Introduction
Police are everywhere. For race-class subjugated communities,1 police and other carceral2 infrastructures have become permanent fixtures in the bureaucratic organizations of daily life, from public schools, emergency departments, and colleges to mass transit, public housing, social service offices, and private apartment buildings. Modern police do much more than respond to or investigate crime in these spaces.3 Police break up fights and counsel children in K–12 schools,4 serve as security for public hospitals,5 patrol public housing complexes for disturbances,6 and respond to clients in mental health distress.7 Administrators of formal institutions8 increasingly find it natural for police to solve these problems; after all, law enforcement performs similar functions in other spaces.9 Moreover, laws and policies have developed over time to encourage institutions to adopt internal policing,10 and often come with funding that propels policing as the de facto mode of handling a broad range of safety concerns.11
This Article provides a “transinstitutional” approach for analyzing the ways policing operates across domains. The features of this approach are based on an examination of police located within K–12 schools, public emergency departments, veterans health care, public and low income housing, mass transit, and universities and colleges.12 The key contribution of this Article is mapping the transinstitutional intersections and patterns between policing (as its own institution) and other institutional locations, the street, and the home, while attending to the relationships between police and nonpolice personnel across institutional settings. Despite inhabiting realms that seem distinctive in their missions and legal structure, the police and other institutions are united in their commitment to providing services — such as care or education — to varying degrees, and yet together reproduce the logics of carcerality.13 And policing changes what it inhabits. The roles police play within formal institutions distort boundaries between policing and other public operations. In fact, they mediate access to social services, education, and care.
My framework connects several strands of policing scholarship. First, this Article generally recognizes an emerging body of what I am calling transinstitutional policing scholarship, which accounts for the overall linkages between policing and various institutions of mass incarceration. This literature recognizes that policing operates in multiple locations and sometimes overlapping contexts in conjunction with social structures and the carceral logics of public institutions.14 It magnifies how, for race-class subjugated persons, the transinstitutional nature of policing blurs the line between institutions providing care and those imposing control.15 Transinstitutional policing scholarship examines and contextualizes the rules, norms, and relationships between who is policed and how they are policed. Socio-legal scholars and sociologists also examine policing across institutions to understand contemporary welfare and penal regulation.16 This Article represents the contours and characteristics of transinstitutional policing scholarship.
Second, this Article is situated within the renewed attention to the intersections of carcerality, race, and the criminalization of poverty.17 Specifically, this Article joins scholarship examining how noncriminal (and even nonregulatory) agencies and institutions replicate carceral practices and create subordinating spaces.18 A decade or more of intensive study on misdemeanors and lower court practices has provided indelible insights into the ways crime and poverty merge under the rubric of law.19 Recent scholarship expands the frame from courts as the primary site of punishment to the ways formal institutions use noncriminal and sublegal charges as connections to policing and surveillance.20
I note that looking at a more general picture risks oversimplification, incorrect generalizations, and the absence of contextual nuance. However, scholars have examined institutions and organizations in many ways, and the study of street-level bureaucracies requires a certain amount of telescoping to draw general conclusions. My hope is that this Article digests the insights of the rich and important work of others. This Article’s approach benefits from the important thick descriptions, sociological accounts, narrative storytelling, and ethnography of other scholars and recognizes them to be key methodologies for understanding law and its impact. Ultimately, to address the harms of policing, we need both abstract and specific views — detailed analysis of each institution offers rich accounts from which others can develop broader theory and frameworks.
This Article builds on these different strands of scholarship to develop specific insights. The transinstitutional framework I describe in this Article allows us to observe how pervasively the police have come to operate in institutions. Likewise, formal institutions use a myriad of noncriminal, administrative, and sublegal avenues to police and surveil race-class subjugated communities.21 Across institutions, police aim to maintain a type of public order.22 This, in turn, enables further monitoring and potentially blurs the distinction between civil and criminal, creating more court involvement based on police interactions when a person accesses public services, education, or care.23
Most importantly, taking a step back and looking across settings helps us answer the following questions from a transinstitutional vantage point: Do patterns arise when police operate within locations providing care, education, or public welfare? And if so, what are the patterns? This Article answers the first question in the affirmative, and provides a framework within which to view policing as part of dynamics that include both an institution’s carceral logics24 and its racialized social system.25 The interweaving of policing and other domains is essential to examine because the problem is not solely police, but also that policing exploits the ways broader phenomena and institutions of care embed carcerality via personnel, laws, and policies. This Article further considers: Where did the transinstitutional design features described within originate? The hope is future work will then ask how can our understanding of transinstitutional policing shape how we transform, scale back, or eliminate the role police play in such settings.
A broader understanding of the ways institutions embed police and use them to amplify their own carceral logics is essential to anyone interested in police reform.26 When scholars and advocates focus on one site for analysis or policy reforms, they may lose sight of the importance of transinstitutional policing dynamics. Reforming one institution’s harmful reliance on police may be like putting a finger in the hole of a dam — race-class subjugated community members traverse many institutions that subject them to surveillance and potential police interactions.27 A better understanding of patterns across organizational contexts also brings to light the challenges with removing police from public institutions and adopting alternative methods or personnel to address the root causes of the social problems. Today, typical reforms include shifting roles and resources to the very institutions I examine, despite their functioning within what sociologists call the “shadow carceral state.”28 The systems that hold the most popular alternatives to policing — such as health care or schools — are not only themselves embedded with police, but also carry their own carceral logics.29 Thus, when social workers or nurses take on the problem-solving or crisis management functions of police, they risk replicating police logics because their institutional homes are imbued with carceral logics.30
Foregrounding policing transinstitutionally has several implications for the organizational context. For one, policymakers and administrators should reconsider the rationales behind placing so-called specialized police forces inside public institutions. While each distinct institutional bureaucracy wants to believe its police can be the exception, appreciation for the transinstitutional character of policing reveals the pitfalls of such thinking. I debunk a prevailing myth that bureaucratic administrators with sole or shared authority over specialized police can temper the excesses of policing: violence, racial disparities, and dignitary harms.31
My framework also reveals another transinstitutional problem when institutions of care use police: police undermine the host institution’s imprimatur of authority. When police exercise the full scope of their authority, they undermine the host institution’s legitimacy, create distance and distrust, and erode its ability to serve the target constituency.32 Institutional police have failed to be more attentive to the needs of marginalized people despite training, agreements, values statements, policies, and law.33 Instead, the North Star of police remains management34 and regulation. Whether out of naivety, willful ignorance of the realities of policing, or something more nefarious, bureaucratic leaders seem to ignore the likely harmful and potentially deadly outcomes of facilitating police engagement with their constituents. When faced with the reality across institutional settings that this Article presents, the problems are more difficult to ignore.
This Article proceeds in four Parts. Part I provides an overview of what I am calling the transinstitutional approach. I describe a continuum of embedded policing, and explain why particular institutions are studied here.
Parts II and III provide six institutional design features supporting and facilitating the imbrication of police and policing logics for addressing safety. The first three — red flagging, street policing, and wellness checks — show how policing the public relies upon police presence within formal institutions. The second three — networked information, bureaucratic conflict and cooperation, and vulnerable privacy — tie surveillance of the public to transinstitutional policing.
Part IV draws out the reasons policing operates so similarly in each location and other lessons learned. Ultimately, to transform institutions and reform police on the way to abolition, we must better understand policing across and between formal institutions. That is my project.
I. The Transinstitutional Approachto Studying Policing
A. The Continuum of Institutional Police
We might think of the ways police embed themselves within institutions as being on a continuum. Mapping the continuum provides helpful context for this Article’s framework because the differences in authority, oversight, and leadership have yielded fewer distinctions in policing and surveillance than organizational leaders might expect.
On one end of the continuum are full-fledged internal police agencies. Some institutions have created their own police forces and typically require statutory authorization to carry out police functions. These are most commonly the police found in universities and colleges35 and veterans health care facilities.36
Administrators in these institutions hire, fire, and deputize the officers.37 They decide police structure, training, and patrol assignments.38 Such police’s authority may be limited and require agreements with local law enforcement for arrests, transportation, wellness checks, or other duties, and such police often use local police agencies as backup.39 Agreements also govern the authority and way local police may engage with individuals within the institutions. Thus, local police engaging with students at a university or college, or with patients at a veterans hospital, will generally request access or provide a courtesy heads-up to the institution’s police force.40 Often, the institution’s police force accompanies the local police in their operations, whether to effectuate an arrest, question a student or patient, or engage in a wellness check.41 The institutional police officers extend their policing into the community, not only within the confines of the institution or surrounding property.42
On the other end of the continuum are contexts where local police departments assign specific units of police officers to the institution. Hospital emergency departments and public housing might fit on this end of the spectrum.43
In such contexts, authority and hiring decisions largely remain with municipal police departments, though specific training and rules are sometimes developed by the institutions.44 Hospital administrators and public housing authorities often contract with local police to serve as security and police inside and outside an institution’s space.45 For example, since 1995, the Housing Bureau of the New York Police Department has patrolled and policed New York Public Housing Authority properties and private properties in low-income areas where landlords have agreed to provide access to police trespass.46 This division includes over two thousand police officers assigned to low-income housing areas.47 The Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department similarly assigns deputies to serve as security and police within the Harbor-UCLA health system.48
K–12 schools and mass transit fall within a middle category of the continuum, where institutions operate in an either/or, or either/and, space. Depending on the geographic location, these institutions either operate purely institutional police forces or contract with local police; alternatively, these institutions use their own police force and contract with local police. School policing varies between districts due to “local preferences and expectations.”49 There are in-house police forces serving a number of larger school districts, including in Dallas, Houston, Miami-Dade, and Los Angeles.50 In one national study of School Resource Officers (SROs), those who worked in urban areas, as well as those who worked in urban and higher-minority school districts, were “more likely than their peers to work for a school police department as opposed to a local police or sheriff’s department.”51 These “in-house” police forces were created with the goal of separating inside police from the outside (local) police on the view that doing so would allow school officials to exert more control over hiring and training for the particularities of each school.52 There is little to suggest different outcomes in terms of police violence or referrals to the juvenile justice system despite the variation.53
Mass transit is another system in the middle of the continuum where the structure varies. Some municipalities have chosen to institutionalize transit police agencies separately from local police, and others have patched together policing resources using one or more local and/or institutional police contracts.54 The Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) in the San Francisco area and the Southeastern Pennsylvania Transit Authority (SEPTA) operate institutional police forces.55 New York City operates with a large New York Police Department (NYPD) Transit Bureau and the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) Police Department.56 Los Angeles Metro engages in different contracts with the sheriff, Long Beach and Los Angeles police departments, and private security.57
B. Which Institutions?
A central contribution of this Article is what I’m naming a transinstitutional approach for studying the ways policing intersects with various institutional domains.
