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Under current circumstances, no friends, family members, or employment counselors of young veterans should encourage them to answer the siren call of ICE—no matter how much they need a job.
The media spent a lot of time this summer examining whether a certain Maine oysterman and Marine veteran seeking federal employment should have been better vetted by those around him.
Even after Graham Platner abandoned his US Senate bid, his friends and foes argue about whether service-related conditions—which earned him a 100% disability rating from the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA)—contributed to past substance abuse, mental health problems, and aggression against intimate partners.
Now, in the same state, the spotlight has shifted to David Brouillette, a troubled Afghan war vet who might also have been better off harvesting oysters. Brouillette spent eight years in the US Army and state National Guard before getting hired for not one, but two federal jobs. Thanks to an ill-advised push to recruit more ex-military personnel for law enforcement roles, without proper background checks, he got to carry a gun again.
Last month, after serving as a Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) police officer, a prison guard, and then joining the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), Brouillette fatally shot Johan Sebastian Duran Guerrero, a young Colombian immigrant, during a traffic stop in Biddeford, Maine.
Thanks to Congress allocating $30 billion to create 10,000 more positions for that agency between 2025 and 2030—and job cuts at other federal departments, which often employ veterans—more ex-soldiers are getting hired into a paramilitary workforce, with insufficient screening, minimal training, and leaders who valorize brutality. Those who have already been cops go to the head of the line for signing bonuses as high as $50,000.
Brouillette is among the 200,000 veterans disproportionately represented in the nation’s nearly 1 million law enforcement jobs, ranging from local police departments to the fast-growing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).
During a 10-year period, nearly one-third of more than 500 cops involved in a shooting incident were veterans.
For their own good and the welfare of all Americans, some of these vets should not trade one uniform for another. That’s because past military service not only produces Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); it can also leave former service members with traumatic brain injuries that trigger aggressive and impulsive behavior.
In the case of Maine mass shooter Robert Card, a longtime Army Reserve grenade range instructor who never served in combat, that condition led to the slaughter of 18 neighbors at a bar and bowling alley in Lewiston, Maine, almost three years ago. Far more common is the rocky personal transition to civilian life typified by twice-divorced Brouillette, whose father and brother also served in the military.
According to Brouillette’s first ex-wife, Ashley, he first became verbally and physically abusive after joining the military in 2007. His subsequent misbehavior, she told The New York Times, included choking her, slamming her to the floor, and pushing her against a wall. In 2012, such “threats and harassment were so persistent,” she fled the state to escape him. “He has mental health issues, he’s short-tempered, he’s reactive, [and] he should be in treatment,” she says.
Seven years later, his next ex-wife sought a restraining order against Brouillette after he “broke her door down, destroyed her belongings, and dumped her clothes over a bridge,” and spat in her face. In her court filing, she expressed fear about his stalking her by “coming to my home or sitting in the parking lot of my work.” So, as CNN found, a judge twice issued temporary orders requiring Brouillette to relinquish any firearms in 2019 and 2021.
To make matters worse, when Brouillette retrained to become a firefighter in 2021, a heavy I-beam fell on his head, inflicting serious damage. In a lawsuit over the accident, he confessed to having “impaired memory, cognitive deficits, headaches, vertigo, and high sensitivity.”
Long before he fired the shots that killed Guerrero, he had already worked among VA patients and staff in Maine, as part of an agency police force with its own troubled history of using excessive force. And then he moved on seamlessly to ICE last December, despite a checkered court record and non-military head injury that should have been disqualifying.
When we were researching an earlier book on veterans, two retired Army officers, both West Point grads, expressed deep concern about policing, of any kind, as a post-military career among veterans at risk for substance abuse and suicide because of PTSD, chronic pain, or traumatic brain injuries.
Daniel Sjursen, a much-decorated major who served in Afghanistan and Iraq, told us that, “when you leave the service, there’s no de-programming…They just load you up on meds, and then you go straight to the police academy.” Because “military-style of policing is based on the notion that high-crime areas should be treated like occupied countries, a guy can come back to Baltimore, Camden, or Detroit and function the same way we did when occupying Kabul or Baghdad.”
As his fellow officer, a Gulf War combat vet and military historian Andrew Bacevic noted, “To the extent that we’ve got a bunch of damaged young people, then maybe the last thing we want to do is put them in a job where they carry a gun in an environment that’s going to make things worse.”
So don’t hold your breath waiting for justice for Johan Sebastian Duran Guerrero. For the last 18 months, federal immigration agents have operated with far less public oversight and accountability than any local police department.
Even during Barack Obama’s administration, the US Department of Justice (DOJ) was not listening to such knowledgeable insiders. Instead, the DOJ provided local police departments around the country with tens of millions of dollars to fund veterans-only positions.
As noted in a 2017 report by the Marshall Project, “When Warriors Put On the Badge,” this combination of special funding and preferential hiring mandated by state or federal law has made it harder to “build police forces that resemble and understand diverse communities.” The new hires benefiting most have been disproportionately white, because 60% of all enlisted men and women are not people of color.
Under the first Trump administration, the DOJ had little interest in tracking the later job performance of recently hired veterans or how their military background might affect their behavior.
By that time, however, the International Association of Chiefs of Police (IACP) had already raised concerns about “the integration of military personnel” into law enforcement. In their own 2009 hiring guide, the IACP noted that, in the case of returning combat veterans from Iraq or Afghanistan, their combat environment and their policing environments may appear surprisingly similar.”
As a result, prior military service in the Middle East “may cause returning officers to mistakenly blur the lines between military combat situations and civilian crime situations, resulting in inappropriate decisions and actions, particularly in the use of lethal force.”
Cosponsored by the DOJ’s Bureau of Justice Assistance, this IACP report also noted that vets who have PTSD and related “depression, anger, withdrawal, and family issues” may have “a low tolerance for civilian complaints” and greater propensity for the “inappropriate use of force.” Some police chiefs interviewed reported that veterans under their command had come back “ill prepared for the civilian world” because their PTSD left them with “exaggerated survival instincts.”
Researchers at the University of Texas School of Public Health found that Dallas Police Department officers with military experience used their guns while on duty more than non-veterans. During a 10-year period, nearly one-third of more than 500 cops involved in a shooting incident were veterans. Those who had been deployed overseas were nearly three times as likely to have fired their weapon; those who had not been deployed were still twice as likely to be involved in a shooting. This study, published in the Journal of Public Health, concluded that some veterans employed by the Dallas police department lacked “critical thinking skills” when confronted with “high stress scenarios.”
