The Fight for Election Integrity in Rockland County

 

The Fight for Election Integrity in Rockland County

A Small County’s Big Battle to Verify the 2024 Vote

By Apirate Monk

In the quiet suburban sprawl of Rockland County, New York, a stone’s throw from the bustle of Manhattan, a legal drama is unfolding that could ripple far beyond its borders. At the heart of this story is a lawsuit challenging the accuracy of the 2024 presidential and U.S. Senate election results—a case that has thrust a small, nonpartisan organization called SMART Legislation into the national spotlight. Led by Lulu Friesdat, a journalist-turned-election-reform-advocate, the group is pushing for a full hand recount of the county’s ballots, citing statistical anomalies and sworn voter affidavits that suggest something went awry on Election Day. As the case moves into the discovery phase, it raises profound questions about the integrity of America’s electoral process, the fragility of public trust, and the lengths to which citizens must go to ensure their votes are counted accurately.

The Spark of Suspicion

Lulu Friesdat is no stranger to controversy. A former documentary filmmaker and TEDx speaker, she has spent years investigating the mechanics of American elections. Her organization, SMART Elections, and its action arm, SMART Legislation, emerged from a belief that the systems underpinning democracy—voting machines, tabulation processes, and certification protocols—are not as infallible as many assume. “Elections are the foundation of our democracy,” Friesdat says, her voice steady but urgent. “If we can’t trust the results, we’re on shaky ground.”

The 2024 election, like its predecessors in 2020 and 2016, was fraught with tension. National discourse was saturated with claims of voter fraud, machine malfunctions, and irregularities, though most allegations lacked the concrete evidence needed to overturn results. In Rockland County, however, Friesdat and her team believe they have found something tangible. Their lawsuit, filed in the New York Supreme Court, points to two key issues: discrepancies in the U.S. Senate race and statistical anomalies in the presidential vote that defy easy explanation.

The Senate race irregularities center on independent candidate Diane Sare. According to sworn affidavits from voters in Rockland County’s District 39 and District 62, more people claim to have voted for Sare than the official tallies reflect. In District 39, nine voters signed statements asserting they cast ballots for Sare, yet the Rockland County Board of Elections recorded only five votes—a nearly 50 percent shortfall. In District 62, five voters said they voted for Sare, but only three votes were counted, a 40 percent deficit. These discrepancies, while small in raw numbers, are significant in a county where every vote is supposed to count.

The presidential race raises even more eyebrows. SMART Legislation’s analysis, backed by Max Bonamente, a physicist and statistician from the University of Alabama in Huntsville, highlights what they call “statistically highly unlikely” results in four of Rockland County’s five towns when compared to 2020 election data. One particularly striking anomaly involves precincts where hundreds of voters chose Democratic Senate candidate Kirsten Gillibrand but recorded zero votes for Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris. “This isn’t just unusual—it’s mathematically bizarre,” Bonamente says in an upcoming paper. “These data would require extreme sociological or political causes for their explanation.”

The Drop-Off Dilemma

Central to the lawsuit is a phenomenon known as “drop-off”—the difference in vote totals between a presidential candidate and a major down-ballot candidate from the same party. In a typical election, drop-off rates hover around 1 to 2 percent, reflecting voters who might skip a down-ballot race or split their ticket. In Rockland County, however, the 2024 election produced staggering disparities. Republican drop-off was 23 percent, meaning President-elect Donald Trump received 23 percent more votes than the Republican Senate candidate. On the Democratic side, the drop-off was negative 9 percent, indicating that Kamala Harris received fewer votes than Gillibrand—a rare and perplexing outcome.

“Negative drop-off is almost unheard of,” Friesdat explains. “It suggests that votes for Harris might not have been counted properly, or at all.” The scale of these gaps, especially in swing states like New York, has fueled speculation about potential errors in vote tabulation, whether due to human error, machine malfunctions, or something more sinister. Friesdat is careful not to leap to conclusions about fraud, emphasizing that the purpose of the lawsuit is to uncover the truth through a transparent, court-ordered hand recount. “We’re not saying we know what happened,” she says. “We’re saying we need to find out.”

The lawsuit’s advancement to the discovery phase, ordered by Judge Rachel Tanguay on May 22, 2025, marks a significant step. Discovery will allow SMART Legislation to examine voting records, depose election officials, and potentially access the voting machines themselves. For Friesdat, this is a chance to shine a light on a process that often operates in the shadows. “The public deserves to know how their votes are counted,” she says. “If there’s a problem, we need to fix it—not just for Rockland County, but for the whole country.”

A Broader Context of Doubt

Rockland County is not the first place to raise questions about election integrity. Historical examples provide a sobering backdrop. In Bladen County, North Carolina, statistical discrepancies in 2016 and 2018 led to the discovery of fraudulent absentee ballots. In Philadelphia, an election judge was caught committing fraud over multiple cycles, uncovered only because a local official noticed inconsistencies in the results. In Windham County, New Hampshire, a 2020 hand recount revealed that voting machines had miscounted ballots due to dust and folds in the paper—a mundane but consequential error.

These cases underscore a troubling reality: even small errors can erode trust in democracy. In a polarized era, where every election is scrutinized for signs of manipulation, the stakes are higher than ever. The 2024 election, in particular, was marked by intense skepticism. Posts on X and Reddit discussions reveal a public grappling with doubts about the electoral process. One X post from SMART Elections, dated May 30, 2025, notes that their press release about the Rockland County lawsuit reached an estimated 121 million people via AP wires, signaling widespread interest in the case.

Nationally, the 2024 election was closer than many expected. Despite claims of a “landslide” by Trump and his supporters, the popular vote margin was just 1.48 percent—the fourth smallest in the last century. This narrow gap, coupled with reports of irregularities in swing states, has kept the conversation about election integrity alive. On Reddit, users in communities like r/somethingiswrong2024 have debated everything from missing electoral college votes to allegations of voters being told they had already cast ballots. While many of these claims remain unverified, they reflect a broader unease about the systems that govern American elections.