My project analyzes multiple sites of police imbrication — K–12 education, public emergency departments, public and private housing, mass transit, veterans health care, and colleges and universities.58 One may ask, why these locations, and to what extent do other settings fit the same pattern? My goal is not to outline transinstitutional policing vis-à-vis all relevant institutions. Instead, I have chosen institutions illustrative of the interactions and phenomena I am attempting to describe in this Article. My goal is to provide a general sense of the characteristics of transinstitutional policing and institutional design features to allow scholars and advocates to understand the ecosystem of managerial institutions that impact the lives of race-class subjugated communities. Similar to my prior project examining the intersection of veterans health care and policing,59 I am paying attention to the institutions that serve race-class subjugated communities and that have been put forward as potential alternatives to police. The popular sentiments of #CounselorsNotCops in schools60 or #HousingNotHandcuffs show a juxtaposition of public institutions solving social problems on the one hand and policing or jails on the other.61
I adopt a layered view on whether an institution is susceptible to the infusion of law enforcement. Settings within the welfare state are more likely to adopt a policing response to safety,62 and they are therefore more central to the institutional design features this Article outlines. They naturalize policing into their core functions, even when doing so is contested and in tension with aspects of their mission.63 Other locations this Article examines are more peripheral to the framework I provide. Considering peripheral institutions (for example, colleges and universities) helps us see that the impulse to adopt policing is so strong that it pervades parts of society outside the welfare state.64
II. Policing the Public
My goal for Parts II and III of this Article is to provide a structure for analyzing policing within formal institutions. The two Parts provide this Article’s six features across six institutional contexts — K–12 schools, emergency departments, colleges and universities, veterans health care, mass transit, and public housing. The six features are presented through sets of examples. To keep the project at a manageable length, this Article does not give each institutional domain or feature equal treatment but gives each enough attention so that later projects and other scholars can build on the analytic framework.
The kinds of features analyzed in Parts II (policing the public) and III (surveilling the public) bring to life the tension between what is typically viewed as care, on one hand, and carcerality, on the other. Sociologists and sociolegal scholars have observed that care and carcerality are enmeshed in ways that make decoupling police from formal institutions particularly hard.65 Vulnerable persons must navigate institutional spaces and relationships through police. For race-class subjugated communities, police mediate access to and delivery of essential services. And the lines connecting policing and surveillance within institutions to police interactions on the street and in the home undermine any promises of a kinder, gentler police force under the authority of agency administrators. Instead, institutions use police and frontline workers to manage, regulate, control, and discipline. The six features described in this Part and the next are not meant to be segregable or neatly boxed in. They are intersecting and overlapping features that illustrate patterns across institutional contexts. Over time and with more study, the contours of these features may be contested and developed further.
Part II describes how policing the public expands beyond municipal street police, the police most typically associated with policing. Policing the public requires street-level bureaucrats and police to join forces, albeit for different reasons.66 In section II.A., I show how “red flagging” by nonpolice can lead to future policing. I then describe in section II.B two ways police are involved with “boundary formation,” sometimes with the assistance of frontline workers. First, embedded police engage in “gray zone policing” — quality of life enforcement, which includes policing the unhoused and disabled. Second, police also maintain a racial boundary between institutions and surrounding communities, sending messages of spatial belonging. Section II.C shows how embedded police integrate themselves into wellness checks performed at a person’s home, including those initiated by other clientele, bureaucratic frontline workers, or administrators.
These features of transinstitutional policing show how policing is not confined to any single institution but aims to impose order on the public from within and across multiple institutions. Policing also emanates from the institutions outwards. Blurring the lines between institutions, the streets, and the home leads to increased policing for race-class subjugated communities. Even where initiatives stem from care motives and care institutions, they increase pathways to police interactions and violence.67 Transinstitutional policing can further social alienation when clientele disconnect from a public institution or service providers following a carceral interaction (vis-à-vis police or other workers).
A. Red Flagging
The term “red flagging,” as I’m using it, is a process through which staff or police notice a person’s actions and create a note, list, flag, mark, or new record within administrative files or electronic records to track or monitor the person’s future behavior. Flagging can lead to criminal, traffic, or juvenile law charges, with all the attendant criminal consequences, or other noncriminal (but perhaps still punitive) sanctions. To illustrate, red flagging can lead to: a veteran patient’s citation for disruptive behavior or a flag in a medical record;68 a college student’s arrest for a drug or alcohol violation or a referral to the dean of students;69 a middle school or high school student’s ticket or school suspension;70 an arrest with eviction consequences or a warning for a lease violation;71 and so forth.
I am drawing from my previous work on the Veterans Health Administration’s (VHA) behavioral record flags, also known as “red flags,” to show that red flagging is a more generalizable phenomenon.72 The VHA permits hospital staff to place an electronic flag — which appear as bold red letters on the top of the record page — when a patient has disrupted hospital operations.73 A committee (which includes police74) deliberates over the disruptive incidents and enters red flags — which appears as large, all-caps, red letters — into patients’ electronic medical records.75 The flag is then shared across the VHA health system around the country to communicate that a patient has been or could be disruptive.76 The only comprehensive data available on these types of record flags is from a 2018 Office of Inspector General report that covers 889 individual patient records.77 The data shows swearing at facility staff or using racial slurs were the most common bases for red flagging veteran patients.78 In response, scholars raised concerns that patients with disabilities, particularly traumatic brain injuries or complex mental illnesses that might lead to paranoia and agitation with verbal reactions, are more likely to be flagged.79
As is the case with the VHA, policies that permit red flagging in other social services or education settings are sometimes initiated for care or protection of clientele or workers but carry disciplinary, regulatory, and punitive consequences for race-class subjugated persons. Although red-flagging policies are intended as a less punitive alternative to immediate police responses,80 when bureaucratic workers use these flags, they expose their clientele to scrutiny, monitoring, or noncriminal sanction. Police may use red flagging to support involuntary commitment or subsequent arrests and citations.81 The bureaucratic institutions examined in this Article red flag internal records for similar purposes as marking criminal records in sociological literatures.82 Policies or procedures within these institutions extend discretion to workers, elasticizing who is marked and why they are marked,83 all while affording police a role in the determinations. Importantly, I am not making an empirical claim. Instead, my argument is that bureaucratic leaders and lawmakers typically focus on the advantages of such a system. If we do not take into account the linkages between and across systems, it may be difficult to comprehensively understand the drawbacks of red flags.
Red flagging is a form of mass criminalization and leads to surveillance; it also expresses carceral logics within bureaucratic institutions. It provides an opportunity for police and bureaucratic workers to exercise discretion on whether to wield formal charges or other sanctions. To consider how red flagging facilitates mass criminalization and expresses carceral features of an institution, we can take for example Mr. Nolan Lewis. He is a veteran adjudicated to be one hundred percent disabled and unable to work due to trauma experienced during his combat service.84 In 2014, he made several attempts to refill his mental health medication prescription by calling a Veterans Affairs (VA) pharmacy.85 By his third attempt, Mr. Lewis was frustrated with his provider, the VA, and the pharmacy;86 but finally, a pharmacist indicated she would have his medications ready the following day.87 Unbeknownst to Mr. Lewis, one of the pharmacists he spoke to had noticed a behavioral “flag” in his electronic medical records from 2010.88 This flag was outdated, however, and should have been removed in 2012.89 According to Mr. Lewis’s complaint filed in the Central District of California, the pharmacist nevertheless reported, falsely, that he had threatened his provider-physician,90 leading to a request for an updated flag.91
The next day, Mr. Lewis picked up his prescription.92 VA police officers and a special agent visited him a few hours after he returned home.93 They obtained consent to enter and search for weapons.94 According to Mr. Lewis, during the interrogation that ensued, they “lunged at him” violently, threatened to take him somewhere to physically assault him, and called Mr. Lewis a “Vietnam baby killer[],” “pill head,” and “f[-ing] liar.”95 The next day, the VA officers returned with multiple L.A. County Sheriff’s Department officers.96 Mr. Lewis was aggressively arrested, driven to multiple locations around the county,97 and eventually charged with making “[c]riminal [t]hreats” against the pharmacist and physician.98
In support of Mr. Lewis, his VA psychiatrist wrote a letter to the court stating it was “highly improbable” that Mr. Lewis “had made specific statements to threaten the lives of others, especially VA employees” and in the psychiatrist’s “professional opinion,” “Mr. Lewis did not commit the crime he [was] being accused of.”99 The court eventually dismissed the charges,100 but these events exacerbated Mr. Lewis’s post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms101 and weakened his faith in the VA as a location for veteran care.102
Mr. Lewis’s story illustrates a few larger points. First, it shows how policing inside the institution connects to other spaces and punitive methods. The red flag follows the veteran from health facility to health facility, and as I will argue later, grants embedded and local police entry into patients’ homes.103 Second, it shows how the subcriminal disciplinary and tracking methods within institutions operate as flags for future police interactions or other potentially punitive treatment of clientele by workers. In the VHA’s red-flagging systems, a patient’s flag based on encounters from months or years prior remains relevant to their interactions with health care providers in the future. Even in a system that worked appropriately — using flags sparingly and with appropriate procedural protections as a way of warning providers that a patient may need particularized care due to prior behavioral concerns or violence — there would be reasons to be skeptical of their utility. I have argued elsewhere that flags create a stigma and bias associated with criminality and violence.104 In this example, the physician and pharmacist testified to the influence of this flag on their interpretation of Mr. Lewis’s actions: the physician stated that he “feared” for his “well-being . . . in part, due to [Mr. Lewis’s] behavioral flag” from four years prior.105 Third, it shows how a patient’s acute mental health circumstances may play a role in the events leading to the record flag in the first instance.106 The current VA policies don’t account for distress, changed circumstances, or rehabilitation,107 and current procedural safeguards are not adhered to in a manner that can account for the prevalence of serious mental illness and houselessness.108 Without fixed addresses, houseless veteran patients may never receive actual or constructive notice of a flag, making it unlikely they will correctly or timely contest flags. For example, where regulations require the patient to mail an appeal to a specific official, when another official receives the written request or the correct person receives an oral request for an appeal, a federal court upheld dismissal of an appeal even though the patient’s disability led to difficulty navigating the appeal’s rules.109 Finally, it shows that the picture is complex. Employers cannot and should not ignore serious threats, and workers should not endure fear or insecurity in the workplace. But responses must consider the well-being of both workers and clientele, and institutional policing too often disregards the latter for the sake of the former.
