, Dunedin's aggressive tactics—aiming to extract tens of thousands of dollars and take his home—were blatantly excessive. American jurisprudence dictates that punishment must fit the crime. Municipalities must balance code enforcement with common sense and respect for property rights.

Dunedin moved in the right direction by making adjustments to its policies; however, the problem of excessive fines and fees is not confined to Dunedin—it is a national issue.

Across the country, similar stories of overzealous code enforcement abound. In Lantana, Florida, homeowner Sandy Martinez was fined more than $100,000 for parking violations on her own property. In Doraville, Georgia, Hilda Brucker was criminally prosecuted for having cracks in her driveway. And in Pagedale, Missouri, Valerie Whitner had to pay a fine for not having a screen on her back door.

Florida demographics create additional pressures. Many residents are retirees on fixed incomes living in single-family housing. People like Ficken have a right to stay, but some officials would prefer younger, more affluent taxpayers in their communities. Aggressive code enforcement is one way to target less desirable residents.

Sometimes enforcement is about preserving a certain aesthetic, as seen in Miami Shores, Florida in 2013. Officials declared vegetable gardens unsightly and threatened Hermine Ricketts and Tom Carroll with daily fines if they did not remove their front yard vegetables.

Regardless of motive, cities and towns must exercise restraint. The Constitution sets the baseline, and without it, abuses can and will grow quickly out of hand, and tall grass will be nothing in comparison.

The post Florida Man's Tall Grass Saga Comes to an End appeared first on Reason.com.

A San Marcos, Texas, couple would like to remove a reference to a Ku Klux Klan supporter from the front of their home, but the local historic preservation board has said no dice.

The reference in question is a large metal "Z" bolted to a wrought iron Juliette balcony on the front of Kristy Kay Money and Rolf Jacob Sraubhaar's house in San Marcos' Burleson Historic District.

That "Z" is the initial of the home's owner and builder, Frank Zimmerman, a prominent local businessman and owner of the city's downtown historic theater who served as San Marcos mayor from 1949 to 1951.

Zimmerman also has ties to the Ku Klux Klan. His theater hosted Ku Klux Klan days and screenings of Birth of a Nation.

Given this legacy, Money and Sraubhaar decided they wanted to remove the balcony and its large "Z" from the front of their home.

But because their home is in a historic district, although not a historic structure itself, the couple needed to get the sign-off of San Marcos' Historic Preservation Commission to alter its façade. In May 2023 the commission voted unanimously to deny their application to remove the balcony from the front of the house.

In response, Money and Sraubhaar sued San Marcos in federal court, arguing that the city's refusal to let them remove the balcony and initial is an uncompensated physical taking in violation of the Fifth and 14th Amendments and an unconstitutional exercise of police powers under the Texas Constitution.

"It's an occupation of property for a public benefit. It's for an alleged public purpose, in this case, the people on the design review board want to look at it. So, we think that's a taking," says Chance Weldon, a lawyer with the Texas Public Policy Foundation, which is representing the couple.

In response, San Marcos filed a motion to dismiss the case, primarily arguing that Money and Sraubhaar should first have to appeal their case to the city's Zoning Board of Adjustment before taking their case to court.

The U.S. District Court for the Western District of Texas Austin Division is currently considering the case.

"We think it's wholly un-American that if you want to change something to the aesthetic of your property, you have to get sign-off from a board of unelected bureaucrats based on what they think looks right," Weldon tells Reason.

The post Historic Preservation Board Stops Family Removing KKK Supporter's Initial From Front of their House appeared first on Reason.com.

Is a painting of a giant burger a sign or a mural? The answer to that question could determine whether Steve Howard can keep some half-finished burger art on the side of his restaurant or be forced to take it down.

Howard is the owner of The Cozy Inn in Salina, Kansas—a restaurant known for the sliders it serves with a generous helping of aromatic onions.

Back in November, Howard commissioned a local artist to decorate the side of The Cozy Inn with a large burger mural, some smaller slider-shaped UFOs, and a caption reading, "Don't fear the smell! The fun is inside!!"

Within a few days, a Salina official was telling Howard to halt the paint job. The city reasoned that because Howard's wall art would depict a product his restaurant also sold, it was not a mural (which the city doesn't regulate), but rather a sign (for which it has extensive rules).

Under Salina's sign code, Howard's business could only post signs totaling 62 square feet in size and he'd already used up 52 of those feet with existing signage. His planned burger wall art would take up 528 square feet. Downtown businesses' signs also need approval from the city's Design Review Board.

Since being told to stop work on his burger painting, Howard has been going back and forth with the city over whether he'll be able to complete the work. Earlier this month, the city sent him a letter telling him to hold off on the painting while it "reviewed" its signage regulations.