The Human Element

At the heart of the Rockland County case are the voters themselves. The sworn affidavits from Districts 39 and 62 are not just legal documents; they are the voices of citizens who believe their votes were not counted. For Diane Sare, the independent Senate candidate, these discrepancies are personal. “Every vote matters,” she says in a statement on the SMART Elections website. “If even one person’s vote is ignored, it undermines the entire process.”

Friesdat’s own journey into election reform began with a similar sense of urgency. Her work as a journalist exposed her to stories of voting irregularities across the country, from malfunctioning machines to mismanaged recounts. “I kept seeing the same patterns,” she recalls. “Small errors that could have big consequences, and no one was doing anything about it.” Her transition from filmmaker to activist was driven by a belief that transparency is the antidote to distrust. SMART Elections’ mission—to make elections “secure, accurate, accessible, inclusive, well-administered, and publicly verifiable”—is rooted in this principle.

The organization’s work is not without critics. Some argue that lawsuits like the one in Rockland County risk fueling conspiracy theories or undermining confidence in elections without sufficient evidence. Others point out that the scale of the alleged discrepancies—dozens of votes in a single county—is unlikely to change the outcome of a national election. Friesdat counters that the issue is not just about numbers but about principle. “If we can’t get it right in one county, how can we trust the results anywhere?” she asks.

The Road Ahead

As the Rockland County case moves forward, it faces significant hurdles. The discovery process could take months, and a court-ordered recount is not guaranteed. Even if a recount is granted, it may not uncover definitive evidence of wrongdoing. Voting machines, paper ballots, and election records are notoriously complex, and errors can stem from a range of factors—human oversight, software glitches, or even physical damage to ballots, as seen in the Windham County case.

Yet the lawsuit’s implications extend beyond Rockland County. If SMART Legislation succeeds in proving that votes were miscounted, it could set a precedent for similar challenges nationwide. At a time when trust in institutions is at historic lows, such a victory could bolster calls for election reform, from mandatory hand recounts to stricter oversight of voting technology. Conversely, if the case falters, it may be dismissed as another quixotic quest in a long line of election disputes.

For now, Friesdat and her team are focused on the task at hand. They’ve raised over $50,000 since November 2024 to fund their efforts and are aiming to raise another $100,000 in the coming months. The support, she says, comes from ordinary citizens who share her belief in the importance of accurate elections. “This isn’t about one party or one candidate,” Friesdat emphasizes. “It’s about making sure every voice is heard.”

As the nation watches, Rockland County’s courthouse has become an unlikely battleground in the fight for democracy. Whether the lawsuit uncovers evidence of systemic flaws or simply reaffirms the integrity of the 2024 election, it serves as a reminder that the mechanisms of voting are only as strong as the people who demand they work. In an age of division, that demand may be the one thing Americans can still agree on.

On a side note: a little more about pirate radio.

 

This is funny and kind of weird. I'm not sure how I missed it.

It's a story about Pirate Radio in Colorado with a pretty good overview of what I was doing back then running KBFR/Boulder Free Radio.

Here's a summary (or you can read the entire article by clicking here)

The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) has intensified its crackdown on unlicensed "pirate" radio stations in Colorado, targeting stations along the Front Range, including Way High Radio in Ward, KNED in Nederland, Green Light Radio, and Boulder Free Radio. On January 24, FCC agents attempted to shut down Way High Radio, but DJs remotely disabled the signal to avoid confrontation. Similar actions led to warnings for other stations, causing three of the four to cease FM broadcasts, though they continue streaming online. This enforcement surge follows a December letter from FCC Commissioner Michael O’Rielly, criticizing a Longmont news outlet for reporting on a local pirate station, KROC, and accusing such stations of violating regulations and failing to support emergency alerts. Colorado’s pirate radio scene, pioneered by figures like Monk, who founded Boulder Free Radio in 2001, has long defied FCC regulations, driven by resistance to corporate control of airwaves following the 1996 Telecommunications Act. These stations, particularly Way High Radio, have served as vital community resources, broadcasting local news and emergency updates during events like the 2013 floods and 2016 Cold Springs Fire. Despite FCC pressure, DJs remain defiant, with plans to resume FM broadcasts and continue serving their communities, especially during emergencies.

Full Westword article:
https://www.westword.com/news/fcc-is-cracking-down-on-colorados-pirate-radio-stations-10033288

Original Westword article on Boulder Free Radio:
https://www.westword.com/news/the-making-of-a-pirate-5068103

 

The Great American Housing Heist: How Corporate Consolidation Priced Out the Middle Class Nationwide

By Apirate Monk

In Dallas, Texas, the American Dream once felt within reach. As recently as 2011, a middle-class family in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex (DFW) could buy a home with an income roughly twice what was needed for a mortgage. Homes priced under $100,000 were plentiful, with one in five selling for less than $99,000. But today, the median home price in DFW has soared to over $440,000, nearly tripling in just over a decade. A household now needs at least $100,000 annually to afford a typical home in the city proper—far above the median income. This story of vanishing affordability isn’t unique to Dallas. From coast to coast, America’s cities—big and small, red and blue—are grappling with a housing crisis that has transformed the home from a cornerstone of stability into a financial asset for Wall Street, leaving millions of families priced out. The culprits? Corporate consolidation in homebuilding, institutional investors flooding the market, and a financial system that prioritizes profit over people.

The Dallas Story: A Microcosm of a National Crisis

Dallas was once a beacon of affordability. In the early 2010s, its decentralized homebuilding industry—driven by local contractors and funded by community banks—kept prices in check. A robust supply of starter homes ensured that families could plant roots without breaking the bank. But by 2024, the landscape had shifted dramatically. The top 10 homebuilders in DFW, led by giants like D.R. Horton and Lennar, now control 60% of new home sales, up from 35% in 2007. These “market-share-devouring juggernauts” use their financial muscle to offer below-market mortgage rates—sometimes as low as 3-4% compared to the market’s 6-7%—allowing them to sell homes at inflated prices while keeping monthly payments competitive. Small builders, unable to access similar financing, must slash prices by 20-30% to compete, a near-impossible feat.