In the housing context, red flagging takes the form of house rules and trespasser lists. Lease agreements with housing authorities and private landlords110 require tenants to comply with certain house rules, which local police may enforce through agreements with housing authorities and private building managers.111 The New York City Housing Authority’s house rules are so broad that they duplicate provisions of criminal law (for example, no trespassing) and also cover general upkeep “such as waste disposal, moving permits, TV antenna installation, and barbecue permits.”112 Such rules create the opportunity for housing-authority staff, private security, and other officials to figuratively flag particular tenants for scrutiny and monitoring, always with the ability to ratchet up the consequence of rule violation or engage the institution’s police. In addition to house rules, housing authorities across the country maintain trespass logs or lists to “document those who have been issued trespassing citations.”113 These unverified lists then allow housing authority staff to engage their police, or local police, to stop or arrest a visitor or resident merely because their name appears on the list.114 Professor Alexis Karteron documents such practices in public housing and what she calls “patrolled housing”115 in Maryland, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Ohio, Virginia, and Washington.116 These trespass lists can justify increasing housing police in and around low-income housing.117
Tenants with disabilities, particularly mental disabilities, or tenants who act in a manner out of step with white, middle-class, heteronormative ideas of behavior, are more likely to find themselves flagged by the housing authority or landlord.118 Misunderstandings or small disputes can quickly lead to lease violations or placement on problem lists. As a consequence of the lease violations or neighbors’ extra scrutiny, police may intervene, leading to criminal or regulatory charges.119 Although disability law may protect such tenants, reasonable accommodations processes are hard for residents to navigate120 and improperly implemented.121 Housing authorities sometimes “create procedural barriers” to obtaining necessary accommodations, including requiring medical documentation.122 Landlords may ask tenants to move to different units rather than modify the tenant’s occupied unit.123 If available units are a substantial distance away, the tenant may be forced to choose between remaining in housing that cannot meet their disability needs and moving away from “family, communities, and services.”124
One concrete example highlighted in the work of Professor Priscilla Ocen is connected to Section 8 housing, though the problem of policing public housing is not limited to Section 8 voucher holders.125 After experiencing an increase in Black Section 8 voucher holders, the city of Antioch, California, solicited complaints against Section 8 tenants to submit to both the police and the local housing authority.126 The California cities of Lancaster and Palmdale even worked with the local housing authority “to hire and pay for dedicated fraud investigators,” all of whom were former sheriff’s deputies who conducted their housing authority business with sheriff’s department email addresses and used the sheriff’s station as office space.127 In Lancaster, which implement-ed a complaints process similar to that of Antioch,128 most of the complaints were noncriminal in nature.129 Many of the complaints boiled down to everyday activities in the streets: having dogs that barked, playing basketball, and playing music.130 The complaint system treated non-Black voucher holders differently; they were usually ignored.131 As a result of the complaints, many Black voucher holders lost their vouchers or were further policed and penalized, as police entered their homes under pretext of welfare checks.132 According to Professor Ocen, the flagging of voucher holders was racialized: “[P]olice units [in cities like Lancaster and Palmdale] focused on surveilling, regulating, and intimidating Black Section 8 voucher holders.”133 Some sweeps with sheriff’s deputies engaged welfare fraud investigators, and other times, personnel from the Department of Children and Family Services or the Probation Department or code enforcers.134 This type of “multiagency” policing strategy is discussed more in the networked information section.135
Children in K–12 schools are also subjected to noncriminal red flagging. Numerous states criminalize the offense of disrupting school activities, including disruptions surrounding, but outside of, the school.136 Consider a student who kicks a trash can when frustrated over a bad grade on a recent test. Under disruptive behavior laws, the teacher can engage an SRO to make a formal juvenile delinquency arrest.137 Alternatively, the teacher can determine school discipline is more appropriate for the student, or if the action is connected to other concerns related to the child’s known depression, the teacher may suggest an accommodation. School police sometimes determine — or are consulted by administrators who determine — whether a child should receive an arrest, school discipline, or disability accommodations.138
Professor Jyoti Nanda provides an important account of in-school probation programs that operate around the country to surveil and monitor children even without suspicion of criminal activity.139 I categorize this pre-court intervention as red flagging. This probationary system places children generally considered at risk of truancy or future criminal activity into a supposed voluntary monitoring program within the school.140 While definitions of and standards for at-risk vary, the Los Angeles Probation Authority has defined “at-risk youth” as “youth who have not entered the probation system but who live or attend school in areas of high crime or who have ‘other factors’ that potentially predispose them to participat[e] in criminal activities.”141 This system embeds probation officers in schools, allowing them to become the eyes and ears of the police and juvenile courts without any violation of law.
Riverside County in California operates an in-school probation system for an even broader category of children than Los Angeles.142 From 2001 to 2019, Riverside County placed students on probation with the County’s Probation Department for alleged school misconduct — not violations of juvenile law — under its Youth Accountability Team (YAT) program.143 Students on probation could be subject to weekly check-ins, curfews, community service, or home visits.144 They signed waivers to permit searches of their homes and were forced to submit to drug tests.145 Any violation of the terms of the so-called informal probation was grounds to refer a student to the District Attorney’s Office for prosecution.146 In fact, as reported in Education Week, “nearly 13,000 students in Riverside County’s Youth Accountability Team program from 2005 to 2016 signed a contract allowing campus-based parole officers to conduct random drug tests or search them or their home at any time — including during tests and classes.”147 This red flagging through in-school probation ramps up surveillance and monitoring of students beyond the schoolhouse to their homes, and will likely therefore lead to future interactions with school police.148
While programs like YAT are initiated with the public-facing justification of supporting vulnerable children, they do not account for the structural barriers to educational resources and opportunities in the lives of race-class subjugated communities, nor do they account for the disproportionate burden of school discipline on disabled and minority children.149 Programs like YAT use criminal enforcement, and police personnel, to intervene where social services have been proven effective. Prior to the advent of school policing, teachers and principals often played the role of managing classroom behavior.150 Moreover, YAT and similar programs operate around assumptions about race, criminality, and violence. U.S. Department of Education data shows Native American, Black, and Hispanic students are more likely to miss three or more weeks of school than white students.151 Students with disabilities are fifty percent more likely to have chronic absences than students without disabilities152 and face disproportionate punishment in school disciplinary proceedings.153 Black students are also disciplined more frequently, and more harshly, for the same disciplinary or disruptive conduct as white students.154
Meanwhile, more than 4,000 police agencies are currently operating on the nation’s college campuses,155 and ninety-five percent of four-year institutions with 2,500 or more students operate their own campus police force.156 Sixty-eight percent have academy-trained police officers, who are authorized to carry firearms and have full arrest power.157 These full-fledged police agencies are integrated into school discipline, behavioral intervention, and threat assessment teams as part of the university administration’s efforts to uphold its legal obligations to secure and maintain campus safety.158 University police may decide whether to engage local police or student affairs in response to student misconduct that could be deemed criminal (for example, fights, theft, or underage drug and alcohol consumption).159 When routed to student affairs, school discipline leaves students’ records blemished. These flags on school records may not carry the same consequences as criminal records,160 but they still create a method of tracking and monitoring students deemed troublemakers, some of whom have mental disabilities.161
Law scholars such as Professors Eisha Jain and Devah Pager have drawn from the sociological literature of “marking” to elucidate a framework for how arrests and even the criminal record alone, without conviction, leave a lasting mark on poor, Black, and otherwise marginalized persons navigating noncriminal institutions.162 Among others, employers and landlords use criminal records as a screening tool for determining who is worthy of access to space or a service.163
The proverbial buck doesn’t stop (or start) with a criminal record. In this Article, I expand the lens to how noncriminal institutional records mark race-class subjugated persons. This offers payoffs for scholars interested in criminal law, race, and poverty. Scholars such as Professors Beth Colgan, Issa Kohler-Hausmann, and Alexandra Natapoff have connected low-level misdemeanor and citation practices, and their attendant financial sanctions, to the regulation of race-class subjugated communities.164 Professor Devon Carbado has created a framework to understand policing as serving the same management function as misdemeanors through juvenile charges, excessive fines and fees, the racialized control of space, and other tools for the regulation of poverty.165 These important treatments generally rely on courts and their practices as the primary site of punishment. I expand the lens to institutional practices where a formal criminal record or arrest may not exist.166 I include a focus on administrative processes and records a step below courts and criminal adjudication. Red flagging is an underappreciated engine of low-level court systems and mass incarceration.
Bureaucracies and their personnel use red flagging as an alternative to formal criminal enforcement. But red flagging is a sublegal and subcriminal method to manage and regulate institutional space. Looking across institutions brings to the forefront the ways red flagging practices signal and communicate to service providers a risk of future criminal activity.
B. Street Policing
The footprint of institutional policing is so unconstrained that it occurs beyond the institution into the streets and the home. I take up the street in this section and the home in the next.
Although there are several ways transinstitutional policing crosses institutional boundaries onto the street, I focus on two. First, in contexts that most often utilize internal specialized police forces (for instance, in the VHA), police engage with unhoused persons, not only in response to frontline worker or private complaints of noncriminal or conspicuous behavior, but also under the fraught framework of care and protection for the unhoused.167 Second, institutional police operate within the larger community by enforcing racialized boundaries, both acting as a “buffer” for white institutions in race-class subjugated communities and preserving white racialized spaces despite their diverse workforce or clientele.168
1. Gray Zone Policing. — For at least fifty years, policing scholarship has recounted the role of police in addressing “situations of chronic vulnerability” — these include the unsheltered homeless and disputes among neighbors or family members who are unable to handle a loved one with mental disabilities.169 These “gray zone” problems, “where the problems at hand do not call for formal or legalistic interventions” — including arrest and emergency apprehension — accompany police encounters with persons experiencing, or perceived to be experiencing, symptoms associated with mental disabilities.170 Gray zone policing also includes encounters with unhoused persons.171 Gray zone policing involves a normative judgment in which “disorderly behavior” that is “nonviolent and nonthreatening” is often viewed as potentially dangerous.172 According to one study, many calls to police cover “responses to people regarded as being disruptive or acting in ways that made others feel uncomfortable.”173 In general, police are used to removing disabled and unhoused persons from street corners and encampments where businesses and middle-class Americans deem them unwelcome.174 In this section, I connect these concepts to two concerns for policing and formal institutions: that accessing formal institutions becomes another conduit for police interactions, and that some local police agencies rely on embedded police to manage unhoused persons within and in the areas surrounding formal institutions.175
Seeking services, education, or care from institutions heightens the vulnerability of individuals living on the street (or in cars, congregate living shelters, or highway underpasses) to surveillance and police interactions. Increased police interactions expose the unhoused to “[p]athways to [p]olice [v]iolence.”176 Police regularly engage in homeless outreach as the “stick” to coerce unhoused transit users, or individuals staying in transit hubs, to leave or accept the “carrot” of sheltering or other services.177 In Philadelphia, custodians are provided cell phones to directly communicate with transit police, and the city has invested in SEPTA-secured, out-of-sight sleeping locations.178 Many riders in large cities can use apps to report homeless persons to the transit police or other frontline workers.179 Whether transit police–led homeless outreach is effective in the long term is an empirical question outside the scope of this Article.180 I am pointing to it as an example of homeless persons’ increased contact with police simply for using mass transit.
In addition, some cities, such as Philadelphia, use their transit police departments to support local police efforts to remove encampments near mass transit stations.181 When police “sweep” tent encampments and sanitation workers throw away the occupants’ belongings, the houseless risk losing medications, important documents, identification cards, and personal items they need for overall well-being.182
The displacement of unhoused persons from mass transit or colleges and universities183 focuses order maintenance on groups stereotyped as inherently disorderly — the unhoused and people exhibiting actions associated with mental disabilities.184
K–12 schools have the potential to draw attention to unhoused children185 in ways that can lead to family policing. One way in which this occurs is via the school liaisons for students experiencing homelessness required under the McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act.186 Liaisons are meant to ensure homeless students have equal access to education, for example, by supporting families and children as they navigate state residency and identification requirements.187 The purpose of the liaison is grounded in care ideals.188 However, the carceral logics of the institution sometimes propel School Resource Officers into the liaison role, and liaisons often connect children to the family regulation system.189 Even though the California Department of Education announced that School Resource Officers should not play the role of homeless youth liaisons, eleven percent of McKinney-Vento school liaisons “reported that school-site liaisons tended to be School Resource Officers.”190 This response suggests that schools around the country may naturally turn to the police to serve this function, particularly absent a directive not to do so. These steps run contrary to care objectives and may reduce trust between students and school officials.191 Students might choose not to disclose their unhoused status for fear of state involvement in their family’s lives.
