A committee of the Milwaukee County Board of Supervisors voted on Tuesday to advance a resolution to remove Flock automatic license plate reader cameras from county park property. The unanimous vote, made in the committee on parks and culture, comes as Flock cameras have grown increasingly unpopular around Wisconsin. The resolution will be taken up for a full county board vote on Oct. 1. 

Flock cameras capture images of vehicles and their license plates passing within their view on roadways. The images are stored by the AI-powered cameras, allowing police to enter specific license plates or vehicle descriptions to determine where a vehicle has been. A single search can span hundreds, or even tens of thousands of cameras across Flock’s network. 

“With great power comes great responsibility,” said Supv. Justin Bielinski in a statement. “Big tech have proven themselves time and again to be ill-suited to this responsibility. It is critical that we as elected officials ensure whatever technology is being used in our name respects civil liberties — for everyone.” 

Supv. Juan Miguel Martinez told the Wisconsin Examiner that “the entire community needs to be worried about Flock.” Martinez called Flock “surveillance” and “technology that’s not fully fleshed out yet.”

Thousands of law enforcement agencies across the country use Flock, including both the Milwaukee Police Department and the Milwaukee County Sheriff’s Office. Police leaders often tout the cameras as useful in developing leads for serious crimes such as assault, homicide, carjacking and kidnapping. In 2025, the Examiner found that at least 221 Wisconsin law enforcement agencies used Flock during that year.

Privacy advocates and concerned citizens fear Flock is a kind of perpetual and warrantless surveillance. There have also been numerous cases nationwide of officers using the cameras unlawfully to monitor current or estranged romantic partners. Wisconsin has seen four such cases in Menasha, Kenosha County, and two in the city of Milwaukee. In each of those cases officers or deputies were charged with misconduct in public office. 

The Menasha officer, Cristian Morales, was sentenced to six months in jail in August. In Milwaukee, officer Josue Ayala was given probation in lieu of jail time. The cases involving Kenosha County deputy Frank McGrath and Milwaukee detective Tehrangi Chapman are ongoing. Chapman worked in internal affairs, and was involved in investigating Ayala’s unlawful use of Flock before his own alleged misuse was reported to the department. Morales, Ayala, and McGrath were all accused of using Flock to monitor current or former girlfriends. Chapman used the cameras to monitor someone he had been watching  for years before Milwaukee adopted Flock. 

Some have also expressed concerns the cameras could be used to surveil protesters and for immigration enforcement. Reviews of Flock audit data have found immigration-related searches around the country, indicating that local and state law enforcement have conducted Flock searches on behalf of federal immigration enforcement. A deputy in Texas was also found to have used Flock to track down a woman in an abortion-related prosecution. Numerous communities across Wisconsin have canceled their Flock contracts, or worked to disable their cameras. 

Martinez also pointed to a case where Flock was used to track and intercept a man who was traveling to a neighboring state to purchase cannabis, and false alerts where people were flagged by Flock as being connected to crimes that they didn’t commit. 

In a PowerPoint presentation provided to Milwaukee board members, the sheriff’s office said that there has been a 20-25% reduction in crime in areas with the cameras. Another slide in the presentation states that there has been a 43% decrease in certain crimes from 2023 to 2026 since the cameras were installed in county parks. The PowerPoint presentation did not present evidence that the correlation was directly due to the installation of Flock cameras. 

One slide asserts that “crime WILL increase,” “deterrence costs less than investigation,” and that “slower investigations delayed justice for victims.” The PowerPoint also states that data collected by Flock cameras used by the sheriff’s office is only retained for seven days, and that a 48-hour retention limit is being considered. 

The PowerPoint claims that the sheriff’s office owns the data collected by Flock in its jurisdiction, that it is never shared or sold, that uses related to immigration enforcement or reproductive healthcare are prohibited, and that the sheriff’s office does not subscribe to statewide or national lookups. It also asserts that although Flock does create heat maps based on the vehicle data it collects, that this is not the same as tracking people. “They show density — how often data appears in an area,” the presentation states. The sheriff’s PowerPoint also asserts that automatic license plate reader technology does not violate the Fourth Amendment.

Martinez expressed doubt about how the sheriff uses Flock, and whether federal agencies can access the data. Besides the Flock removal, the committee also took up a resolution to establish requirements for reporting law enforcement staging in county parks, which also passed the committee. This would build on other efforts the county board has made to prohibit immigration enforcement from staging in the parks. 

“They nabbed like five Latino people that were hanging out down by the lagoon out of nowhere,” Martinez told the Examiner. “And that’s why I have a very personal stake in it, because we had just passed that — that they’re not allowed to stage in the parks. And then I went down there, I went down there with ordinance in hand, saying you’re not allowed to be in the park, and they were gone by that time. You know, ICE moves very quickly,” Martinez said. He said he wonders whether police surveillance including Flock could be involved in the efficiency of immigration arrests in the city. 

“I don’t have any choice but to trust them,” he told the Examiner. “Of course we’re going to be suspicious, and of course we want to push against it every step of the way.”

The Wauwatosa Common Council approved a $95,000 settlement on Tuesday night for Joseph Mensah, the former Wauwatosa police officer who killed three people while on duty during his five years on the force. The settlement stemmed from a workers compensation claim for PTSD. 

The city said that Mensah filed the claim a few years ago, Fox6 reported. The money will come through the city’s workers compensation fund. Mayor Dennis McBride said that the settlement was reasonable “to put the matter behind us.” 

Attorney Kimberley Motley, who has represented the families of two people killed by Mensah, said that she wasn’t surprised, given Mensah’s history, that he has mental health issues. Motley emphasized that the families of people killed by Mensah had to fight  for justice and compensation through the courts, whereas Mensah has received multiple payouts from the city. McBride said that “whatever happened in 2020 or earlier, that’s actually a different matter. So, although I understand the feelings of the Cole family, it’s really an unrelated matter at this point.”

The details of Mensah’s PTSD diagnosis and the work-related trauma that triggered it are not public.

The $95,000 settlement comes on top of $125,000 awarded to Mensah as part of a severance agreement when he left the Wauwatosa Police Department in 2020. As protests mounted against him earlier that year, Mensah also accumulated more than $78,000 in GoFundMe donations. Meanwhile, Mensah remained on paid leave from the police department while the investigation into Cole’s shooting continued. He is also pursuing a separate duty disability claim.

Mensah’s severance agreement included a waiver stating that the city was “irrevocably and unconditionally” released and discharged “from any and all grievances, claims, demands, rights, damages, costs, losses, suits, actions, causes of action, attorney’s fees and expenses of any nature whatsoever …” A city of Wauwatosa spokesperson said in an email to the Wisconsin Examiner that under state law workers compensation is a separate matter and that an employee’s right to pursue workers compensation for a work-related injury cannot be waived or bargained away in a separation agreement.

Mensah’s departure from Wauwatosa amid protests following the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis. In February of that year, Mensah shot 17-year-old Alvin Cole, his third fatal shooting. Mensah shot Cole during a foot chase as the teen fled Mayfair Mall with his friends after an altercation involving a gun. Mensah said that Cole pointed a gun at him. Witnesses offered conflicting accounts. 

Four years earlier in 2016, Mensah killed 25-year-old Jay Anderson Jr. Mensah said that Anderson was sleeping in his car alone in a park late at night, when he awoke and reached for a gun beside him on the passenger seat. Less than a year before killing Anderson, Mensah shot and killed 29-year-old Antonio Gonzales, who was intoxicated and brandishing a sword when officers arrived at his home.

The Milwaukee County District Attorney’s Office declined to charge Mensah after any of the shootings. In 2021, after a John Doe hearing a circuit court judge found that probable cause existed to charge Mensah with homicide by negligent use of a dangerous weapon. Special prosecutors later declined to pursue the charges. In 2025, Mensah testified  before the state Legislature in support of a bill prohibiting John Doe hearings for police officers who kill citizens on duty. 

Mensah was the target of two federal civil trials brought by the Cole family. Both trials ended in hung juries, and Mensah reached a confidential settlement with the family. Another civil lawsuit involving the Anderson shooting is currently on appeal. 

After leaving Wauwatosa, Mensah was hired at the Waukesha County Sheriff’s Department. He resigned as a detective in 2025, between the two Cole trials, and said he was leaving law enforcement altogether. His file from the sheriff’s department states that at times Mensah was congratulated for being professional and compassionate on calls. Other times, supervisors needed to follow up with Mensah for not showing up to court trials, being difficult to reach by phone, missing appointments and not properly analyzing and cataloging evidence. He attempted unsuccessfully to become a drug task force officer. In his employee biography for the sheriffs department, dated January 2021, Mensah said that “the events surrounding my resignation with Wauwatosa PD were unfair, unfortunate, and unjust,” but that he put that chapter behind him.

In 2009, Jennifer Olson was on parole, out of prison and under community supervision for a felony conviction, when she stopped at a friend’s house on the way to the mall. When Olson arrived, the friend was overdosing, and the friend’s brother was panicking, unsure what to do.

After attempting CPR and placing her friend in a cold shower to revive her, Olson called 911 to save her friend’s life.

The friend was placed in a medically induced coma for 37 days and lived, but during those 37 days, Olson was held in the Waukesha County Jail, incarcerated because, as a condition of her parole, she wasn’t supposed to be around criminal activity or drugs, and it didn’t matter that she had no drugs in her system, having been clean for two months after she went to rehab.

While in jail, Olson said, she lost custody of her children, and she lost her apartment and her job.

“Would I have gone to jail for calling 911 for someone having a heart attack? No.” she said. 

The Wisconsin Good Samaritan Coalition is advocating to change Wisconsin’s law to prioritize saving a life without fear of consequences for those seeking help.

Opioid overdose deaths in Wisconsin have dropped from a peak of 1459, or about four per day, in 2022, to 815 in 2024, according to state health department statistics.  “Many of those deaths could be prevented if people did not fear calling 911 to save a life,” the coalition says in a statement advocating for strengthening the state’s Good Samaritan law to offer protection from prosecution for people who survive an overdose and the people who help save their lives by calling for help on the scene. 

On Monday night, Sept. 28, the coalition met in Eau Claire at Hope United Methodist Church. A large contingent of University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire nursing students attended.

The Good Samaritan Coalition was the main organizer of the event, with support from ProSay, an advocacy organization for formerly incarcerated people  on community supervision, and WISDOM, a faith-based organization with 12 affiliates addressing systemic injustice, and WISDOM affiliates Free and Jonah, with Jonah hosting the event.

“Currently, Wisconsin law deters people from calling 911 in an overdose emergency and Good Samaritan Coalition feels everyone should feel safe to call 911,” said Lynn Buske, a representative of the coalition. Wisconsin has a Good Samaritan law, “but it offers very few protections, leaving people nervous,” she added.

Juli Bliefnick of ProSay said the issue was “deeply personal” to her because she had her supervision revoked and was sent to jail, losing her job and housing after she called 911 to save a life.

“People should not be forced to choose between their freedom and someone else’s life,” she said.

Bliefnick recounted the history of  Wisconsin’s  Good Samaritan law.

The current law, passed in 2013, grants immunity from prosecution for possession of a controlled substance to a person who summons or provides emergency medical assistance to another person suffering from an overdose. A 2017 update of the law, which is no longer in effect, also granted immunity from having parole, probation, or extended supervision revoked. The protections for people on parole, probation or supervision expired under a sunset clause in 2020.

The No. 1 reason people cite for not calling 911 in overdose cases is fear of arrest.

“I’ve experienced the grief of losing someone that I care about due to an overdose, an overdose death that could have been prevented if help had arrived in time,” said Mark Rice, the Transformational Justice Campaign Coordinator for WISDOM.

Rice said WISDOM’s goals of reducing the prison population and changing the culture and laws that result in “permanent punishment of people who have conviction records” align with the Coalition’s efforts.

“So many people fear calling 911 because of fear of arrest,” he said.  “…  the Good Samaritan Coalition is aiming to strip that fear away and to replace fear with health-centered care, and so definitely this is something that WISDOM strongly supports.”

Sarah Ferber, a regional organizer for Free, said she had several friends die of an overdose, and she had also been in situations where she had to call 911 to save a life, but she had not faced any repercussions for seeking help; however, she knew others who had called 911 and did face consequences.

Kelly Green said that when her partner overdosed, she applied six vials of Narcan to save his life, but she never called 911 out of fear of what might happen after first responders arrived.

“Calling 911 meant bringing police and emergency services to my house, and once they were there, I couldn’t control what happened next,” she said. “What would they see? What would they ask? What would Child Protective Services see or if they would get involved? What would happen to my kids? Could I lose them? Those thoughts were going through my head while someone I loved was overdosing in front of me, and I know how that sounds after the fact. Of course you call 911. Someone might die, but that’s not what fear looks like when you’re actually living it.”

Andrew Garr, executive director of Wisconsin Milkweed Alliance (a non-profit using the lived experience of members with mental health and substance abuse to “uplift and empower”) recounted his experiences of administering naloxone (Narcan is the brand name) to revive someone he knew who was overdosing and explained how to administer it. Following that, there were discussions about advocating for an update of Wisconsin’s Good Samaritan law.

Buske encouraged participants to sign a petition, talk to others about the subject and press legislators to change the law.

Bliefnick noted that other states, even some that are more conservative than Wisconsin, including Iowa, have broader, more protective Good Samaritan laws.

She also recounted recent attempts to change the law that stalled in the state Assembly, where Speaker Robin Vos didn’t allow it to come up for a vote.

More information on the Wisconsin Good Samaritan Coalition and its effort to change the law is available on the group’s website. 

 

 

Gov. Tony Evers announced a deadline of Oct. 5 as the last day for a Wisconsinite to submit an application for a pardon for a crime, before Evers’ second and last term as governor ends in January 2027. 

Distinct from a commutation or a parole order, a pardon restores rights that a person loses if convicted of a felony, including the right to serve on a jury, hold public office and hold certain professional licenses. 

In 2019, Evers issued the first pardons in Wisconsin in nine years. In a press release, he said that reinstating the pardons process and “offering over 2,000 second chances to folks across our state” has been one of his administration’s most important endeavors. 

“I encourage folks who are interested to apply by the deadline and sincerely hope to see this good work continue in earnest in the years ahead,” Evers said. 

To be eligible, a person must be seeking a pardon for a Wisconsin felony conviction and have finished any criminal sentence at least five years ago. Applicants must not have any pending criminal cases or charges in any jurisdiction or be currently required to register as a sex offender. 

Evers’ Pardon Advisory Board held two hearings on Friday; the agendas for the hearings listed 30 applicants for pardons. 

The pardon application and answers to frequently asked questions are on the governor’s website. Each applicant appears before the board for about 10 minutes, giving an introduction and taking questions from the board. The board votes whether or not to recommend a pardon for an applicant; if a majority of the board votes in favor, the application is sent on to Evers for a final decision. 

Two leaders of a fraternity which the University of Wisconsin suspended back in 2015 were taken to the Dane County jail after 30 young men were found filthy, partially clothed and visibly injured in the fraternity’s hot, humid basement. The pledges, most of whom were 18 years old, were apparently being subjected to a hazing ritual.

Brayden Klein and Samuel Vane, both 20, were taken to the Dane County jail and charged with hazing and disorderly conduct. Both of them posted $400 bail Thursday morning. The incident is still under investigation. 

