
A deputy in Lake County, Indiana, once scanned a license plate across more than 19,000 cameras spanning 1,558 cities and towns. His official reason for the query? “LMAO.”
That single entry captures a pattern now documented across dozens of police agencies. Officers have filled the mandatory “reason” field in Flock Safety’s surveillance system with jokes, insults, shrugs and random keystrokes. The revelations come from an analysis of audit logs obtained through public records requests.
The Electronic Frontier Foundation reviewed the data and found entries such as “LOL,” “Hehe,” “Haha,” “idk,” “blah,” “TBD” and the longer plea “robbery I don’t remember the case number leave me alone.” Some officers typed insults like “idiot,” “dickhead,” “shithead,” “fuck this new search engine” or “WEIRD KID.” Others simply mashed the keyboard: “asdfg,” “gyghkkghghjkghjk,” “jhjhjkhj,” “nmbvcbnm.”
These searches took place from 2023 through late 2025. Flock altered its system afterward, making such logs harder to obtain through open records. Yet the entries expose something deeper than sloppy typing. They reveal a casual attitude toward a tool that tracks vehicle movements on a massive scale.
Flock Safety has built one of the largest automated license plate reader networks in the United States. Its cameras capture images of passing cars, extract plate numbers and store location data. Police can query the system for specific plates or broader patterns. The company markets the technology as a crime-fighting asset. But the audit logs tell a different story. And they arrive at a moment when Flock faces growing scrutiny.
Last month, USA TODAY published an investigation that examined more than 75 million license plate searches conducted by officers from 6,300 agencies between January 2023 and July 2026. The analysis uncovered patterns of potential misuse. At least 19 police and sheriff’s office employees in five states were arrested, fired, placed on administrative leave or investigated in the following weeks for improper use of the system.
One case involved a Georgia officer who queried her estranged husband’s plate almost daily for months, sometimes dozens of times in a single day. Another Texas detective searched more than 80,000 images without a warrant while investigating a suspected abortion. These examples sit alongside the frivolous entries uncovered by the EFF.
But the problem runs larger than isolated jokes. In a separate dataset of 11.4 million nationwide Flock searches over six months, the ACLU determined that more than 14 percent listed only the word “investigation,” with no case number or further detail. Similar vagueness appears repeatedly. Officers write “test,” a single letter or nothing at all.
The scale matters. A single query can pull data from thousands of cameras across hundreds of jurisdictions. One Goshen, Indiana, officer searched 6,474 automated license plate reader networks — representing 82,413 cameras — and entered “idk” as the reason. Harris County, Texas, sheriff’s employees used “LOL” or “lol” as a case number on multiple occasions. Kankakee County, Illinois, officers chose “idk” or “idk lol.”
Eatonton, Georgia, police entered strings such as “HJKNUILH,” “uiokjk.kuj” and “GJLHBNMN.” An Atlanta officer used “asdfga.” These are not outliers. The EFF identified button-mashing as its own category of search behavior.
Such practices raise basic questions about accountability. The “reason” field exists to create a record of legitimate law enforcement need. When that field contains gibberish, the record becomes meaningless. Privacy advocates argue the entire system operates with insufficient oversight. Warrants are rarely required. Retention policies vary. Data sharing crosses jurisdictional lines with little transparency.
Flock has responded to criticism by pointing to its value in solving serious crimes. The company notes that its cameras have helped recover stolen vehicles, locate missing persons and support investigations into violent offenses. Executives have said the technology gives police a tool they would otherwise lack. Yet the same system that catches real offenders also enables casual browsing, personal vendettas and outright abuse.
Recent news shows the tension playing out in real time. On the same day the EFF findings appeared, Atlanta officials announced plans to introduce citywide surveillance rules. An internal police audit of 115,578 Flock inquiries flagged 79 searches for further review. Mayor Andre Dickens stated that “technology that gives government extraordinary capabilities must come with extraordinary accountability.” The proposed ordinance would make internal police safeguards legally binding across all city departments.
Public backlash has taken other forms. In College Station, Texas, a 19-year-old man cut power cables to two Flock cameras and covered them with American flags. He now faces a criminal mischief charge. Similar vandalism has occurred elsewhere as residents grow uneasy with the expanding camera presence. Flock itself reports that its network recently surpassed 100,000 cameras nationwide, even as more than 50 cities have canceled contracts over concerns about data sharing with federal agencies.
The company adjusted its systems in December 2025 after increased public attention. Those changes made certain audit logs less accessible through records requests. The timing aligns with the end of the period examined by the EFF. Critics see the move as an effort to reduce transparency rather than address underlying problems.
Earlier reporting added context. The Houston Chronicle documented how Houston police conducted thousands of searches with vague justifications such as “investigation,” “suspect” or simple gibberish like “asdf.” Usage grew rapidly. Weekly searches doubled in less than a year. Some officers admitted to running “random” checks while on patrol.
WIRED examined Flock’s newer AI-powered tools. The systems now allow officers to search not just by plate but by descriptive prompts. An officer can ask for vehicles or people matching certain characteristics within a drawn geographic area. The technology stops short of facial recognition but edges closer to broader behavioral tracking. Privacy researchers worry that weak controls on the “reason” field become even more consequential when queries grow more sophisticated.
The EFF’s report lands amid a wider debate. Some lawmakers push for stricter rules. Colorado recently required warrants before sharing automated license plate data with federal agencies. Other states consider similar measures. Police departments defend the technology as essential for public safety. They argue that focusing on misuse ignores the many legitimate successes.
Yet the logs keep surfacing. Insults directed at suspects or the system itself. Expressions of ignorance or indifference. Pure nonsense. Each entry represents a moment when an officer decided that documenting a real justification was unnecessary. Or perhaps too much trouble.
That indifference carries consequences. Every plate captured contributes to a detailed map of movement. Over time, those maps can reveal where people live, work, worship or seek medical care. When the system treats such data casually, trust erodes. Residents already express discomfort with cameras that never sleep. The joke entries only heighten that unease.
Flock continues to expand. New contracts outpace cancellations. The network grows larger and more interconnected. At the same time, journalists, activists and some officials dig deeper into how the technology is actually used. The gap between the company’s promises and the audit logs remains wide.
Short searches. Long retention. Easy access. Minimal friction. The combination creates conditions where “LMAO” can stand in for legitimate police work. Until the reasons improve, the system will continue to invite skepticism. And more headlines like this one.
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