The consolidation began in the 1980s with the savings-and-loan (S&L) crisis. Deregulation allowed S&Ls to chase speculative ventures, leading to mass insolvencies. The Resolution Trust Corporation’s fire sale of S&L assets—real estate, construction loans, and more—to Wall Street firms like private equity funds and REITs starved small builders of credit while empowering large, publicly traded conglomerates. By the late 1990s, mergers and acquisitions became the norm, with firms like Pulte Group aiming for market dominance akin to General Motors in the 1950s. The 2008 Great Financial Crisis accelerated this trend, wiping out smaller builders and funneling $2.4 billion in tax refunds to the largest firms, which doubled down on acquisitions. By 2024, D.R. Horton and Lennar alone controlled over 30% of DFW’s new home closings.

The resale market has also been transformed. After 2008, the federal government’s bulk sales of foreclosed homes enabled institutional investors like Blackstone to buy single-family homes en masse. In 2021, these investors—trusts, corporations, and LLCs—accounted for 34-52% of home purchases in key DFW counties, often paying 1.7 times the median price paid by individuals. This influx, combined with high interest rates locking homeowners into low-rate mortgages, choked the supply of existing homes, driving the median DFW home price from $267,000 in 2020 to over $400,000 by 2022. The result? A housing shortage of over 121,000 units in DFW by 2022, worse than California’s, despite Texas’s relatively lax regulations.

A Nationwide Epidemic

Dallas’s plight is not an outlier—it’s a symptom of a national crisis. Across the United States, home prices have surged 60% over the past decade, adjusted for inflation, while median house prices are now six times median income, up from four to five times two decades ago. Rents have climbed 67% since 2009, with nearly half that increase in the last five years. According to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, 46% of renters are “cost burdened,” spending over 30% of their income on housing, and 23% are “severely cost burdened,” spending over 50%. A 2024 Pew Research Center survey found that 69% of Americans are “very concerned” about housing costs, up from 61% in 2023.

The housing shortage is staggering. Freddie Mac estimated a 3.8 million-unit deficit by 2020, which grew to 4.9 million by 2023, per the Brookings Institution. This shortfall stems from chronic underbuilding since the 2008 crisis, with fewer homes built in the 2010s than any decade since the 1960s. Sun Belt cities like Miami, Phoenix, and Atlanta, once havens of affordability, now mirror the high-cost coastal markets of New York and Los Angeles. For example, Miami’s median home price jumped from $330,000 in 2019 to $550,000 by 2024, while Phoenix saw a 70% price increase since 2015. Even Midwestern cities like Chicago and Milwaukee face shortages, though less severe than coastal or Sun Belt metros.

Corporate consolidation mirrors Dallas’s experience nationwide. The top 200 homebuilders now control a growing share of new home sales, which have dropped 25-50% over the past two decades as concentration increased. Large builders leverage their scale to secure preferential deals with suppliers and subcontractors, squeezing out smaller competitors. In California, just 20 firms accounted for 70.8% of new home sales in 2024, a trend echoed in markets like Atlanta and Phoenix. Posts on X highlight public frustration, with users noting that hedge funds and private equity firms are buying entire developments, turning potential family homes into rentals and driving up prices. One estimate projects that private equity could control 40% of single-family rentals—7.6 million homes—by 2030.

Institutional investors have amplified the crisis. In 2021, investors bought nearly one in four homes sold nationwide, with over 30% in states like Georgia, Nevada, and Arizona. These purchases, often in cash and targeting low-income or minority neighborhoods, crowd out first-time buyers and inflate prices. In Atlanta, investors bought 33% of homes in 2021, while in Phoenix, they accounted for 31%. A 2022 Fannie Mae report noted that these trends exacerbate affordability issues, particularly for low- and moderate-income families, as investors convert homes into rentals, reducing the supply available for purchase.

The Human Toll

The consequences are dire. In cities like Los Angeles and New York, where 25% of renters spend over half their income on housing, homelessness has surged, with over 650,000 Americans unhoused in 2023. Even in less expensive regions like West Virginia, where home prices are 30% below the national average, housing quality issues persist. Young people, renters, and low-income households bear the brunt, with 94 million households unable to afford a $400,000 home—the median price for a new house is $460,000. In Dallas, frustrated residents are turning to RVs and mobile homes as rents and home prices soar. Across the country, “super commuters” driving 90 minutes or more to work are increasingly common in cities like Spokane, Dallas, and Phoenix, as affordable housing vanishes closer to job centers.

The crisis also stifles economic mobility. High housing costs force employers to pay higher wages, diverting resources from innovation and growth. Reduced migration to high-opportunity areas, driven by unaffordable housing, has lowered U.S. economic output and widened income disparities. Racial disparities are stark: Black and Hispanic families face barriers like discriminatory lending and lower access to intergenerational wealth, perpetuating the racial wealth gap. In 2024, the Center for American Progress found that 76% of Americans see housing affordability as a growing problem, with 80% of rural residents and 72% of urban dwellers agreeing.

No Easy Fixes

Commentators like Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson argue that reforming zoning and building codes is key to increasing supply. Cities like Minneapolis and California have eliminated single-family zoning to allow denser housing, but results are slow—existing homes often remain too valuable to replace with multifamily units. While such reforms help small builders by reducing bureaucratic hurdles, they don’t address the financial and competitive disadvantages imposed by corporate giants. In Dallas, lax regulations haven’t prevented a 121,000-unit shortage, suggesting zoning isn’t the primary driver.

The real solution lies in tackling consolidation and financialization. Banning institutional ownership of single-family homes could curb speculative buying, as proposed in posts on X and reports calling for a national commission on the housing crisis. Restructuring the financial sector to prioritize lending to small builders—reversing the post-S&L shift to Wall Street—would level the playing field. Cracking down on anti-competitive practices, like exclusive supplier deals or coordinated production limits facilitated by firms like Residential Strategies, Inc., could spur construction. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce estimates that the housing shortage has cost states billions in economic output since 2008, underscoring the urgency of these reforms.