Madison police say the pledges were found in the basement on Wednesday night. They were covered in food, condiments, and “other liquids,” police said. The basement’s temperature had been turned up to 81 degrees, making it uncomfortable and humid. A photo of the pledges shows them all confined in an area of the basement shirtless, all wearing black pants and surrounded by trash. 

The fraternity, Alpha Epsilon Pi,  still has a national chapter. Despite its suspension by the UW-Madison over a decade ago, the frat still maintained its campus house where the 30 pledges were found.

Alpha Epsilon Pi was started in 1913 as a Jewish fraternity. It has over 150 chapters open across the United States, the United Kingdom and Israel. The fraternity has included seven billionaires among its ranks including Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg, as well as the founders of other prominent businesses and politicians.

In a statement, the fraternity condemned the incident and said those responsible will be expelled from the frat. “Hazing is a betrayal of everything our fraternity stands for,” it said in a statement, ABC News reported. There have been nearly 130 deaths due to hazing incidents since the year 2000.

On Friday the Commutation Advisory Board met for the second month in a row to hear from another 12 incarcerated people applying for a commutation, a shortening or modification of a criminal sentence allowed by Wisconsin Constitution under the governor’s executive clemency authority.

Gov. Tony Evers issued two executive orders on April 4 establishing the Commutation Advisory Board and application process 25 years after the last commutations  were offered by Gov. Tommy Thompson.

On Aug. 21, the board heard from the first 12 applicants.

The second round of the applicants also appeared in open session via livestreaming. The board then convened in closed session to make recommendations to the governor. Board chair Mel Barnes said that only those receiving a majority vote of the members are forwarded to the governor for consideration.

Touissant Harley

In 1992, Touissant Harley was sentenced to life imprisonment for first-degree murder and first-degree reckless injury. A board member said he became eligible for parole in July 2025. Harley, now 53, was convicted at 18. 

Harley told the board that it was impossible for him to “fully grasp the impact that my abhorrent actions had upon Mrs. Sallis, mentally, emotionally and otherwise,” referring to Mavis Sallis, the mother of the victim of the homicide. 

“In me accepting responsibility and apologizing, I’m also expressing the fact that I fully recognize that reality that I am not by no means worthy of the slightest acknowledgement from neither Mr. Evans or Mrs. Sallis,” Harley said. “I did not awake Aug. 15, 1991 with the intent to harm anyone. Nonetheless, me shooting and killing Chris, and injuring Mr. Evans, not only disgusted me, I felt like I was the worst of the worst… My disregard for life generated fear in the community and contributed to the eroding trust society affords each individual.”

In a December 2024 hearing in Harley’s case, then-Milwaukee County District Attorney John Chisholm presented Sallis’s thoughts, using a statement from Sallis prepared by Harley’s attorney. 

Chisholm said that immediately after the homicide, Harley wrote a letter to Sallis, apologizing and asking for forgiveness for the death of her son. He said Sallis is an active supporter of his early release and his pleading to a lesser charge. 

“The relationship has been a testament to the power of forgiveness and restoration,” he said. “During his sentencing and trial phase, the voice of Christopher Sallis’s mother was neither heard nor considered.” 

Mistye Doughty

Mistye Doughty, 66, incarcerated at Taycheedah Correctional Institution, was sentenced on Oct. 11, 2002, in Brown County to 35 years followed by 25 years of extended supervision for felony murder and armed robbery. She has completed 25 years of her sentence.

In 2004, Doughty’s appeal was denied. She claimed she was not a party to a crime involving the robbery of a jeweler, Douglas Tappa, who was killed by her husband, Matthew Doughty, during a robbery.

Doughty recounted her husband attacking Tappa, and then later receiving $100 from him after selling the jewels in Chicago, although the court found she had taken “half the proceeds,” which she contested was incorrect. 

“I accept all responsibility and accountability for my action of not rendering aid and calling 911,” she said. “A good man lost his life. I live with the remorse and regret every day for what I did and didn’t do by not taking the proper action. This shattered many lives. I hurt and violated the sanctity of the home of Mr. Tampa, deeply hurting his children, grandchildren.” 

She recounted receiving therapy and becoming a certified peer specialist  to work and mentor others.

If released, Doughty said, she would live at Safe House in Madison managed by the advocacy group EXPO and continue with therapy and working as a peer mentor.

“Working as a certified peer specialist is my way of giving back to the community,” she said.

During victim statements, Mel Tappa, Douglas’s daughter, recounted how her mother and siblings suffered from the death of her father, and she asked the board to not grant a commutation.

Efrain Campos

In 1999, Efrain Campos was sentenced to 70 years of confinement. He was convicted of being party to armed robbery and first-degree recklessly endangering safety. 

According to a criminal complaint, he was charged with conducting robberies with threat of force between Jan. 18 and 19, 1999, and was charged with attempted homicide for shooting at two responding police officers. He said he’s been incarcerated for about 27 years for crimes committed when he had just turned 18. 

“I am grateful that no one lost their life, but I recognize that the outcome could have been very different,” Campos told the board. “At the time, I was immature, and I wanted to fit in and feel accepted. Growing up without a father in my life contributed to my desire to find acceptance from others. But that is no excuse. I had choices, and I made terrible and selfish ones.”

 

Wazir El-Amin

Wazir El-Amin, formerly Wade A. Curtis, 55, incarcerated at Fox Lake Correctional Institution, was given a life sentence on Nov. 21, 1990 for first degree intentional homicide with a dangerous weapon in Racine County, and has served 37 years in prison.

He applied for juvenile commutation because he was 18 at the time of his conviction; anyone 19 or younger at the time of conviction can apply through the juvenile application.

El-Amin is eligible for a parole hearing in 2028.

At the hearing, he took responsibility for the death of Christopher Rolle,18, and the pain it caused Rolle’s family and community.

“I understand now what I didn’t then – that my actions caused both mental, physical, emotional trauma,” he said.

He said the one way he had made amends was  by turning his life around, including pursuing his  education, getting two degrees, participating in several programs and becoming a tutor and respite care worker.

If released, he said he would live in the duplex he owns with his wife and he would continue in a program helping other people  who have been to prison.

Casey Fisher

In 1994, Casey Fisher was sentenced to life imprisonment and a consecutive 20 years of confinement. He was convicted of first-degree intentional homicide while armed and armed robbery with threat of force. 

Fisher, 54, said he has and still is maintaining his innocence of the crime, but that he isn’t trying to challenge his conviction through the commutation process. 

“I also want to acknowledge that me maintaining my innocence in this matter does not mean that I was some kind of good guy back then,” Fisher said. “I really wasn’t. I made a lot of poor choices, I often associated with the wrong people and acted without thinking about the impact that my actions had on others.”

Fisher said that during his incarceration, he’s taken advantage of some of the programs and classes in the prison system. Board member Cindy O’Donnell, former deputy secretary of the Wisconsin Department of Corrections, said that he hadn’t received a prison conduct report since 2018. She said that this was a hard thing to achieve, and asked how he’d done it. 

“Stayed in my own lane and just stayed focused on trying to do better,” Fisher said. “(I’ve) got a 2year-old granddaughter.”

Richard Sulla

Richard Sulla, 39, incarcerated at  Oregon Correctional Center, was convicted in May 15, 2012 for burglary using a dangerous weapon prison and required to make restitution of $101,070 to Joseph and Laurie Dudley. He was also charged with multiple other offenses in Waukesha, Milwaukee, Walworth and Washington counties that cumulatively, with the Jefferson County offenses, resulted in 25 years of incarceration and 25 years extended supervision. He has served 16 years in prison.

Sulla said he began his crime spree after he was medically discharged from the Marine Corp. while struggling with the effects of childhood abuse.

“I violated their sense of security and trust in society,” he said of his victims. “I took family memories and ultimately destroyed the Dudleys’ home. And today I stand here humbled, apologetic, and truly sorry for my actions. The destruction I caused to the Dudleys’ home was the first time in this 18-month crime spree I laid awake at night asking myself, ‘What are you doing, Richard?’”

He said in prison he began to focus on changing and taking responsibility for his actions. Through restorative justice programs, he realized the ripple effect of the harm his actions had caused.

He described  investing his time in getting an education and volunteering for Paws Patrols, working with service dogs and earning an associate’s degree, and starting a certified peer support program.

The Dudleys submitted a letter asking that Sulla not be given a commutation due to the damage he caused the family.

Robert Patterson

Robert Patterson was convicted of killing a man found dead from gunshot wounds in a van where he was a passenger on Sept. 3, 2002.

According to the criminal complaint, Patterson said he was riding in the back of the van when one of the men, Kristopher Beason, suddenly turned around in the front seat. His co-defendant, Kionta Crockett, began shooting after he saw Beason was holding a gun. 

Patterson said “the whole van was lighting up like a strobe light.” Patterson pointed his own gun toward the front of the van and fired at least two shots as he moved to exit the vehicle and ran away. 

Patterson told the board that he feared for his life. 

 “Looking back on the situation, I know that I didn’t have to shoot Kris,” he told the commutations board. “I had options…I also should not have gotten into a vehicle with people I didn’t trust.”

Ballistics results linked Beason’s bullet wounds to Patterson’s gun, according to court records. Patterson pled guilty to an amended charge of party to second-degree intentional homicide in Beason’s death. The prosecution agreed to recommend “in the area of 20 years” for initial confinement. 

Patterson was sentenced in 2003 to 27 years behind bars and 18 years on community supervision. 

Board chair Mel Barnes read a statement opposing Patterson’s application for commutation  from the sister of the victim. She said that the pain of losing her brother, especially knowing the perpetrator was a neighbor of more than 10 years whom she considered a friend, “shattered my sense of safety and trust.” She said Patterson pretended to help look for the people behind the crime despite being responsible. 

“It is deeply painful to know that if Robert Patterson is released, he will move forward with his life, while my family continues to live with the daily anguish of his actions,” Barnes read from the statement.

Dequelvin Douglas

Dequelvin Douglas, 47, a resident of Oshkosh Correctional Institution, was convicted of first degree intentional homicide and attempted first degree intentional homicide in Kenosha County at age 15 and sentenced to life in prison when he was 16. He has been incarcerated for 31 years.

“I take full responsibility for my actions,” he said. “This is not a crime of circumstance or peer pressure, but rather the result of a deliberate and selfish choice that terrorized my community. The actions I display, specifically in regards to my victims and their families, are both inexcusable and unrepairable. I know that there are no words that can be said to heal their pain or change how I destroyed their lives.”

When he went to prison at age 16, Douglas said, he thought he was a “monster,” but, he said, over the years he became a member of a men’ s accountability group and began to change his perspective and mature.

He talked about becoming a peer specialist and a mentor and helping others, especially young men. 

A restorative justice program, he said, helped him understand the perspective of his victims and develop empathy.

Harlan Schwartz 

In 2001, Harlan Schwartz was sentenced to 37 years behind bars and 18 years of supervision in the community. He had been convicted of two counts of arson for setting fire to a building and a count of selling, possessing or manufacturing a Molotov cocktail. 

Schwartz was charged in two instances of arson against then-Douglas County District Attorney Daniel Blank’s home, according to the criminal complaint in the case.

The first incident caused soot discoloration and minor charring on part of the siding on the garage. Over a month later, Blank’s family woke to the sound of breaking glass. Blank, his wife Suzanne and their three year-old daughter had been sleeping on the second floor of their home. Suzanne Blank said that she saw fire and smoke in their living room on the lower level, and the family called 911 and exited the home.  

Schwartz and his co-defendent claimed that they committed the crime under duress because they were in fear of their lives and the lives of their families based on threats by gang leader Alejandro Rivera, Fox 21 News reported. At the time of the firebombing, Rivera was awaiting trial for murder, with Blank as prosecutor. 

“Between (my co-defendant) and I, it was fear for me to participate in this because at that point in time, I didn’t believe I had any other choice,” Schwartz said. “As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized I had a lot of different choices.”

Board member Cindy O’Donnell said that the Blanks wrote a letter in support of Schwartz’s commutation.

“That means so much to me,” Schwartz said. “I’m so sorry for everything I did to them, and for them to support and have forgiveness is just so overwhelming.”

In a notice to the court, Douglas County Circuit Court Judge George Glonek took no position on whether Schwartz should receive a commutation, noting that he was not the judge who handed down the original sentence, and that Judge Joseph McDonald is now deceased. But he stated that the incident “did more than just affect the victims, the city of Superior, or the County of Douglas.” 

Glonek wrote that during the sentencing hearing, McDonald said that the incident “‘was an attack on the criminal justice system’ (including elected officials) which shook the entire State of Wisconsin and beyond.”

Glonek wrote that at the sentencing hearing, McDonald said that the jury appropriately found there was no coercion, and called the conduct an “act of cowardice.”

“He says fear,” McDonald stated, according to Glonek. “The State says money. I say money. Fear wasn’t there…Fear wasn’t there when he was calling, trying to make arrangements after the fire bombing to Rivera to get the money, according to the testimony of other witnesses. He was waiting for the delivery of the money.”

In 2022, Schwartz sought a lighter sentence, with his attorney arguing that he provided information to law enforcement regarding a prison stabbing at risk of his own safety, according to a hearing transcript. His attorney contended that because of this new factor, Schwartz had met the standard for a sentence modification, and that his overall changed character merited a lighter sentence. 

“There are few things more telling about a person’s character than their (willingness) to risk their own safety to do the right thing,” Schwartz’s attorney said. “Mr. Schwartz did not do that 22 years ago when he committed the crime. He has shown today that he can and he is willing to do that.”

He said that the perpetrator of the prison stabbing, David Schroeder, admitted that he intended to kill the victim because he thought he was a snitch. 

“(Schwartz) found out later that David Schroeder had found out who he was, that he had provided information to the State, that he had made threats to Mr. Schwartz based on that,” Schwartz’s attorney said. 

At the hearing, the district attorney argued that Schwartz hadn’t met the legal standard to be considered for a lighter sentence. He said that Schwartz wasn’t the only witness to the stabbing and that Schroeder took a plea deal instead of going to trial. Judge George Glonek declined to change Schwartz’s sentence. 

Dawn Dobbs

Dawn Dobbs, 59, incarcerated at Taycheedah Correctional Institution, was convicted of first degree intentional homicide (party to a crime) in Milwaukee County and sentenced July 1, 1994, to life imprisonment for killing her life partner, the father of her two sons. She has been in prison for over 32 years.

At 26 years of age, she said, she obtained a gun that a younger co-defendant used to shoot  her partner. She said it had taken her 20 years to be fully accountable for her actions instead of blaming others. She said she now took responsibility for enticing her younger co-defendants to commit the crime.

“As pathetic as these words are, I am so very sorry for the trauma, the pain and heartache that I’ve caused for each and every one of you,” she said to her victims.

Dobbs recounted various jobs she had in prison and the numerous programs she has participated in, including counseling in anger management and coping skills.

She noted one of her crowning achievements was making a suicide prevention video that is viewed in prisons and had reportedly helped to save lives.

If released, she said she would live with her sister in Jefferson, where other family members live, and said she would like to work with animals and volunteer with numerous agencies, including animal and homeless shelters.

Richard Perekovich

On Nov. 9, 2001, police found Victor Ransom dead in the parking lot outside a tavern, alongside Antonio Young, who had gunshot wounds to his right arm and right leg after gunfire  broke out while the two men were leaving the bar at closing time.. 

According to a criminal complaint, Young said he and Ransom were walking out of the tavern when he saw a man he later identified as Richard Perekovich in front of the bar. Perekovich appeared to be showing off a handgun. Young was looking away and talking with Ransom when he heard a scream.