Lack of housing places homeless youth at increased risk of drawing the attention of police. Homeless youth are more likely to be unsheltered (for example, sleeping in cars, or on the street) than any other homeless person, and therefore these youth engage in criminal activity to meet their survival needs.192 Moreover, place-based policing strategies target areas where houseless individuals — including children — cluster to break from social norms of indoor living.193 Houseless kids are subject to status offenses such as violating curfew.194 “LGBT homeless youth often report fear . . . when accessing shelters, worrying that workers may turn them in to the police” or that police will force them to return to abusive family circumstances.195
The VA setting highlights how institutions can link health care to the policing of unhoused persons well beyond institutional walls. The VA has embraced using police as a conduit to care.196 The VA and its providers articulate care-based or protective objectives when engaging police.197 Fundamentally, however, the health system operationalizes a criminalizing apparatus in ways that I have elsewhere described as potentially coercive instead of respectful of patient autonomy.198 Using coresponder models or police crisis intervention teams, local police engage veterans with VA police to coax them into receiving treatment and services.199 Some VA doctors embrace and encourage this form of policing for seemingly good reasons, such as to facilitate the diversion of mentally disabled veterans to their hospitals instead of jail: jail admissions discontinue or interrupt mental health care and jail can create acute mental health problems.200 With every veterans hospital emergency department visit or admission, the hope is that any eligible veteran will accept VA social services and mental health care. In addition to law enforcement bringing a houseless veteran to the hospital, the VA supports an entire complex of almost five hundred veterans treatment courts and other diversionary projects to move individuals with mental health or drug use concerns into a heavily monitored process for recovery.201 However, when hospital policing extends to the streets and community, it has the potential to create distrust between patients and health care providers.202
Proponents of police involvement in homeless outreach and calls for police service argue that this involvement benefits individuals and society and allows care workers to more safely engage persons who have mental disabilities or are in distress.203 The conventional view is that police involvement on the streets alongside mental health and social workers adds a layer of security for care workers, and law enforcement presence increases the likelihood of seemingly voluntary hospitalization and mental health treatment.204 One of the most utilized and researched joint programs are crisis intervention teams. However, to date, multiple studies have shown that after several months, police officers’ knowledge of crisis intervention material decreases significantly205 and the overall arrest rates for crisis intervention team–trained officers and other officers remain similar.206 This suggests that police involvement in hospital diversions or social work interventions yields inconsistent results over time. Even still, family members, persons experiencing a crisis, and other community members report they are more comfortable calling law enforcement when trained police officers respond.207 This is not surprising because, to date, there has been no large-scale option other than police.208 Another question is whether police training focused on engaging persons with mental disabilities adequately addresses race or other vulnerabilities. There are good reasons to view increased police interactions as trauma-inducing and violence-producing, particularly for Black people.209 Research shows that the culture of policing and police academies contributes to poor training outcomes for race or mental health–related encounters.210 In their study, Professors Jeffrey Fagan and Alexis Campbell found that race remained the dominant predictor of fatal shootings among crisis intervention team–trained officers.211
2. Boundary Formation. — The secondary observation for the institution-to-street-policing pathway is the role of police in enforcing the boundaries between Black and white spaces.212 More specifically, as Professor Elise Boddie has explained, “racialized spaces represent more than a physical set of boundaries or associations: They correlate with and reinforce cultural norms about spatial belonging and power.”213 Norms around space can reinforce conduct by police and bureaucratic administrators that prevents or discourages race-class subjugated individuals from accessing white spaces.214
Racial identity shapes not only the experiences of race-class subjugated communities within bureaucratic organizations215 but also the boundary-making process with neighborhoods that surround institutions. In my view, the presence of Black or Latinx, disabled, and poor people in white spaces invites extra-legal suspicion, due to criminogenic narratives and racial stereotypes of crime and deviance.216
In the context of K–12 education, Professor LaToya Baldwin Clark theorizes the ways school districts enforce racialized borders when out-of-district Black families cross into white affluent educational districts.217 She describes how state education codes allow criminal prosecution and civil penalties218 when nonresidents steal education, that is, access education outside a school district’s borders.219 When Professor Baldwin Clark uses the term “stealing education,” she is “referring to the practices surrounding how local school districts and law enforcement surveil and punish that behavior.”220 State laws permit schools to threaten the parents of nonresident children with criminal prosecution.221 Boundaries are policed by school administrators, school district officials, and even other community members.222 The civil, criminal, and administrative penalties enact racialized boundaries around predominantly white areas through the message that Black children don’t belong in schools or residential areas.
Racialized school district boundaries create further surveillance and criminalization of Black families.223 As an example, consider the case of Kelley Williams-Bolar, who enrolled her children in the Copley-Fairlawn school district, located in Akron, Ohio.224 She lived in subsidized housing in a high-crime area, so she enrolled her children in a suburban school using her father’s address.225 The school employed investigators to surveil her and her family, ultimately penalizing her with $30,000 in restitution for educational funds, ten days in jail, and two years of community probation.226 This example shows the way policing school enrollment — albeit originating from bureaucratic administrators, not police — leads to boundary making, where the suburban school was “off limits” to Ms. Williams-Bolar’s Black children.227 At least one school district has established tip lines for out-of-district Black and brown education “thieves” and even stationed (nonpolice) school attendance officers at transit stations to catch students coming into the community from elsewhere.228 When schools enforce school district borders, they send messages about which children belong in and around predominately white schools.229
University and college police enforce racial boundaries in the areas surrounding university and college campuses, where students and employees travel, live, or shop.230 This form of policing blurs the boundaries between city and college, but reinforces the Black-white boundary. University police, such as those within Yale University,231 the University of Pennsylvania,232 and the University of Chicago,233 have jurisdiction and arrest powers extending into the surrounding neighborhoods, in part to address the white fear of the race-class subjugated communities living in said neighborhoods.234 At the same time, police at predominantly white colleges act as a buffer to prevent local police from responding to disruptions due to loud parties or from enforcing laws to prevent underage drinking.235
This same logic creates vulnerability for nonwhite students, employees, and residents. When the area surrounding the college or university is predominantly white, Black employees and residents complain of being stopped by police there,236 sometimes leading to tragic police killings.237 Additionally, the use of police in this institutional context “otherizes” Black and other minority students on predominantly white campuses.238 Students, and even campus visitors,239 have encountered university police in response to white claims of racial territoriality.240 In 2018, Lolade Siyonbola was questioned by campus police when a fellow white student called 911, presuming Siyonbola, who was found asleep, did not belong in the graduate studies common room.241
In one study examining five years of Clery Act data242 — among data from other sources — for the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), researchers determined the “biggest single [police] event type is property related [such as theft or vandalism,] and a close second involves people whose presence or behavior is deemed disruptive or out of place, without any indication of violence.”243 The purported purpose of the University’s police — to respond in a gentler and more appropriate manner to students potentially in mental health distress or to instances of student violence — is tied to significantly fewer events.244 According to the report, only seven percent of police events are related to health/welfare concerns and only nine percent involve threats or force.245 Much of the University police’s activity occurs off campus, in the surrounding neighborhoods.246 Off-campus activity also increased from 2014 to 2019.247 It is worth noting that the study shows, based on mapping of police events, significant police activity far from the University’s main campus.248 Thus, university police quite literally reach into the streets and community.
In the context of mass transit, police enforce racialized space by increasing their presence in the areas surrounding centers of transportation. The increased presence of police leads to more police encounters with race-class subjugated persons.249 One study used data from the D.C. Metro system to test the impact of a transit user’s race and local racial composition on fare-citation outcomes (warning versus citation).250 It determined Black riders were at increased likelihood of receiving a fine rather than a warning when a transit station was located in a predominantly white neighborhood.251 These findings are consistent with other studies on race and space.252 Fare evasion enforcement in white neighborhoods is a reminder to Black riders that they are “out of place” and do not belong in these spaces.253
This section focused on two ways policing breaks and forms boundaries for race-class subjugated community members. It highlights the ways institutional incursions overlap and serve as conduits for street policing. The consequences of institutional police acting as first responders — on the streets — to potential mental health crises and undertaking homeless outreach have been inadequately considered. Distrust, alienation, triggering, and failure to pick up refill prescriptions are all understudied outcomes from police interventions with the homeless.
C. Wellness Checks
This section examines how “wellness checks,” sometimes called “welfare checks,” initiated through formal institutions expand policing of the public. I am focusing in this section on wellness checks stemming from interactions or relationships with formal institutions as an overlapping pathway for local and embedded police to access the homes of race-class subjugated community members. In the municipal policing context, police might perform a welfare check when a family member is concerned about the recent erratic behavior of an adult child or sibling diagnosed with a mental disability,254 on an elderly person who lives alone,255 or when a neighbor or landlord hears yelling, loud music, or the throwing of objects.256 But as with other tools of policing the public, welfare checks carry the potential to morph into engines of mass criminalization and police violence. The rates of violence and death at the hands of police during welfare checks, particularly in race-class subjugated communities, have raised important questions,257 namely, whether police are the appropriate professional force to engage potentially unwell persons or whether another trained professional group is better suited for this responsibility.258 The same questions arise — perhaps with more force — in the context of other institutions. Transinstitutionally, wellness checks are a frontline worker’s tool to monitor or confirm the wellbeing of a person or family. Police perform wellness checks at the behest of schools, hospitals, universities, housing authorities, and other institutions.259
University and college administrators use their police departments to check on the welfare of students, sometimes in coordination with local police.260 One incident illustrates the connections between university police, local police, and the home. Kayla Love, a doctoral candidate in biochemistry at the University of Southern California (USC), had an emergency home birth on June 27, 2021, after which she called the paramedics.261 Paramedics determined the newborn was fine, but brought Ms. Love, with her fiancé and newborn, to the USC medical center for treatment.262 When the parents decided not to admit the baby but to wait until they could visit their pediatrician instead, the medical staff contacted risk management who called the Sheriff’s deputies.263 Ms. Love felt that the questions from the Sheriff’s deputies and doctors then became “hostile.”264 She was asked whether she had hepatitis and about domestic abuse in the home.265 Whether these questions arose due to the couple’s race is difficult to prove, but others have documented that Black pregnant women and mothers face discrimination and insinuation by medical professionals.266 She told one news outlet an officer said: “[A]s a mother . . . don’t you care about your daughter? Don’t you want to answer these questions and get this over with?”267 Even presuming that the questioning was the standard protocol or in the best interest of her newborn, the presence of police created a coercive atmosphere and made it difficult for the student to make her own choices about the health of her child and whether to disclose personal medical information.