A Call to Reclaim the American Dream

America’s housing crisis is a national phenomenon, rooted in a concentrated and bloated financial sector that empowers monopolistic homebuilders and investors to restrict supply and extract profits. From Dallas to Denver, Miami to Minneapolis, the home—once the bedrock of American life—has become a cash-flowing asset for Wall Street. Since 2022, over a dozen homebuilder billionaires have emerged, their wealth built on soaring prices and rents. To restore affordability, we must prioritize homeowners and local builders over distant financiers. This means banning corporate ownership of single-family homes, reforming finance to support small builders, and dismantling the oligopolistic practices that throttle supply. Zoning reforms can help, but without addressing the housing-finance-industrial complex, they’re a bandage on a broken system. The American Dream depends on it—because a nation of renters is not the nation we aspire to be.

The Meme Coin Mirage: A Tale of Hype and Heartbreak

 

The Meme Coin Mirage: A Tale of Hype and Heartbreak

By Apirate Monk

In the frenetic digital bazaar of 2025, where social media amplifies dreams of instant wealth, memecoins had become the latest obsession. These cryptocurrencies, born from internet memes, viral trends, and celebrity endorsements, promised riches to anyone daring enough to dive in. But beneath the glittering hype, a brutal truth awaited: for most, memecoins were a rigged game, designed to enrich insiders while leaving retail investors with empty wallets.

Jake, a 24-year-old mechanic from Chicago, was scrolling X one November night in 2024 when he stumbled across a post hyping “Fartcoin,” a memecoin that had inexplicably soared to a $1.5 billion market cap, outvaluing brands like Office Depot. The X thread buzzed with promises of “10x gains” and screenshots of crypto wallets flaunting millions. Jake, frustrated by mounting bills and a stagnant job market, saw a lifeline. He sank $3,000—his emergency savings—into Fartcoin, convinced he’d caught the wave early.

Halfway across the country, in a small Ohio apartment, 19-year-old Sarah, a college freshman, was drawn into a different memecoin frenzy. The $TRUMP token, launched by a prominent political figure in January 2025, promised exclusive perks like a White House tour for top holders. Its market cap rocketed to $2.5 billion, fueled by X posts claiming it was an “expression of support” for a “business genius.” Sarah, skeptical but swayed by the hype, invested $600 from her barista wages, hoping to outsmart the system. “It’s tied to him,” she told herself. “It’s gotta be safe.”

Memecoins, unlike Bitcoin or Ethereum with their blockchain ambitions, thrive solely on social media buzz and community fervor. Dogecoin, the granddaddy of memecoins, started as a 2013 parody but hit a $56 billion market cap by 2025, surpassing Ford and Delta Airlines. Others, like Shiba Inu or the viral Moo Deng coin, rode similar waves of internet culture. But as Anwar Sheluchin, a McMaster University researcher, told Investopedia, “Meme coins are highly speculative and driven by social media hype rather than intrinsic value,” with price swings that “rise and plummet within hours.”

The dangers were stark. Jake’s Fartcoin plummeted 80% overnight when insiders executed a “pump-and-dump,” a scheme where prices are artificially inflated through hype—often via influencers or Telegram groups—before creators sell off, crashing the value. BDC, an Estonia-based blockchain consultancy, estimates 40% of memecoin projects involve such scams. Jake’s $3,000 shrank to $400, and X posts from other investors echoed his despair: “Fartcoin rugged us. Lost everything.”

Sarah’s $TRUMP investment fared no better. After surging 200% post-launch, it crashed below its offering price within days, leaving 764,000 wallets—mostly small retail investors like Sarah—with $2 billion in collective losses. Meanwhile, 58 insider wallets pocketed $1.1 billion, and the issuing entities earned $100 million in trading fees. A Guardian report detailed how 80% of $TRUMP’s supply was held by its creators, who could “dump” tokens at will, a textbook manipulation tactic.

The $LIBRA memecoin, tied to Argentine president Javier Milei, exposed another layer of the scam ecosystem. Launched with fanfare, it collapsed 90% after insiders sold off, prompting Circle to freeze $58 million in USDC linked to the scam in response to a lawsuit in New York’s Southern District. The suit targeted figures like Hayden Davis and Meteora’s Ben Chow, alleging they orchestrated the fraud. X user Newsy Johnson questioned the freeze, noting, “Everyone willingly bought the token,” but the move underscored the legal risks of memecoin manipulation.

Experts like David Gerard, author of Attack of the 50 Foot Blockchain, call memecoins “a big game of pretend with made-up financial instruments.” They’re prone to “rug pulls,” where developers abandon projects after raising funds, leaving investors with worthless tokens. The FBI reported $5.6 billion in crypto scam losses in 2023, a 45% jump from 2022, with memecoins a prime culprit. Pump-and-dump schemes, affecting 40% of memecoin projects, rely on coordinated hype—often via bots or influencers—to lure victims. BDC notes that “sniper bots” trade faster than humans, making it nearly impossible for retail investors to compete.

Regulatory oversight is patchy. In March 2025, the SEC clarified that most memecoins aren’t securities, limiting their jurisdiction and leaving enforcement to agencies like the CFTC or state regulators. New York’s Department of Financial Services flagged memecoins as “favorable instruments for illicit finance,” signaling tighter scrutiny. Yet, with the SEC dropping crypto lawsuits in early 2025, the market remains a “digital wild west.” X posts reflect the frustration: “$TRUMP, $MELANIA, $LIBRA—all scams designed to dump on retail,” wrote @CryptoRugMunch.

Jake and Sarah met in a Reddit thread, bonding over their losses. Jake, now working overtime to recover, swore off crypto. Sarah, down $600, was more cautious but not defeated. “I thought I could game the system,” she admitted. “But it’s rigged.” Both learned a hard lesson: memecoins, fueled by FOMO and viral hype, are less an investment and more a casino where the house—insiders, bots, and influencers—always wins. As Sheluchin warned, “The speculative nature of meme coins, combined with their susceptibility to fraud, poses significant risks to retail investors, especially those who are inexperienced.” For Jake, Sarah, and countless others, the memecoin mirage offered only heartbreak.