The Marshall Project reported similar findings after it studied use-of-force complaints and fatal police shootings in several cities. In Boston and Miami, officers with military experience generated more civilian complaints of excessive force. Nearly one-third of the Albuquerque officers involved in a total of 35 fatal shootings between January 2010 and April 2014 were veterans. One of the officers sued after killing an unarmed motorist was an Iraq War veteran whose PTSD caused flashbacks, nightmares, and blackouts. Nevertheless, as the Marshall Project discovered, he was “assigned to patrol a high-crime area of town known as ‘the War Zone.’”
“To ensure public safety and guarantee a stable, reliable, and productive workforce,” Marshall Project researchers cited the need for clear and consistent police department policies to “evaluate employees’ mental and physical fitness. Yet local police department screening practices, around the country, remain far from standardized or effective. Some agencies employ the use of administrative interviews and psychological evaluations to assess how veteran officers will perform the essential functions of their position, while other agencies revert to their department medical officer, or lack any policy at all.”
Whatever unhelpful contribution to militarized policing has been made by hiring too many post-9/11 vets, new and old cops in Dallas, Boston, Miami, and other cities at least walk the streets without masks on. They display badges with their names and, in most places, wear body cameras as well. If they screw up in a high-stress situation, they are subject to internal affairs investigations or civilian police review board questioning, particularly if an officer-involved shooting has occurred.
When an Army veteran named Derek Chauvin put George Floyd in a fatal choke hold six years ago in Minneapolis, he was even prosecuted and sentenced to a long prison term. When another military veteran named Jonathan Rose—a former machine gunner in Iraq deployed in the Twin Cities last winter as an ICE agent—fired on Renee Good, did he face any criminal charges for killing a gay non-immigrant mother of three? Not yet.
So don’t hold your breath waiting for justice for Johan Sebastian Duran Guerrero. For the last 18 months, federal immigration agents have operated with far less public oversight and accountability than any local police department. In the process, they have killed 23 people under circumstances that homicide detectives and local prosecutors have been blocked from properly investigating.
The Department of Homeland Security has just doubled down on its policy of not releasing the names of officers involved in these fatal encounters. Agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) have been directed to stop investigating claims by those, like David Brouillette, who say they used lethal force in response to being endangered.
Under current circumstances, no friends, family members, or employment counselors of young veterans should encourage them to answer the siren call of ICE—no matter how much they need a job. As one former ICE official told the Boston Globe, ”We should all be concerned… that they have lowered standards, that they have rushed hiring, and they have made offers to people before their vetting is complete.”
Even if applicants from military backgrounds lack the self-confessed “cognitive deficits” of Brouillette, wearing camo again—while stopping traffic, knocking down doors, brandishing automatic weapons, and engaging in car chases—is not a healthy career choice, for them or us.
Investments toward a more trained immigration force will only uphold and legitimize mass deportation, family separation, and state terror.
Video evidence of the brutality of the Department of Homeland Security’s agencies, such as Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Customs and Border Protection, Homeland Security Investigations, alongside agencies within the Department of Justice such the Drug Enforcement Administration, has become all too familiar imagery in our everyday lives.
Witnessing actions of terror—from neighbors being beaten and forced into unmarked vehicles by masked agents, to children being kidnapped as they are released from school, to observers being murdered—has sparked demands for change. Reformist demands, such as increased training for federal immigration agents, move us farther from, not closer to, dismantling these systems.
Since its very recent inception in 2003, funding for the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) and its agencies has ballooned. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) received a budget of $27.8 billion in 2025, and other agencies whose on-the-ground presence support mass detention and deportation, such as Customs and Border Protection, have additionally seen increases alongside specific funding to the Department of Defense for border enforcement.
Transformative change demands have called for ending collaborations between local police and federal immigration agencies, ending 287(g) agreements, implementing and strengthening sanctuary laws, and the defunding and dismantling of ICE and similar agencies. Transformative models recognize the root causes and work to uproot harmful systems in order to invest in community-centered social programs.
A more trained mass deportation system is still a mass deportation system. A more trained agent of family separation is still an agent of family separation.
Reformist, yet system upholding, demands have also emerged, such as calls for improving hiring requirements for agents, increasing training for new hires, and crowd-management training in response to protests. Calls for more training for ICE and other immigration enforcement agencies means more investment in these systems and legitimizing the expansion of the role of the agent.
We saw a parallel of this direction a decade ago with increases in resourcing for local police. With the emergence of the Movement for Black Lives and community demands for transformative solutions to public safety, backlash and reformist demands in response to these calls led to strengthening the infrastructure of these systems of state terror. Thus, if this direction in response to state violence from immigration agencies is followed, transformative change will be severely restrained.
After the murders of Michael Brown and Tamir Rice in 2014, and increases in public awareness of the pervasiveness of police killings and racial disparities that target Black people in interactions with police, reformist demands led to increased funding for policing and police training. We saw this trend of increased budgets repeat after the 2020 murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and other loved ones by police.
“Solutions” for the problems of policing proposed during this time included increasing community trust in police, improving public perceptions of police, and investing in community policing. These “solutions,” which are removed from historic context, only strengthen systems while placing blame on communities and delegitimizing criticism of systems and transformative demands.
One study examining 15 pre-attack indicator police trainings showed that police are trained to recognize reactions to interactions with police, such as anxiety and arousal, as threats to their safety and justifications for use of force. A 2023 conference of police training exposed “instructors promoting views and tactics that were wildly inappropriate, offensive, discriminatory, harassing, and, in some cases, likely illegal.”
Since 2013, alongside increases in police funding and training, murders by police have only increased year to year. Calls for more police training and increased funding only strengthen the infrastructure of the very systems that we need to dismantle.
Everyday community members are being kidnapped, families are being separated, people are dying in immigration detention centers, and community members are being shot at and killed at the hands of DHS. The very existence of ICE requires these events of terror, and its agency collaborators are strengthened by them.
You can’t dismantle a system of harm by increasing its resourcing and legitimizing its existence. Removing the harm means uprooting the source of the harm, not reforming it. A more trained mass deportation system is still a mass deportation system. A more trained agent of family separation is still an agent of family separation. A more trained armed stated terror presence in communities is still armed state terror.
Right-wing leaders are trying to convince all of us that what we saw on video with our own eyes was not actually what we saw, and for far too many, it seems to be working.
None of us should have to watch videos of our fellow citizens and neighbors being killed to get factual information about what happened. Yet the way President Donald Trump and Kristi Noem, the secretary of Homeland Security, described the moment an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent shot and killed a 37-year-old mom and American citizen in broad daylight was so blatantly far off from what happened that I fear we will need to keep seeing for ourselves.