He looked up and saw Perekovich, firing the gun. Young ran and was hit in the arm and leg, and saw Ransom lying on the ground. Perekovich was sentenced to 30 years behind bars and 10 years of supervision in the community for the shootings. 

“Although the circumstances have never been fully resolved, the fact remains that my choice to arm myself and return fire resulted in the loss of a precious life, deprived children of their father, caused the mother to suffer the loss of her son, and a young man challenged with a severe injury to his arm,” Perekovich said. 

A board member asked Perekovich to clarify what happened and who fired first. He said that he fired first out of fear as a person who approached him at his car moved for a gun. Asked whether he saw a weapon, he said he did not, but that the person had previously threatened to “put a hole” in him.  

At sentencing, Perekovich said he pleaded no-contest because he didn’t think he could persuade a jury he acted in self-defense because of how many shots he fired, according to court records. His defense counsel argued that an investigator had found independent witnesses who said that people at the crime scene were armed and firing guns. Perekovich said he believed he was defending himself and did not intend to hit anyone when he fired his gun. 

The circuit court didn’t adopt the state or Perekovich’s version of events presented at sentencing, but said that “although you tell this court that you were not intending to shoot directly at anyone, it appears that an innocent person, someone who is doing nothing more than probably saying goodnight to his friends after an evening of socializing, he, too, was probably doing nothing more than trying to go home and be with his family.”

Yatau Her

Yatau Her, 43, incarcerated at  McNaughton Correctional Center, was convicted of attempted first degree intentional homicide in Eau Claire County, and sentenced on Nov. 18, 2005 to 24 years of confinement and 15 years of extended supervision.

Prior to his attempted robbery of the grocery store, Her said, his life had been unstable after he escaped  from the California Youth Authority to Minnesota and then joined a gang. He recounted the robbery and how he panicked and shot at the store owner.

At his sentencing, he said, the victim asked why a hardworking woman who had done nothing to others would be threatened with harm.

“To answer that question, life pushed me around, and I didn’t have the confidence in my ability, nor the capability to understand how to push life back, so I took it out on people,” he said and added,  “I am ashamed of my actions.”

In 2011, while living in segregation, Her said, he had a revelation about how destructive his life had become and how he had harmed others, and he began to reflect, tried to surround himself with “productive individuals,” and invested in himself by reading self-help books and participating in programs.

He said he gained work experience and education and skills and, over the years, was allowed to move from maximum to medium to unsecured minimum housing and take part in work release.

He said he is no longer a threat to society, and is “ready for the final step of rehabilitation.”

If released, he said he would live with family in California, Oklahoma or Wisconsin.

Students ages 12 to 18 experienced higher rates of reported crime at school than away from school in 2024, according to a new federal analysis. But the overall rate of crime victimization at school has not changed significantly since 2014.

The rate of total victimization, including theft and nonfatal violent crimes such as robbery, aggravated assault and simple assault, was 27 per 1,000 students at school in 2024, compared with 17.7 per 1,000 away from school, according to a new federal Bureau of Justice Statistics report released this month.

The findings come as school safety remains a chief concern among educators, students, parents and policymakers nationwide, with ongoing attention to violence, discipline and shootings.

The report’s findings are based on the National Crime Victimization Survey, an annual survey in which people report crimes they experienced. The survey measures crimes that occurred during the six months before respondents were interviewed, and crimes are classified by the year of the survey rather than the year they occurred. The 2024 survey covered crimes experienced from July 2023 through November 2024.

These figures capture a different aspect of school safety than administrative crime or discipline data because the survey measures victimization reported by respondents, rather than all crimes known to police or school officials.

The report also defines victimization “at school” broadly, including crimes that occurred inside school buildings, on school property, on school buses or while students were going to or from school.

There was no significant change in the overall rate of crime victimization at school between 2014 and 2024, or between 2023 and 2024, according to the report. The same was true for the overall rate away from school.

But the data showed a notable change from the previous year in reported nonfatal violent victimization at school. That rate rose from 14.2 per 1,000 students in 2023 to 21.8 per 1,000 in 2024. The report’s authors, however, did not find a significant change in the rate of nonfatal violent victimization at school in the decade between 2014 and 2024.

Simple assault accounted for much of the nonfatal violent victimization measured in the survey. When simple assault was excluded, the rate of violent victimization at school was 5.8 per 1,000 students in 2024 — a rate that did not differ significantly from 2014 or 2023.

Meanwhile, theft victimization at school declined over the longer term, falling from 14.1 per 1,000 students in 2014 to 5.2 per 1,000 in 2024. Away from school, the theft rate fell from 11.2 to 5.1 per 1,000 over the same period.

Differences among students

The report also found differences in victimization rates based on where students lived and their household income, though many demographic differences were not statistically significant.

Students in suburban areas had a higher rate of total victimization at school in 2024 — 31.5 per 1,000 — than students in rural areas, whose rate was 11 per 1,000. 

Students in urban areas had a victimization rate of 27 per 1,000 in 2024, though the authors cautioned that the estimate is less reliable because it was based on a small number of cases.

Students living in households earning less than $25,000 annually had the highest rate of total victimization at school, at 60.3 per 1,000. The rate was 26.7 per 1,000 among students in households earning $25,000 to $49,999, 28.4 per 1,000 among those earning $50,000 to $99,999, and 18.9 per 1,000 among those earning $100,000 or more — the lowest rate among the income groups.

The report found no statistically significant differences in total victimization at school by students’ race or Hispanic origin. Nor were there significant differences between male and female students in rates of victimization at school across the types of crime measured.

Away from school, however, female students experienced a higher rate of total victimization than male students: 23.5 per 1,000 compared with 12.2 per 1,000.

Age differences were limited as well. The overall rate of victimization at school did not differ significantly between students ages 12 to 14 and those ages 15 to 18.

Younger students did have a higher rate of theft victimization at school: 7.5 per 1,000, compared with 3 per 1,000 among students ages 15 to 18.

Stateline reporter Amanda Watford can be reached at awatford@stateline.org.

A Texas man hired to canvas neighborhoods for Republican candidate for governor Tom Tiffany has been charged with hitting a bicyclist with his car while intoxicated in a hit and run incident in Washington County, before fleeing police. 

Duane Maiden, 32, was hired by Echo Canyon Consulting, a Phoenix-based political campaign and public affairs firm. The firm confirmed Maiden’s employment, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reported. 

The firm had received $2.5 million from the Florida-based Restoration of America PAC to support canvassing operations for Tiffany, according to campaign finance records, according to the Journal Sentinel. The PAC is heavily funded by the billionaire Richard Uihlein, cofounder and CEO of the shipping company Uline, based in Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin. 

On Sept. 3, a Washington County sheriff deputy responded to a crash involving a car and a bicycle in the town of Jackson. The victim sustained injuries including fractures to his leg, pelvis, and spine. Witnesses said they saw a car “flying eastbound on Western Avenue,” blowing through a stop sign before striking the bicyclist and continuing on without stopping. A coworker of Maiden’s called 911 to say that he was with the driver and identified Maiden.

Deputies went to the Town of Cedarburg where the coworker had been dropped off, the Journal Sentinel reported. The coworker said that he and Maiden had come to Wisconsin to canvas for political campaigns. They planned to be in Wisconsin for the next two months before traveling to New York and Florida. They were working the morning of the crash. The coworker said that Maiden bought and drank from a bottle of Vodka before stopping for pizza and gas. 

After the hit and run, the coworker said, he asked to be let out of the car and then called both 911 and his supervisor

Deputies spotted Maiden’s car while talking to the coworker and chased him into Ozaukee County where they arrested him and took him to jail. Maiden said he started drinking and driving  because he had to wait too long between assignments. Maiden denied knowing that he hit the bicyclist.  

Although Echo Canyon Consulting claimed Maiden was not working for the firm during the hit and run, court records contradict those claims, according to the Journal Sentinel. 

Tiffany’s campaign denied any connection to Maiden. 

Maiden was charged on Sept. 4 in Ozaukee County Circuit Court for felony fleeing an officer and misdemeanor resisting. Then on Sept. 11, he was charged in Washington County Circuit Court for felony hit and run  involving great bodily harm and felony intoxicated use of a vehicle. He faces more than 27 years in prison and up to $95,000 in fines.

The Wisconsin Supreme Court ruled this week that it would not suspend the legal license of former Milwaukee County Judge Hannah Dugan, who was convicted earlier this year of obstructing federal agents trying to make an immigration arrest in the county courthouse. 

In an order released Wednesday, the Court overruled the request of the state Office of Lawyer Regulation to suspend her license on the grounds that she was convicted of a “serious crime.” Wisconsin’s court rules state attorneys found guilty of a serious crime can have their licenses suspended until their disciplinary proceedings are complete. 

Dugan was convicted of one felony count of endeavoring to obstruct a pending proceeding after helping an undocumented man appearing in her court briefly evade federal agents. The case drew national attention and in July she was sentenced to pay a $5,000 fine. 

The Supreme Court suspended Dugan from her position as a circuit court judge in April 2025, shortly after she was arrested. 

In its Wednesday order, the Court found that “in its exercise of its discretion … a summary suspension of Attorney Dugan’s license to practice law is not warranted under the facts of the matter.” 

The two conservatives on the Court, Brian Hagedorn and Annette Ziegler, dissented from the order. 

Ziegler wrote that the standard practice of the Court has historically been to suspend attorneys convicted of crimes to expedite the investigation of the Office of Lawyer Regulation. She also questioned why the majority wouldn’t act to discipline Dugan for her actions. 

“These charges concerned then-Judge Dugan, in her capacity as a circuit court judge, wearing a judicial robe, at the courthouse, obstructing federal agents,” Ziegler wrote. “I am confounded by our court’s inaction.”

Kenosha County District Attorney Xavier Solis had his license to practice law suspended Monday. The Office of Lawyer Regulation then reinstated the license Tuesday.

A memo issued by the state court system’s Office of Lawyer Regulation states that Solis’ suspension was for “willfully failing to cooperate with one or more OLR investigations into alleged misconduct.” 

The memo also states that Solis violated a Wisconsin Supreme Court rule that states that lawyers can have their licenses suspended if they’re under investigation by the OLR and don’t comply with deadlines to provide information. 

Solis, a Republican, was elected DA of Kenosha County in 2024 and had previously worked as a private defense attorney. 

Stephen Kelley, a spokesperson for the state court system, told the Wisconsin Examiner the only information available to the public is the rule Solis is alleged to have violated. 

State law requires district attorneys to have a valid law license, so Solis cannot currently perform the job. It’s not clear what the suspension will mean for Solis’ future in the seat. Under state court rules, an attorney suspension can be lifted if the suspended lawyer discloses what happened and cooperates with the investigation to the “reasonable satisfaction” of the regulators within 18 months. 

Deputy District Attorney Rosamaria Delgado is now serving as interim DA in Solis’ office. 

“Administrative staff of the Kenosha County District Attorney’s Office and I will continue to oversee the day-to-day operations of the office,” Delgado said in a statement to 620 WTMJ. “We have reached out to the State for direction. I will take over management and/or reassignment of District Attorney Solis’ caseload until such time as District Attorney Solis’ license to practice law is reinstated or, until further direction is received from the Governor’s Office.  At this time, no other information is available.”

Solis, who had no experience as a prosecutor when he was elected in 2024, has been the subject of criticism since taking office and has struggled to fill vacancies after experienced prosecutors resigned. He was previously sanctioned by a judge for filing briefs written using the assistance of artificial intelligence which “hallucinated” fake citations.

This story was updated on Tuesday, Sept. 15 to reflect the reinstatement of Solis’ law license.

Twenty-five years after 9/11, the surveillance infrastructure built and expanded in its aftermath has become part of a far larger digital ecosystem — producing tools that can collect and analyze information on a scale unimaginable in 2001.

The terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, did more than reshape the nation’s approach to terrorism. They changed the architecture of American intelligence and policing. They expanded how government agencies collect, share and analyze information, and brought national security tools deeper into ordinary law enforcement.

The infrastructure built in the attacks’ aftermath has proved remarkably durable. Joint terrorism task forces and fusion centers brought federal, state and local agencies into closer intelligence-sharing networks. New laws expanded the government’s ability to obtain information. And police departments acquired technologies that once belonged largely to the realm of national security.

But the expansion of surveillance did not go uncontested. Civil liberties groups warned that the new powers could erode Americans’ privacy and constitutional protections, while many Americans accepted expanded government surveillance as a necessary tradeoff for safety in the aftermath of the attacks. 

The country also entered a period of heightened scrutiny for people perceived as foreign or potentially threatening — with American Muslims and immigrant communities bearing a particularly heavy burden.

Then came the digital revolution.

Americans began carrying smartphones, broadcasting their lives on social media and generating enormous amounts of commercially collected data. Police gained access to license plate readers, networks of cameras, cellphone location information and other technologies capable of tracking people and mapping their movements.

Now, artificial intelligence is adding another layer: systems that can sift through those vast stores of information, connect previously separate databases and generate analyses in seconds.

Some surveillance and privacy experts say that the amount of information available to the government — and its ability to make sense of it — has fundamentally changed since 9/11. 

That has taken on new urgency as surveillance systems have moved further into everyday life. Automated license plate readers can track where people drive. Facial recognition can help identify people in crowds. Commercial data can reveal where and how people live and travel. And increasingly, artificial intelligence can analyze and connect these streams of information at a speed no human investigator could match. 

Those capabilities have raised concerns among some experts and advocates about how surveillance could be used to monitor protests, track immigrants and identify people seeking reproductive healthcare.

Gregory Nojeim, senior counsel and director of the security and surveillance project at the Center for Democracy & Technology, described the post-9/11 era as a “perfect storm.”

“That storm is both the expansion of the legal powers that have been conferred on the government to collect and share information, combined with the advance of technology, which has given the government more tools to collect information from more people in more contexts,” Nojeim said.

From intelligence silos to everyday policing

In the months after 9/11, officials sought to fix a critical weakness exposed by the attacks: Intelligence that could have helped uncover the plot was held across government agencies that failed to connect or share it effectively. The response was a sweeping effort to tear down those silos and build a more integrated intelligence network.

Federal, state and local agencies quickly expanded intelligence-sharing, and the government established and expanded networks designed to move information across traditional institutional boundaries. The FBI’s Joint Terrorism Task Forces brought together federal, state and local law enforcement and intelligence personnel. 

Fusion centers, generally run by state and local governments with federal support, became another part of the post-9/11 intelligence architecture, with at least one operating in every state. The centers serve as intelligence hubs where law enforcement agencies can share information, analyze data and flag potential threats across jurisdictions.

Katie Kinsey, chief of staff and tech policy counsel at the Policing Project at the NYU School of Law, said the original goal was straightforward — prevent another terrorist attack.

Over time, some fusion centers began supporting investigations and enforcement involving lower-level crimes, Kinsey said. Local police departments also developed their own versions of centralized intelligence hubs, often called real-time crime centers, that can integrate information from cameras, automated license plate readers and other surveillance systems.

David Viola, an adjunct professor at the Center on Terrorism at John Jay College of Criminal Justice and author of “You Have Unleashed a Storm: New York City’s Descent into Chaos During America’s Most Explosive Era of Radical Violence,” said the post-9/11 period also marked a major shift in the kind of information available to investigators. 

Before the attacks, he said, intelligence work relied heavily on traditional investigative techniques. Today, digital records can provide information about where people go, with whom they communicate, what they purchase and what they post online.