Rather than wait, Howard filed a federal lawsuit arguing that because the legality of his mural turns on the particular images it depicts, his free speech rights are being violated. If he had commissioned wall art of car parts or some other product his business didn't sell, he'd be well within his rights to proceed with the mural.

"In our view, this is a clear content-based restriction on speech," says Sam MacRoberts of the Kansas Justice Institute, which is representing Howard.

The U.S. Supreme Court theoretically put limits on this kind of sign regulation with its decision in the 2015 case Reed v. Gilbert, which struck down an Arizona town's regulations on temporary signs that applied stricter rules to nonpolitical signage.

"The town definitely was drawing lines based on what messages the signs conveyed," says Betsy Sanz, an attorney with the Institute for Justice (which is not affiliated with the Kansas Justice Institute). "The court said that was not allowed."

Nevertheless, cities post-Reed continue to enforce restrictions on business murals that include images of what the business sells.

The Institute for Justice has litigated multiple mural cases, pre- and post-Reed. It is currently representing business owner Sean Young in a First Amendment lawsuit against Conway, New Hampshire, which has told him a donut mural painted by local art students on his bakery violates the town's sign code.

Despite the likely unconstitutionality of many towns' sign restrictions, business owners are often reluctant to challenge them.

That means businesses will often just paint over their murals or change them so that they're no longer showing products the business sells.

In 2012, The Washington Post reported on a smoke shop in Arlington, Virginia (a hotspot of mural censorship), that changed its mural of a man smoking a cigar to a man holding a whale to comply with county regulations.

Sanz urges the Supreme Court to take up the issue of towns' regulation of business murals, saying, "There are still government bodies that wish to control speech. The Supreme Court is going to need to take signs up again to help clarify things for individuals."

The post Town Says Burger Joint's Mural Can't Show Any Burgers appeared first on Reason.com.

The New York City government is refusing to reimburse Adam and Elizabeth Rizer for the loss of their car, which was totaled during a police chase. An officer was pursuing a suspected stolen vehicle when the officer's vehicle, with its lights flashing, T-boned a Hertz rental car in an intersection. That car then collided with the Rizers' Jeep, which was parked outside their apartment. The entire incident, including the collision, was caught on video. Police reports note that the police vehicle struck the Rizers' vehicle, but the city comptroller's office insists the vehicle that was T-boned actually struck their car and referred the couple to Hertz for possible compensation.

The post Brickbat: Passing the Buck appeared first on Reason.com.

"I'm just floored and shocked," Rankin County, Mississippi, Sheriff Bryan Bailey said last August after five of his former deputies admitted to punching, kicking, tasing, torturing, and humiliating two men during an unlawful home invasion the previous January. "This is a perfect example of why people don't trust the police, and never in my life did I think it would happen in this department."

According to an investigation by The New York Times and Mississippi Today, however, Bailey had plenty of reasons to think something like this would happen in his department. Similar things had been happening in Rankin County "for nearly two decades," the Times reported in November.

"Narcotics detectives and patrol officers, some [of whom] called themselves the Goon Squad, barged into homes in the middle of the night, accusing people inside of dealing drugs," the paper said. "Then they handcuffed or held them at gunpoint and tortured them into confessing or providing information."

The Times and Mississippi Today corroborated "17 incidents involving 22 victims based on witness interviews, medical records, photographs of injuries and other documents." Those cases almost always involved "small drug busts," and the accusers "described similar tactics." Deputies "held people down while punching and kicking them or shocked them repeatedly with Tasers." They "shoved gun barrels into people's mouths." Three people "said deputies had waterboarded them until they thought they would suffocate," while "five said deputies had told them to move out of the county."

Although the federal charges that drew national attention to police brutality in Rankin County involved two black victims, Bailey's deputies were equal-opportunity abusers. They "appear to have targeted people based on suspected drug use, not race," the Times said. "Most of their accusers were white."

The deputies' pattern of abuse was reflected in complaints and lawsuits. "More than a dozen people have directly confronted Sheriff Bailey and his command staff about the deputies' brutal methods," the Times noted, and "at least five people have sued the department alleging beatings, chokings and other abuses by deputies associated with the Goon Squad."

Bailey said he had never heard of the Goon Squad and had no reason to think his deputies were abusing their authority. "Nobody's ever reported that to me," he said in August, and he "never, ever could've imagined" that the five convicted deputies, who included a man he said he knew "well" and had chosen as investigator of the year in 2013, were capable of "these horrendous crimes."

Bailey, who was reelected in November after running unopposed, rejected calls for his resignation. "I'm going to fix this," he promised. "I'm going to make everyone a whole lot more accountable."

The post Sheriff Who Presided Over Violent 'Goon Squad' Tries To Play Dumb appeared first on Reason.com.