I never watch videos of people being killed on purpose. Yet, I clicked on a video of a woman in Minnesota in her SUV who seemed to be in a heated verbal exchange with an ICE agent. I saw her try to pull away from an agent who was reaching into her car, only to be shot at close range as she was trying to leave. It happened so quickly I hoped that she got away and the bullet did not hit her, but my hopes gave way to a nauseating pit in my stomach as her car veered off and hit a pole, the way one does when a driver falls asleep. Only, I knew she didn’t fall asleep because moments earlier, I saw an angry man in ICE uniform shoot at her. Her name was Renee Nicole Good, and she was an award-winning poet, wife, and mom of three, her youngest child only 6 years old.
Surely everyone would condemn this killing, I thought to myself. I immediately sought out comments sections on the internet and official accounts of various politicians hoping for a solidarity and decency that has eluded us since Donald Trump arrived on the political scene. I just knew that everyone—regardless of political party or support for Donald Trump—and perhaps even those in the current administration, would condemn this brazen murder by an ICE agent who was filmed losing his temper, shooting, and killing a woman as she tried to drive away. At the very least, I thought politicians who support ICE would call it a tragic accident. Admittedly, I especially thought this would be true when I learned that the victim was white, a citizen, and a mother—identities that have often provided cover from the deadliest encounters with those across law enforcement entities.
Instead, I read a statement on Instagram from The Department of Homeland Security that insinuated Renee Good was a rioter. They said that she used her Honda as a weapon and began to weave together a familiar narrative that amounts to: ICE was blameless, and the mom in her car was part of an organized movement that should be considered domestic terrorism. The comments were divided. Some people expressed their deepest sympathies and outrage that she was killed that way. But far too many others repeated the story from Homeland Security’s written statement and from Kristi Noem’s testimony. I’d seen comments like those before. “She should have complied” and “FAFO” (fuck around and find out).
We must fervently resist the attempts made by this current administration to gaslight and pacify us in the face of deadly injustice, and we must challenge those who seek to override the best of our humanity with their institutionalized and wildly funded cruelty.
In the past six years we've watched the American right-wing push narratives that encourage the general public to support police officers when they kill unarmed Black people and squash any suspicions of their wrongdoings. The same messages that were used to criminalize Philando Castile and paint Trayvon Martin as an aggressor, the same messages that were used to try and excuse away Breonna Taylor’s murder, are the talking points we are hearing now about what happened to Renee Good in Minnesota. And they are yielding the same divided responses, only this time in response to the killing of a white mom as we live out the cautions in the famous “First They Came” poem.
Right-wing leaders have spent years telling people that, to put it simply, there are good guys and bad guys and law enforcement officials, including ICE, are always the good guys and anyone opposing them are always the bad guys. They have also convinced too many that “bad guys” deserve to be executed on the spot, no trial necessary.
Now, most alarmingly, they are trying to convince all of us that what we saw on video with our own eyes was not actually what we saw, and for far too many, it seems to be working.
We must fervently resist the attempts made by this current administration to gaslight and pacify us in the face of deadly injustice, and we must challenge those who seek to override the best of our humanity with their institutionalized and wildly funded cruelty. It starts by recognizing the predictable playbook they have been using since George Floyd died crying for his mama and saying, “I can’t breathe.” We must work to restore these bipartisan basics:
Renee Nicole Good should still be alive to mother her children, love her wife, and write poems. We will not allow them to distract us from that with lies.
Mainstream coverage—especially in conservative media—attempts to pathologize public rage, diagnosing it as deviance or irrationality rather than consequence.
The press was all over the unrest in Los Angeles about a month ago. But since then, the impatient gaze of the industry turned toward Iran, beautiful budgets, trials of the century, and Elon v. Donald. Still, the cycle of urban margins catching fire needs attention—not just as spectacle, but as the result of fixed systems and broken promises.
The recurring tableau of public rage in urban America has been reduced to visual shorthand—burning cars, shattered glass, tossed stones, fleeing reporters, looting desperados, and the theater of rubber bullets, tear gas, and battle gear. The corporate media narrative rarely strays from this script, obedient to its reflexive calculus: Unrest equals lawlessness and unmoored anger.
Regardless of editorial intent, such mainstream coverage—especially in conservative media—attempts to pathologize public rage, diagnosing it as deviance or irrationality rather than consequence. In doing so, the narrative dismisses the very legitimacy of grievance among those already made to feel they do not count because they do not carry the full weight of citizenship. In supremacy logic, “noncitizen” is often polite talk for racialized otherness.
Peace without justice is an anesthetic, and anesthetics wear off.
This reduction of protest to pathology has consequences. It gives cover to expanded exercises of state power, such as, normalizing greater surveillance capacities, lowering thresholds for suspicion and probable cause, suppressing dissent and academic freedom—all upheld by populist rhetoric and sycophantic media amplification.
We’ve seen this spectacle before. In Baltimore in 2015, protests following the death of Freddie Gray were reduced to a looped image of a burning CVS pharmacy, as if fire alone explained a century or more of exclusion. The substance of the protest—calls for justice, dignity, and police accountability—was overwhelmed by sensational visuals. In Ferguson the year before, armored police vehicles rolled through suburban streets, rifles trained on unarmed civilians, creating scenes indistinguishable from war footage. The tableau was complete: disorder, danger, deviance.
In 2019, nearly 700 undocumented workers were arrested in Mississippi in a high-profile Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raid conducted on the first day of school—leaving children stranded and traumatized. No white-collar managers were arrested. The arrests were real, but the performance was unmistakable.
Normally locked in the vaults of academia, scholarship occasionally does help in offering names to describe what we all know and recognize through lived experience. For example, scholarship on “advanced marginalization,” as Loïc Wacquant words it, documents the corrosive effects of persistent exclusion of marginalized communities and their political, social, and economic exclusion. Ruth Wilson Gilmore’s research argues that state institutions produce and maintain zones of “organized abandonment”—communities targeted not only by economic disinvestment but by punitive state power and carceral responses: false imprisonment, law enforcement overreach, racial profiling, and harassment. When entire communities are hemmed in by political structures and policies that monitor, contain, and discipline rather than support or uplift, protest becomes not a departure from reason but its rational consequence.
The truth in our current context is simpler: ICE raids—often carried out by masked agents who withhold identification—serve not merely as immigration enforcement, but as public theater: performative acts of state power designed to instill terror that pushes minorities into greater marginalization.
More recent victims of government signaling include Rümeysa Öztürk, a Turkish PhD student at Tufts University, who was forcibly detained by six masked DHS agents and transported through a multi-state labyrinth of detention centers before being released. Kilmar Ábrego García was wrongfully deported to El Salvador in March, despite a 2019 court order barring his removal. At Columbia University, Mahmoud Khalil, a green card-holding graduate student and Palestinian rights activist, was arrested by ICE as he prepared to graduate. He was released last month..