The ordeal did not end when the couple left the hospital. Instead, later that evening, LAPD officers, USC Department of Public Safety officers, and a social worker visited the Black couple’s university-provided housing for a wellness check.268 Multiple officers and a social worker forced their way into the couple’s apartment and drew firearms on the Black father.269 Wellness checks were performed again over the next few months.270 Ms. Love and her fiancé began a petition, which the USC Black Student Assembly shared, seeking termination of the “parties involved in endangering [them].”271 The LAPD initiated a personnel complaint.272 The USC Medical Center issued a statement that in cases where “there are concerns about the health and welfare of a minor . . . staff have obligations to report . . . to appropriate social welfare authorities.”273
This example shows the intersection of embedded police (within both the emergency room and the university) and local police in the context of a public hospital. The hospital interaction led to local police coming to Ms. Love’s home, with the permission and assistance of university police to engage in the follow-up wellness checks.274 Rather than protecting the student from police engagement, the university police facilitated engagement with other police that had broader criminal authority and with the local child welfare agency.275 University or college police operate as gatekeepers for local police to access university property and student housing.276 Studies have shown that university policing disproportionately targets Black and Latinx students,277 furthering a sense of alienation from their peers and carrying negative educational consequences.278
Wellness checks and suicide hotlines in the veterans health care context have the potential to pull embedded and local police into the homes of veterans, and sometimes push veterans into health care facilities through involuntary holds or escorts to emergency departments.279 The VA emergency department, urgent care centers, and Veterans Suicide Crisis Line employees engage VA police when patients are in acute distress.280 Community mental health professionals, both inside and outside the VA, also contact the VA police to respond to distressed veteran patients.281 Additionally, a VHA care provider may request that the VA police perform a wellness check for a patient.282 In some places, either due to jurisdictional or staffing limits, the VA police will call on local police to engage in wellness checks of a veteran potentially in crisis.283 If state law and VA facility policy allow, VA police may temporarily detain the patient for further mental evaluations.284 In 2019, the Veterans Mental Evaluation Team (VMET), a collaboration between the Department of Veterans Affairs and the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department (LASD), was called to respond to 800 veterans in crises, and 300 were placed on mental health holds.285
In section II.A, I discussed the literal flags on VHA patients’ electronic medical records, which serve as marks that veterans carry with them whenever they interact with medical staff, even during telemedicine appointments or phone calls to schedule prescription pickups. Another flag system focused on veteran patients with a history of suicidal ideations286 aims to alert providers to suicide risk factors at the point of first contact.287 This seems like a good policy for a population with disproportionate risk of suicide,288 but the integration of technologies between VA police in the field and health providers at the VA289 risks drawing more police attention to veterans with mental disabilities when these patients are in public or in their homes.
To mitigate the potential for police violence against veterans with mental disabilities, the VA has turned to models of mental health policing rather than anticarceral strategies.290 Some current initiatives involve a police officer and a mental health clinician responding together to the patient after police receive a call for police service (for example, after a family member calls 911 or a veteran calls a suicide hotline).291 Other models work with police to check in on at-risk patients. For example, the Veterans Mental Evaluations Team “proactively provide[s] outreach” to follow up on patients.292 When veteran patients miss appointments, psychiatrists add them to a list of patients to be visited at home by police.293 VMET conducts outreach daily, sometimes in coordination with the LASD Risk Assessment & Management Program.294 To increase the VA’s suicide prevention efforts, Los Angeles County recently supported a research study to integrate medical data sharing among different county agencies, law enforcement, and the VA.295 Integration of data will likely increase police home visits, risking criminalization and police violence. Despite the goal of responding immediately to prevent veteran suicides, solutions must balance personal and medical privacy,296 legal protections, human dignity, and autonomy.297 The risk of police violence must be taken into account as well.
It is worth interrogating one particular assumption behind the use of VA police as force multipliers for health compliance. There is a strong overlap between those who served in the military and those who serve in the VA police. As of June 2019, eighty-five percent of VA police officers identified as veterans.298 Many of the collaborative agreements and training programs assume veterans in crisis are more likely to identify with the VA or a police officer with a military background during the encounter. This assumption suggests the VA special response programs will improve suicide avoidance, reduce criminal behavior, and increase veteran treatment at the VA.299 Yet some veterans find that other veterans in uniform, acting as authority figures, can be particularly triggering of their harmful and violent experiences in the military.300 Involving firearms in such encounters may escalate reactions and lead to further harm. More fundamentally, using police as frontline responders to situations involving the unhoused and to mental health–related concerns criminalizes these social and medical problems, even if they lead to increased compliance with care plans.
Welfare checks are also implemented through police partnerships with K–12 schools. This phenomenon can be seen across the nation. School police extending their reach into students’ homes has or will likely increase with the advent of Zoom learning and technology in the classroom.301 School Resource Officers are integrated into the school’s system of checking on students, particularly for absences. In Stark County, Ohio; Salem, New Hampshire; and other jurisdictions, police visit the homes of students whom the schools designate as truants.302 School police can also execute warrants to search for evidence of a crime or facilitate arrests in the student’s home.303
A case study of the Stockton Unified School District showed that, during a three-month period in 2020, all police assistance requests in the District sought such “welfare checks.”304 In the Newburgh School District, a seven-year-old boy drew a picture of a person holding what his teacher perceived to be a gun.305 Although a school social worker had assessed the situation and reported there were no reasons for concern, the next day, police showed up for a welfare check at the boy’s home.306 The child, his mother, and the social worker who reported there was no issue were all Black.307 Black parents in the Newburgh School District were stirred by the incident, seeing racial bias in the decision to report the seven-year-old for his drawing.308
The ways School Resource Officers integrate themselves into schools facilitate their role beyond the schoolhouse. School Resource Officers attempt to appear as friendly school officials. Although the objective of this friendly-officer approach is often framed as a way of improving School Resource Officers’ function as counselors, the officers use the relationships to students to improve their crime investigation and surveillance goals.309 In addition, School Resource Officers may actually work more closely (in proximity and job duties) to local police than their counselor duties would suggest. Professor Mae Quinn has written about School Resource Officers in Knoxville, Tennessee, “sharing office space, incident report forms, and information” with “armed police officers.”310 She reported observing local and school police monitoring schools together and engaging in joint law enforcement investigations.311
The advancement of surveillance technology further extends school policing into the homes of children. Professor Barbara Fedders’s work on school surveillance focused attention on social media–scanning software, video cameras, and safety-management software as part of a broader school surveillance typology.312 As she analyzed, schools use so-called safety-management platforms to “monitor student-created content on school-issued computers, [or other devices313] and school internet servers.”314 One platform that has received some public attention is Gaggle.315 As Fedders explains it:
These programs use natural-language processing to sift through the millions of words typed by students. . . . [S]chools that purchase this product obtain the software along with access to a team of off-site “security specialists” trained to look for an unspecified group of words deemed troubling. When . . . they are alerted that students have typed such words, company representatives contact the school, and, in some cases, law enforcement.316
Law enforcement or school officials use this information from Gaggle to contact the family, or even visit the student’s home in person for wellness checks.317 Other platforms in a growing educational technology sphere collect student data during the school day and at home.318 These products, including others like GoGuardian, operate on about three million school-owned devices nationwide.319 The COVID-19 pandemic ramped up school purchases of educational technology programs, and made families more vulnerable to these surveillance methods when the timing of in-person learning appeared uncertain.320 Schools implement Gaggle and other surveillance technologies for the purpose of preventing teen suicides or self-harm,321 cyberbullying,322 and harassment or violence,323 yet it remains unclear whether these technologies have made a difference in school shootings or suicide prevention. For one, when a student becomes aware their emails or social media feeds are subject to school monitoring, the student may learn to be careful in their communication, rather than to ask for help.324 Additionally, low-income, Black, Latinx, and disabled students disproportionately use school equipment, subjecting these groups of students already more likely to experience the harmful consequences of surveillance to a higher risk of interactions with law enforcement.325
Across the country, housing authorities responsible for managing and dispensing low-income housing have embedded police departments, some with full police authority.326 Given their proximity to the housing authority complexes, the police authorities are authorized to engage in wellness checks.327 The housing authority in Cleveland has been criticized for multiple deaths at the hands of the housing authority police, one of which followed police responding to a person in distress.328
In general, the practice of sending police (sometimes prophylactically) to a distressed or potentially distressed person’s home is fraught with many difficult questions. Will a person respond better to a clinical provider than to the police? Is a care provider or school counselor in danger if they go to the home of a person who may have a weapon? Will police knocking on a person’s door — particularly if the person is in mental health distress — increase the risk of violence to themselves or others? Some would argue that the police’s coercive influence in the wellness check, especially where no arrest takes place and a person is taken to a hospital, minimizes societal harm and benefits a person in distress because they are not taken to jail.329 However, for anyone who has not yet embraced mental health treatment, the choice police present — hospitalization or jail — comes at a cost. For students in K–12 and college settings, welfare checks may cause mistrust toward teachers and adults and reduce institutional legitimacy.330 In the context of veterans health care, welfare checks in the name of protecting workers and veterans ignores the traumatizing and disabling incidents of war, poverty, and other social circumstances. In the worst-case scenario, police escalate the encounter through violence or force, contrary to the intent behind wellness checks.
III. Surveilling the Public
Police draw information from multiple institutions for their surveillance goals.331 Professor David Lyon defines surveillance as “the focused, systematic and routine attention to personal details for purposes of influence, management, protection or direction.”332 Different examples across locations demonstrate how the management aspects of this definition prevail over the protection (or care) aspects. Networked information connects information between and across institutions, bureaucratic conflict and cooperation identifies ways workers mediate police interactions with their clientele, and vulnerable privacy involves the legal regulation of personal private information from one institutional setting to the police.
A. Networked Information
Police network two-way information sharing between and into other institutions to surveil the public. Local, federal, and embedded police also share information on noncriminal actions and arrests. This networking of information increases surveillance of race-class subjugated communities. This concept is distinct from red flagging, which operates internally and leads to future criminal enforcement. We can better appreciate the scale of information-sharing capacity when we look across systems. When staff rely on police decisions to share information with them, or when police coax information from an institution, staff may not account for problems with police discretion, thereby compounding the consequences for poor people navigating multiple racialized systems and institutions. I note that several examples already discussed in this Article illustrate the policing outcomes of networking information. The example of the University of Southern California family subject to a wellness check described in section II.C333 and the example of Section 8 residents in Lancaster and Palmdale subjected to multiagency sweeps described in the section on red flagging334 both show the way information travels between law enforcement and civil or administrative systems.