But technology is only part of the transformation. Viola said the institutional relationships forged among local, state and federal authorities after 9/11 are among the period’s most lasting legacies.

“These are institutions that have cemented the close coordination between state, local, federal, tribal authorities in the past 25 years, and they’re going nowhere, for better or worse,” he said.

Nojeim, of the Center for Democracy & Technology, was directing lobbyists in Washington, D.C., on 9/11. His office was evacuated as officials tried to determine whether the U.S. Capitol was the target of another hijacked plane.

In the aftermath, he said, civil liberties advocates understood that decisions made in response to the attacks could extend far beyond the immediate crisis. 

About a month after the attacks, the USA PATRIOT Act was signed into law, dramatically expanding the federal government’s ability to collect information and conduct surveillance in terrorism investigations. Some of its most sweeping surveillance authorities were later curtailed or allowed to expire, but the law helped establish a new framework for national security surveillance that continues to shape how Americans’ data is collected and monitored.

“In the days after 9/11, we all realized that what the government did in the next few days to respond could have lasting implications for the civil liberties of Americans,” Nojeim said.

The data economy

The growth of surveillance after 9/11 also coincided with a separate transformation that would make those systems far more powerful. Americans were beginning to carry smartphones, use social media and spend more of their lives online, generating enormous amounts of digital information that did not exist before.

Kinsey, of the Policing Project, said that created a new dynamic for law enforcement. Agencies had expanded their ability to collect and share intelligence after 9/11, while technology was producing more information about people than ever before. Much of that information was collected by private companies for commercial purposes, but it could also become available to law enforcement, either through data purchases or when companies turned information over to authorities.

At the same time, Kinsey said, Americans have become accustomed to giving up personal information without necessarily understanding how it is collected or what can ultimately be done with it.

“There’s still a lack of awareness because there’s a lack of transparency on the part of law enforcement, but also on the part of these private tech companies about what they are actually collecting on us, and then what they’re doing with that information,” Kinsey said.

That lack of visibility extends beyond the cameras and other surveillance tools people can see. Personal data can be combined and shared behind the scenes, allowing the government to draw conclusions from pieces of information that may seem insignificant on their own.

“Never in human history has the government had more information about what we are doing, who we are doing it with, what we like to buy, and indeed what we are thinking about, than ever before,” said Nojeim, of the Center for Democracy & Technology.

Jessica Katzenstein, a cultural anthropologist and assistant professor at Arizona State University, said technological advances have also changed what Americans consider normal, making forms of live, mass surveillance that once seemed dystopian increasingly commonplace.

“The things that we would have taken for granted as forms of privacy we can all expect have just completely vanished,” she said.

That normalization can make surveillance difficult to roll back once law enforcement agencies have invested in the technology and incorporated it into their work, she said.

“Once you have a sense of both a need and access to tools, it will be very, very difficult to get you to give that up,” said Katzenstein, who also studies police in the U.S. as an ethnographer.

Communities living with the consequences

The expansion of surveillance after 9/11 also had consequences that were not felt equally. American Muslims faced heightened scrutiny in the name of national security, and advocates say the surveillance practices and assumptions that emerged in that period have since affected other communities of color.

Haris Tarin, vice president of policy and programming for the Muslim Public Affairs Council, who also spent more than a decade working in the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, said many American Muslims experienced the aftermath of 9/11 as a “dual attack.”

“We were attacked twice. First by the terrorists, we were attacked for being Americans, and then we were attacked by our own government and people within our own country, where we were cast under suspicion, and that has continued for the last 25 years,” Tarin said.

Tarin said that suspicion soon extended beyond American Muslims to other communities.

“After 9/11, American Muslims were easy to go after because there was not much political consequence,” he said. “But it just didn’t stop with American Muslims. We’ve seen that now extend to immigrants. We’ve seen that now extend to anti-Semitism. We’ve seen that now extend to anti-Black hate.”

Lia Nitake, senior director of technology, telecommunications and media policy at Asian Americans Advancing Justice, said the consequences have been particularly pronounced for communities of color. She said the heightened surveillance of people based on their race, religion or other aspects of their identity has created a climate of fear.

“In a lot of ways, these surveillance measures have also eroded this idea that everyone should have an equal right to privacy,” Nitake said. 

Both Tarin and Nitake said the growing use of artificial intelligence raises new concerns about how those disparities could be reproduced or amplified. Police agencies could increasingly rely on technology to monitor communities rather than invest in relationships with them, Tarin said.

“In the AI age, it will be easy for government agencies and law enforcement agencies to use technology to surveil and not do the hard work of community policing and engaging communities,” he said.

Stronger surveillance systems

Police departments nationwide are already using AI-assisted tools to analyze evidence, search databases, draft reports and translate conversations in real time.

North Carolina Central University Police Chief Robert Gaddy, who previously served as a Durham police officer for more than 25 years, sees the technology as a practical response to the growing demands on modern policing.

Information that once had to be gathered and shared manually can now flow through centralized digital systems, while AI-assisted cameras and license plate readers help officers identify suspects, gather evidence and solve crimes.

“If I can take this technology and at least give that (victim’s) security back to them by solving this crime, it’s worth every every bit of it,” Gaddy said.

Gaddy said technology can also help departments facing staffing shortages. But he said its use requires clear limits and oversight, including rules governing how officers access and share information and audits to identify potential misuse.

Still, some experts and advocates worry that newer AI-assisted systems could make existing surveillance infrastructure significantly more powerful by connecting databases that previously operated separately. Some tools allow officers to search multiple databases using natural-language prompts and generate summaries, raising questions about accuracy, missing information and how much officers may rely on the results.

Nojeim, of the Center on Democracy & Technology, said those concerns become especially serious when AI is used in decisions that can affect someone’s liberty.

“We all know from our work or our play with AI that it can make mistakes and that it hallucinates,” he said. “Now we’re in a world where an AI hallucination can be the thing that set off an investigation that landed you in jail inappropriately.”

Modern law enforcement agencies have access to more information than any human could reasonably process, said Viola, the adjunct professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. AI could help investigators identify connections that might otherwise be missed. But Viola said those capabilities also come with risks.

“These are very capable tools that can be used to great effect for the betterment of American society and safety,” Viola said. “They can also be used for ill effect if there is an administration who wants to use them for such activity.”

Stateline reporter Amanda Watford can be reached at awatford@stateline.org.

Update: This story was updated with a response from DHS on Thursday, Sept. 10 at 10:30 a.m.

Wisconsin U.S. Rep. Gwen Moore (D-Milwaukee) traveled to Leavenworth, Kansas, on Wednesday to visit an immigration detention facility where two Milwaukee women are being held, interview them and check on their welfare. Reyna Elizabeth Garcia and Estenderly Marte Polanco were both arrested during a surge of arrests by Immigration and Customs Enforcement in early July. 

Their arrests were described as excessive and violent by advocates from Voces de la Frontera, who monitored the surge and who joined Moore on the Kansas visit. Moore said that the Leavenworth ICE facility currently holds 450 people but  is designed to hold more than 1,000. She said she saw signs of rapid expansion. Moore fears that the facility will quickly fill up with more people. “They are building so they can fill this thing up with twice as many detainees,” she said. 

Garcia and Polanco told Moore that they are being treated as human beings, Moore said. Detainees are allowed to leave their cells and be in a common area during the day, and the facility has plans for an area where detainees will be able to exercise and get access to sunlight. Moore observed various meals being prepared including kosher and vegetarian options, indicating that the facility is making an attempt to meet dietary needs, although  the food appeared to be  of  low quality. 

Most of the people held at Leavenworth are not criminals, Moore said. Still, she said, “it is a very depressive setting, it is definitely a prison, and they are aggressively building.”

Officials at the facility denied any medical neglect, Moore said, and the detention center has  doctors on call, but no full-time medical staff within the facility itself. 

“We had some hard questions for the ICE officials,” Moore said. “We were very curious to see where the murders and rapists were, and they were unable to show us that.” 

Garcia was arrested in late May along with her brother and fiance after ICE agents in unmarked vehicles followed them as they were leaving  a local grocery store in Milwaukee. Her fiance, Galo Suárez, was later released and told by ICE agents to walk away and to not look back or else he’d face consequences, he said during a Voces press conference after the arrest. Polanco was arrested the same weekend while driving with her 11-year-old son, who was in the back seat when ICE agents pulled her out of her car. During the arrest, agents split Polanco’s lip, threw her to the ground, and at one point placed her in a position where she couldn’t breathe, she said. In both arrests, agents were described by witnesses as mocking and insulting the people they were arresting. 

After her visit, Moore described Garcia as extremely depressed. Polanco checks on her, Moore said, adding that Polanco has a strong faith in the power of prayer and uses this to help lift Garcia’s spirits.

While Garcia’s fiance was released the same day he was arrested, Moore said that the family later learned that her brother had been deported. Polanco said that she told the agents that she was scared about what  would happen to her child, who was born prematurely. He remains  traumatized after witnessing her arrest, Moore said, and blames himself for his mother’s detention. 

Garcia told Moore that she left Nicaragua because “the politics put me in danger,” only to find herself in a similar situation in the U.S. 

Moore criticized the historic level of funding for ICE in recent budgets — more than $120 billion — and said her Democratic colleagues worked together to stop further allocations in the most recent budget reconciliation bill.  At Leavenworth, she said, she wondered where all the money was going. “I was looking for the sauna,” she joked. The privately run facility is operated by CoreCivic, which sold the facility to the federal government for $238.4 million — about $300,000 per bed. Moore said it is comparable to other prisons that don’t bring in  nearly as much money. 

In response to questions from the Examiner about Moore’s visit, a spokesperson for the Department of Homeland Security called Moore’s criticisms of the facility “baseless and false.” 

“If she doesn’t like our country’s immigration laws, she should focus on changing them–not political theater,” the spokesperson said in an emailed statement.

“Individuals in ICE detention continue to have access to on-site medical care, community emergency transport services, emergency room care, hospital admissions, and off-site specialty care,” the spokesperson added. 

“The men and women of ICE are entrusted with upholding the rule of law and are held to the highest standards of professionalism, integrity, and ethical conduct,” the spokesperson wrote. “They are trained to use the minimum amount of force necessary to resolve dangerous situations to prioritize the safety of the public and our officers. Officers are highly trained in de-escalation tactics and regularly receive ongoing use of force training.”

Stevens Point, Winnebago County, Fond du Lac County and Sheboygan are among the Wisconsin communities that have recently moved away from Flock license plate reader cameras. On Tuesday, city staff in Stevens Point began covering the cameras while local elected leaders determine whether they can cancel their Flock contract altogether. 

Meanwhile Sheboygan broke ties with Flock after the company reportedly attempted to sell the city back traffic data it was unaware the multi-billion dollar surveillance company was even collecting. Flock cameras capture images of vehicles and their license plates on the roadways. Law enforcement officers can search the data to see where a vehicle has traveled. 

Investigative reporting has shown that the cameras can also recognize human features. Over 5,000 agencies had Flock contracts in late 2025, creating a network of tens of thousands of cameras that can be queried simultaneously. Police often say that the technology has been invaluable in solving crimes including carjackings, kidnappings, homicide, drug trafficking and gun violence. The cameras are also used for less serious reasons such as for traffic enforcement and in policing evictions. 

“Reports are surfacing all over the country about the system being misused by municipal and state employees who have access to the data,” said Stevens Point Mayor Mike Wiza in a press release late last week. 

A few of those cases have played out in Wisconsin courts, police departments and sheriff’s offices. Four officers across Wisconsin have been charged with misconduct in public office and other offenses for misusing Flock cameras. 

Josue Ayala of the Milwaukee Police Department (MPD) was given a year of probation and avoided jail time earlier this year after misusing Flock. Cristian Morales of the Menasha Police Department was sentenced to six months in jail and three years probation for a similar infraction. In Kenosha County, former sheriff’s deputy Frank McGrath was charged with misconduct in public office last month for misuse of the surveillance technology. In July, Milwaukee police detective Tehrangi Chapman — who worked the internal affairs investigation into Ayala’s Flock misuse — was charged with misusing the system to track someone he had been monitoring since 2019, years before Flock came to Milwaukee. Chapman and McGrath are still going through court proceedings. 

Ayala, Morales and McGrath all used Flock to monitor their current or former romantic partners. The exact relationship Chapman has to the people he allegedly monitored is not mentioned in available court records. McGrath used Flock and a squad car tracking system called Polaris to monitor his girlfriend, who was also a Kenosha County Sheriff’s deputy. Chapman allegedly employed both Flock cameras and car-mounted GPS trackers. McGrath was caught after a supervisor noticed some suspicious Flock searches in an audit, while Ayala and Chapman were both reported to police by the victims themselves. 

Numerous other officers have been investigated or charged with misusing Flock around the country. In Racine County, the district attorney admitted that a few unnamed officers have been investigated for their use of Flock cameras. 

The rash of misuse is not the only thing motivating local communities to drop Flock. When the city of Verona decided to cover its cameras in February, Mayor Diaz said that while the community trusted its police department, it no longer trusted Flock Safety. At that time the first cases of misconduct were beginning to emerge in Wisconsin, and many people had expressed fears about how the federal government — especially immigration enforcement — could leverage local Flock networks for its own priorities. Trust was also broken in Oshkosh months later, after the police chief learned that the cameras could create heatmaps of vehicle movements, contrary to what a company representative had said. 

The sheriffs and police departments in Fond du Lac County recently announced they will cancel their contracts because out of state agencies had used open records requests to obtain audit data the sheriff said was confidential and in some cases linked with ongoing investigations. Journalists and other citizens nationwide had begun requesting Flock audit data from local police departments to learn how the cameras were being used. 

In 2025, a Wisconsin Examiner analysis showed that at least 221 law enforcement agencies were using Flock in Wisconsin. Many of the searches used vague search terms such as “investigation,” “suspicious,” or non-law-enforcement terms such as “cooch,” or single characters such as “.” or “s”. Some of these vague search terms have appeared in confirmed misconduct cases. Officers in other parts of the country have also  used Flock for controversial reasons, such as tracking women suspected of traveling out of state to get an abortion. 

Flock Safety has struggled to adapt to canceled contracts and misconduct investigations. Although the company has released new features including requiring case numbers when searching the database, fixed options for search terms, and the ability to flag suspicious searches, it has also worked to hide information in the audit data such as officers’ names. Flock Safety has claimed that people have used the audit data to identify undercover officers. However, the information which Flock is making harder to view is also the very information that allowed citizens and journalists to detect instances of misconduct.

Winnebago County, Neenah, Menasha, and Chetek have each canceled a Flock contract, are considering it or have covered up their cameras. In Chetek, the police chief responded to public criticism of Flock cameras by threatening to run background checks on citizens who disagreed with his use of the cameras. Other Wisconsin communities including Kaukauna, Sturgeon Bay, Appleton, Dane County, Stoughton and Manitowoc which have also canceled their Flock contracts. 

Other communities have chosen to heighten oversight of their Flock cameras In Milwaukee, County Executive David Crowley asked that all Flock operations on county property be paused until new transparency and oversight measures could be developed.

Milwaukee County Sup. Justin Bielinski, who is also chairman of the Committee on Judiciary, Law Enforcement, and General Services, has also called on the Milwaukee County Sheriff’s Office to disable its Flock network. “Residents should not have to wait for another disclosure before we act,” said Bielinksi. “Even if you have confidence in the Sheriff’s Department’s use of Flock, the question remains: do we trust Flock itself with this information?”