I fear that these incidents are part of an unfolding pattern in which immigration enforcement becomes a form of ideological policing, where dissent, origin, appearance, or even academic expression can become grounds for removal. These actions are not just about controlling borders—they are about signaling who belongs in the nation’s narrative and who can be disappeared from it.
The carceral logic of state power is vulnerable to disrespecting constitutional protections and rights. Once these rights are on the run, there’s no corralling them back. It is logistically impossible to deport all people who are in the country illegally (as they say). As such, it seems that ICE has been transformed into a performative arm of white nationalist fantasies—a tool not only for deportation but for public signaling. Migrants from south of the border, Muslims, and international students from the Global South are subjected to raids, surveillance, and public humiliation.
These are deliberate acts of political semiotics—meant to declare who belongs and who does not, a specious restriction of what qualifies as the right kind of identity. The cumulative effect is a wounding of body and psyche—a slow, grinding reminder that certain lives exist only at the mercy of others. The nationwide protests over ICE mandates, arrests, and their social meaning are, in a way, a protest to dismantle the “mercy” arrangement.
The aftermath of unrest is often met with rhetorical sleight of hand: Chaos is condemned while its causes are conveniently ignored. Calls for peace are often made by those woefully insulated and racially protected from the very conditions that make public rage inevitable. Peace without justice is an anesthetic, and anesthetics wear off. The question is not why rage appears, but why so little has been done to acknowledge the legitimacy of frustration and address it without the militarization of American cities.
If Emanuel ends up in the top DNC spot, the message will be that wealthy power brokers have fully recaptured the party.
If the Democratic National Committee is trying to find a new leader proficient at alienating Black voters, it couldn’t do better than Rahm Emanuel.
Emanuel has indicated in recent days that he’s interested in the job. If he goes for it at the party’s upcoming meeting, much of the old Democratic guard is likely to back him, setting up an intra-party brawl.
Last week, David Axelrod served as a digital advance man for his former Obama White House colleague, posting that “Dems need a strong and strategic party leader, with broad experience in comms, fundraising, and winning elections,” while touting Emanuel as just the man for the job: “Dude knows how to fight and win!”
The Democratic National Committee should not choose for its chair a pugnacious bully who relishes fighting with the party’s most loyal constituencies and committed activists.
In terms of well-connected power-brokering, Emanuel’s ties with Democratic elites and corporate donors have been second to none. And he can boast an impressive political resume—senior adviser to President Bill Clinton, congressman from Illinois, chair of the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee in Democrats’ 2006 sweep, chair of the House Democratic Caucus, and White House chief of staff for Barack Obama, before becoming mayor of Chicago in 2011.
But his eight-year record as mayor could trip up Emanuel if he runs for DNC chair. Long before leaving office in 2019, Emanuel had fallen into disrepute. By the end of 2015, a poll found that his approval rating among Chicago residents had sunk to 18%. No wonder he decided not to run for a third term.
Emanuel stands out at provoking bitter enmity from Black people, crucial voters in the Democratic Party base.
He earned notoriety for the cover-up of a video showing how Chicago police killed 17-year-old Laquan McDonald one night in October 2014. For 13 months, during Emanuel’s campaign for reelection, his administration suppressed a ghastly dashboard-camera video showing the death of McDonald, an African American who was shot 16 times by a police officer while walking away from the officer. (A jury later convicted the officer of second-degree murder and 16 counts of aggravated battery.)
Memories of Emanuel’s malfeasance have remained vivid. In 2020, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) expressed a widely held view when she tweeted: “Rahm Emanuel helped cover up the murder of Laquan McDonald. Covering up a murder is disqualifying for public leadership.”
Last weekend, amid reports that Emanuel was weighing a bid for DNC chair, Ocasio-Cortez denounced him as a symptom of what ails the party: “There is a disease in Washington of Democrats who spend more time listening to the donor class than working people. If you want to know the seed of the party’s political crisis, that’s it.”
Longtime Chicago journalist and activist Delmarie Cobb wrote a scathing assessment of his mayoral record in 2021. While mentioning that Emanuel “closed 50 public schools in predominantly Black and brown neighborhoods,” Cobb also pointed out that “he closed six of 12 mental health clinics in these communities.” She added: “Now, who needs access to mental health care more than Chicago’s Black and brown residents who are underserved, underemployed, and under constant threat of violence?”
Emanuel’s response to the McDonald killing was emblematic of his arrogant leadership method, routinely clashing with the basic interests of racial minorities and the non-affluent. When Emanuel was nearing the end of his last term, The Nation magazine summed up his term this way: “The outgoing mayor’s legacy will be defined by austerity, privatization, displacement, gun violence, and police brutality.”
It’s fitting that Axelrod is leading the charge for Emanuel to win the top post at the DNC. Both of them were well-compensated for providing services to the giant Exelon Corporation, a public utility with the nation’s largest set of nuclear power reactors. In fact, Emanuel “helped create the company through a corporate merger in 2000 while working as an investment banker,” The New York Times reported.
During that stint as an investment bank director—after leaving the Clinton White House and before entering Congress—Emanuel used his connections to make $18 million in just two-and-a-half years. It’s that kind of coziness with economic elites that has caused Democrats’ appeals for working-class votes to ring hollow.
A frequent refrain at Vice President Kamala Harris’s campaign rallies was “We won’t go back!” But if Emanuel ends up as the DNC chair, the message will be quite the opposite—signaling that wealthy power brokers have fully recaptured the party.
As Emanuel’s days are numbered in his position as ambassador to Japan, the chance to become chair of the DNC might be too tempting to pass up. Shortly after President Joe Biden nominated him for the diplomatic role, Chicago Tribune columnist Rex Huppke wrote that the idea was “laughably absurd.” As mayor, Huppke recalled, “Emanuel was, as he always has been in public life, a pugnacious bully.”
The Democratic National Committee should not choose for its chair a pugnacious bully who relishes fighting with the party’s most loyal constituencies and committed activists.
The detainment of the Miami Dolphins star is an example of what happens when society refuses to hold cops accountable for their actions—especially when violating Black people.
In the old 1990s Nike commercials, Mars Blackmon, played by Spike Lee, asks basketball great Michael Jordan, “Is it the shoes?”
In a much more serious, disturbing incident, Tyreek Hill, star wide receiver for the Miami Dolphins, was taken down, handcuffed, kneed in the back, and manhandled by Miami-Dade police not far from the stadium where he plays.
I can guarantee you it wasn’t the shoes that got the attention of officers in a potentially deadly encounter.
It was the car, the constant criminalization of Black men, and a refusal to hold cops accountable for their actions—especially when violating Black people.
But, he added, what if he had not been a bigtime athlete? What’s the worst case scenario?
Hill, a well-paid athlete, was driving an expensive car. He’s paid his dues, sacrificed, and should be able to enjoy the fruits of his labors. He was a short distance from his Black job.
