License plate-reading cameras that are popping up in communities around Massachusetts and the rest of the country are often presented as a way to make communities safer. They can help police investigate stolen cars, locate missing people, and solve crimes. Of course those are important goals, but as communities consider adopting this technology, there is another question worth asking: What happens when information collected in the name of public safety is used by someone who wants to control another person?
Flock Safety, one of the largest providers of automated license plate readers, operates a network of cameras that captures license plates, images of vehicles, and the time and location of each sighting. Law enforcement agencies can search this information to learn where a vehicle has been and where it may have traveled. The cameras do not need to recognize a person’s face to reveal a great deal about their movements.
For someone experiencing domestic violence, that possibility is more than a privacy concern. It can be a safety concern.
When surveillance becomes a tool of abuse
Monitoring another person’s movements is a familiar tactic of domestic violence. An abusive partner may demand access to a phone, insist on location sharing, install tracking software, or use smart home devices to keep tabs on someone. These behaviors are not simply about technology. They are ways to exert power and control.
We are now seeing evidence that license plate readers can be used in much the same way. The Institute for Justice has documented dozens of cases across the country in which law enforcement officers allegedly used automated license plate readers to track current or former romantic partners, or people they wanted to pursue. In an August 2026 investigation, The Washington Post identified 26 cases in which investigators or prosecutors said officers had used license plate readers to spy on romantic partners, former partners, or other women. Flock’s system was involved in 46 of the broader set of misuse cases examined by the newspaper.
These are not hypothetical scenarios. In Massachusetts, a Stow police officer resigned after being accused of improperly using Flock and other law enforcement databases to look up information about someone he knew. Stow subsequently ended its relationship with Flock and removed its remaining cameras. Other cases across the country have involved officers repeatedly searching for former partners or people they were interested in dating. The allegations have led to criminal charges, firings, and renewed scrutiny of how these systems are monitored.
For people experiencing domestic violence, the implications are deeply troubling. Someone leaving an abusive relationship may be trying to keep their location private not just from a former partner, but from anyone who might pass information along. They may be going to work, taking their children to school, meeting with an attorney, visiting a domestic violence program, or staying with a friend. If someone can use a network of cameras to trace a vehicle’s movements, that information could help an abusive partner find them.
A person does not need direct access to a camera system to benefit from its misuse. An officer or other authorized user could search on someone else’s behalf, or information could be shared beyond the agency that originally collected it. Safeguards need to account for those possibilities, too.
Safeguards matter—but so does enforcement
Flock has announced changes in response to growing criticism. These include reducing the default data-retention period from 30 days to seven, requiring case codes for law enforcement searches, and making tools that flag unusual search activity mandatory for law enforcement customers by the end of 2026. The company has also announced plans for automatic lockouts when a user’s activity meets criteria for suspicious behavior, along with additional controls over data sharing. These are meaningful steps toward addressing the risks.
But a new policy or feature is only part of the answer. Some safeguards depend on police departments reviewing flagged searches, investigating questionable activity, and taking action when someone abuses their access. A search can have a case code and still be improper. An audit log is useful only if someone reviews it and follows up when something looks wrong.
There are also questions about how information is shared between agencies and what restrictions apply once another agency has access. Communities need to understand not only what their own police department can search, but also who else can access the information, for what purposes, and under whose oversight.
The recent cases show why these details matter. Misuse has sometimes come to light only after a person reported suspicious behavior or journalists uncovered unusual search patterns. People should not have to discover that they are being tracked before a system designed to protect the public recognizes that something may be wrong.
Whose safety are we considering?
Communities have legitimate reasons to consider tools that may help solve crimes and find missing people. But decisions about surveillance technology should weigh those potential benefits against the risks, including the ways it could be used against people who are already vulnerable.
That means asking more than whether a camera system can help police do their jobs. Before adopting it, communities should consider how long information will be retained, who can access it, how searches will be independently audited, what limits will apply to sharing, and what consequences follow when someone misuses the system. Policies should be public, enforceable, and reviewed regularly. Domestic violence survivors and the advocates who work with them should be part of these conversations and not brought in only after a problem occurs.
At The Second Step, we work with people whose safety can depend on keeping their whereabouts private. We know that leaving an abusive relationship does not necessarily end the abuse, and that technology can create new ways for an abusive partner to monitor, intimidate, or locate someone. The same information that helps one person feel safer can put another person at risk, depending on who has access to it and how it is used.
Technology does not have to be designed for abuse to become a tool of coercive control. That is why the risks need to be considered before a community adopts it, not only after someone has been harmed. As communities decide whether and how to use license plate-reading cameras, we need to ask: Will this make us safer? Who might be put at risk? And what protections are in place for someone whose safety depends on not being found?
If you or someone you know needs help: The Second Step is here.
Call 617-965-2538 or email info@thesecondstep.org