Information sharing about primary school students occurs between school police, other law enforcement, and even other government agencies such as those entities involved in child welfare and immigration enforcement.335 A few examples illustrate these collaborations and the way larger carceral motives dominate the noncarceral objectives behind tracking or monitoring certain students. In a Tampa school district, the county police department created a confidential list of over 400 middle school and high school students for monitoring those “at risk” of “fall[ing] into a life of crime.”336 To compile the list, the local sheriff’s department relied on information obtained from the school district and the Florida Department of Children and Families.337 The police manual identified certain characteristics to mark students for monitoring, including, but not limited to, getting low grades, being party to a custody dispute, having three absences in a quarter, receiving one disciplinary referral, or having witnessed traumatic events in the home.338 Pasco County, Tampa’s neighboring county, encouraged School Resource Officers to “monitor crime trends” in the community and “[p]lan home visits.”339 Body camera footage obtained by the Tampa Bay Times shows police engaged in aggressive arrests and coercive practices under the auspices of tracking and caring for the at-risk youth.340 The investigation uncovered that police would “swarm homes in the middle of the night” and repeatedly interrogate and visit the homes of children and their extended family members.341
The example shows how problems emerge with multidirectional information sharing, here between police, child welfare agencies, and schools. Even when ostensibly for protective or care-based surveillance, as contemplated by Lyon, the disciplinary and regulatory purposes of surveillance dominate. Foster care and child protective services use information from school police (or probation) officers with consequences for families, particularly race-class subjugated families.342 Information from police may shape school administrators’ and teachers’ perceptions of students.
In some states, police and school administrators justify information sharing under the rubric of supporting potential crime victims. In 2018, President Trump signed the STOP School Violence Act,343 redirecting $75 million appropriated for evidence-based safety programs to prevent violence toward other strategies, including improving communication between law enforcement agencies and school administrators.344 In Minnesota, a statute requires law enforcement to notify a superintendent or principal when there is merely probable cause (not evidence of a conviction) to believe that a student committed a serious crime enumerated in the statute, or when a victim is another student or school employee and notification is necessary to protect the victim.345 The principal may share the information with other officials. Police also must report a student to the school’s chemical abuse pre-assessment team when they have probable cause to believe a student committed a drug, drug paraphernalia, or alcohol offense.346
As Professor Eisha Jain has written, the mere act of a police officer disclosing a child’s name to a school administrator carries the types of lasting consequences that juvenile record expungement and sealing laws seek to protect children against.347 The disclosure of information about a student’s arrest from police to the student’s school — even if the purpose is to facilitate counseling or protect a victim or witness — doesn’t account for potential racially discriminatory policing decisions.348 Information sharing between police and school officials can thus intensify the surveillance and overpolicing of race-class subjugated families.
In addition, in some jurisdictions, School Resource Officers and their reporting procedures have been linked to the deportation of students and students’ enlistment on federal gang databases.349 For example, in Baltimore, immigration authorities detained a seventeen-year-old following a report by a School Resource Officer that the student threatened a classmate.350 Students in multiple schools in the Boston area were deported after public schools shared information about their actions with law enforcement agencies. A school incident report stated a student was involved in a school fight and another report suggested that the student was a member of the MS-13 gang.351 That information was shared with local police, and eventually federal law enforcement, which used the school arrest report in its intelligence report.352 Furthermore, in some jurisdictions, School Resource Officers, as sworn law enforcement officers, are able to add students to these oft-criticized gang databases.353 As one teacher in Roxbury, Massachusetts, commented, information sharing between schools and immigration authorities “will create a sense of mistrust in the school community.”354 Sharing information with outside law enforcement agencies — in this case immigration authorities and local police — can have dire consequences.
Universities and colleges also engage in information sharing and cooperation agreements with local and federal police.355 In universities, full-fledged police agencies are integrated into school discipline, behavioral intervention teams, and threat assessment teams as part of the university administration’s duties to secure campuses and maintain their safety. As discussed in section II.C, university and college police departments are called in cases of mental health distress or wellness checks for students in dormitories or other campus housing.356
Through its delegated authority, the VA has established guidance and directives promoting two-way information sharing with local police.357 A VA directive requires VA field facilities to obtain FBI identifiers for VA police to operate the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) and the National Law Enforcement Telecommunications System, Inc. (NLETS) terminals for its investigations.358 Practically, this means when VA police officers obtain identity information for a patient, they may check patients through various federal and state criminal databases using FBI interoperability systems. The policy requires the VA to report the addresses of patients with open warrants to law enforcement personnel.359 Running identification cards or license plates to support local law enforcement to apprehend persons who have missed court appearances or failed to pay fines extends the reach of health care policing into generalized criminal regulation and traffic enforcement. In addition, it has the potential to create mistrust toward the VA as an institution.
Further, information-sharing agreements360 bring VA health care into local policing and local policing into VA care spaces.361 Veterans have long been a significant number of the street homeless, particularly in large urban areas, such as Los Angeles and Seattle.362 Through information-sharing agreements, local police can use a VA web-based tool to determine whether an unhoused (or any) individual they encounter has a military service record.363 There are numerous reasons to search for this record. The law enforcement interest is primarily to protect police officers when interacting with veterans, whose training may be tactically superior to that of the police.364 The VHA and local government share an interest in redirecting veterans away from crowded public emergency departments with longer wait times365 to VHA emergency departments. VHA facilities include services more appropriate to the trauma or disabilities connected to military experience,366 and a visit may serve as a conduit for other social support in the community or medical services.367 Yet, as patient-centered and care-based as these goals may be, they can force marginalized veteran patients into police surveillance systems and pathways of police violence. In a nine-city study, Professors Ayobami Laniyonu and Phillip Atiba Goff found persons with serious mental illness made up 17% of use of force cases and 20% of persons injured in police interactions.368 The researchers found “[t]he risk that persons with serious mental illness will experience police use of force is 11.6 times higher . . . than persons without serious mental illness.”369 Meanwhile, one in four police killing victims involve “persons experiencing mental health crises.”370
Understanding the intersection of police violence and mental illness should give administrative leaders pause. Embedding police or harboring a subunit of local police suggests the institution is in part responsible for incidents of police violence.
The emergency department setting is a good example of the principle that not all two-way information sharing involves technology or database interoperability. Police and emergency departments are both motivated by efficiency and cost savings. In general, police want to reduce their time processing patients in hospital settings,371 emergency department nurses and staff support reducing police time processing patients in police custody,372 and emergency departments aim to divert what they call “repeat utilizers”373 and “high utilizers.”374 Multiple anecdotal accounts from emergency departments in different cities reveal the ways police use health settings as investigatory spaces, and medical staff, sometimes unknowingly, facilitate contractions of Fourth Amendment rights.375 Police record information (including names and dates of birth) about patients who are not in custody, question medical professionals to obtain information for criminal adjudication purposes, and execute warrants to make arrests in hospitals.376 At the same time, police provide information about patients that may affect patient care to nurses and doctors.377 Medical staff engage in tests and procedures at the urging of police.378
B. Bureaucratic Conflict and Cooperation
Bureaucratic administrators and frontline workers, sometimes called street-level bureaucrats, facilitate (through cooperation) or curtail (through conflict) police interactions with their clientele.379 Police operate as frontline workers, negotiating outcomes both horizontally and vertically with hospital nurses, teachers, transit workers, and public housing personnel. From above, police contend with administrators’ requests to support organizational objectives or patrol certain areas,380 and to the frontline workers below, police act as the perceived authorities on safety and criminal behavior.381 Police are presumed to be experts on the boundaries of legal activity; indeed, hospital workers and principals382 defer to police, including for interpretations of whether privacy laws allow law enforcement access to private personal information and whether ordinary behavior is an indicator of potential or future criminal actions.383 Understanding these dynamics shows that other frontline workers are not merely passive participants in the carceral influence of police over institutions. With agency, frontline staff carry the potential for advocacy on behalf of their clientele and foment the possibilities for nonpolicing ways to address safety in the workplace.
Frontline workers within formal institutions may enable criminalization and police overreach. Professors Harada, Lara-Millán, and Chalwell’s qualitative research suggests health care workers are complicit in improper police investigations or privacy violations by failing to intervene or by accepting the authority of police.384 Some frontline workers see police as their colleagues collaborating to serve the educational or care needs of the clientele; others see them as a necessary evil or even as adjuncts to local police, serving as sources of additional resources.385 In the worst of situations, workers may cover up or exaggerate the statements or actions of clientele to protect themselves and/or their colleagues, or obscure police officers’ misdeeds or violence.386 In K–12 schools, the presence of School Resource Officers has “created ambiguity” around addressing behaviors of children and adolescents that would have traditionally been handled by teachers or a parent conference with the principal.387 Teachers are unclear on when to defer to school police, and sometimes prefer to direct particularly challenging children to the School Resource Officers.388
Interactions between bureaucratic workers like police, nurses, and teachers are also subject to conflict. Police do not always see eye to eye with other bureaucratic frontline workers, and these workers may not agree with police involvement, or may find police roles in tension with organizational missions.389 Other frontline workers view police as part of a multipronged approach to safety.390 In the K–12 context, a report from the Department of Justice Office of Community Oriented Policing Services discusses an example of a police officer who “once had to threaten to arrest a principal for interfering with a police officer in the performance of his duty when the administrator was physically barring [the police officer] from arresting a student.”391 More recently, a wave of teachers’ unions have joined calls to defund or remove police from schools.392 These actions suggest school officials and teachers recognize their job may include protecting students and a school’s educational mission from law enforcement interference.393 School police sometimes mediate whether a child should receive an arrest, school discipline, or disability accommodations. Proximity to school hallways and classrooms allow School Resource Officers to utilize their police discretion to formally punish subcriminal behavior in schools when police make a direct observation of the action.394
Conflict may also arise between health care workers and police over their differing roles and values when managing disruptive patient behavior. In overcrowded emergency departments, police expect nurses to prioritize someone in police custody or on an involuntary hold, yet triage nurses may view the incoming patient as a low priority.395 Medical workers sometimes view their ethical obligations or the Hippocratic Oath as in conflict with police requests.396 One Salt Lake City police officer was terminated after wrongfully arresting, grabbing, and dragging a nurse out of the University of Utah Hospital when she would not allow him to illegally draw blood from an unconscious patient.397 VHA police have noted that front desk staff may overutilize police to handle “customer service” concerns.398
When it comes to transit policing, conflict between police and frontline workers may emerge due to the role of police in order maintenance. A bus driver in Seattle confronted a transit officer for permitting houseless riders to remain on the bus.399 Presumably the driver would have preferred the officer arrest or remove unhoused riders he characterized as nonpaying “sleepers,”400 and perhaps the officer did not see removing the passengers as their role. Bus drivers made history in cities such as Minneapolis and New York when they refused to transport police and arrestees after the George Floyd protests in the summer of 2020.401 Transit workers and unions have a complicated relationship with police but generally support more security and in-house police departments to protect members.402
Bureaucratic administrators promote and normalize policing for their own institutional motives. Across institutions, bureaucratic administrators understand the importance of good relationships with law enforcement agencies.403 Police are the agents of certain bureaucratic sanctions: they evict tenants,404 stand watch over suicidal patients (in some hospitals),405 transport truants back to schools,406 and ensure transit riders pay their fares.407 Administrators in white institutional spaces rely on the police to protect the predominantly white clientele and staff from surrounding urban (Black and brown) environments.408
Additionally, administrators may use police as a quick fix to avoid litigation and workers’ compensation claims from frontline workers. Police can serve as a potential shield against liability following a violent or potentially unwieldy situation with “difficult” clientele409: for example, a transit rider who fails to pay their fare, or an upset patient who threatens a technician after receiving bad test results. Police intervention protects administrators from potential litigation on the part of the transit worker or technician for unsafe working conditions.410 Even when the circumstances may not warrant police intervention, or the frontline workers are trained in de-escalation or sit behind thick bulletproof barriers, backroom bureaucratic administrators prefer police over other alternatives.