The Unseen Eye: How Flock Cameras Are Redefining Surveillance and Privacy in America

 

The Unseen Eye: How Flock Cameras Are Redefining Surveillance and Privacy in America

By Apirate Monk

In the quiet expanse of Johnson County, Texas, a sheriff’s deputy sat before a computer screen on May 9, 2025, accessing a sprawling network of over 83,000 automated license plate reader (ALPR) cameras scattered across the United States. The officer was searching for a woman who had reportedly self-administered an abortion, prompted by her family’s concern that she might be in medical distress. The tool at the deputy’s fingertips, provided by a company called Flock Safety, allowed the search to extend far beyond Texas’s borders—reaching into states like Washington and Illinois, where abortion remains a protected right. The sheriff’s office insisted the search was about ensuring the woman’s safety, not enforcing Texas’s restrictive abortion laws. Yet the incident, first reported by 404 Media, sent a chill through privacy advocates and reproductive rights groups, exposing the dystopian potential of a technology originally marketed to catch carjackers and find missing persons.

Flock Safety’s ALPR cameras, now installed in over 5,000 communities nationwide, represent a seismic shift in how law enforcement monitors the public. These unassuming devices, often mounted on street poles or tucked into residential neighborhoods, capture license plate numbers, vehicle details, and timestamps, feeding this data into a centralized database accessible to police departments across the country. Unlike traditional surveillance tools, Flock’s system is designed for seamless interoperability, allowing a deputy in rural Texas to query cameras in Seattle or Chicago with a few clicks. The technology’s reach is staggering: in Denver alone, Flock cameras photographed over 2 million vehicles in a single 30-day period in 2025, with 82,052 flagged as matches to a police “hotlist.”

For law enforcement, Flock’s appeal lies in its promise of precision and efficiency. The company markets its cameras as tools to solve crimes like auto theft, abductions, or violent offenses. In Richmond, Virginia, for instance, police used Flock data to track a suspect’s gold Acura sedan in a 2023 armed robbery case, leading to an arrest without violating the suspect’s Fourth Amendment rights, according to a federal judge. But the same technology that helps catch robbers can just as easily be turned toward more controversial ends, as the Texas case illustrates. The ability to track a vehicle—and by extension, its driver—across state lines raises profound questions about privacy, civil liberties, and the potential for abuse in a nation deeply divided over issues like abortion.

A Nationwide Web of Eyes

Flock Safety, founded in 2017, has rapidly expanded its footprint, capitalizing on the growing demand for data-driven policing. The company’s cameras are now ubiquitous, found in small towns, sprawling suburbs, and major cities like Los Angeles, Houston, and Boston. What sets Flock apart is its networked approach: every camera is part of a broader system that shares data across jurisdictions. Police in one state can query cameras in another, creating what critics describe as a de facto national surveillance network. This interconnectedness is further amplified by Flock’s partnerships with local law enforcement, private businesses, and even homeowners’ associations, which can purchase and install cameras that feed into the same database.

The implications of this network are stark. As Kate Bertash of the Digital Defense Fund noted in the Texas case, Flock’s technology enables “extraterritorial reach,” allowing police in states with restrictive laws to monitor activities that are legal elsewhere. This is particularly alarming in the context of abortion, where post-Roe v. Wade legal battles have created a patchwork of state laws. In Texas, where abortion is heavily restricted, police could use Flock’s system to track someone traveling to a state like Illinois, where reproductive rights are protected, potentially intimidating or prosecuting individuals for exercising those rights.

The Texas incident is not an isolated one. In October 2024, 404 Media reported on a tool called Locate X, which tracked an Alabama resident’s phone to a Florida abortion clinic, mapping their stops at a Lowe’s, a gas station, and a church along the way. While Locate X relies on mobile advertising data rather than license plates, the parallels are striking: both systems enable law enforcement to monitor sensitive personal activities without a warrant, exploiting technologies that individuals have little ability to opt out of. As one privacy advocate put it, “Your car is being tracked. See where license plate readers are, avoid them, and report new ones.”

The Privacy Paradox

The proliferation of ALPRs has sparked a fierce debate over privacy. Unlike traditional surveillance methods, which often require physical presence or judicial oversight, Flock’s cameras operate continuously, capturing data on millions of vehicles without regard for whether their drivers are suspects. In Denver, for example, the transparency portal built by Flock for the local police department revealed that 2 million vehicles were photographed in a single month, with tens of thousands flagged for further scrutiny. This indiscriminate data collection raises concerns about what Jake Laperruque of the Center for Democracy and Technology calls “non-criminal tracking”—the potential to monitor people attending political rallies, religious services, or, as in the Texas case, medical procedures.

The risks are compounded by the vulnerability of the data itself. In January 2025, a privacy advocate exposed hundreds of Motorola ALPR cameras streaming live video and license plate data to the open internet, accessible to anyone with basic technical know-how. A security researcher developed a tool to scrape this data into spreadsheets, demonstrating how easily bad actors—whether hackers, stalkers, or rogue police officers—could exploit these systems for targeted harassment. “Law enforcement agencies and the companies that provide ALPRs are no different than any other data company and can’t be trusted with this information,” the researcher told 404 Media.

Flock’s own ambitions amplify these concerns. Leaked audio from an internal company meeting revealed plans for a new product called Nova, which would allow police to “jump from LPR to person,” linking vehicle data to individuals and their associates—through marriage, gang affiliations, or other connections. This proposed system, which raised ethical questions among Flock’s own employees, could transform an already invasive technology into a tool for mapping entire social networks, further eroding personal privacy.

A Tool for Abuse?

The Texas case underscores the potential for ALPRs to be weaponized in ways that transcend their original purpose. While the Johnson County Sheriff’s Office claimed the search was motivated by concern for the woman’s health, privacy advocates remain skeptical. “The idea that the police are actively tracking the location of women they believe have had self-administered abortions under the guise of ‘safety’ does not make me feel any better about this kind of surveillance,” said Eva Galperin of the Electronic Frontier Foundation. The fear is that such searches could be used to intimidate or criminalize individuals seeking reproductive care, particularly in states with aggressive anti-abortion laws.

This fear is not hypothetical. In Alabama, Attorney General Steve Marshall has faced legal challenges for threatening to prosecute those who help women obtain abortions across state lines. The use of tools like Flock or Locate X could make such threats far more feasible, enabling authorities to track vehicles or phones to clinics in neighboring states. Meanwhile, a failed Texas bill in 2025 would have allowed private citizens to sue those facilitating telehealth abortions for up to $100,000, signaling the state’s willingness to expand surveillance and enforcement mechanisms.