The Milwaukee Police Department has restricted its Flock network from other local agencies, limited access to the system to supervisors only, and launched a new Flock transparency portal. The portal notes that data captured by Flock cameras in Milwaukee is only retained for seven days, and that there were 983 “search sessions” over the last 30 days. It also keeps track of the number of “hot list hits” over the last 30 days. Hot lists are lists of vehicles which law enforcement have flagged in the system. When a camera sees the flagged vehicle, a notification goes out to police in the area. The Milwaukee police transparency portal  does not track the number of vehicles detected, unlike a transparency portal released by the Green Bay Police Department.

“This effort underscores the commitments MPD has made in partnership with the Mayor to establish appropriate guardrails for the use of this technology while providing greater public understanding of how Flock [Automatic License Plate Reader] technology is used to support public safety,” the Milwaukee department said in a press release. “MPD remains committed to transparency, accountability, and the responsible use of technology. Through this new resource, MPD is continuing its efforts to provide the public with meaningful information about the tools we use to support the safety of the Milwaukee community.”

People in the community continue to push back against the cameras. Last Thursday, dozens of residents filled a Fire and Police Commission meeting to capacity in Milwaukee. An overflow room was opened to accommodate all the people who showed up to testify, unanimously rejecting Flock and calling for the city to cancel its contract. Speakers argued that Flock is a form of indiscriminate mass surveillance which can and has been used in abusive ways by police. Many of the speakers expressed deep frustration with the commission, city government and police, saying that they’d called for an end to Flock for months only to see some of their fears realized. 

Napoleon Jones, 32, was one of those people. Although Jones is from Sussex, he came to the Milwaukee FPC meeting to describe his  experience of Flock surveillance. Jones, a Navy veteran, was stopped by a Waukesha County Sheriff’s deputy after filming a traffic stop. Jones was arrested and taken to jail, only to be released without charges. When he filed a complaint about the deputy’s conduct, according to a federal lawsuit, Jones became the target of a  Flock search by that deputy, who was  directed by his supervisor to conduct the searches. 

“When I first found out I was just super surprised,” Jones told the Examiner. “I never thought it would happen to me. And when I found out and I got the records and seen how many different searches there were, I was at a loss of words because it’s hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of searches and the network is so big on these Flock cameras.” Jones added that “I drive all around. If this guy really wanted to put together a timeline of where I’m at, or who I know, or whose house I’m at, he could have done it.”

He added, “I drive past these things all the time. Everyone does.”

Women on parole report higher rates of housing instability, poor health and serious mental health and substance use disorders than men on parole and women who weren’t on parole, according to a new analysis from the nonpartisan think tank Council on Criminal Justice.

For people leaving prison, parole is a period of transition that can involve finding housing and work, reconnecting with family and accessing health care while also meeting the conditions of supervision. How well those pieces come together can shape whether someone successfully settles back into the community — a key part, some argue, of reducing future involvement with the criminal justice system and promoting public safety.

The council’s latest report examined nationally representative 2021-2023 data from the National Survey on Drug Use and Health, comparing women who reported being on parole both with women who were not on parole and with men who were on parole.

About 13% of women on parole reported moving three or more times in the previous year, compared with 2% of women who were not on parole and 6% of men on parole, according to the analysis.

Women on parole also were more likely to report poor health. About 29% rated their overall health as fair or poor, compared with 16% of women not on parole and 17% of men on parole.

About 24% of women on parole met the criteria for a severe mental health disorder, compared with 7% of women not on parole and 10% of men on parole, according to the council’s report. About 25% of women on parole also reported experiencing a major depressive episode during the previous year, compared with 10% of women not on parole and 12% of men on parole.

The analysis found that substance use disorders were common among people on parole, but severe disorders were more prevalent among women. About 32% of women on parole met the criteria for a severe substance use disorder, compared with 24% of men on parole and 3% of women not on parole.

The disparity was especially large for opioid use. About 18% of women on parole met the criteria for a severe opioid use disorder, compared with 5% of men on parole and 0.4% of women not on parole.

Health and housing can make the demands of reentry harder to manage, including maintaining employment, attending treatment and supervision appointments, and managing family responsibilities, according to the report.

Women on parole also were more likely than men on parole to report living in a household with minor children. About 29% of women on parole lived in a household with at least one child under 18, compared with 19% of men on parole and 30% of women who were not on parole.

The survey, however, did not indicate whether respondents were parents, caregivers or financially responsible for the children, according to the report.

Health insurance coverage also differed among the groups. About 11% of women on parole reported being uninsured, compared with 7% of women not on parole and 20% of men on parole, according to the analysis.

The report’s authors wrote that the findings point to the need for reentry planning that goes beyond supervision requirements to address housing, health care, mental health and substance use treatment and family responsibilities. The authors could not determine whether the conditions preceded or resulted from criminal justice involvement, but the findings strongly suggest women on parole face distinct reentry challenges.

Stateline reporter Amanda Watford can be reached at awatford@stateline.org.

Months after Ramón Morales Reyes was falsely accused by the Department of Homeland Security of penning letters threatening to assassinate President Donald Trump, his children Ana and Antonio say that their family continues to live in fear while awaiting the outcome of their father’s deportation case. 

“My dad was framed for something that he did not do, and DHS knew exactly what they posted beforehand,” Ana Morales, 25, said at a press conference Friday at the Milwaukee office of Voces de la Frontera. “As a daughter, seeing my dad being framed for something he did not do was very heartbreaking,” she added.

Attorney Mark Thomsen said the family is seeking $5 million in damages caused by the federal government’s accusations against Morales Reyes, which the agency has yet to retract. Thomsen was joined by immigration attorney Cain Oulahan, Morales Reyes’ children, Voces de la Frontera Executive Director Christine Neumann-Oritz, and Milwaukee Turners Executive Director Emilio de Torre. 

Accused of something he didn’t do

In May 2025, Morales Reyes, then 54, was arrested by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, leaving his unoccupied vehicle on the roadside. Voces de la Frontera received a hotline call reporting the arrest. 

Born in Mexico, Morales Reyes has lived in the United States since 1986. His family described him as a hard worker and proud family man, who worked as a dishwasher.

His arrest came as the Trump administration ramped up arrests and deportations in 2025, the deadliest year in two decades for people being detained by ICE. Trump pledged to go after “the worst of the worst.” 

Morales Reyes had two encounters with law enforcement, both dating back to 1996, according to NPR. One was a hit-and-run incident in which he was arrested but not charged. The other was a disorderly conduct and property damage ticket relating to a dispute with his wife.

Former Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem posted a statement on her agency’s website calling Morales Reyes an “illegal alien who threatened to assassinate President Trump.” 

DHS also released images of a letter, handwritten in English, that said: “we are tired of this president messing with us Mexicans” and stating “I will self deport myself back to Mexico but not before I use my 30 yard 6 to shoot your precious president in is head — I will see him at one of his big ralleys .” The reference to “30 yard 6”appears to be an incorrectly written reference to the high caliber rifle round .30-06.

Morales Reyes couldn’t have written the letter, however, his family, attorneys, and advocates said, since he could not speak English and did not read or write proficiently even in Spanish. 

Morales Reyes had applied for a U-visa, granted to victims of crimes, after he was  assaulted during an armed robbery in September 2023. Detectives from the Milwaukee Police Department were actively investigating whether someone was trying to frame him when ICE agents arrested him and publicized the  accusation that he was a would-be assassin. It was later determined that a man who had been arrested for assaulting Morales Reyes had written the letter in an effort to get him deported before he could testify in court.

Lasting harm

In June 2025, Morales-Reyes was released from ICE custody on bond. Yet he continues to face deportation proceedings, with a hearing expected in December in which a judge may make a decision on whether Morales Reyes can remain in the country. The family has received online harassment and threats since Morales Reyes was accused of writing the letter, Ana Morales said.

“He’s been going through depression, anxiety,” she said during the Friday press conference. “He doesn’t like going out anymore because he feels like everyone knows him due to what he was framed as. And ever since, it has taken a lot from us.” 

Ana’s brother Antonio Morales took over the mic when  his sister began to cry. “They really wanted to make this hurt us as much as possible, inflict as much pain, and they knew what they were doing intentionally,” he said of the Homeland Security arrest and accusations against his father.

“It was hard seeing your dad all over social media posted as some sort of, you know, some sort of assassin almost,” he added. “And that’s just not who my father is. Anyone who knows my father knows that isn’t him. It was just really scary seeing all those comments online, the fear that it caused my family seeing how everybody just…threatening us online over something that was just a false accusation. And I really think DHS knew that. I really think that they knew what they were doing. They wanted to do this to us. They want to do this to more immigrants, and they really want to keep terrorizing the community going forward.”

Thomsen asked members of the public to “imagine learning on social media that your father, or your grandfather, or your uncle, or your brother, or your sister was being accused of attempting to kill the president of the United States.” He added, “Imagine what that means, and then imagine that the person that is saying it is the strongest government in the world. … This was a lie, and they knew it was a lie. The lie is still up.”

Gesturing to Ana and Antonio Morales, he said, “Check it out folks, these are two young people with the courage to stand up to the biggest government on the planet, the most powerful government on the planet, and say, ‘Do the right thing America.’ If these two young folks can do it, everybody sitting at home safely can do it.”

Looking ahead

Although DHS has said in subsequent statements that Morales Reyes is no longer under investigation for threatening the president, the agency has continued to call for his deportation. Noem’s original press release accusing him of the assassination threat is still up on the government website. The Wisconsin Examiner reached out to DHS asking specifically whether the agency plans to remove the post and correct the record. The agency has not responded. 

Oulahan said that although Morales Reyes has a hearing in December, if a judge decides to deport him, he could remain in the country while his case is appealed. Thomsen said that the federal government has six months to respond to the family’s claim for compensation under the federal Tort Act, after which filing a civil lawsuit would be an option. Thomsen stressed, however, that avenues of recourse against the federal government are limited and that the second Trump administration has shown a willingness to violate or disregard court orders. 

De Torre said the federal government is “deceiving the public about everyday people.”

“They’re disrupting us emotionally, as you can see from Ana and Antonio. … It is disrupting our economy. It is disrupting our ability to attend houses of worship, go to school, and bring home food for our families. And on top of this, they then deny that they are doing this. Telling us that what we see is not real. How we feel and how we’re suffering is an illusion. And I’m sitting here today to say this is not so.”

Asked to describe some of her favorite memories of her father, Ana recalled how he would take her to the park and bike riding, one of his favorite activities. “I remember as a little kid on his days off I would always want corn, I’m obsessed with corn even to this day,” she said. Despite working second shift her father would always make time, she said. 

Antonio described his father as fond of video games. “He definitely made me a gamer,” he said. Occasionally Morales Reyes would let his son play. “I was just so amazed by these games,” he recalled, smiling. “It was really fun.”

Milwaukee is tightening the leash around Flock automatic license plate reader cameras, with elected leaders calling for more oversight and restrictions as investigations into misuse by officers continue. 

Flock cameras utilize AI-powered technology to identify vehicles and license plates that pass within their view on roadways. The data is stored for several weeks or longer, allowing law enforcement officers from anywhere across the country to search for specific vehicles as long as their agency has a contract with Flock. 

An analysis by the Wisconsin Examiner found that at least 221 Wisconsin law enforcement agencies searched the Flock network during the first half of 2025, and that officers often used vague search terms to query the system. That same year, the multi-billion dollar Flock Safety company spent $102,000 lobbying the state government for grants to allow law enforcement agencies to acquire license plate reader cameras, though the Republican-backed bills were unsuccessful. 

On Tuesday, a directive went out from the office of Milwaukee County Executive David Crowley to county departments and the Milwaukee County Sheriff’s Office to limit Flock-related operations on county property, and to work towards adopting new transparency and accountability standards. 

“Public safety partners should have the right tools to keep Milwaukee County safe, but unchecked surveillance isn’t the answer,” said Crowley, who is running against Republican Tom Tiffany to become Wisconsin’s next governor, in a statement. “We have seen what can happen when this technology operates without clear rules, transparency and accountability. Protecting our residents’ privacy and maintaining the public’s trust is a responsibility I take seriously. That is why I am directing all County departments to limit the usage of all Flock camera systems and establish safeguards proactively, before a breach of public trust can occur.”

Crowley is calling on the Office of Corporation Counsel and the Information Management Services Division to evaluate current policies governing the use of any surveillance tech and to develop binding standards for its use. The standards will determine how surveillance technology can be used, how long data is kept, who can access that data and why, and limit when data is shared with an emphasis on prohibiting use for federal immigration enforcement without a judicial warrant, a county press release stated. These standards would also establish independent audits and enforceable consequences when surveillance technology is misused. 

Crowley is also calling on other local elected leaders to look closely at their own use of Flock cameras and adopt similar policies. Ultimately, these efforts could result in the adoption of a consistent standard across the county for Flock. 

In April Tiffany said he had never heard of Flock cameras, when he was asked about controversy around their use. “I’m going to sound ignorant on this, what are Flock cameras?” Tiffany said during a virtual question-and-answer session. 

More recently, Tiffany said that “government should not be building an AI surveillance network that tracks law-abiding Wisconsinites everywhere they drive.” Tiffany said that he would pause state funding for Flock and create a task force to establish stronger protections, penalties for misuse, limits on data sharing, and safeguards against foreign adversaries. Tiffany criticized Crowley for “repeatedly” seeking to install “more red-light cameras, speed cameras, and massive funding increases for automated license plate readers.” 

Police departments often acquire Flock cameras through non-competitive sole source contracts which bypass a public bidding process, keeping local councils and residents from even knowing that the technology has been acquired.

The changes in Milwaukee County come after the Milwaukee Police Department announced on Monday that it will be further restricting its Flock network. In a Monday press release the department said that it “supports the use of technology to assist in solving crimes that cause harm to our community,” and that new technology can help solve cases more quickly than traditional methods for investigations. 

“With that, we recognize that the use of such technology, like Flock technology, comes with great responsibility,” the department said in the press release. “These tools must always be used to prevent and reduce harm, not create more.” The department acknowledged the growing discontent and angst over Flock technology in the community, saying that “we do not dismiss these opinions.” The department went on to say that it “acknowledges the harm that former department members have caused that has damaged the trust we work so hard to build” and that it “acknowledges the human error that comes with the use of technology” and that the department is “working tirelessly to reduce error as much as we can.”

The Milwaukee police  announced that access to Flock has been restricted to supervisors only, and that the department will no longer share its Flock data with neighboring jurisdictions. Furthermore, the cameras may only be used for “Part I crimes” such as homicide, rape, robbery, aggravated assault including non-fatal shootings, burglary, larceny, motor vehicle theft, arson, human trafficking, as well as for critically missing people and investigating drug trafficking organizations. 

Earlier this year, the department began revamping its auditing procedures and limited the number of officers with access to Flock cameras to an “as needed basis,” risk manager James Lewis told the Examiner in June.

“MPD will continue to robustly audit its Flock systems,” the department’s Monday press release reads. “We are better together!”

The changes were followed on Tuesday by a statement from Mayor Cavalier Johnson that while technology can help law enforcement, “it is essential that we recognize the limitations and dangers associated with these tools.” Johnson added that “I recognize the benefits of the Flock cameras system.” He said that “on multiple occasions this tool has located critical missing persons and helped apprehend violent criminals in Milwaukee. The technology has also been misused in several notable instances, both locally and nationally, compromising the rights of individuals.” 