The insights of bureaucratic cooperation and conflict vis-à-vis police and other frontline workers raise a few larger questions worth examining in future projects. Due to their legal power and presumed expertise, do police carry influence over other frontline workers in a distinctive manner when compared to other bureaucratic workers? Professors Josh Seim and Armando Lara-Millán suggest this is the case with police and health care workers.411 Further, if other frontline workers were equipped with more legal knowledge, would they remain deferential to police and thereby become complicit in the overinvolvement of police in the lives of their clientele? Finally, in what ways has police presence within formal institutions normalized the use of both police to address disruptions or out-of-the-norm behavior, and frontline workers to facilitate police investigations? Understanding these dynamics shows that other frontline workers are not merely passive participants in the carceral influence of police over institutions.
C. Vulnerable Privacy
Institution-specific privacy laws protect personal private information contained within institutional records in every setting discussed in this Article other than mass transit, where state law has stepped in to fill that void,412 and public housing, where the Privacy Act of 1974413 governs. Yet across institutions, law enforcement carve-outs in privacy laws render personal private information vulnerable to disclosures and enable the information sharing already discussed.
In addition to having formal carve-outs that permit sharing with police, privacy laws can’t account for the practical side of institutional life. The fast-paced nature of service provision or the sometimes-crushing caseloads of frontline workers make it difficult to consult with supervisors, advocates, or legal experts for guidance on how to interpret vague areas of privacy law. The law assumes the existence of moral and altruistic government employees414 with the capacity and time to understand complicated legal provisions such as when to disclose private information to police. Privacy law fails to account for the relationships and negotiations that take place between frontline bureaucratic workers discussed in the previous Part. And law has yet to entirely catch up with rapidly developing technologies, like facial recognition software415 and online learning tools.
Privacy law regulating mobility information for mass transit riders is an emerging area of law and policy.416 Several states have enacted legislation to protect riders’ data from security breaches and unauthorized third-party private vendors that are used to collect fares — these laws generally make exceptions for law enforcement, although they attempt to establish guidelines for sharing information to protect riders.417 For example, Massachusetts enacted legislation in 2020 to modernize and expand its state transportation system.418 It included specific provisions related to fare evasions and confidentiality over the personal data that the transit system obtains as part of fare collection.419 It provides that “fare collection data, if available, may be provided to a representative of the [transit] authority’s police force only in situations involving: (i) a probable cause warrant signed by a judge; or (ii) exigent circumstances that would render it impracticable to obtain a warrant pursuant to state and federal law.”420 Given the nature of mass transit, where individuals are quite literally in transit, there will nearly always be an exigent circumstance.421 Other states disallow sharing personal identifying information with police (absent a warrant) but have excluded photographic or video footage from the definition of “personally identifiable information,”422 which allows for broader sharing of often grainy and unreliable security footage. I do not mean to overstate the information-sharing problem with transit. Ultimately, the physical presence of police patrolling transit systems is what drives violent and often racialized policing.423 At the same time, vulnerability around private movement information compounds the effect of police presence.424
Practically and textually, the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996425 (HIPAA) is a weak shield for poor and marginalized emergency-department or Veterans Healthcare Administration (VHA) patients. While its conception and goals include protecting patients’ health information,426 medical ethics pertaining to patient privacy according to the American Medical Association conceptualize privacy more broadly to include “personal space (physical privacy), personal data (informational privacy), personal choices including cultural and religious affiliations (decisional privacy), and personal relationships with family members and other intimates (associational privacy).”427 Yet law enforcement exceptions within these same ethical frameworks can facilitate access to information in certain situations.428 The general public may be most familiar with the circumstances of child neglect or abuse or intimate partner violence, but the following are other circumstances in which law enforcement may access personal health information429: when an EMT, school social workers, housing authority staff, or other workers in formal institutions respond to off-site medical emergencies and need to alert law enforcement to a criminal activity;430 in response to a request to identify or locate a “suspect, fugitive, material witness, or missing person”;431 and to comply with a court order, warrant, subpoena, summons, or administrative request.432 These exceptions are codified with certain limits to “basic demographic and health information” or where there exists “serious and imminent threat” (not all threats to safety).433
Others have illustrated the practical trouble for medical professionals interacting with law enforcement.434 First, HIPAA’s law enforcement exception is difficult to interpret and requires time-consuming analysis, which is frequently not possible or timely in an emergent situation in a health care ward.435 Second, as discussed in the prior section, police and health care workers often work as colleagues sharing a similar objective.436 Health professionals, particularly emergency-department nurses, may view themselves as facilitating and helping other frontline bureaucratic professionals.437 Third, patients who are also criminal suspects or red-flagged are likely treated differently due to bias, and health professionals may therefore consider such patients’ information as less worthy of protection.438 Fourth, in circumstances in which a clinician relies on local police details — or the Veterans Affairs Police Department in circumstances of the VHA — for their personal safety, it is difficult to deny officers access to information where HIPAA offers discretion.439 Finally, poor and medically vulnerable patients may not be in positions to self-advocate with police — whether in the community, a shelter, or a hospital examination room.440 Patient advocates within health care institutions are not always present or alerted when situations between police and a patient emerge; or they may have many roles competing for their time and attention.441 Thus, as a practical and legal matter, HIPAA is inadequate protection.442
The primary privacy protection443 for educational records for students of any age is the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act444 (FERPA), which “generally requires written parent or ‘eligible student’ consent before an educational agency (district) or institution (school) discloses a student’s education records and the personally identifiable information (PII) contained therein.”445 However, FERPA creates an exception for situations involving school safety446 and grants SROs access to students’ educational records when they qualify as “school officials” with “legitimate educational interests.”447 SROs easily satisfy this definition when they are employed by the school board or school district, rather than the local police. Recall that less than sixty percent of school police work for the local police department, with the remainder concentrated disproportionately in urban areas with high numbers of low-income students of color.448 In addition, when a police officer overhears conversations or observes actions, the corresponding information is not protected under FERPA. This means that a school police officer’s observations are not protected under FERPA.449 Thus, the officer’s proximity inherently expands the opportunity for investigations and other law enforcement objectives. Even “mundane social strategies” such as rapport-building serve crime enforcement goals.450 Perhaps most importantly, law enforcement records, even if obtained outside criminal investigative duties (for example, counseling), are still considered law enforcement records, not protected educational records.451 Sometimes students talking with school police believe they are speaking to a trusted adult, yet privacy laws simply don’t protect these conversations.452
For the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD), the disclosure of personal private information is regulated through the Privacy Act of 1974. The Privacy Act allows lawful disclosure to law enforcement personnel when the head of the agency makes a request in writing.453 Practically, the “head of the agency” requirement is not strictly construed, and this “dut[y] may be delegated . . . to other officials, when absolutely necessary.”454 Disclosure to state or local governments for civil or criminal purposes is also permitted.455 Law enforcement can obtain information with a warrant or under emergency circumstances to protect the “health and safety” of a person.456 But the Privacy Act does not contemplate the advancement of surveillance technology or the private information collected through police security substations and their surveillance equipment. For example, in 2019, the local housing authority in Detroit implemented facial recognition software in security cameras through an agreement with the Detroit Police Department.457 Perhaps anticipating community fears, the Detroit Housing Commission’s Executive Director stated: “I think that police departments won’t make frivolous claims based solely on technology. . . . I think that they will use the technology as one tool that they use in bringing people into the criminal justice system.”458 This statement belies a trust in police, regardless of the specific tools used to police public housing residents.459
Utilizing a transinstitutional approach to examine privacy laws and law enforcement exceptions reveals a consistent gap in protection for the users of formal public institutions. Law enforcement exceptions permit sharing personal private information, even where the law requests that police take steps to show necessity or exigency prior to obtaining the records. Positioning police inside institutions enables officers to override the privacy protections. Specifically, when police directly observe or collect information about clientele or the institution, it belongs to them.
This Part explores ways in which policing exploits institutions to further surveil race-class subjugated communities. When formal institutions share information with the police, they have incomplete knowledge about how the information will be used or further shared. Police take advantage of gaps in legal knowledge, privacy protections, authority, and safety measures to entrench their surveillance tools and technologies. To the detriment of their clientele, bureaucratic workers view police as experts on criminal process, privacy law, and legal regulation over criminal investigations. Gaps in workers’ knowledge, coupled with gaps in privacy protections for institutional clientele when it comes to law enforcement purposes, enable police to broaden their surveillance. Imbalanced authority between workers and between police and workers create other opportunities for police to exercise their discretionary and coercive authority where, in my view, it should be narrowed or belong to other people within the institution. This Article’s transinstitutional approach to police surveillance may be useful in studying other settings where police have or have not permeated the structures and culture. Some institutions are willing hosts, others antagonistic.460 Future projects can consider the impermeable institutions, or at least whether there are institutions where police would never embed, and why or why not.
This Article focuses on institutional design and the identifiable patterns that become apparent once the institution of policing has become inculcated. The primary goal is to bring forward the vulnerability of institutions to the logics of policing, as well as policing’s role in undermining an institution’s valuable and noncarceral goals. This Article’s consideration of several locations allows for future scholarship to better consider trade-offs between the state’s interest in criminal enforcement and costs to privacy, civil liberties, and social well-being.
IV. What Is Transinstitutional Policing?
This Article has thus far asked and answered the question: Are there transinstitutional patterns, and, if so, what are they? Now it asks: Where did these transinstitutional design features originate? In section IV.A, I first look at the federal influence in spreading police throughout the organizational contexts discussed in this Article. Scholars have debated whether mass incarceration is a phenomenon of federal or local and state governments.461 Regardless of the origin point of mass incarceration, the federal government bears significant responsibility for the transinstitutional nature of policing. In section IV.B, I then look at what shapes transinstitutional policing: the increased permeability of institutions serving race-class subjugated communities to police, the fear some workers in these institutions have of their clientele, common characteristics of bureaucratic employees and employers, metacollaborations between institutions, and the way police move between settings in their careers, holding allegiances to other police over civilian colleagues. Finally, in section IV.C, I discuss the lessons learned for bureaucratic administrators.
