The System Is Showing Its True Colors (Again)
In the summer of 2020, the streets erupted with righteous anger. From Atlanta to Minneapolis, from New York to Portland, millions demanded justice after witnessing George Floyd’s life stolen beneath the knee of a cop who had no business wearing a badge. That collective outrage led to action—one of which was the creation of a national police misconduct database.
The concept was simple: if an officer had a history of brutality, racial profiling, excessive force, sexual misconduct, or corruption—anything that made them a threat to the community—their record should follow them. No more quiet resignations to dodge termination. No more bouncing from one department to the next, terrorizing new communities unaware of their past. Transparency. Accountability. The bare minimum.
Now, that database is gone. Wiped out. Erased. Not by accident. Not by oversight. But by design.
A System Built to Protect Itself
If you know the history of policing in this country, this shouldn’t surprise you. Police weren’t created to protect all people—they were created to protect property and enforce racial hierarchies. From slave patrols in the South to anti-immigrant police squads in the North, the system was never about justice. It was about control.
So when the people demanded reform—real reform—the system pretended to listen. It gave us the illusion of change:
✔️ Body cameras (that somehow “malfunction” when the truth needs to be seen)
✔️ Cultural sensitivity training (that never seems to stick)
✔️ And yes, a misconduct database (that they never really wanted in the first place)
Now that the protests have cooled and the cameras have turned away, they’re showing their hand. They think we’re too tired, too distracted, or too broken to notice they’re undoing every inch of progress we fought for.
What Happens When You Erase Accountability?
Deleting a national misconduct database isn’t just removing data from a server. It’s giving violent officers a fresh start to continue their abuse—this time with a clean record and a new badge.
Imagine a teacher caught abusing students, only to resign quietly, move to another district, and start again—no record, no warning. That’s what happens in policing every day. And now, without the database, it’s even easier.
This isn’t just bad policy. This is blood on their hands.
This Was Never About ‘Reform’
Let’s stop pretending. The people in power don’t want justice. They want silence. They want obedience. They want our communities so consumed by poverty, violence, and survival that we can’t afford to notice when they erase the very tools we fought for.
They want us to forget George Floyd.
They want us to forget Breonna Taylor, Tamir Rice, Sandra Bland, and Tyre Nichols.
They want us to forget the marches, the chants, the resistance that shook the world.
But we don’t forget.
We don’t forgive.
And we damn sure don’t stop.
What Happens Next?
We expose them.
We document this betrayal.
We remind every so-called ally that deleting a database doesn’t delete the truth.
George Floyd’s blood cried out for accountability—and they buried it. But we heard that cry, and we will never stop answering it. You can erase records. You can erase websites. You can even erase laws.
But you cannot erase the truth—and you cannot erase us.
What You Can Do:
🔹 Share this story. Let people know the database is gone.
🔹 Contact your local, state, and federal representatives. Demand its reinstatement.
🔹 Ask every candidate—from city council to president—where they stand on police accountability.
🔹 Support community-led safety programs that don’t rely on corrupt policing systems.
🔹 Never stop saying their names.
George Floyd. Breonna Taylor. Tamir Rice. Sandra Bland. Tyre Nichols. Say them all.
