I wrote a VIP piece last month about the recent proliferation of Flock cameras in the United States. They're a specialized kind of surveillance camera system used by police, municipalities, and even homeowners associations (!!) to capture and analyze photos of passing vehicles. In theory, these photos can be used to track stolen cars and help with investigations into crimes where there are very few clues to go on.
Here's a bit more about how it all works:
Flock Safety builds a "vehicle fingerprint" that captures things like your car's make, model, and color, and also unique car features such as dents, roof racks, and even bumper stickers; it also stores information like your car's location, date, and time. All of this information then becomes searchable data points for police ... and others.
The folks at Flock Safety say they store your information for 30 days, then it is "automatically and permanently" deleted. However, its "customers" – police departments, cities, businesses, and even HOAs (!!) – are able to request the data be held for longer if state and local laws allow it.
These are not your parents' license plate readers. This is wiz-bangy AI stuff packaged as cutting-edge technology, but that comes with deep concerns about privacy.
And with very good reason.
READ MORE: Flock Cameras Are Turning America's Roads Into a Surveillance Dragnet (VIP)
As it turns out, some who are able to access the Flock data are using it for rather creepy and nefarious purposes.
Take the case of 50-year-old Marci Bakely, a resident of Jefferson, Georgia. She hadn't thought much about the cameras that dotted her town until she noticed that her ex-boyfriend was somehow able to track her as she went to places like the grocery store or the dentist's office. He even knew if she had gone on a date.
When she went to buy groceries or on a date or to the doctor, he’d text her about it, sometimes within minutes, despite working 15 miles from her home as a police chief in a small town in the Atlanta suburbs. One day in 2024, when he incorrectly suspected that she’d gone to see a man against his wishes, he messaged her, “I didn’t think you would slip up,” according to texts she shared with The Washington Post.
Super creepy, right?
Bakely went into full stalker survival mode, installing cameras at her home and having a mechanic check her car for tracking devices. Then, the ex-boyfriend admitted his dirty little secret: he was accessing her information on Flock through his job as Braselton chief of police. And he had searched for her and her teen daughter over 600 times, according to Have I Been Flocked?
Her ex, Michael Steffman, was arrested last November and charged with stalking, harassment, and license-plate-reader misuse. (He later offed himself, according to reports.)
A similar case out of Missouri shows Bakely's scary situation is, unfortunately, becoming more common as more "rogue" cops get access to more Flock cameras. One analysis found that at least 50 law enforcement officers have been accused of accessing Flock camera data for the express purpose of harassment.
Strangely enough, we here in loony Loudoun County – and they don't call us "LoCo" for nothing – don't have Flock cameras ... yet. I didn't encounter one in person until we moved my youngest down to Richmond a few weeks back, and I found myself parked under one in the Lowe's parking lot.
Went to Richmond for the day. Got Flock’ed at the Lowe’s. pic.twitter.com/0lMcTOXr6g
— Teri Christoph (@TeriChristoph) July 26, 2026
Once you've seen one staring in your general direction, you can't help but noticing them as you drive around. And, now, you have to wonder who might be tracking your every move.
Editor's Note: Do you enjoy RedState's conservative reporting that takes on the radical Left and woke media? Support our work so that we can continue to bring you the truth.
Join RedState VIP and use promo code FIGHT to receive 60% off your membership.







Join the conversation as a VIP Member