But “Driving While Black” has long been a crisis in America, and you don’t have to drive a fine car to be targeted.
“Almost every African-American or Latino can tell a story about being pulled over by the police for no apparent reason other than the color of his or her skin, especially if he or she happened to be driving in the ‘wrong place’ at the ‘wrong time’ or even driving the ‘wrong car,’” said the American Civil Liberties Union, citing cases stretching back to the 1990s.
Hill was born March 1, 1994.
“Victims of these racially motivated traffic stops rarely receive a traffic ticket or are found guilty of any violation of the law. It’s a practice called Driving While Black,” said the ACLU. “The U.S. Supreme Court established an open season on motorists in 1996 when it ruled that police could use any traffic offense as an excuse to pull a car over.” Black and White drivers engaged in illegalities “at about the same rate—28.4% in searches of Blacks and 28.8% in searches of whites.”
Yet, the ACLU noted, 41% of Black Americans say they have been stopped or detained by police because of their race and 21% of Black adults, including 30% of Black men, reported being victims of police violence.
Hill came before microphones September 8 saying he did nothing wrong and was confused about what happened and why. He calmly explained how his mother taught him to be respectful and cooperative, how he wanted to be a police officer and respected them. There are bad apples everywhere, he continued. But, he added, what if he had not been a bigtime athlete? What’s the worst case scenario?
Death.
“If Dexter Reed had not been stopped by Chicago police, he would still be with us,” Laura Washington wrote earlier this year about a controversial Chicago case.
Body cam footage of his killing, which many call an execution, captured the 26-year-old Black man sitting in his SUV. Five cops in street clothes jumped out on him in a city known for often violent, deadly carjackings.
“One demanded that Reed roll down his car window. At first, Reed complied, then rolled the window back up. Officers screamed and shouted more demands. Reed started shooting,” Washington wrote. A civilian oversight body said an officer was wounded in the wrist.
“The officers fired 96 shots in 41 seconds. Reed staggered out of the car on the driver’s side and stumbled to the ground. The officers kept shooting. Three of those shots came while Reed was lying ‘motionless on the ground,’ according to Andrea Kersten of the Civilian Office of Police Accountability,” wrote Washington.
“This tragedy leaves us with so many questions. For example, the police say he was being stopped for not wearing a seat belt. How did the officers know he wasn’t wearing the belt, since his car had tinted windows? On the video, the officers, wearing street clothes, drive hard and fast, jump out, and surround Reed’s car.”
“Did Reed shoot out of terror?” she asked in a Chicago Tribune piece.
Organizing around Reed’s death has been going on in the Windy City with many outraged and demanding justice.
“Chicago police officers reported making more than a half million stops last year on the city streets, continuing to stop Black and Brown motorists at rates disproportionate to their numbers in the driving population,” the ACLU reported in 2024. “In 2023, CPD officers stopped Black drivers at a rate 3.75 times that of white drivers and stopped Latino drivers at a rate 2.73 times that of white drivers. These disparities are similar to racial disparities reported in prior years in Chicago. CPD has never explained why it disproportionately stops Black and Latino drivers.”
There are bad apples in every system. But when institutions fail to act to correct wrongs—especially with folks having guns, handcuffs, and badges—the whole system is rotten.
Having people who are uniquely trained and qualified to respond in moments of trauma or mental health struggles could mean drastically better care, support, and outcomes.
Imagine someone you love, your sibling, partner, parent, or child, has been struggling with mental illness recently, a reality for more than 1 in 5 people in the U.S. You’ve been offering support however you can, helping them find the right resources, doctors, medications, or treatment, saving up to help them afford it.
One day, they have a particularly difficult episode, and you’re afraid they might hurt themselves or even another person. You try to de-escalate, but it’s more than you can handle, and you realize you need help to ensure everyone’s safety. You decide you have to call 911, but you hesitate, especially if you’re Black, knowing police could just as easily hurt your loved one as help them, but knowing there’s no one else to call for support. You call and tell the operator everything, emphasizing that it’s a mental health crisis, saying everything you can think of to prevent police from responding with force. But when police arrive, they still perceive your loved one as a threat and make the choice to kill them rather than help them. The person you love, who just needed help, is gone, and you’re left forever wondering if there was something else you could have done instead of calling the police.
This is the reality for the families of Takar Smith, Marcus-David Peters, Tanisha Anderson, Miles Hall, Walter Wallace Jr., Eudes Pierre, Jada Johnson, Christian Glass, Ricardo Muñoz, Angelo Quinto, and thousands of others in the U.S. left with guilt, grief, and anger because police should not be the responders for a mental health crisis.
We are building toward a system of public safety that treats us with care and humanity, and we are doing so with a clear mandate from our people.
Ten years ago, the Movement for Black Lives formed around the imperative to address the violence policing imposes on the Black community. We’ve felt the pain of that first scenario, some personally and all as a community, and we’ve committed ourselves to fighting for liberation from being forced to experience that pain ever again.
As we enter our 10th year doing this work, we decided it was time to hear from Black people collectively across the country to determine what our people need from this movement next in our fight for liberation. We found some important and powerful answers. The comprehensive report Perspectives on Community Safety from Black America, in partnership with GenForward, surveyed a broad sample of Black people across lines of gender, generation, region, and partisanship in the U.S. on their experiences with policing and their views on alternatives for public safety and mass incarceration.
This survey showed strong, clear support among Black Americans for divesting from traditional policing in their communities and investing in public-safety alternatives, especially those that would center de-escalation, mental health support, and solutions that do not rely on incarceration.
The reality of that contradiction, paired with the overwhelming support for alternatives, called us to action and inspired The People’s Response Campaign. Through our new campaign, we’re shifting the narrative on what keeps us safe. In partnership with 20 Black-led organizations across the country, we’re centering public safety as a public health issue, advocating for non-police response to mental health emergencies, and engaging with the 2024 elections, especially on the local and state levels to prioritize ballot initiatives and candidates who support non-police, non-carceral public-safety solutions. Our fellows will work together to build Black political power at all levels and get us closer to a more safe and free future.
Think back to what you pictured earlier in this piece, but instead imagine that when your loved one experienced that crisis, you didn’t hesitate to call for help because you knew that your community had a mental health first-responders team, highly trained in de-escalation and support, who come instead of police. They even know your loved one from past interactions; they’re a familiar and trusted face that puts you and your loved one more at ease; you know they can help you both through this. They help soothe your loved one, discuss next steps with both of you, and come up with a plan to get them the support they need. They connect your loved one to accessible and quality care and resources to get them to the right medical facility. Your loved one’s difficult episode was just a moment in their life instead of the end of their life.