Nor is the issue limited to abortion. Flock’s data has been used by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) through “side-door” access, with local police performing lookups for federal immigration investigations despite ICE lacking a direct contract with Flock. In Sacramento County, California, a grand jury found that sheriff’s and police departments shared license plate data with out-of-state agencies, violating state privacy protocols. These examples illustrate how ALPRs can be repurposed for purposes far beyond local crime prevention, often without transparency or accountability.

Resistance and Reckoning

As Flock’s network grows, so does resistance. In Denver, a proposed contract extension with Flock was rejected in May 2025 over privacy concerns, with critics citing the risk to immigrants and the potential for federal data mining by agencies like ICE. In Norfolk, Virginia, a Fourth Amendment challenge to Flock’s system argued that its pervasive tracking violates the right to privacy, though the case has yet to overturn the technology’s use.

Grassroots efforts are also emerging. A project called DeFlock, launched by a privacy advocate in Huntsville, Alabama, maps the locations of ALPRs worldwide using open-source software. By crowdsourcing data on camera locations, DeFlock aims to empower individuals to avoid surveillance and raise awareness about its scope. “Knowing where they are is the first step toward resisting them,” the project’s creator told 404 Media.

Legally, the battle over ALPRs is still unfolding. A federal judge in Virginia ruled in 2024 that Flock’s use in a robbery investigation did not violate the Fourth Amendment, as license plates are publicly displayed and thus lack a reasonable expectation of privacy. But privacy advocates argue that the sheer scale of Flock’s network—tracking millions of vehicles daily—creates a “mosaic” of data that reveals far more about a person’s life than a single license plate snapshot. The Supreme Court has yet to weigh in definitively, but related cases, such as challenges to Texas’s age-verification laws for pornography websites, suggest growing judicial scrutiny of technologies that infringe on personal freedoms.

The Road Ahead

The rise of Flock Safety’s ALPRs reflects a broader tension in modern America: the promise of technology to enhance safety versus its potential to erode civil liberties. For every success story of a stolen car recovered or a missing person found, there is a counterpoint—a woman tracked for seeking reproductive care, an immigrant targeted through shared data, or a protester monitored at a rally. The Texas case is a stark reminder that tools like Flock’s are only as benign as the intentions behind their use.

As Flock continues to expand, with plans for even more invasive products like Nova, the need for oversight grows urgent. Privacy advocates call for stricter regulations, such as mandatory data deletion policies, limits on inter-jurisdictional data sharing, and transparency about how ALPR data is used. Some propose that cameras should require judicial approval for searches, akin to a warrant, to prevent abuse. Others, like the creators of DeFlock, advocate for public awareness and avoidance as a form of resistance.

For now, the Flock cameras remain ever watchful, their lenses capturing the movements of millions of Americans each day. In Johnson County, the woman who was the subject of the May 2025 search was never publicly identified, and her fate remains unknown. But the incident she sparked has ignited a broader conversation—one that asks how far we are willing to let surveillance creep into our lives, and at what cost to the freedoms we hold dear.

The New McCarthy: How Trump’s Tactics Echo a Dark Chapter in American History

 

The New McCarthy: How Trump’s Tactics Echo a Dark Chapter in American History

By Apirate Monk

In the spring of 1954, a single moment of moral clarity pierced through the fog of fear that had gripped America for years. Senator Joseph McCarthy, the Wisconsin Republican whose name became synonymous with baseless accusations and political terror, had been on a rampage, alleging Communist infiltration in every corner of American life—government, Hollywood, academia. His targets were often innocent, their lives ruined by the mere whisper of "traitor." The media amplified his claims, politicians cowered, and even President Dwight Eisenhower hesitated to confront him directly, wary of the political fallout. But on June 9, during the nationally televised Army-McCarthy hearings, a Boston lawyer named Joseph Welch delivered a rebuke that would echo through history: "Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?" With those words, McCarthy’s reign of terror began to unravel. The spell was broken. His allies abandoned him, the media stopped parroting his lies, and within three years, he was dead—a footnote in history, but a cautionary tale for the ages.

Fast forward to 2025, and America finds itself in the grip of another demagogue whose tactics bear an eerie resemblance to McCarthy’s. Donald Trump, the former president whose political comeback has defied all expectations, is once again dominating the national stage. His methods—fearmongering, baseless accusations, and the relentless targeting of perceived enemies—mirror McCarthy’s playbook with chilling precision. And just as in the 1950s, the institutions meant to check such overreach have been slow to respond, leaving many to wonder: Where is our Joseph Welch moment?

The Parallels: Fear as a Weapon

McCarthy’s power stemmed from the Red Scare, a paranoia about Communist infiltration that gripped the nation in the early Cold War years. Between 1950 and 1954, he launched highly publicized probes into alleged Communist sympathizers, claiming to have lists—ever-changing, never substantiated—of infiltrators in the State Department, the military, even the White House. His accusations were often baseless, but the fear they inspired was real. People were afraid to speak out, lest they be labeled Communists themselves. Careers were destroyed, First Amendment rights were chilled, and an atmosphere of dread prevailed.

Trump, too, has weaponized fear, but his boogeyman is not Communism—it’s a nebulous coalition of "elites," "deep state" operatives, and anyone who dares to oppose him. Since his return to the political spotlight after the 2020 election, Trump has relentlessly attacked his perceived enemies, from journalists to judges to members of his own party. His rhetoric is laced with McCarthyite echoes: unfounded claims of "election fraud" in 2020, accusations of "treason" against political opponents, and, more recently, assertions that his critics are part of a shadowy cabal bent on destroying America. At a rally in Ohio in March 2025, Trump declared, without evidence, that "the radical left is working with foreign agents to undermine our country—just like they did in 2020." The crowd roared, but the claim went largely unchallenged by mainstream media, many of whom have grown desensitized to his hyperbole.