Several of those cases played out in Milwaukee and elsewhere in Wisconsin. Josue Ayala of Milwaukee, Cristian Morales of Menasha, and Frank McGrath of Kenosha County were all charged with either misdemeanor or felony misconduct in public office after using Flock to surveil their current or former romantic partners. Ayala was given a year of probation and avoided incarceration, whereas Morales was sentenced to six months in jail and three years of probation while avoiding prison time. McGrath’s case is still ongoing. 

In July, Tehrangi Chapman, a Milwaukee police internal affairs detective who was involved in investigating Ayala’s misuse of Flock, was also charged with using the cameras and car-mounted GPS devices to keep tabs on someone who he’d surveilled since 2019, before Flock even arrived in Milwaukee. Chapman has been charged with felonies, and his case is still ongoing. On Aug. 26, Chapman pled not guilty, and is expected back in court for a scheduling conference on Oct. 7, according to online court records. 

Each of the officers who’ve been found to have abused their access to Flock used terms like “suspicious” or “investigation” to search the Flock network, which were common terms found in the Examiner’s 2025 analysis. Other cases have also emerged, such as that of a man who is now suing the Waukesha County Sheriff’s Department after a deputy searched him in Flock following a traffic stop, for which the man sought to file a complaint against the deputy. 

As misconduct cases have emerged, communities across the state have opted to drop their Flock cameras including Kaukauna, Sturgeon Bay, Verona, Appleton, Oshkosh, Dane County and Stoughton. 

In Oshkosh, the request to cancel the Flock contract actually came from the police chief, who told local elected officials that representatives of the multi-billion dollar Flock Safety company had misled him on whether the cameras were able to develop heatmaps depicting a vehicle’s movement patterns. 

Elsewhere, community members have packed public meetings to tell local officials that they don’t want to be placed under perpetual surveillance, expressing fears about how the cameras could be misused by both local and federal law enforcement. Police leaders have had mixed responses to the concerns from residents. The police chief in Green Bay has opted to keep the cameras, citing their usefulness in solving violent crime while also acknowledging that steps need to be taken to protect people’s privacy, while a chief in the small city of Chetek threatened to do background checks on residents who spoke against the cameras in a public meeting.

Exactly how to handle the cameras is still a question local and national leaders are trying to answer. In August,  President Donald Trump said that the cameras have “pros and cons” and that “it’s being studied right now, we’ll have an answer soon as to our views on it.” When asked whether he’d consider banning Flock cameras statewide, Democratic Gov. Tony Evers said, “I don’t know what the solution is, but I think there’s people all across our country that’s talking about it.” Evers said he recently talked with Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz about Flock cameras. “Whether that [banning the cameras] is the answer, all’s I know is that we need to have an answer.”

According to Wisconsin Department of Corrections statistics, the state’s prison population hit a new record high last week. As of Aug. 28, there were 23,854 people housed across adult prisons in Wisconsin. The figure surpasses the last record, set  in 2019, and raises questions about whether and how the state will take steps to address its chronically overcrowded prison problem. 

The record high was first reported by Wisconsin Watch, which noted that the prison system was designed to hold nearly 6,000 fewer people than it currently does. In some prisons, such as the three prisons housing women in Wisconsin, gyms and office spaces have been  converted into dorm space. Meanwhile, the DOC struggles with staffing shortages among correctional officers, medical and psych workers. 

Wisconsin is an outlier, with some of the highest rates of imprisonment for Black and brown people in the country. The state has also struggled to finally close the troubled Lincoln Hills juvenile prison, despite bipartisan agreement that it needs to shut down what has been one of the largest facilities of its kind in America.

Shannon Ross, a member of Justice Forward Wisconsin has watched the prison population rising again after dropping after the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. “It’s been going up steadily every year,” Ross told the Wisconsin Examiner. “And it’s a confluence of the fact that we have too many ways for a person to get sent to prison — we just have a lot of crimes …  we have a lot of high penalties for crimes, and we have a lack of ways for people to come home early.” 

Emily Curtis, a member of the group Ladies of SCI, told the Examiner  Wisconsin “continues to rely heavily on incarceration without putting enough emphasis on what actually reduces incarceration over the long term.” 

While excessive sentences keep people in prison for as long as possible, Curtis added that “there are still not enough meaningful rehabilitation opportunities within the prison system that are accessible to everyone who could benefit from them.” She stressed that “education, job training, treatment, reentry preparation, and other programs need to provide people with real tools and realistic avenues for success when they return to their communities. If we want to reduce recidivism, rehabilitation cannot simply exist on paper. It has to create an actual path toward successful reentry.” 

The DOC says incarcerated people have access to various programs aimed at rehabilitation and education. Earlier this year, for example, the University of Wisconsin college system graduated its first incarcerated bachelors degree students in over 50 years. The students graduated as a result of a partnership program between the DOC and UW. 

The state agency has also pushed back against criticisms of the rising prison population, stating that it has limited authority to grant early release and that it’s up to the state Legislature to craft laws dealing with the pressing challenges faced by many DOC facilities. Although Wisconsin Gov. Tony Evers has proposed reforms in multiple state budget drafts, including closing aging prisons and establishing greater oversight, these ideas were rejected by the Republican-controlled Legislature.

Meanwhile controversy has grown around exceptionally old prisons including in Waupun and Green Bay, where reports of deaths due to negligent medical care, violence, alleged drug smuggling by staff, extensive lockdowns restricting access to programming, and use of solitary confinement (what the DOC calls restrictive housing), and other problems have surfaced. Lawsuits and investigations targeted prison leaders for these problems. The population at Waupun plummeted from over 1,000 people to as low as 694 people in July 2024, which brought the population within the prison’s designed capacity, according to data compiled by Wisconsin Watch. As of Aug. 21, however, the population had risen to nearly 1,000 people. 

Ross, of the advocacy coalition Justice Forward, a formerly incarcerated person himself, said that in Wisconsin “the criminal justice system is used as a political football, and neither side is really moving what they know clearly in front of them should happen, because they don’t want to fully give up on the tough-on-crime claim that they can make.” The politics of crime and punishment, he says, results in elected leaders either not doing enough to institute reforms, or doubling down on a culture of punishment. “That creates this dynamic where everyone is trying to be seen as protecting society, meanwhile no one’s actually protecting society because it doesn’t make us healthier as a society having a large prison system.”

Curtis added that it’s important to “broaden the conversation about what rehabilitation actually means.” 

“Programs are important, but so is the environment a person lives in every single day. The daily interactions incarcerated people have with correctional staff can either reinforce rehabilitation or work directly against it. When the culture focuses primarily on catching mistakes, writing conduct reports, handing out punishment, or viewing positive behavior and accomplishments with suspicion, it becomes extremely difficult to create an environment where genuine change is encouraged.”

What drives the prison population to climb is a complicated formula. Part of it, many advocates say, is the system of revoking parole, probation and other forms of community release and sending people back to prison. Missing an appointment with a probation officer or a baseless accusation without thorough investigation can send someone on release back to prison. 

That’s what happened to Dennis Simmons, who was nearly sent back to prison in 2025 due to false accusations, and a probation agent who tried to revoke Simmons despite having evidence that the accusations against him were false. Simmons was housed in the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility while the case played out. He described the facility as overcrowded and short staffed. Simmons eventually beat the accusations, but said that the episode crushed his hopes of change after being in and out of the system most of his life. Simmons was later arrested in a different case, and the DOC recommended he be sent back to prison. Over 8,100 people were sent back to prison in 2025. 

Talking to people who’ve worked on the prosecution-side of the criminal justice system, Ross said he learned of many cases where people were sent  back to prison because prosecutors decided it was  a simpler, quicker, more cost-effective route than filing new charges against the person. Yet, at the root of the overpopulation issue is the lack of ways for people to come home early, Ross said.

Right now, there are people who’ve been incarcerated for decades who are going before the state’s commutations board to ask the governor to shorten their sentence. In April, Gov. Evers signed executive orders to revive the board, changing a pattern lasting decades of Wisconsin governors choosing to not use their power to alter prison sentences. The commutation process has been a target of attack for right-wing pundits, who frame efforts to shorten sentences as being soft on crime and releasing droves of criminals. The attacks are similar to those against probation, parole, and the bail system.

Marianne Oleson, co-executive director of Ex-Incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO) said in an emailed statement that the revival of the commutations board is “an important and long-overdue step.” Oleson cautioned, however, that “commutations alone cannot resolve a crisis of this magnitude,” adding, “Wisconsin needs broader sentencing and supervision reform, expanded opportunities for earned release and ‘second look’ review, greater use of alternatives to incarceration, and substantial investment in housing, treatment, employment and community-based reentry support.”

“Wisconsin cannot incarcerate its way out of every social problem,” she said.

Ross told the Examiner that he understands why people might be skeptical of incarcerated people’s assurances that they’ve genuinely changed and deserve to be released. 

“I’m sympathetic to that because those things do happen, but they happen in life, period,” said Ross. Still, in his view, prison is one place where it’s hard to disguise bad character traits. “Those of us that have done time, we know that the fish bowl of prison is place that, if you can genuinely be changed and show people you’re changed there, then you very clearly are not who you were at one point.” 

Ross said people who apply for and meet the standards for commutation are demonstrating not only that they’ve done the bare minimum of educating themselves and getting therapy, but that more importantly, they are making connections with other people. “You can see folks that have built up support networks,” said Ross. “You see folks that have reference letters and have people in their corner. You can see folks in the way that they carry themselves, in the way they talk, it’s very humble. It’s very aware and accountable to the things that they’ve done.”

He added that “people show you who they are if you’re paying attention, and if you know how to look.” Ross said that he wants the state to get to a point where people are able to see through sensationalism about the criminal justice system, and understand the nuances of the issue and  people’s individual stories.

Curtis said something similar. “I would like to see state leadership take a comprehensive look at sentencing practices, revocation policies, rehabilitation, institutional culture, and reentry rather than treating the record prison population simply as a capacity problem,” she wrote. “Building or expanding facilities may address where people are housed, but it does not address why the population continues to grow or why people return.”

Flock Safety, the multibillion-dollar producer of Flock automatic license plate reader cameras, spent $102,000 in Wisconsin last year lobbying for state legislation to increase its nationwide surveillance network. That’s according to a report by OpenSecrets, which found that the controversial company dedicated over $2 million on lobbying efforts across the country in 2025.

The findings come as communities continue pushing back against Flock cameras. Some areas have cancelled contracts and removed the cameras altogether, while others have opted to increase oversight and auditing of how the cameras are used by police.

Flock cameras work by photographing every vehicle and license plate that passes by their view. The images and information are stored in a database that can be searched by law enforcement officers who work at agencies with Flock contracts. In many cases, police officers may query tens of thousands of cameras at once to determine whether any have sighted a vehicle sought by law enforcement. Using the captured data, police departments can also use Flock to keep track of a vehicle’s regular movement patterns.

In Wisconsin, Flock spent the $102,000 lobbying for a pair of Republican bills, Assembly Bill 300 and Senate Bill 299, which would have provided grants to allow local law enforcement agencies to obtain and install automatic license plate reader cameras. The legislation failed to pass in 2025.

Police departments have defended Flock cameras as valuable tools to combat crime from homicides to car theft. Critics, however have pointed to cases of officers searching Flock’s network for questionable or illegal reasons. Some departments have used Flock for immigration enforcement as the Trump administration ramped up its plans to carry out mass deportations. One sheriff’s deputy in Texas used Flock to locate a woman who’d recently had an abortion, fueling fears that local law enforcement were working to criminalize reproductive healthcare following the overturning of Roe v. Wade. In many other cases, male officers used Flock to monitor or stalk people, particularly current or former romantic partners.

Several of these cases have played out in Wisconsin. Earlier this month, former Menasha officer Cristian Morales was sentenced to six months in jail and three months probation for misusing Flock to stalk his ex-girlfriend. Meanwhile, new felony charges have been levied against former Kenosha County sheriff’s deputy Frank McGrath, who was found to have used Flock and a squad car tracking system to monitor his girlfriend, also a Kenosha sheriff deputy. 

Josue Ayala, a former Milwaukee officer, was charged for the same behavior. Ayala avoided jail time and instead received a year of probation after taking a guilty plea. More recently, Milwaukee Detective Tehrangi Chapman was charged with using Flock to monitor someone he has been accused of stalking since 2019, years before Flock came to Milwaukee. Chapman was one of the internal affairs detectives who investigated the allegations of Ayala’s Flock misuse. 

Each of the officers in these cases were charged with felony misconduct in public office, except for Ayala, who was charged with a misdemeanor. 

Questions around how the cameras are used have led to a distrust of the Flock Safety technology itself. Wisconsin communities including Kaukauna, Sturgeon Bay, Verona, Appleton, Oshkosh, Dane County and Stoughton have all cancelled their Flock camera contracts. 

Despite having several officers charged with misusing Flock and sustained calls from the public to stop using the technology, Milwaukee has retained its Flock contract. The police department has cited it as an asset in quickly developing leads and solving crimes. On Tuesday, however, 12 of Milwaukee’s 15 common council members signed a letter asking both the Fire and Police Commission and Police Chief Jeffrey Norman to review the department’s use of Flock cameras and to consider additional safeguards before the city begins to shape its 2027 budget — three times the number of alders who signed a similar letter in March. 

The council is asking for more information on how the Flock system is used, including a list of every agency that shares license plate reader data with the Milwaukee Police Department, and every agency with which the department shares its own data. The council is also demanding a complete accounting of searches by outside agencies using Milwaukee’s Flock network, as well as those conducted by the department on behalf of another agency. The letter also is requesting a list of all system users and their searches. 

In June, as controversy over Flock grew, the Milwaukee Police Department took steps to increase auditing procedures to flag suspicious searches, and restrict the number of officers who had access to the Flock system. The department also said that it shares its Flock network with state partners, but not with federal agencies. 

But the common council letter asks for more, including for case numbers and specific justifications for every Flock search, automated misuse detection, independent auditing, prohibitions on using Flock for immigration enforcement without a judicial warrant and regular public reporting to both the Fire and Police Commission and council. 

The letter also urges that, as discussions begin over the 2027 city budget, the city examines how Milwaukee’s Flock camera network has been funded over recent years, including how the contracts were granted multiple waivers as they were renewed. The city’s waivers, along with the use of sole source contracts with Flock, has made it possible for Milwaukee’s camera network to grow without  approval from the council. 

In response to the letter, MPD said in a statement that it will work with the commission and council to respond to concerns, and that it is committed to transparency and dialogue. 

 

As more states seek ways to limit immigration enforcement, a Stateline analysis shows one tactic has had an effect: making it more difficult for local law enforcement to hand over people they are holding in city or county jails to federal immigration authorities.

The analysis found that states with strict non-cooperation policies — Oregon, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York and Washington state — have the lowest rates of immigration arrests in jails.

The highest rates were generally in states that limit or bar so-called sanctuary policies. Those states include Wyoming, West Virginia, Mississippi and Alabama.

New Mexico, a border state, also was one of the five states with the highest local jail arrest rate despite having some statewide policies limiting cooperation. The state ethics commission sued the state corrections department in July charging violations of a state law banning most cooperation.

However, early threats from the Trump administration to target sanctuary states for more street arrests had uneven results through March 10, the latest data released by Immigration and Customs Enforcement and obtained by the California-based Deportation Data Project. The analysis includes arrests since Jan. 20, 2025, the first day of the second Trump administration.