The People’s Response Campaign’s goal is to make that vision a reality. On a local level, we’re turning our data into action as our fellows campaign hard for resolutions in their cities in support of a non-police community wellness first-response system. Having people who are uniquely trained and qualified to respond in moments of trauma or mental health struggles could mean drastically better care, support, and outcomes. It will definitely mean fewer people in those moments of crisis will be killed by police when they need help.
On the federal level, we’re advocating hard for the People’s Response Act (PRA) alongside its champion, Rep. Cori Bush (D-Mo.). The PRA, directly inspired by M4BL’s BREATHE Act, emphasizes an inclusive, holistic, and health-centered approach to public safety by creating a public-safety agency within the Department of Human Health and Services—because our communities know first-hand what experts have found for decades: Public safety is a matter of public health. The PRA would fund programs for non-carceral first responders, trauma-informed healing, restorative justice, survivor services, harm-reduction-based treatment for mental health and substance abuse, and so much more. Our fellows spent just one day lobbying on the hill and already gained five new co-sponsors for the bill.
Lastly, our campaign will focus on activating voters for the 2024 elections. Major decisions are being made to take away our right to vote, to protest, to make decisions for our own bodies, especially at the state and local level. We’re pushing for public conversations and candidates that will enshrine our rights and advance progress toward liberation while also fighting off the emboldened white supremacist right wing.
The truth is that Black people in America desperately want to feel safe in our communities. Policing is the only option for public safety we’ve ever really been offered, so we’ve been taught to think the solution must be more policing. But we’ve tried more policing. Police have massive budgets, act with impunity, are given military equipment, and still we don’t feel any safer. In fact, the threat of the police against the people feels more palpable than it has in years as they attack college students protesting genocide, invest in new military technology to surveil us, and build cop cities across the country to train for urban warfare. That’s why when people are presented with real, viable solutions for public safety that don’t involve policing and instead address the root issues that create unsafe conditions, Black people eagerly support them.
We are building toward a system of public safety that treats us with care and humanity, and we are doing so with a clear mandate from our people. Safety that does not come at the expense of our freedom, our health, or our lives, the kind of true safety found in solutions that meet our needs and prioritize our humanity above all else. This year, we are answering the call from our people; it’s time to make way for a new system of public safety.
By admitting border agents would have to make their own "judgments" to determine whether to shoot a migrant, said one critic, the Florida governor signaled he would embrace "the large-scale murder of innocent people."
Republican presidential candidate and Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis on Monday night expanded on his proposed border policy, which he has said would include the use of "deadly force" against anyone suspected of drug trafficking—explaining to NBC News that border agents would use the same "rules of engagement" as U.S. forces in Iraq or police officers to determine when they should fire a weapon at someone.
DeSantis first proposed his border policy in June, saying he would "stop the invasion" by deputizing state and local police officers to arrest and deport migrants and detain unaccompanied children who cross the border, ending birthright citizenship, and empowering agents to use deadly force against people suspected of carrying drugs across the border—despite the fact that the vast majority of drug trafficking is carried out with commercial vehicles that travel through official ports of entry rather than people traveling on foot.
On "NBC Nightly News with Lester Holt" on Monday, correspondent Dasha Burns asked DeSantis how agents would determine who was carrying drugs across the border.
Noting that DeSantis worked as an adviser to Navy SEALs, Burns asked the governor, "How do you discern if it's a child, a mother, or a cartel member... A pregnant mom with a baseball cap and a backpack? How do you know you're using deadly force against the right people?"
DeSantis—who in a recent New York Times survey was polling at 17% among GOP voters, far behind former President Donald Trump—all but acknowledged that border agents often would not be able to tell the difference.
"It's the same you would do in any situation," he said. "Same way a police officer would know, same way somebody operating in Iraq would know. These people in Iraq at the time, they all looked the same, you didn't know who had a bomb strapped to them. So those guys have to make judgments."
According to the Costs of War project at the Watson Institute for International and Public Affairs at Brown University, some of the "judgments" made by U.S. military forces on the ground have resulted in 186,694 to 210,038 civilian deaths in Iraq since the war began in 2003.
British non-profit Iraq Body Count has reported that 13% of documented civilian deaths between 2003 and 2011 in Iraq were caused by U.S.-led coalition forces.
John Pfaff, a law professor at Fordham University, said on social media on Monday that DeSantis' proposal that border agents emulate the rules of engagement in Iraq was "terrifying" and "murderous."
The Law Enforcement Epidemiology Project at the University of Illinois Chicago reports that each year, at least 85,000 U.S. civilians suffer non-fatal injuries from the use of force by police officers, while between 600 and 1,000 people are killed by police.
Pfaff wrote that DeSantis made clear he would accept "any sort of false positive rate and the large-scale murder of innocent people" for the sake of carrying out his border policy.
Journalist David Roberts wrote that DeSantis' proposal signaled the governor's "bloodthirsty" embrace of "actual fascism."
"DeSantis," he said, "genuinely wants vulnerable 'out' groups to suffer."
Instead of sharing video after someone is killed by police, it’s time to prioritize preventative measures.
When Black street performer Jordan Neely was murdered on a New York subway, four minutes of video by a freelance journalist captured the event, prompting last week’s protests and a nationwide outcry. This is part of an ongoing flood of video documenting violence against Black bodies.
This month alone, body cam video showed Alabama police sending a police dog after an unarmed Black man and Minnesota officers mistakenly attacking a 65-year-old Black man using a walker (after the video had been suppressed for three years). Also, San Francisco supervisors unanimously passed a resolution demanding the release of video footage of the killing of Banko Brown, a 24-year-old Black transgender man killed in late April.
Thanks to technology, cameras are now ubiquitous tools that save lives and hold the perpetrators of state-sanctioned violence accountable, but I see a sinister effect in motion as well. It’s no coincidence that when the video of Tyre Nichols’ murder was released in January, my Facebook timeline included trigger warnings. These images stay with us, and have an insidious impact. Who can forget the haunting footage of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin murdering George Floyd on the sidewalk in plain sight in May 2020?
When these murders do occur, society should be more mindful about sharing the resulting footage and shaping the public narrative.
The frequency of publicized police violence on social media, television, and in print is desensitizing us to violent acts against Black bodies, fueling an obsession with Black trauma porn. The infatuation with Black trauma porn has real consequences for real people. It can lead to further deaths by police as their workforce becomes more desensitized to unpenalized and incentivized violence.
Instead of sharing video after someone is killed by police, it’s time to prioritize preventative measures.
First, alternatives to calling 911 should be made more widely available. Mental health crises or Black BBQ-ers are not situations that require police to respond. When they do, this can lead to unnecessarily hostile contact with police and unintended deaths.