The parallels don’t end there. Just as McCarthy used public hearings to amplify his accusations, Trump has turned his rallies and social media platforms—particularly X—into modern-day soapboxes for his grievances. A recent post from ColoradoIndependent (

@ColoradoIndepe1

) on May 30, 2025, captured the frustration of many: "Hold up. You’re telling me that according to the Constitution and Federal law only Congress can set tariffs? How come no one told the fucking entire GOP?" The post references Trump’s frequent use of executive power to impose tariffs, such as his 2019 threat of a 25% tariff on Mexico to pressure immigration enforcement—a move legal scholars have long argued exceeds constitutional limits. Yet, as the post notes, neither the GOP nor the media called it out at the time. The silence, much like in McCarthy’s era, has allowed Trump to consolidate power unchecked.

The Silence of the Enablers

In the 1950s, McCarthy’s rise was enabled by the complicity of those who should have known better. The media, for the most part, repeated his claims without scrutiny, giving him a megaphone to spread fear. Politicians, even those who privately despised him, stayed silent out of self-preservation. President Eisenhower, a war hero who could have taken a stand, avoided direct confrontation until the very end, reportedly telling an aide, "I will not get in the gutter with that guy." It was a calculated decision, but it prolonged McCarthy’s reign.

Today, Trump’s enablers are similarly complicit. The Republican Party, once a bastion of constitutional conservatism, has largely bent the knee. Figures like Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, who in 2016 called Trump "a fraud," now offer tepid defenses of his actions, wary of alienating his base. The media, too, has struggled to adapt. Outlets like The Washington Post and The New York Times, called out in the ColoradoIndependent post, have been criticized for normalizing Trump’s behavior through false equivalence or "both-sides" reporting. A 2024 study by the Columbia Journalism Review found that mainstream media coverage of Trump’s tariff policies often failed to highlight their constitutional implications, focusing instead on the political horse race. "They just fucking let him do it," ColoradoIndependent wrote. "Not a peep."

The chilling effect is palpable. Just as McCarthy’s accusations silenced dissent in the 1950s, Trump’s attacks have created a climate of fear. Journalists who criticize him face death threats from his supporters; judges who rule against him are branded "corrupt." In December 2023, the Colorado Supreme Court disqualified Trump from the state’s 2024 ballot under Section 3 of the 14th Amendment, citing his role in the January 6 insurrection. Trump’s response was swift and McCarthyite: he called the justices "radical leftists" and "traitors," baselessly claiming they were part of a "deep state" plot. The justices received a flood of threats, and one reportedly went into hiding. The message was clear: cross Trump at your peril.

The Economic Fallout: Tariffs and Power Grabs

Trump’s tariff policies, a cornerstone of his economic agenda, offer a stark example of his McCarthy-like overreach. The Constitution is unambiguous: Article I, Section 8 grants Congress the exclusive power "to lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises." Yet Trump has repeatedly bypassed Congress, using executive authority to impose tariffs on countries like China, Canada, and Mexico. In 2018, he slapped a 25% tariff on steel imports, citing "national security"—a justification legal scholars called dubious. In 2019, he threatened tariffs on Mexico to force immigration concessions, a move that had little to do with trade and everything to do with flexing power.

The economic consequences have been severe, particularly in states like Colorado. A 2024 report from the Colorado Fiscal Institute found that Trump’s tariffs contributed to a structural deficit in the state, raising costs for businesses and consumers alike. Nationally, a 2025 letter from 23 Nobel Prize-winning economists warned that Trump’s proposed "reciprocal tariffs" would increase prices, deepen inequality, and balloon the federal deficit. The Tax Foundation called his idea of replacing income taxes with tariff revenue "mathematically impossible." Yet Trump persists, and the GOP remains largely silent—a silence that echoes the cowardice of McCarthy’s enablers.

The Path Forward: A Call to Action

McCarthy’s downfall didn’t require a rebellion or an army. It took a moment of courage—Joseph Welch’s searing question, broadcast to a nation ready to wake up. But it also took persistence. After Welch’s rebuke, McCarthy’s allies deserted him, the media stopped amplifying his lies, and his Senate colleagues censured him. The system, flawed as it was, eventually worked.

Trump’s critics are waiting for a similar moment. Will it come from a courtroom, where his legal battles over January 6 and election interference continue to unfold? Will it come from a courageous politician willing to risk their career to speak truth to power? Or will it come from the American people themselves?

The answer lies in the ballot box. In 2026, every seat in the House of Representatives and 33 Senate seats will be up for grabs. If Trump’s tactics are to be challenged, it will require a Congress willing to stand up to him—a Democratic majority that can ask, as Welch did, "Have you no sense of decency?" Voting is not just a right; it’s a responsibility. Members of the military have fought and died to protect our democracy. All we have to do is show up.

In the 1950s, McCarthy’s reign ended when Americans found their voice. Today, as Trump channels the same fear and division, we must do the same. We’re in this together.

Joyce White Vance is a former U.S. Attorney and a professor at the University of Alabama School of Law. She writes frequently about democracy, justice, and the rule of law.

The Passenger in the Car Is You—And Your Data -Your connected car is a privacy nightmare.

The Passenger in the Car Is You—And Your Data

By Apirate Monk

How the symbol of American freedom became a privacy nightmare on wheels.

The modern automobile is a marvel of engineering, a seamless fusion of steel, glass, and silicon that promises not just transportation, but an experience. It is a connected hub, a rolling office, an entertainment cocoon. But as we recline in our heated seats, bathed in the glow of touchscreens and serenaded by satellite radio, we have become oblivious to a fundamental transformation. The quintessential symbol of personal freedom has become one of the most powerful and invasive data-gathering devices we own. Your car is watching you. And it’s telling everyone what it sees.

This isn’t hyperbole. This is the stark conclusion of a groundbreaking and deeply troubling report by the Mozilla Foundation. In its September 2023 “Privacy Not Included” guide, the organization that champions a free and open internet turned its attention to the automotive industry. What it found was a privacy catastrophe. After reviewing the practices of 25 major car brands, Mozilla declared connected vehicles the "official worst category of products for privacy that we have ever reviewed." It was a first in the history of their report: every single car brand analyzed received a failing grade for consumer privacy.