President Donald Trump announced March 5 he would replace high-profile Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, and that Markwayne Mullin would take over March 31. Mullin has pledged a more low-key approach to ramping up immigration enforcement.

Stateline’s analysis doesn’t reflect a new wave of arrests starting in June that has pushed arrests to new highs, or new airport arrests in recent months cracking down on people with expired visas. But the data does show an administration struggling to get arrest numbers up everywhere, said Jacob Kang-Brown, a criminologist who did a similar analysis in October for the Prison Policy Initiative, a Massachusetts-based think tank that seeks to reduce incarceration.

Last year border czar Tom Homan said he would “flood the zone” with extra street enforcement in sanctuary cities. States without sanctuary policies, such as Florida, would be treated differently, he said.  “We don’t have that problem in Florida, where every sheriff is working with us,” Homan said.

But Kang-Brown said cooperative states did not get a break from street operations and raids.

“They don’t stop doing stuff in the community just because they can get in the jails. It was very widespread arrests around the country, even in states that collaborated enthusiastically and were pushing ICE for even more enforcement, like Florida.” Kang-Brown said.

In the Stateline analysis, Florida’s rate of street arrests ranked 40th, about the same as Washington state, which has restrictions on immigration arrests at jails, and higher than Connecticut, which has similar restrictions. Connecticut Democratic Gov. Ned Lamont rejects the sanctuary label, calling the restrictions “clear rules for cooperation with federal immigration authorities.”

Some states with policies restricting jail transfers to ICE did see high rates of street arrests last winter amid attacks on what the administration often calls  “sanctuary politicians”  in those states. Maine, Minnesota and the District of Columbia were among  the 10 states with the highest rates of street arrests as a share of noncitizens, and many of those arrested did not have criminal records.

Operation Metro Surge, concentrated in Minnesota’s Minneapolis-St. Paul over the winter, ended in two killings by federal agents and hundreds of millions of dollars in business losses.

But cooperative states also saw high rates of street arrests: Seven of the 10 states with the highest rates of street arrests as a share of noncitizens were ones with cooperative policies. The very highest was West Virginia, where there were only 17,100 noncitizens counted in 2024 but hundreds were arrested in a single “surge team” operation in January.

After criticism from the Trump administration, some states have backed off some of the more far-reaching sanctuary policies, but others have been emboldened by the unpopularity of Trump’s mass deportation agenda.

Stateline’s analysis underscores the fact that local jails, and how they handle ICE detainer requests to hold inmates for immigration arrests, are a powerful tool.

ICE often criticizes cities and states with sanctuary policies for releasing violent criminals, but only a small fraction of arrestees are violent criminals and a large number have only immigration violations.

“Generally if someone poses a real threat to safety, public safety or national security, that detainer is generally respected,” said Colleen Putzel-Kavanaugh, an associate policy analyst for the Migration Policy Institute, a Washington, D.C., think tank specializing in immigration research.

But, she added, “if someone got a ding on a speeding ticket and otherwise has a clean record, then there are some places that are not going to hand that person over or hold that person for ICE.”

Report disputes claims about recent ICE arrests in WV, says 75% of immigrants had no criminal record

ICE made a record 51,000 arrests in July but hasn’t released detailed information by state since March.

For all ICE arrests combined, the highest rates were in Wyoming, West Virginia, Mississippi, Alabama and New Mexico, all having more than 300 arrests per 10,000 noncitizens through March.

The street arrests pulled in more people without criminal records — 81% of the Washington, D.C., street arrests were for immigration-related offenses only and the share was about two-thirds or more in 14 other states with statewide sanctuary policies.

Some states have tried to strike a balance, allowing jail transfers to ICE for a list of crimes, including charged crimes as well as convictions, and for court orders of removal, which can be issued for some immigration offenses.

In New Jersey, the state legislature backed off some proposed changes that would have made it harder for ICE to make arrests in local jails. The law as signed in March maintained controversial exceptions for immigrants with removal orders and for immigrants facing charges and well as convictions among a list of serious crimes.

Passage of the law came after the Trump administration in March highlighted the case of a New Jersey man charged with sex crimes against a child younger than 15 years old, calling it a “New Jersey nightmare” and claiming the man might have qualified for release under state policies at the time, despite a detainer request. Court records indicate the man was never released and remains in an Ocean County jail after pleading guilty pending sentencing in September.

In some states, including Maryland, the Trump administration and local sheriffs have challenged policies against extending local jail time or responding to immigration detainers. Courts have ruled that such detainers are voluntary requests that states and cities may turn down legally, and there are preliminary injunctions in California and Washington state against withholding some or all federal funding because of it. Those injunctions are under appeal.

A similar lawsuit by the administration against New Jersey cities was dismissed in June.

That hasn’t stopped the Trump administration from hectoring state and municipalities it sees as overly lax on detainer policies.

“Sanctuary policies continue to disregard U.S. immigration law and put communities at risk by releasing illegal aliens prone to criminal activity into our communities,” said Robert Guadian, the Washington, D.C., field office director for ICE’s enforcement and removals office, in an Aug. 6 statement. Guadian complained that two young men had been released from a Maryland jail in Prince George’s County after criminal charges were dismissed. They were later arrested by ICE in separate traffic stops.

Delaware’s legislature in June approved a bill, now awaiting Democratic Gov. Matt Meyer’s signature, with exceptions only for certain crime convictions.

New Mexico State Ethics Commission sues state Corrections secretary over probation ICE referrals

Even as the Trump administration has been frustrated by legal attempts to force more compliance with detainers, it’s been more successful with encouraging participation in the 287(g) program that allows local officers to investigate immigration themselves and help turn prisoners over to ICE. The programs are in 39 states, but are heavily concentrated in Texas and Florida.

“ICE is actually paying the salaries of some local sheriffs or law enforcement, and that’s a huge savings for their jurisdictions,” said Putzel-Kavanaugh, of the Migration Policy Institute. “For a local town or sheriff that could be huge.”

The tension between federal immigration authorities and local jail authorities has been around for decades, noted Graber, of the Immigrant Legal Resource Center. Local and state authorities have the best possible awareness of local crime, she noted, and fingerprints from their arrest get transmitted automatically to immigration authorities to choose candidates for arrest and deportation.

“ICE has been pursuing the local law enforcement’s broad reach into communities and their ability to surveil the public at a much greater level for a long time,” Graber said. “That’s why they want instant information about every person who’s arrested.”

Stateline reporter Tim Henderson can be reached at thenderson@stateline.org.

On Friday, Gov. Tony Evers’ Commutation Advisory Board heard from 12 incarcerated people who are asking the governor to shorten their prison sentences, as well as some of the victims of their crimes. 

“I found myself thinking of this a lot, really often, and feeling terrible for what I had done to these people, and wished more than anything that I could just take it back, and never hurt anyone in any way,” said applicant Aaron Smith.

Evers issued two executive orders in April that revived commutations in Wisconsin after decades of governors not exercising their power to alter prison sentences. The advisory board is responsible for reviewing commutation applications that meet Evers’ criteria for consideration and for making recommendations to the governor about who should receive a commutation. The board also recommends how a person’s sentence should be changed or shortened. 

Granting commutations rewards incarcerated people who are committed to change, according to Evers, promoting rehabilitation. 

On Wednesday, Republican state Sen. Van Wanggaard (R-Racine) announced in a press release that he was releasing the names of more than 800 incarcerated people who were seeking commutation of their sentences. He argued that Evers is using “hand-picked, unelected bureaucrats” to second-guess prosecutors and judges. 

At the Friday hearing, 12 incarcerated people spoke before the board. After the applicants took questions from board members, victims had a chance to give statements.

Sharif Green

In 2015, Sharif Green was sentenced to 20 years of incarceration and 10 years of extended supervision on charges of possessing cocaine and heroin with intent to manufacture, distribute or deliver it. 

“I take full responsibility for my wrong action,” Green said. “And I believe from the bottom of my heart, I’ve changed. I had conversations with people, they see the change in me. I no longer earn money illegally. I’ve been working since I’ve been here.”

Green previously served time in Wisconsin’s prison system after a drug-related conviction in 1997. A board member said that many of the applicants being reviewed by the board at the hearing were young when they committed their offenses, while Green was 40 years old at the time of his 2014 offense. 

She asked Green what he thinks helped him change this time that’s different from the first time he went to prison. He spoke about a time in which people turned away from him during a conversation after hearing about his sentence, and about a time when he’d received bad news from family. 

“All that time I was wasting for no reason when I could’ve changed, and I had the opportunity to do it but I didn’t,” Green said. “So this time, I have no choice.”

Mighty Howell

Mighty Howell, 50, a resident of Jackson Correctional Institution, incarcerated for 33 years, was convicted of first-degree intentional homicide for the May 27,1993 killing of Roger Bucholz in Milwaukee. He recounted how at age 17 he and three friends were inspired to commit armed robbery after watching a movie, firing shots in the direction of Bucholz’s vehicle and later realized Bucholz had been killed.

“He had no reason to not believe that he was going to make it home safe that night to his family and his kids,” said Howell. “Not only did I take away his opportunity to live a full, successful life, I took it away from his family. I took away from his kids, and I think that at this moment I want to apologize to his parents, his wife, his kids, his relatives, all his relatives.”

He said one of the ways for him to show “genuine remorse” was to change while incarcerated. He recounted the programs he had participated in, including furthering his education as well as his efforts to confront his fears and make decisions to mature.

“I’ve done 33 years and about five months now,” he said. “The 17-year-old bears no resemblance to the 50-year-old that sits before you today.”.

“It was a difficult process to remove those bad habits,” he said and talked about making the decision to cut ties with friends and gang members, and his decision while he was in solitary confinement to change his life.   

Asked if he had forgiven himself, he said, “It was hard because I always felt like, man, you killed somebody, bro. So I always felt that pain.” 

He added that through religious services, he had addressed his guilt.

 “In order for you to move forward, you have to forgive yourself,” he said, “and I believe I’ve done a great job so far, but it’s still there.”

Aaron Smith

In 2008, Aaron Smith was convicted of four counts of armed robbery with threat of force, a count of burglary and a count of attempted armed robbery with threat of force. He received 20 years of incarceration and 15 years of extended supervision for the offenses, which took place between September and November 2007. 

Smith said he was 18 years old at the time he committed his crimes and made bad decisions fueled by a drug addiction. He said that early in his incarceration, he didn’t think of his crimes as having victims. While volunteering in a prison program that involved training dogs for PTSD service work for war veterans and people affected by crime, he had the opportunity to work with crime victims, which opened his eyes, he said. 

“I remember working with these people and thinking to myself, ‘How did my actions affect these people in my case?’” Smith said. “Did my victims in my case get affected in such a way as the people I was working with?”

A board member questioned Smith about the motivation for his crimes, stating the criminal complaint in his case showed that at the time, Smith had said his motivation was needing money, not addiction. Smith replied that he’d initially lied about his drug use and eventually admitted to having a drug problem and had to complete treatment programs. 

Smith was also questioned about a conduct report he received for tobacco earlier this year, asking why he would risk his work release program. Smith called it a “very dumb decision.”

“I’m going to be looking at my freedom, and that potentially being taken away from me if I make mistakes,” Smith said. “So I need to be able to refer back to the treatment that I have and stop and think, go through the scenario. What’s about to happen if I do this?” 

Board chair Mel Barnes read an anonymous statement from a victim in Smith’s case, who said that he should not receive a commutation and that they still experience flashbacks, nightmares and hypervigilance. The victim said Smith has the right to file for his sentence to be adjusted but argued that the judge in Smith’s case made his decision carefully, and that Smith’s offenses were not just one impulsive act. 

“Aaron Smith obviously believed that robbing people was the easy way, and better than making an honest living,” the victim’s statement said. “I didn’t deserve this to happen to me, but it did because (of) Aaron Smith…I do believe that people can change, and I do believe in second chances. Aaron Smith may have changed his life while in prison, but to me, trying to get out of your prison sentence early doesn’t really show accountability.” 

Natalie Murphy

Natalie Murphy, 33, a resident of Taycheedah Correctional Institution, was sentenced on December 16, 2016, in Juneau County for first-degree reckless homicide that led to the death of her boyfriend, Andrew Dammen, 24, and for second-degree reckless endangerment of her oldest daughter. She received a 20-year sentence of incarceration, followed by 10 years of extended supervision.

“I’ve spent every day thinking about all the things that I could have done differently prior to Andy’s death that night, and I can see how all of my unhealthy choices resulted in the loss of Andy’s life and the exposure to toxic and dangerous situations for our daughters,” she said. “While our relationship was far from perfect, Andy was a good father to our child, and I wish more than anything he could have been here for her and for his son Weston.”

Murphy talked about her determination to be a better person, including participating in therapy groups, working on parenting skills, gaining a diploma as a culinary assistant, becoming a certified peer specialist (CPS) and becoming a CPS trainer, completing a four-year personal enrichment course through Moody Bible College, obtaining a paralegal certificate and working toward an associate’s degree from University of Wisconsin-Green Bay.

She said she is working on making her re-entry as “seamlessly as possible.”

“I’ve been focusing on education to better prepare me for re-entry, and on treatment to change the unhealthy aspects of who I am or who I was,” she said, adding, “to learn better ways of interacting with the world.”

Murphy read a letter from her oldest daughter, whom she said is the person most affected by her crime.

“I did this for my own growth, to show my family what’s possible if you put hard work in to succeed upon release, and in order to prove to the children in my life that no bad decision is ever bad enough that you cannot be a better person every day,” she said.”

Asked about her response to her victims other than her children, Murphy said she would apologize, but she is under a no-contact order.

“I have never not been sorry that my presence was harmful,” she said. “No amount of sorry is ever enough. No amount of trying to empathize will ever understand their loss. I can never understand what losing a child is,” she said,  adding, “All I can say is that I am exceptionally sorry for their pain that will be with them.”

Asked what accountability meant to her, she said, “There’s saying sorry and then there’s doing sorry. I think everybody can say sorry. I strive to act out my remorse, and I strive to act in such a way that this terrible, terrible thing that has happened, I can do something to help somebody else because of what I had done.”

Zane, Andrew’s brother, spoke against commuting Murphy’s sentence.

“I have spent the past 10 years rebuilding, digging, and fighting to stay afloat,” said Zane. “The ripple effects caused by Natalie Murphy are still being felt to this day.”

He added, “On the day that we got some relief knowing that justice had been served, however, almost a decade later now, I feel as if my family is being suspended over an ocean of sorrow at the whim of a commutation board. Andrew will never get to know his children. He will never have a second chance to be a father due to Natalie’s actions. With this single act, the lives of everyone she touched has been irrevocably destroyed. Children, parents, and friends on both sides of this tragedy will never be the same.”

Andrew’s mother, Kimberly, also spoke against a commutation.

“Over the past 10 years, Natalie has never demonstrated what I believe to be genuine remorse for her actions or accepted responsibility for the reckless homicide of my son,” said Beverly. “To this day, she continues to characterize Andrew’s death as an accident rather than acknowledging her responsibility for what occurred.”

Kimberly expressed concern that if Murphy were released, it would cause “significant conflict and disruption to our family,” including issues of guardianship of the grandchildren and being required to interact with Murphy because of the grandchildren.   

Sammy Cole

In 2001, Sammy Cole was sentenced to 35 years of confinement and 10 years of extended community supervision after a conviction of armed robbery with threat of force. A charge of possessing a firearm as a felon was read into the case. 