A. Federal Influence
Congress has played a central role in placing police in public institutions.462 Professor Elizabeth Hinton’s work brought to the fore how racialized sociopolitical tension, the so-called War on Drugs, and neoliberal attacks on social welfare all generated justifications for planting police in institutions.463 Beginning in the 1960s, modern law enforcement experienced a turning point.464 Police were called to quell conflicts related to broader social issues, such as the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War. College students, people of color, and Vietnam veterans protesting the war clashed with police departments, which symbolized social control and norms enforcement.465 When President Richard Nixon declared the War on Drugs in 1971,466 city and state law enforcement gained new support from the federal government for crime suppression and prevention.467 Nixon-era policies spread horizontally to federal administrative agencies such as HUD468 and VHA,469 enabling new security features and police presence.470 As part of these initiatives, the federal government provided resources for police integration within institutions at the state and local level, including public housing,471 schools,472 and mass transit.473 Around the same time, college administrators elevated the status of school security and police agencies, and expanded their resources, in order to quash potential disorder from protests.474
Across the public sector, congressional policymaking and financial incentives to states during the 1970s through the 1990s encouraged the use of law enforcement to address perceived safety concerns within institutional settings. A slew of federal legislation addressing youth and schools,475 urban development and housing,476 and security on public transportation,477 among others, provided direct federal funding or grant opportunities to bring more police into institutions.478 Some allowed upgrades in security equipment (for example, reinforced doors and electronic surveillance)479 or the hiring of police or other personnel for the purpose of surveillance or security.480 In addition, federal agencies passed regulations encouraging states to pass laws governing the safety of workers in multiple public sector industries, including health care.481 Federal agencies and congressional commissions published lengthy reports and studies providing suggestions on how and why to incorporate surveillance, security, and police into higher education, transportation, hospitals, and public housing.482 Federal efforts centralized the incorporation of police into various institutional contexts, even though state and local decisions and policies on the ground varied a great deal.
Without the heavy federal emphasis on one approach to public safety (and a narrow conception of public safety), it is possible that states or localities may have experimented more and invented alternative institutions to address security and safety.483 After all, in at least two contexts, actors and organizations within institutions opposed the imposition of police. The nurses’ unions and the medical leadership within the VHA disagreed with arming those police.484 Some principals and teachers’ unions also pushed back against increasing police presence in schools as a response to urban protest movements.485 Neighborhood policing movements and self-policing efforts in Black and Puerto Rican communities could have received more support and developed as stand-alone institutions.486 I do not intend to overemphasize the possibility that alternatives to policing would have been supported or succeeded, given what we know about the ways such efforts that challenged white domination were often deliberately undermined.487 However, in light of today’s vibrant discussion about alternatives to policing, cross-context analysis offers insight into the rich tradition of resistance to policing, even in the public sites most anchored in poverty management.
B. The Ties that Bind
Based on Parts II and III, this section draws out certain characteristics that link the institutions together. These characteristics present themselves differently in each institution.
First, race and class drive some institutions to center policing as their safety response. Other institutions, such as colleges or universities, may be less permeable because they serve individuals with less social marginality, but they are not totally impermeable.488 As I have noted earlier, the institution of policing exploits the carceral instincts and tendencies of formal institutions.489 The problem is not solely police, but rather that policing expands the ways in which institutions of care embed carcerality via their personnel, laws, and policies.490 Formal institutions that embody tensions between care and carcerality seem to inherently bend toward the latter, encouraging police authority and mass criminalization, but the picture is complex.491 Police are part of a larger carceral apparatus that has expanded at the expense of the welfare state. Police directly enforce noncriminal rules, policies, and norms across settings. Their role encompasses maintaining a type of public order across institutions.492 Moreover, as part of a larger crime-control apparatus, police are “sources of legitimation for an anti-welfare politics and for a conception of the poor as an undeserving underclass.”493
Second, formal institutions are more vulnerable to policing when their workforce feels insecurity and fear toward its clientele.494 The sense of insecurity may be based on training,495 experience, cognitive bias,496 or the reality of harm or crime against the institutions’ staff.497 Location also likely plays a role. Universities and hospitals in large cities or areas associated with high crime, disadvantage, or Blackness may be more likely to utilize uniformed police because the locations are more open for public use than private institutions in more rural areas.498 Also, clientele who ask for police in circumstances where they perceive themselves as vulnerable to personal harm play a role in the establishment of policing logics.499 In future work, I will take up the role of public sector unions in advocating for police responses to this feeling of insecurity.
Third, government bureaucrats and public sector workers share common characteristics that help entrench police within the institutions analyzed in this Article.500 For example, these workers have defined roles and follow hierarchies, yet carry some discretionary authority over whom to serve or when to serve them.501 In some circumstances, the discretion can lead to more calls to the police. Additionally, administrative leaders share legal obligations to protect workers, which can ramp up the impulse to adopt policing over other potential strategies.502
Fourth, for each organizational setting, police rely upon a meta-framework of collaboration: collaboration between law enforcement agencies writ large503 and collaboration between police and administrators and staff within institutions (for example, hospitals,504 local housing authorities,505 or schools506). Even with the promise of greater societal protection against terrorism and crime, scholars and advocates understand that vast networks of formal agreements, technologies, and national-security apparatus extend social control.507 Veteran health, mass transit, and school policing increased with the advent of the post-9/11 national-security apparatus, where numerous institutions were seen as “force multipliers” in the domestic “war against terrorism.”508 Some commenters call increased police presence in social and public institutions “security theater.”509 As section III.C discusses, institutions worry about the creep of surveillance and set up certain legal and policy measures to address the concern. Yet they should be concerned about police spreading personal information due to their omnipresence. The surveillance infrastructure creates an undercover panopticon.510
Finally, the same police officers operate on the streets, as private security, and in other institutional settings; they hold allegiances to other police over civilian colleagues. Often, prior police experience and training are requirements for institutions hiring their own police officers.511 One might ask, then, is it surprising to see similar violence or control features inside institutions as on the streets? With the people moving across systems, so too are their relationships and allegiances. Conceptually, the culture of policing means the blue wall of silence and thin blue line travel from place to place.
Bureaucratic administrators and government officials hold a core belief that police will or ought to adapt to the culture of care.512 Some systems encourage or require specialized training and emphasize mental health crises,513 adolescent brain development,514 or cultural competency515 to reduce instances of police harm.516 But by using professionals trained in empathy and anticarceral care, rather than deploying police with power to commit state-authorized violence, one might find even less harm to workers and their clientele.
C. Bureaucratic Lessons
This Article shows how bureaucratic organizations use police to control and manage race-class subjugated individuals in far more ways than are often recognized. I briefly summarize lessons learned for the bureaucratic administrator to pivot toward less policing to devolve an institution’s carcerality.
Examining police across multiple spaces, I debunk a prevailing myth that bureaucratic administrators with sole or shared authority over specialized police can temper the excesses of policing: violence, racial disparities, and dignitary harms.517 Administrators integrate police into bureaucratic missions and provide training on the vulnerabilities of clientele with the stated goal of aligning police with care.518 Some institutional police serve as adjunct agencies to local police departments. They add police personnel and power to the localities’ force.519 This is conceptually similar to the “force multiplier” concept on the local level.520
The slippage between local police and embedded police functions belies a tension where administrators tell clientele and the public the embedded police will be safer and less harmful than local police.
Unfortunately, looking across institutions, we see much of the same type of harm and violence found among local street policing. The overlapping patterns this Article conceptualizes show that when institutions that should be providing necessary support connect their clients with systems of mass criminalization, they alienate the very people they intend to serve. Black, Latinx, American Indian, gender-nonconforming, and disabled persons, as well as women and other marginalized persons, report distrust and disillusionment with institutions when police mediate their access to care and services.521
Allowing police to inculcate the culture and design of the institutions I focus on in this Article naturalizes and expresses these carceral phenomena rather than embracing the nonpunitive or noncarceral objectives of the same systems. At the same time, a transinstitutional understanding of policing can help formal institutions develop nonpunitive approaches to safety that are less coercive and inclusive of a more holistic understanding of harm. Such an understanding would help these institutions better meet the needs of race-class subjugated communities by changing their institutional design and professional cultures, without engaging police for everything.
Circling back to the continuum of embedded police from section I.A, the degree of embeddedness — whether a subunit of local police or a full-fledged independent police agency — tells us something about how to reduce the role or footprint of police. It helps us understand the levers of influence — institutional administrators, police chiefs, or government actors. We can also observe the relationship between workers and embedded police — are they colleagues or do they carry informal social influence? Do the embedded police share office space or act more or less independently from municipal police? To what extent do embedded police engage with social service providers within the institutions or in the community? In the local efforts across the country to reduce police presence in the lives of race-class subjugated individuals, the answers to these types of questions, along with the mapping provided in this Article, can support strategic campaigns and mobilization for police reform.
Finally, without the broader view this Article offers, we tend to focus on the benefits of internal systems meant to reduce criminal penalty (for example, red flagging pays attention to individuals thought of as harmful; boundary enforcement connects the unhoused with services) without accounting for their breadth or drawbacks of the systems.522 Understanding the breadth and scale of the connection between policing forces suggests the project of disentanglement is much harder than one would anticipate.
I want to end with macro concerns, even though they fall outside the parameters of this Article. In the long term, we need a different political economy to reduce societal reliance on the police. The ultimate goal should be to create a political environment where the government provides more and better welfare benefits without the sharp edges of carceral and policing logics, and where institutions, their workers, and their clientele work cooperatively to create such a shift. Eliminating police within formal institutions would diminish the ubiquity of police and would require shifts in societal values and culture. And mechanisms to address public safety and harm would emanate from the community, not solely from public institutions. We need community-based approaches along with the political will to rebalance resource allocation toward true care provision within the welfare state.
Conclusion
This Article shows how bureaucratic organizations use police to control and manage race-class subjugated individuals in far more ways than is typically recognized. Studying the dynamics of police within formal institutions one by one, and even in groups of systems, risks missing the true impact of policing on race-class subjugated communities and suggests each domain is exceptional. It leads to solutions in one context but misses how police or police-like personnel might increase problems in other settings. This Article shows the benefits of a transinstitutional perspective to identify and analyze cross-institutional patterns and features of policing within institutions of care, learning, and social welfare. This Article helps to better illuminate the full scope of embedded policing practices using a six-feature framework: red flagging, street policing, wellness checks, networked information, bureaucratic conflict and cooperation, and vulnerable privacy. I will take up other concerns in future projects: practically, what are institutions and advocates doing to disentangle policing from formal institutions; what has been the role of public sector unions in growing embedded policing; and how does the Fourth Amendment grant police similar authority regardless of where they are situated — in public, the home, or formal institutions.
* Sunita Patel is an Assistant Professor of Law at the UCLA School of Law. I thank Aziza Ahmed, Amna Akbar, LaToya Baldwin Clark, Bennett Capers, Devon Carbado, Guy-Uriel Charles, Beth Colgan, Blake Emerson, Jonathan Glater, Jerry Kang, Aaron Littman, Dave Marcus, Tracey Meares, Alexandra Natapoff, Fernán Restrepo, Ekow Yankah, and Noah Zatz for helpful feedback on earlier drafts. I received generous comments from participants in the Yale/Harvard/Stanford Juniors Forum, UCLA Junior Faculty Workshop, the UCLA Critical Race Studies Workshop, the Mid-Atlantic People of Color Workshop, and the Duke Law School-University of Chicago Culp Workshop. I thank Sherry Leyson and other members of the UCLA Hugh and Hazel Darling Law Library team for exceptional research assistance. I appreciate invaluable research assistance from Brittany Chung, Chieko Quigley, and Marlin Gramajo. To Chandra Bhatnagar, Ishan, and Padma, you made this possible. Thank you to the editors of the Harvard Law Review for their careful review and support.