In many ways, the shooting of Samuel DuBose appears to fit an all-too-familiar pattern of police violence.1 On the evening of July 19, 2015, in Cincinnati, Ohio, Officer Raymond Tensing — who is white — stopped DuBose — who was black — for a minor moving violation.2 After DuBose was unable to produce his driver’s license, Tensing directed him to remove his seatbelt and tried to open DuBose’s driver’s side car door.3 “I didn’t even do nothing,” DuBose protested, as he held his door closed and turned the key to his car’s ignition.4 Yelling for DuBose to stop, Tensing reached for him with one hand and his service weapon with the other. He then fired one shot — killing DuBose instantly.5 Although Tensing claimed that he discharged his weapon only after being dragged by DuBose’s vehicle,6 his body camera footage plainly contradicted his account.7 In announcing Tensing’s indictment for murder, the county prosecutor condemned the officer’s actions as “asinine,” adding: “It’s an absolute tragedy in 2015 that anyone would behave in this manner. . . . [Tensing] lost his temper because Mr. DuBose wouldn’t get out of his car quick enough.”8
There are any number of narratives that might be spun from DuBose’s killing. However, one especially notable aspect of this particular instance of police violence is that Tensing was an officer of the University of Cincinnati (UC) Police Department — yet he pulled DuBose over on a public street several blocks south of UC’s campus.9 DuBose was neither affiliated with the university, nor suspected of committing a crime on university property or against a university-affiliated individual.10 That he was nonetheless stopped, seized, shot, and killed by a UC police officer casts new light upon the increasing role that colleges and universities play in policing the public at large. Although campus police departments have come to take on many of the characteristics of traditional police forces, they remain troublingly insulated from democratic control and public oversight.
How DuBose found himself on the other end of a campus police officer’s gun warrants further explanation. While campus police departments have existed for well over a century, they initially served a largely “custodial” function.11 But as colleges and universities began experiencing rapid growth in the mid-twentieth-century — and as instances of student unrest began occurring with greater frequency — school administrators increasingly sought to recast campus police departments in the mold of their municipal counterparts.12
To that end, state legislatures, as well as state and local police departments, proved to be willing facilitators.13 By the turn of the millennium, most states had passed laws authorizing campus “policing” in some form.14 Ohio, for example, not only permits private and public colleges and universities to “appoint” or “designate” campus police officers, but also vests those officers with full law enforcement power.15 In states where no such laws exist — or for officers of private institutions not covered by state law16 — state or local law enforcement agencies commonly deputize campus police officers, thereby “enabling the [campus] police to exercise state police powers.”17
Today, it is customary for colleges and universities to be patrolled by campus officers who are nearly indistinguishable from municipal officers in both appearance and practice.18 Student activism may no longer pose the same threat to the higher education establishment that it once did,19 but both federal law and market forces have increased awareness (and, arguably, concerns) about campus safety.20 And in this era of recurring mass shootings, armed campus police departments are often seen as necessary elements of the quasi municipalities that many colleges and universities have become.21
But as the legal powers of campus police departments have grown, so too has their physical jurisdiction. To be sure, some campus police departments continue to operate with what has been described as “limited jurisdiction,” which “provide[s] campus police officers with jurisdiction [solely] on property or facilities that are owned or operated by the college or university.”22 However, an increasing number of campus police departments enjoy some form of “extended jurisdiction,” which may provide (1) “jurisdiction over defined public roads or spaces that adjoin campus, in addition to the jurisdiction provided by limited jurisdiction statutes”;23 (2) “the ability to apprehend those who commit offenses on campus and subsequently flee beyond the campus police officer’s jurisdiction”;24 or (3) “‘concurrent jurisdiction’ with other police departments in a designated area agreed upon by the departments.”25
This typology helps to explain why Tensing was authorized to pull DuBose over at all. Although Ohio law grants campus officers jurisdiction only over campus property, it also allows municipalities to agree to share their jurisdiction with campus police departments.26 Accordingly, pursuant to “a mutual aid agreement between UC and surrounding police departments, . . . UC police officers may take law enforcement action in the relevant surrounding communities.”27 The UC and Cincinnati Police Departments have also collaborated on devising and implementing “a strategic additional patrol . . . plan” for the neighborhoods surrounding the UC campus.28
The shooting of Samuel DuBose thus brings into sharper relief the intermediate space in which campus police departments operate. They are not private security forces, endowed as they often are with jurisdiction over public streets. Nor are they full-fledged police departments, insofar as they function outside of the same legal, regulatory, and political sphere as their state and municipal counterparts. The result is an uneven system of policing marked by a lack of democratic accountability and institutional transparency. DuBose’s killing not only highlights these inconsistencies, but also urges their resolution.