The victim in the case had driven with her roommate to an ATM machine to withdraw money, where Cole, wearing a bandanna around his face, pointed a gun at her and demanded money, according to the criminal complaint in the case. After she had trouble getting money out of the ATM, he took cash from her wallet and fled the scene. 

Cole told the advisory board that he felt “profound regret and shame.” He said that he was under the “complete grip” of a severe addiction at the time and made a terrible choice. He said that saying sorry is not enough. 

“At sentencing I apologized, but that apology was worthless without some action,” Cole said. “I spent my years in prison doing all I can to be a better person, from the very beginning of my incarceration. I didn’t waste no time.”

Cole said he didn’t have a violent conduct report during his incarceration and acquired various job skills. He said that his mission was to address his addiction and the criminal behavior that supported it, and that he took rehabilitative programs. 

The victims, he said, were “out to go into their neighborhood to an ATM machine and to get money out of their account, and they was expecting not to have any harm come upon them,” Cole said. “…My sisters (were) highly upset with me that I committed this crime, and it hurt them, as females.”

Cole said that the crime was a choice he made, because “not all drug addicts go to the extreme.” He said that “somehow, they find a way, but I didn’t find that way,” and that he was deeply sorry. 

One board member asked Cole about a 2016 conduct report, where it appeared Cole had been reprimanded for drinking wine, and asked about addiction and recovery and what Cole had learned from that incident. 

Cole said he previously thought that he could still drink a beer or smoke marijuana after he got out of prison because those substances didn’t cause him the type of problems that led him to prison, but he said this wasn’t the case. He said he didn’t have a chance to drink the wine, and that it was taken out of his room.

“There will be no beer drinking…I don’t have the strength, as guys in (Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous) tell me, that it could be a gateway to going right back to heroin,” Cole said. “But I strongly don’t believe heroin would ever seize me ever again.”

Michael Maldonado

Michael Maldonado, 47, a resident of Kettle Moraine Correctional Institution, is serving a life sentence for the 1994 killing of Ruben Borchardt, when he was 15. Two other boys also received lesser sentences because Maldonado was named as the shooter, but after the others were paroled from prison, one of two, Douglas Vest, said that he had been the shooter. As a result Maldonado’s  sentence was modified in 2025, pushing up his eligibility for parole from 2044 to 2025.

(Read more about Maldonado’s potential commutation in the Examiner)

Maldonado talked extensively about interacting with Borchardt’s family after his sentence modification hearing on October 9, 2025:

It was clear to him, he said, that the family continues to suffer from the loss he inflicted on them and that they continue to miss Borchardt every day.  

Maldonado said when he was sent to prison at age 16 he had made up his mind to “make the most of a bad situation and do my best to honor all the victims left in the wake of what I had done.”

He recounted taking advantage of several educational opportunities and volunteering to  frame houses for Habitat for Humanity, speaking with  at-risk youth, and training dogs for the disabled.

He  noted that he had completed  an associate’s degree with 4.0 average and been accepted into the bachelor’s program at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay.

Maldonado also  described an extensive support system for his re-entry (including housing, employment, and legal assistance) in Wisconsin and Texas, where most of his family lives.

“In my over 30 years of incarceration, I have done my best to identify and acknowledge my faults, and I have actively worked on them in attempts to make myself a better person in the process,” he said. “I have worked to give back to the community, and I have learned so much from those opportunities.”

Christopher Smith

In 2002, Christopher Smith was sentenced to 45 years of incarceration and 15 years of extended supervision in the community after he was convicted on  three counts of armed robbery with threat of force. He was convicted as a party to the crimes, indicating that he provided aid or conspired to commit the crimes. 

A Court of Appeals opinion dated February 7, 2006 denied an appeal from Smith, stating that the trial court’s sentence was not unduly harsh. The opinion states that the trial court described the armed robberies as “‘appalling crime[s] against each of these victims,’ who had been planning their mother’s funeral, and were then confronted by armed robbers.” 

“Each perpetrator threatened each victim with a gun, and demonstrated little patience or humanity in robbing each victim,” the opinion states.

At sentencing, the trial court counted “the negative aspects of Smith’s character” against him, the opinion states. The court said Smith repeatedly attempted to deflect blame, “characterizing him as manipulative, ‘conniving,’ and ‘slick’ and found his “different versions of the robberies and his shifting degrees of involvement” to be unbelievable.  

The 2006 opinion states that the trial court was convinced Smith’s “character defects and his brazen attitude required prison because he was ‘a riskier proposition in the community.’” The court had the right to consider Smith a greater community risk because Smith failed to use opportunities for rehabilitation and had returned to criminal behavior on parole, the opinion states. 

Because of the evidence in the case, the trial court considered Smith to have more culpability than his accomplices “‘as the ringleader,’” the opinion states. 

At the hearing, Smith said he thanks God that none of the victims were hurt. He said that no weapons were used and no one was injured, but that he caused the victims hurt, shame and disappointment by his actions. He described his role as being tossed a victim’s fur coat and fleeing the scene. 

Smith said he’s completed restorative justice programming that gave him insight into the ripple effects of his actions upon others and the harm he caused. 

Cindy O’Donnell, the board’s vice chair and a former deputy secretary of the Wisconsin Department of Corrections, questioned Smith. He said he accepted responsibility for causing the victims harm. When asked to specify what he was accepting responsibility for doing, he said that he participated in the crime when he knew better, by taking the coat and fleeing the scene. 

Another board member said that Smith said in his application for commutation that it was not his decision to take part in the act, and asked for him to explain. Smith said it was a spur of the moment decision. He said he didn’t know what was going on, was tossed a coat, panicked and ran. 

A board member said it appeared that one of Smith’s co-defendants had a gun, and asked Smith whether he knew that that person had the gun before the armed robbery. 

Smith said property was taken forcefully but argued that he did not see a gun and that a gun was not found. 

Daniel Cerney

Daniel Cernye, 43, a resident of Dodge Correctional Institution, was sentenced to two  concurrent life sentences for the 1999 shooting deaths of Wiliam Leis, 51 and his 85-year-old mother, Evelyn Leis, when Cerney was 16, and he was also sentenced for burglary armed with a dangerous weapon and theft of movable property.

At the hearing, Cerney said he shot William but that an accomplice, Jimmy Grimes, killed Evelyn.

“I shot William Leis, and I take full responsibility for my actions,” he said. “I say that Jimmy told me what to do, but at the end of the day, I made my own decision to pull the trigger. I could have made a different decision. I could have even helped Evelyn. Until this day, I do not understand why I would take someone’s life, but now I see how selfish and influenced I was. It took something that tragic to show me how much I value life, and I never want to follow those types of influences ever again.”

He added, “I can never express how sorry I truly am, and every choice and decision I made that day, that night, changed many lives, even my own family.”

He recounted talking to victim family members via the restorative justice project and learning how they had been affected, including trauma and depression.  

He also described his efforts to rehabilitate his life through educational opportunities and required programming that included talking with family members. He described how  one of the victims’ family members, Mary Rezin, met with him and prayed with him, and later, after he had served 17 years, forgave him.

He recounted volunteering in the Journey Together Dog Program, training dogs for the disabled, which helped him  find purpose in life.

“One of the biggest things I learned in this program was that it wasn’t about me anymore,” he said. “It was about the dog and the client. I was a part of training two service dogs for military veterans who were diagnosed with PTSD. Being a part of those trainings and watching the client and dog mold together was the reward for me.”

He also became a mentor to other incarcerated people, sharing his experience on how to make better decisions.

“Being in all of these rehabilitative programs has taught me coping skills, communication skills, and many others. I have learned to communicate with staff,” he said, adding, “It doesn’t matter what the name of the program is; they all have tools to help us become better people and make better choices. And I’m grateful for the programs and education I have taken because they put me in situations where I needed to communicate, learn, grow, and treat everyone with respect.”

His re-entry plan includes living at a cottage his mother and stepfather own and obtaining work.

He finished by offering his perspective on his life.

“When I committed the crime, I was a different person than who I am today,” he said.  “Today, I am a new self, and I love and trust my new self. Mary helped me accomplish that. And through these 27 years since I committed my crime, I have changed.

Cerney was asked how he would face strong feelings from the public if released.

“Everyone can have an opinion of me, and I respect it,” he said, “but first and foremost, I will never ever put myself in a position to harm someone else or think bad of someone else. I’m just willing to foster my own behavior and show everybody who I am, now, today.”

A statement by Brittany, Mary’s granddaughter was read saying that Mary believes Cerney is a changed person who should be given a second chance. 

Amanda Weaver

In 2008, Amanda Weaver was sentenced to 30 years of incarceration and 20 years of extended supervision in the community, after being convicted of five counts of burglary. She told the board that she and others broke into businesses and churches to steal “money, alcohol and anything else that would bring more money.”

She said this occurred over a three-month span of time and that the group quickly went from smoking weed and drinking to using hard drugs. She said that she’d denied a leadership role in this for many years but was the oldest of the group and had a record with burglaries, and that she supported the group’s behavior rather than curbing her own actions and trying to influence those younger than her to curb theirs. 

“That behavior brought loss to others, not just the obvious financial losses, but the sense of safety and trust these people had in their community and the people living in it,” Weaver said. “That trust and sense of safety is something I cannot pay back with restitution or an apology.”

Weaver said she was motivated to start seeking real help. This led her to complete groups, schooling and therapy that are mentioned in her application for commutation, she said. She said she participated in about 40 groups, was valedictorian of her high school equivalency diploma class, and worked toward two associate’s degrees in business and ongoing intensive therapy for almost two decades. 

“It is with the tools I have gained over the years that I will re-enter society as the rehabilitated and very much changed person I have become,” Weaver said. 

Demian McDermott

Demian McDermott, 53, a resident of the Winnebago Correctional Center, received a life sentence for the October 13, 1990 killing of Francisco Questell in Milwaukee. At the time  McDermott was 18. He has spent the last 36 years behind bars.

“The ripple effect of my actions had a profound negative impact on my community as well,” he said. “Young men like me, who had no thought for the consequences and after-effects of our selfish actions, were a plague on our neighborhoods and surrounding communities. This crime did not end with the premature death of one person, but impacted the lives of everyone connected to him, to me, and changed the way people in the community felt about safety, trust in one another.”

At 25 years into his incarceration at Green Bay Correctional Institution, McDermott said, a social worker recognized that he wasn’t able to maintain the “façade” that others were to blame for his crime, and encouraged him to join a program to reach at-risk youth. Working in that program required McDermott to be honest with himself, he said. 

He talked about being sober for 28 years, earning an associate’s degree from Ohio University, working toward a bachelor’s degree, completing five vocational programs, and participating in three restorative justice programs.

He said that he had always been employed during his incarceration and had never been fired, and talked about his experience training dogs to help the visually impaired.

“Over the past 30 years, I have spent time in here as constructively and positively as possible, so I could grow in evolving to be a better person,” he said.

He talked of his re-entry plan that included a supportive family that would provide housing in Madison, and he said there were accounts set up for him to help purchase a vehicle and clothing and to cover other needs. He also said he had  work opportunities including working as a dog trainer.

“I fully understand that nothing is guaranteed in life,” he said, adding, “I have prepared myself to the best of my ability to not only survive, but thrive out in society and contribute in a positive way. I believe we live in a society that gives me second chances, but they are not an entitlement. I needed to earn one, not expect one.”

Raquel Questell, Francisco’s sister, spoke against offering McDermott a commutation.

“Since October 13, 1990, when my brother went missing, it destroyed my family’s heart, mind, and soul,” she said. “Getting the news on October 17, 1990, at the tender age of 16, was something I would have never imagined could happen, let alone in the manner he was murdered. I am here to express the agony, just knowing the possibility that Damian can be released due to the new law of the juvenile life sentence commutation that became effective April of 2026. My brother’s life is more precious than just 36 years. Damian was the ringleader to my brother’s death. He planned a day to pick up my brother since my brother did not have a car. He found a person to give him a gun.”

Francisco’s niece, Ms. Torres, who had never met her uncle, also spoke out against granting McDermott a commutation.

Lawrence Northern

In 2002, Lawrence Northern was sentenced to 30 years of incarceration and 10 years of supervision in the community for one count of possessing cocaine with intent to manufacture, distribute or deliver, and one count of being party to a crime. Northern told the board that he accepts full responsibility for his crimes without minimizing their seriousness.  

“My actions were wrong and harmful,” Northern said. “Selling drugs is not a victimless crime. It damages individuals, tears families apart, and negatively impacts communities.”

Board member Maryann Sumi, a former Dane County Circuit Court judge and chair of the Wisconsin Ethics Commission, said the list of programs and opportunities that Northern had taken was impressive. She asked him about a specific course that focused on change from within. 

Northern said that growing up, he developed a defense system and coping mechanism “that was grounded on everything wrong, believing that it was necessary to survive the streets of Chicago.”

“And so after taking that course, upon reflection, it brought me back to the core values that my mother taught me,” Northern said. “And that was to accept life on its terms, not run from them. Accept them.”

Sabir Wilcher

Sabir Wilcher, 46, a resident of Oakhill Correctional Institution was given a life sentence in 1995 when he was 15 for the killing of Elvis Anderson, 20, in Milwaukee. He has been incarcerated for 31 years.

“I can’t begin to imagine the impact of what I did to his family and the community,” Wilcher said of murdering Anderson. “To this day, I know that his family still feels the impact of their loss. Not being able to sit with him, hug, laugh, cry with him has to be a draining and sickening feeling. And I am truly, truly sorry for the pain I’ve caused them. One of the things that pains me the most is knowing that I’m the reason Mr. Anderson never got a chance to see his son grow into a man that chose to forgive the person that took his father away from him.”

Wilcher said the last 31 years have been “hard,” but he has also learned by being involved in the restorative justice program that helped him understand the impact of his actions and by taking vocational training and obtaining a bachelor’s degree from Trinity University.

He said he’s had many jobs in prison, including being the head baker and noted one of his goals on the outside is to gain more experience and operate his own bakery selling fresh baked products and helping youth learn skills that are alternatives to street life and selling drugs.

“I’ve done a lot of work trying to rehabilitate my mind from an impulsive and impressionable 15-year-old to the man that’s addressing you today,” he said.  “There were a lot of turning points in my life that made me want to change. When I first came to prison, I found myself still following behind the wrong group of people and giving the wrong people my loyalty.”

He said a time in solitary confinement caused him to reflect on his life, stop blaming others and take responsibility for his life

“I always blamed everyone but myself for being in prison, as well as everything that’s ever happened to me, I blamed God. I blamed my parents for being addicted to crack and not being there for me. I blamed the other, the older guys that I looked up to, that put me in the drug houses, that ordered me to kill Mr. Anderson,” he said.  “However, now I know that only children blame other people for their own mistakes, and being a man means making my own decisions and owning up to the mistakes that I make in life.”

He was asked why he got in trouble in prison in 2022 for a new tattoo and in 2023 for using intoxicants, and he explained those years had been at a low point in his life and he was feeling alone, and then family members became involved in his life, including his mother and siblings, and people helped him to choose a better path.

Wilcher recounted that when Anthony Anderson forgave him that he cried for the first time in prison.

“I didn’t expect that from anybody, especially not my victim’s family, and for me that was a powerful moment of my life,” he said.

The Commutations Advisory Board will hear the cases of another 12 incarcerated people on Sept. 18.