Additionally, the police force should come from or look like the communities they represent. To be sure, racial and ethnic commonalities did not protect Mr. Nichols at all. However, the foundation of Memphis law enforcement is rooted in anti-Blackness that affects Black officers too.
Statistically, White men are less than one-third of the U.S. population but represent two-thirds of the police force. Yet, countless studies show that diverse workforces are safer. For instance, economist Bocar Ba and colleagues found that Black officers made 15.16 fewer stops and 1.93 fewer arrests than their White counterparts over 100 shifts. This behavior resulted in a 32% reduction in use of force among Black officers compared to White officers. Less force leads to fewer deaths.
There should also be a SWOT analysis (a type of program assessment that identifies strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats) for existing implicit bias training for police officers, as little research exists proving its efficacy. A study of the NYPD by criminal justice professor Robert Worden and colleagues shows that while implicit bias training does impact attitude, it doesn’t always change behavior. Implicit bias training for their department showed no significant reduction in the frisks in stops, summonses, and arrests involving Black and Hispanic people after police were trained.
Lastly, there needs to be frequent and equitable internal and external review of any police misconduct allegations. Police officers are supposed to serve and protect the public and should be held to the highest scrutiny when they unnecessarily kill citizens instead.
When these murders do occur, society should be more mindful about sharing the resulting footage and shaping the public narrative. The Black community suffers from the harmful tropes resulting from narratives that are not our own. The public witnesses these narratives and internalizes harmful tropes that lead to us being even more discriminated against and stereotyped.
Headlines depicting White mass murders read more like their dating app profiles than a description of their gruesome crimes. Meanwhile, Black perpetrators of petty crimes are shown by their mugshot. This has to stop.
Sending thoughts and prayers to mourning families on the receiving end of society’s obsession with Black trauma porn is not enough—and it’s not fair. Implementing policies and practices that create an anti-discriminatory system with accessible 911 alternatives is the most effective and genuine response.
The death rate of marginalized peoples at the hands of police is a public health crisis. In the last 12 months, police have killed over 1,100 people, with a disproportionate number of deaths being Black or Brown people.
Police departments, judicial systems, and infrastructure are all needed to fight this ugly reality and uphold the responsibility to build a diverse, well-trained police force that doesn’t contribute so heavily to Black trauma porn and holds its members accountable.
FAIR studies of New York Times coverage from George Floyd to Tyre Nichols.
Since the brutal police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis in 2020, and the Black Lives Matter protests that spread across the country, how have news media covered issues of policing policy and police reform?
To offer perspective on this question, FAIR looked at which kinds of sources have been most prominent in the New York Times‘ coverage of these issues, and therefore are given the most power to shape the narrative. We compared three time periods: June 2020, when the BLM protests were at their height; May–June 2022, leading up to and encompassing the two-year anniversary of those protests; and mid-January to mid-February 2023, when the police killing of Tyre Nichols was prominent in news coverage and reignited conversations around police reform.
We found that, overall, the Times leaned most heavily on official (government and law enforcement) sources when reporting on the issue of policing policy—giving the biggest platform to the targets of reform, rather than the people who would most benefit from it. We also found a prominent stress on party politics and a lack of racial and gender diversity among sources.
However, we also found that the Times‘ 2023 Tyre Nichols coverage offered a wider diversity of sources, and a greater percentage of Black sources, than in the previous time periods. This appeared to result in part from many of the articles focusing on deeper reporting on the local situation in Memphis, a majority-Black city (unlike, for instance, Minneapolis, where George Floyd was killed).
In contrast, the 2022 articles focused more on policing and crime as an election topic at a national level. The 2020 articles covered the broadest range of issues and geography, but with particular attention to the protests, and the federal and local legislative responses.
The most recent coverage had more voices critical of policing policy and practices than in the previous study periods—though, at the same time, those voices came less from protests on the streets and more from advocacy groups, lawyers, academics, religious leaders and general public sources, and so shifted from the raw anger and “defund the police” demands of 2020 to less radical accountability measures.
Eliminating passing mentions and opinion pieces, we examined New York Times news articles centrally about policing policy or reform. We found 10 articles (with 58 sources) meeting our criteria between May 1 and June 30, 2022, and 16 articles (111 sources) between January 13 and February 10, 2023 (two weeks before and after the main day of the Tyre Nichols protests). Because the Times covered the issue so extensively in 2020, we took a random sample of 25 articles (142 sources) meeting our criteria from June 2020.
Sources were coded for occupation, gender, race/ethnicity and party affiliation (for government officials and politicians). Each source could receive more than one code for occupation (e.g., academic and former law enforcement) and race/ethnicity (e.g., Black and Asian American).
The movement to protest racist policing has been led primarily by Black activists, many of them women. It is a movement fundamentally about race, racism and white supremacy. Yet white sources handily outnumbered Black sources in coverage of police reform in two of the three periods studied, and men outnumbered women by roughly three-to-one in all three.
Of sources whose race could be identified, 52% were white and 40% Black in the 2020 data. In the 2022 data, white sources decreased slightly, but dominated Black sources by an even greater margin: 48% to 30%.
In the 2023 data, that trend reversed, and Black sources reached 66%, while white sources dropped to 31%.
One thing that didn’t change across the time periods was the New York Times‘ reliance on male sources: Men were 72% of sources with an identifiable gender in 2020, 74% in 2022 and 76% in 2023.
Policing is not a strictly Black-and-white issue, of course, and the coverage played out against the backdrop of rising xenophobia and anti-Asian hate resulting from the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic, with many using rising bias crimes against people perceived as Asian as an excuse to increase policing. Yet such voices were largely excluded from the conversation at the Times.
In 2020, 6% of sources were Hispanic and 2% were Indigenous; 1% were Asian-American and none were of Middle Eastern descent. In 2022, Times sources expanded a bit from the racial binary, with 14% Hispanic sources and 10% Asian-American. (No Indigenous sources or sources of Middle Eastern descent were quoted in 2022.) In 2023, that diversity disappeared, and of the 99 sources with identifiable race/ethnicity, only 2% were of Asian descent and 1% were Hispanic; none were of Indigenous or Middle Eastern descent.
The bias toward white and male sources—and the decrease in white sources in 2023—can be explained partly by the New York Times‘ bias toward government and law enforcement sources, both of which are disproportionately white, male fields.
In June 2020, a majority of all sources (55%) were current or former government officials—not including law enforcement, which formed the second-largest share of sources quoted, at 17%. Two years later, government sources had dropped to 40%, while law enforcement stayed roughly the same, at 16%; politicians running for office increased from less than 1% of 2020 sources to 5% of 2022 sources. In 2023, government sources dropped yet again, to only 22% of sources, and law enforcement remained steady at 16%.