The scale of the data collection is breathtaking in its scope and intimacy. Car companies, the report details, are helping themselves to a treasure trove of personal information that extends far beyond the operational necessities of your vehicle. They are recording where you drive, how fast you go, and the routes you take. But the surveillance goes deeper. Much deeper.

Through a complex web of sensors, microphones, cameras, and the connected apps on our smartphones, automakers are harvesting data on a stunningly personal level. Mozilla’s researchers noted that Nissan, in its privacy policy, reserves the right to collect and infer information related to "sexual activity," health diagnoses, and even genetic data, though it offers no clear explanation for how or why. The car has become a listening post, a silent passenger noting every conversation. The cameras, both inside and out, can be used to make inferences about your intelligence, emotional state, and focus.

The industry-wide failure is stark, though some performers are worse than others. Tesla, a brand synonymous with technological futurism, landed at the very bottom of the list, earning the title of "Worst for Privacy." Mozilla’s researchers cited its "untrustworthy AI" and a track record of its employees accessing and internally sharing recorded videos from car cameras. The complete ranking reveals a spectrum of poor performance, from the absolute worst to the merely bad.

Mozilla Foundation's 2023 Car Privacy Rankings (Worst to Best)

Rank (from worst)	Brand	Key Findings from Mozilla
1	Tesla	"Worst for Privacy" winner. Untrustworthy AI, history of employees viewing camera footage.
2	Nissan	Collects a wide range of data, including sexual activity, health, and genetic information.
3	Hyundai	Vague privacy policy, shares data with law enforcement based on informal requests.
4	Kia	Mentions collecting information about your "sex life" in its privacy policy.
5	Cadillac	Collects extensive personal data, including through OnStar services.
6	GMC	Shares and sells a wide array of collected driver data.
7	Chevrolet	Similar data collection practices to its parent company, GM.
8	Buick	Shares data with a vast network of third parties for marketing.
9	Chrysler	Data collection includes driving habits for "research and data analysis."
10	Jeep	Part of Stellantis, which has broad data-sharing permissions.
11	Dodge	Shares data with affiliates, partners, and for marketing purposes.
12	Volkswagen	Data collection is extensive and linked to its connected services.
13	Subaru	Collects biometric data and uses telematics to track driving behavior.
14	Toyota	Vague privacy policy that allows for significant data collection and sharing.
15	Lexus	Shares data for marketing and has a complex web of privacy policies.
16	Ford	Collects voice commands and driving behavior data.
17	Lincoln	Similar to Ford, with extensive data collection through its Sync system.
18	Acura	Collects precise geolocation and shares it with a variety of third parties.
19	Honda	Gathers a significant amount of data through its HondaLink services.
20	Mercedes-Benz	Collects a broad range of data but received slightly better marks for security.
21	BMW	The "best of the worst," but still collects extensive data, including driver's habits.
22	Audi	Shares data with a range of partners, including for advertising.
23	Fiat	Part of Stellantis, with similar broad data collection policies.
24	Dacia	Offers the right to data deletion (under GDPR in Europe).
25	Renault	Also offers the right to data deletion (under GDPR in Europe).

This firehose of data is then bundled and sold. Mozilla found that 84% of the car brands it reviewed share your personal data with a vast ecosystem of third parties: service providers, data brokers, and marketing firms. A staggering 76% admitted they will sell it. Even more alarmingly, 56% stated they would share this information with law enforcement or government agencies based on something as flimsy as an "informal request," rather than a court order.

The forensic implications of this are not merely theoretical. The Netherlands Forensic Institute (NFI) has pioneered techniques to extract and analyze the rich data logs stored within vehicles, particularly in the aftermath of accidents. The NFI’s work on Tesla vehicles, for example, revealed that the cars store incredibly detailed information about the operation of driver-assistance systems like Autopilot, alongside precise measurements of speed (accurate to within 0.62 mph), steering wheel angle, and brake usage. This data is a "goldmine for traffic accident analysts," as one NFI investigator put it. It allows for a granular reconstruction of a crash, potentially revealing driver distraction or over-reliance on automated systems. Your car is not just a spy; it's a meticulously accurate witness that can testify against you.

This new reality is a product of the car's evolution into a key node in the "Internet of Things" (IoT), a transformation explored in publications like IEEE Spectrum. This connectivity, while offering conveniences like real-time traffic updates and remote start, creates profound vulnerabilities. The data streams are often poorly secured, a tempting target for hackers. But the more insidious threat comes from the intended uses of this data. As one IEEE Spectrum article noted, the ability of a fleet of connected vehicles to collect data on an entire city creates a new and alarming form of surveillance, one that combines the ubiquity of public cameras with the analytical power of private corporations.

What makes this situation so egregious is the near-total lack of control afforded to the consumer. According to Mozilla’s research, 92% of car brands provide drivers with little to no ability to opt out of this data collection. The only two brands that did offer the right to have data deleted, Renault and Dacia, are primarily available in Europe, where the robust General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) provides a legal shield. In the United States, a patchwork of state laws creates a confusing and largely toothless regulatory environment.

We are left with a stark and uncomfortable trade-off: to participate in modern life by driving a modern car is to consent to an unprecedented level of surveillance. We have been sold a vision of convenience and connectivity, but the price is our privacy. The car, once a private space that offered an escape, has been inverted. It is now a mobile sensor network, tracking, recording, and monetizing our lives. The open road, that iconic symbol of freedom, is now lined with invisible tollbooths, and we are paying with our personal data every mile of the way.

---

Sources

• Mozilla Foundation: Privacy Not Included: What the Car Industry Knows About You Is None of Your Business (September 6, 2023)

  • https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/articles/its-official-cars-are-the-worst-product-category-we-have-ever-reviewed-for-privacy/

• Netherlands Forensic Institute (NFI): Data from Tesla provides a wealth of information for forensic investigators (December 21, 2021)

  • https://www.forensicinstituut.nl/actueel/nieuws/2021/12/21/data-from-tesla-provides-wealth-of-information-for-forensic-investigators

• IEEE Spectrum: Connected Cars Are Data-Guzzling Monsters (October 25, 2023)

  • https://spectrum.ieee.org/connected-cars-privacy