Faris Adani
Since its inception in 2017, Flock Safety has aggressively expanded its footprint across the United States, installing an estimated 100,000 automatic license plate readers (ALPRs) in communities nationwide, according to the ACLU. This pervasive "dragnet" surveillance system has drawn widespread condemnation from privacy advocates and civil liberties organizations, who highlight its myriad downsides: its susceptibility to abuse by unethical law enforcement officers, its reliance on ethically questionable labor practices in its supply chain, and the chilling reality that once designated a target, escaping its omnipresent gaze becomes nearly impossible. Yet, proponents, particularly police officials, consistently argue that these intrusive systems are a necessary trade-off for enhanced public safety, claiming they are indispensable tools for apprehending criminals. However, groundbreaking data released by the FBI, specifically analyzing the impact in Atlanta, Georgia—the city with the highest concentration of Flock cameras—reveals a starkly different and deeply concerning reality: this massive web of surveillance has had virtually no discernible positive impact on the Atlanta Police Department’s (APD) ability to solve crimes, with clearance rates for serious offenses, including homicide, actually declining as the cameras became more prevalent.
Atlanta stands as a critical test case for Flock Safety’s efficacy, boasting over 5,000 cameras blanketing its urban landscape, a deployment far exceeding that of any other American city. This unparalleled density of ALPRs was touted by local authorities and Flock Safety as a game-changer in the fight against crime. Yet, the bombshell FBI data, initially reported by the Atlanta Community Press Collective, serves as a damning refutation of Flock’s central premise: that ALPRs are essential for keeping communities safe. The ACPC‘s analysis of the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting (UCR) data for Atlanta between 2021 and 2025 paints a picture of systemic ineffectiveness, directly correlating with the period of aggressive ALPR build-out. Far from improving public safety outcomes, the rates at which the APD resolved crimes such as homicide, robbery, miscellaneous larceny, and shoplifting have, in fact, decreased or remained stagnant during this time.
The statistics for homicide are particularly egregious and embarrassing for a city that invested so heavily in surveillance technology. In 2021, Atlanta’s homicide clearance rate stood at 53.4 percent. By 2025, after thousands of Flock cameras had been installed, this rate plummeted to a mere 48 percent. This decline underscores a tragic reality: despite an unprecedented level of surveillance, more families are left without justice, and perpetrators of the most serious crimes remain at large. This trend raises profound questions about the allocation of resources and the actual utility of such pervasive technology.
Similarly disheartening are the figures for rape cases. The clearance rate for rape remained stubbornly flat year over year, holding at a pitiful 37.7 percent from 2021 to 2025. At its lowest point within that four-year span, it dipped to a staggering 21.2 percent. These abysmal rates not only represent a failure of the justice system but also perpetuate a climate of distrust and vulnerability for victims, especially when a purported advanced surveillance system seemingly offers no tangible improvement.
Even in crime categories where one might expect ALPRs to excel, given their primary function of tracking vehicles, the results are shockingly poor. Motor vehicle theft, for instance, showed only a marginal improvement of 0.3 percent in clearance rates from 2021 to 2025. In 2025, with thousands of Flock ALPRs at their disposal, the APD was still solving a meager one in ten cases of auto theft. This specific failure directly challenges Flock Safety’s marketing, which frequently highlights the technology’s effectiveness in recovering stolen vehicles. If a system designed to track cars cannot significantly improve the solve rate for car theft, its broader utility for other, more complex crimes becomes even more dubious.
Other categories, such as aggravated assault, saw a negligible uptick of just 0.2 percent in case closures. These minimal increases, effectively amounting to rounding errors, stand in stark contrast to the significant investment and the profound privacy implications of deploying thousands of surveillance cameras. The data unequivocally suggests that the promise of dramatically improved public safety, used to justify this vast expansion of surveillance, has simply not materialized.
Len Phillips, who heads DeFlock Atlanta, a community group actively campaigning against ALPRs, succinctly articulated the public’s disillusionment to the ACPC. He stated that the "public has been asked to accept a significant expansion of surveillance based on the promise that it would dramatically improve public safety." Yet, the FBI data, Phillips argues, demonstrates that this supposed trade-off between privacy and safety "was just a one-way transaction." Citizens have surrendered significant civil liberties, but without receiving the promised increase in security or justice.
Beyond the stark ineffectiveness, the deployment of ALPRs carries a hefty price tag, both financially and societally. Municipalities invest substantial taxpayer funds in purchasing, installing, and maintaining these systems, diverting resources that could potentially be used for more evidence-based crime prevention programs, community policing initiatives, or social services that address the root causes of crime. The economic cost, coupled with the proven lack of efficacy, makes the continued proliferation of Flock cameras an irresponsible use of public funds.
The privacy and civil liberties concerns extend far beyond the initial purchase. ALPRs operate as a "dragnet" surveillance tool, indiscriminately capturing license plate data, time stamps, and location information for every vehicle that passes within their range, not just those of suspected criminals. This data is then stored, often for extended periods, and shared with a wide network of law enforcement agencies, potentially including federal entities like ICE, and even private companies. This creates a vast database of ordinary citizens’ movements, ripe for mission creep and abuse. The potential for "crooked cops" to exploit this data for personal vendettas, stalking, or discriminatory profiling is a serious and documented concern. Furthermore, the ethical sourcing of components for these systems, with reports linking them to sweatshop labor, adds another layer of moral complexity to their deployment.
The idea that one can "escape" the system once targeted is, as the original report notes, "nearly impossible." This creates a chilling effect, where citizens are aware their movements are constantly being monitored, fostering a sense of perpetual surveillance that erodes trust between communities and law enforcement. It shifts the paradigm from targeted investigation based on suspicion to mass surveillance of entire populations, a hallmark of authoritarian regimes rather than open democracies.
The Atlanta case study is not an isolated incident. Across the country, communities are grappling with the tension between technological solutions to crime and the fundamental rights of citizens. The FBI data from Atlanta serves as a crucial piece of evidence in this ongoing debate, providing a concrete, quantitative assessment that contradicts the optimistic assurances of surveillance technology providers and their governmental partners. It forces a critical re-evaluation of the efficacy of ALPRs and prompts a wider discussion about what truly constitutes effective crime fighting.
Instead of investing heavily in technologies that demonstrably fail to improve public safety, cities might achieve better results by directing resources towards community-led initiatives, comprehensive mental health services, poverty reduction programs, and investing in forensic capabilities that actually enhance investigative work. These approaches, while often less flashy than high-tech surveillance, are frequently cited by criminologists and public health experts as more effective long-term strategies for crime reduction and community building.
In conclusion, the FBI data from Atlanta presents a damning indictment of Flock Safety’s ALPRs. The promise of enhanced safety in exchange for privacy has proven to be a false one, at least in Atlanta. The numbers are clear: thousands of cameras have not made the city safer or significantly improved its crime-solving capabilities. As Len Phillips rightly noted, it was a "one-way transaction," leaving the public with diminished privacy and no tangible benefit to public safety. This evidence should serve as a wake-up call for cities nationwide to critically examine their surveillance strategies, prioritize evidence-based approaches to crime reduction, and uphold civil liberties above the allure of technologically advanced, yet ultimately ineffective, solutions. The future of public safety depends not on ubiquitous surveillance, but on intelligent, ethical, and effective governance grounded in data and respect for fundamental rights.