Meanwhile, activists (protesters or organizers) accounted for 10% of 2020 sources, and representatives of professional advocacy groups accounted for 11%. In 2022, when street protests were relatively much smaller compared to 2020, activist voices were missing entirely, and professional advocate sources—such as the president of the NAACP and the director of Smart Justice California—increased to 21%. In 2023, the total across these two groups increased, with advocates accounting for 21% of sources and activists for 9%, and a greater number of non-governmental sources such as lawyers, academics and religious leaders appeared than in the previous time periods.
Combined, more than 7 in 10 of all sources quoted in 2020, more than 5 in 10 in 2022, and nearly 4 in 10 in 2023 were the government and law enforcement officials the protests sought to hold accountable. Only about 2 in 10 in 2020 and 2022, and 3 in 10 in 2023, were civil society members protesting or advocating for (or, in some cases, against) reform.
The proportion of white sources in these stories was high among law-enforcement sources (54% in 2020, 67% in 2022, 56% in 2023) and, less uniformly, among government sources (54% in 2020, 39% in 2022, 33% in 2023). Black sources were represented most among activists (79% in 2020, 89% in 2023) and advocates (20% in 2020, 58% in 2022, 52% in 2023).
In 2020 and 2022, women were likewise better represented among activists and advocates than among government and law enforcement sources. In 2020, 47% of advocate sources and 36% of activist sources were female, as compared to 22% of government and 17% of law enforcement sources. In 2022, 50% of advocates were female, compared to 13% of government and 22% of law enforcement sources.
In 2023, however, female government sources rose to 38%, a higher proportion of women in that year than among advocates (17%) or activists (29%). (Law enforcement sources continued to be a low 17% women.)
The increases in racial and ethnic diversity from 2020 to 2022 came largely within government sources, with officials quoted including the Black mayor of New York City, Eric Adams; Asian-American House representatives Pramila Jayapal and Ro Khanna; and Hispanic legislators Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Sen. Ted Cruz.
This diversification of government sources happened along with a shift in partisanship of sources: While Democrats dominated the conversation in 2020, with 51 sources to Republicans’ 25, Republicans were almost entirely absent in 2022, with a single source (Cruz) to Democrats’ 25. The absence of Republican sources continued in 2023, when 18 of 20 sources with party affiliations were Democrats, and one was an independent.
This near-total absence of Republicans from the conversation reflects in part the switch in power at the national level; Republicans controlled both the White House and Senate in 2020, and both had flipped to the Democrats by 2022. It also reflects the reality that the massive nature of the protests forced Republicans to address the issue of police reform in 2020, but they were no longer talking about it much in 2022—nor were outlets like the New York Times forcing them to.
The striking shift in the race of sources in the 2023 time period is not only about the decrease in government sources; it appears to be partly due to the focus on Memphis, where nearly two-thirds of residents and more than half of the police force (including its police chief, and all five of the officers charged with the murder of Nichols) are Black.
In one front-page article (2/5/23) that focused on the “Scorpion” unit that killed Tyre Nichols, headlined “Memphis Unit Driven by Fists and Violence,” a team of six Times reporters quoted 15 different sources, eight of whom were either victims of the unit or family members of victims; all victims and family members were Black. (These were coded as “General Public”: people without a particular professional or activist affiliation, but with experience relevant to the subject they are speaking on.) Only three of the total sources were government officials, and none were law enforcement.
Some articles not exclusively about the Nichols killing still focused on race. “Officers’ Race Turns Focus to System” (1/29/23) featured 14 sources across an array of nine different types of occupations; none were current or former government, and 11 were Black.
The focus on the Tyre Nichols killing also translated at the Times into more of a focus on police accountability, compared with coverage that did not center on police killings. In the absence of a police killing, an article (1/27/23) focused on policing policy appeared under the print-edition headline, “Heavier Police Presence Sees Success as Crime Drops in New York Subways.” It featured four New York government officials, two of whom touted increased policing. Only one advocate questioned those officials, calling for more frequent subway and bus service as an alternative form of public safety. The headline reflects whose narrative was given more credence by the Times.
That such an article so credulous of increased policing, and so light on critical sources, could appear against the backdrop of the Tyre Nichols story illustrates the blinkered nature of the Times‘ improved coverage. While high-profile incidents of police violence might narrowly prompt more critical coverage, systemic shifts in reporting face an uphill battle against corporate media’s longstanding reliance on and trust in government and law enforcement sources to establish the narrative on policing.
In 2020, when protests against police violence erupted across the country, the New York Times covered issues of policing policy and reform with a heavy tilt toward government and law-enforcement sources, and toward white sources.
Activists voicing their grievances against racist, violent policing, and making demands that such policing be rethought in more radical ways, occasionally found their way into the paper of record. Black Futures Lab’s Alicia Garza, for example, was quoted by the Times (6/21/20): “The continual push to shield the police from responsibility helps explain why a lot of people feel now that the police can’t be reformed.”
But their voices were largely drowned out by government officials, many of whom wanted nothing more than to make the protests go away, like Minneapolis city council member Steve Fletcher (6/5/20):
It’s very easy as an activist to call for the abolishment of the police. It is a heavier decision when you realize that it’s your constituents that are going to be the victims of crime you can’t respond to if you dismantle that without an alternative.
In letting government sources dominate again in 2022, Times coverage turned primarily to party politics, rather than investigations into whether reforms had been enacted, and whether or how police tactics had changed. The idea of defunding the police shifted from being presented as a concept to be debated to little more than a political punching bag, with law enforcement sources like former New York police commissioner Bill Bratton (6/9/22) calling the Defund movement “toxic.” Most Democrats distanced themselves from the movement, as when Joe Biden (5/31/22) was quoted: “We should all agree the answer is not to defund the police. It’s to fund the police. Fund them. Fund them.”
When Tyre Nichols was killed by police in 2023, it was not against a backdrop of an election season, nor did it spark protests at the scale of 2020. This time, Times coverage dug a bit deeper at the local level, turning to a wider variety of sources, and resulting in a greater emphasis on the need for police accountability.
While at least one source (1/29/23) called for defunding the police, most critical voices called more generally for accountability, and expressed frustration at the lack of any effective reforms since 2020. For instance, in an article headlined “Many Efforts at Police Reform Remain Stalled” (2/9/23), the president of the NAACP was quoted: “Far too many Black people have lost their lives due to police violence, and yet I cannot name a single law that has been passed to address this issue.”
The shift to a more diverse set of sources on the issue at the Times, during this one-month time period, is commendable. While the circumstances and location of Tyre Nichols’ killing offered strong opportunities to bring in more Black sources, the Times could easily have fallen back on its usual reliance on official sources, as it did in 2020 and 2022. Now it’s incumbent upon the Times to apply that more diverse and critical approach across all policing stories—not only when similarly high-profile police killings rock the country.