The grant of extended jurisdiction to campus police departments is ostensibly rooted in the notion that putting more officers on the street should increase the safety of both campus affiliates and nonaffiliates.29 Yet more policing is not necessarily the same thing as more safety. After all, the alleged violation for which DuBose was pulled over — failure to display a front license plate — is only nominally related to safety. And because the police have as much power to inflict violence upon communities as they do to keep them safe,30 state and municipal police departments are subject, at least in theory, to a host of external controls. The need for such controls seems to be even greater in the context of campus policing: because the primary constituency of campus police departments remains the campus community,31 campus police officers may be prone to protect and serve some individuals while disproportionately policing others.32
Nevertheless, campus police departments tend not to be governed in the same ways as state and municipal departments. Whereas the chiefs of traditional police departments are typically no more than once removed from elected officials,33 the chiefs of private campus police departments are accountable to campus administrators,34 who are in turn accountable to university trustees.35 None are directly beholden to a public electorate,36 and major decisions affecting the policing of private citizens are sometimes made in the face of local elected officials’ vocal opposition.37 Even the leaders of public campus police departments are typically at least twice removed from elected officials, insofar as they are appointed by university leaders who are they themselves appointed.38
Moreover, although campus police departments often play a considerable role in a city’s overall policing scheme, they are not always subject to the same level of legal and regulatory scrutiny as their municipal partners. For example, the Cincinnati Police Department has been required to enact mandatory reforms as a result of class action litigation and a Department of Justice investigation.39 These reforms include the implementation of a civilian complaint review board40 and “community problem oriented policing.”41 The UC Police Department, on the other hand, has been bound by no similar edicts.42
The operations of many campus police departments also remain relatively opaque, even to their own constituents.43 This phenomenon is exacerbated by the fact that in most states, open records laws do not apply to private campus police forces.44 Further, campus police departments’ complaint processes tend to be far less robust than those of municipal departments. A growing number of cities — albeit often only after prolonged citizen organizing45 — have convened civilian agencies to review complaints levied against municipal police officers.46 In contrast, not only do campus police departments typically handle complaints in house, but they also provide far less information about how to file complaints and what happens to complaints once they are filed.47 To be sure, neither civilian complaint review boards48 nor the police departments49 that they oversee are perfect. The point, however, is that the proliferation of such basic transparency measures in the context of municipal policing has far outpaced that in campus policing.50
Because the structural contours of campus policing bear heavily on whether Tensing might have sought to engage DuBose differently, or whether he would have had the authority to stop DuBose in the first place, the shooting of Samuel DuBose underscores the need to reassess universities’ push into public policing.51 As an initial matter, states, municipalities, and academic institutions should revisit the terms of their jurisdictional agreements, with an eye toward reining in the extended jurisdiction that many campus police departments presently enjoy.52
Government actors should also move to hold campus police departments to the same basic standards of accountability and transparency as state and municipal departments. In the vast majority of states where private campus police departments are authorized to police the public yet are exempt from open records laws, legislators should seek to address this inconsistency.53 States and municipalities should also mandate that campus police departments implement enhanced internal measures for increased transparency, such as clear and accessible complaint processes that provide for direct civilian oversight. And, where the Department of Justice or some other government entity sees fit to intervene in state or municipal policing, it should also consider whether campus police departments — to the extent that they share jurisdiction with state or municipal departments — should be included within the scope of its intervention as well.
Finally, colleges and universities that wish to retain their broad powers to police the public should consider how they might align their police departments more closely with their stated missions as academic institutions. Doing so may help to justify why, beyond their obvious interest in “protecting” the safety of their constituents, colleges and universities should be engaged in public policing. One fairly obvious step that schools could take in this direction is to integrate academic research activities into their police departments’ everyday operations. Campus police departments are uniquely positioned to act as incubators for better policing practices and policies54: There is no shortage of academic experts whose disciplines are relevant to policing — whether they be criminal law and procedure, sociology, or education.55 Many academic institutions are buoyed by plentiful economic resources that rival those of some municipalities.56 And some campus police departments have already taken the lead in exploring measures for better policing in ways that municipal departments have not.57
There is normative value inherent in how we respond to the questions raised by DuBose’s death: What does it mean to be the police? Who gets to police whom? And what does it say about the value of particular lives where, as here, individuals are policed by institutions to which they do not belong, in which they are significantly underrepresented,58 and to which they have no meaningful democratic recourse? The shooting of Samuel DuBose suggests that the answer to this last question is that some lives do matter more. Yet it is precisely this sort of distinction that one would think colleges and universities — apt as they often are to emphasize their commitment to racial diversity59 — would be eager to avoid drawing.